Eagle of Seneca

by Corrina Lawson

  Her mouth opened in a wordless scream as she realized that she couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the blow. There was nowhere to run here, no way to escape. She closed her mouth, gripped the branch tight and braced for impact.

  A hand snagged the broken edge of the wing just before it impaled her. An arm closed around her waist to steady her on the branch.

  “I have hold of it now, Domina,” Ceti said. “You’re safe.”

  “Roman?” She swallowed hard. “Where did you come from?”

  He cleared his throat. “The others were distracted watching you so I took the opportunity to climb up and help.”

  His arm felt warm and comforting around her waist and she wished to stay right here for a while, at least until her hands had stopped shaking and her throat cleared enough for her to speak without giving away her fear.

  She looked at her fingers. They were steady. Surely that was false.

  “Easy, Sky,” her rescuer whispered into her ear.

  She nodded. “Thank you.” There. That sounded normal. She wanted to babble thanks over and over again to him for saving her life. She might have, if her throat wasn’t still closed up. She hoped those below, especially her father, couldn’t sense her terror.

  “Back up, Sky,” Ceti said, removing his arm. “The aquila will be easier to hold if I can use both hands.”

  She nodded again and crawled backward along the great branch back to the trunk of the tree. Ceti stood on the branch just below the one where she’d been trapped. He had one hand on the aquila, one on the branch above him. The aquila had seemed heavy to her. He seemed to be holding it with no effort at all.

  He must have started climbing even before she had trouble. She’d been so focused on her task that she hadn’t heard him.

  “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said. “This isn’t worth your life.”

  “You thought it was worth your life.”

  “It’s my project, my folly. I deserve whatever happens because of it. You honor me, but I cannot let you risk yourself further. Get down to the ground, now. I can finish this.”

  “I can—”

  “If you are hurt, the men below will have my head, especially your father.” He took a deep breath. “And I can’t stand to see you injured.”

  She dropped her head, feeling a flush coming on. “I’ll go down.” Nighthawk would have more than Ceti’s head if she died. He’d take his time killing Ceti and then declare war on the Romans.

  Compared to handling the aquila, climbing down alone was simplicity itself. Tired of being careful, she jumped from the lowest branch and landed just a few feet from her father.

  He enveloped her in a hug that finished the job of calming her down. After, her father held her out at arm’s length. “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” he said. “What were you thinking? Your mother would be livid if she was here.”

  “Mother isn’t here,” she said again. “This needed doing.” She raised her head, her stomach churning, full of anger at her father’s chastisement. She brushed the leaves and broken bits of branches off her clothes. “I told you, the Roman and his aquila are mine. As your own prophecy says.”

  “I’ll decide what my own prophecy says,” he said with a sigh.

  “Move,” Ceti shouted.

  They all backed away from the base of the tree quickly. The leading edge of the broken wing hit the dirt and sunk into the muddy ground right where they’d all been standing. Sky heard cracking from the frame and winced. The aquila might be destroyed, even after all her work.

  Above them, Ceti said something out loud in his language that sounded very much like a curse. She wondered what “Vulcan” meant.

  The rest of the hollow wood frame hit the ground with a nasty-sounding thump. The other wing wobbled as the entire aquila settled on the dirt but it seemed more or less intact despite the rips on the cloth. At least, it looked no worse than it had been at the top of the tree.

  She smiled. Her efforts hadn’t been in vain.

  Ceti jumped down from the tree. He leaned back against the trunk, bracing his hands on his knees, took deep, shuddering breaths. He straightened, put his hand over his face for a moment, and mumbled something in his language again. She heard “Vulcan” again and then a name, “Dinah.”

  Ceti walked around the entire aquila, shaking his head, setting his fingers here and there on the rips on the cloth, and making tsk-tsk sounds over the breaks in the frame. He stopped and knelt down to look at the broken wingtip, muttering in his Roman language.

  Sky stood still, fascinated. So did her father and the other men.

  Ceti straightened with a deep sigh and turned to them. “It’s salvageable, I think. Thank you, Domina.”

  “What you keep calling me—that is a Roman word, yes?” she asked.

  “Yes, it means a lady of great rank and honor,” Ceti said.

  “You finally have something right, Roman,” Nighthawk said. “That’s exactly what she is. Now back away from your flying thing. It’s time to go.”

  “My aquila—”

  “The men and I will carry it,” said Sky. “You’re hurt.”

  Sky pointedly stepped forward and took up the intact wing to set the example. Nighthawk finally shrugged and picked up the edge of the broken wing and ordered the others to lend a hand. Ceti, surrounded by the rest of the warriors, walked in front of them.

  And so they walked into the village in likely the strangest procession Shorakapkok had ever seen.

  But Sky doubted the sight on the ground compared to what Ceti had seen soaring in the sky.

  Someday, I will find out.

  ****

  Ceti has expected the village to look like one of the Mahican settlements near Seneca. But the longhouses here were only about half that size. There were also several small circular structures made of straw (presumably over a wood frame) set against the cliffs. It looked less permanent than the Mahican settlements. That made sense, given that the Lenape moved their settlements with the seasons. At least, that’s what Sif had said.

  The men carrying the aquila set it down. Before he could examine it, Ceti was shoved into the largest longhouse by the warriors who’d escorted him. He heard Sky ordering his creation to be placed under the open canopy in the middle of the village square. Good. It would be relatively safe from the elements there.

  His bigger problem was how to get back to Manhatos with the aquila. He needed to bring it back. It could be a valuable weapon against the imperial fleet, if he learned how to control the landings.

  And he’d be able to soar again.

  In his workshop, he had extra wing cloth and several already cut and measured pieces of wood that would fix the broken frame. He’d started creating duplicate parts after the crash of the first model several years ago, to save repair time. He mentally pictured the parts in his mind. Yes, the one piece would fit and—

  A Lenape tapped Ceti’s back lightly with a spear, pointed to a corner, and motioned for him to sit on the dirt floor. Ceti complied without protest. He let his head fall back against the packed earth of the wall. Once he was settled, every ache and scratch and muscle pull became apparent. He closed his eyes. As much as he wanted to get back to Manhatos immediately, today would not be the day. Even if the Lenape let him go, he doubted he could make the walk along the shore back to the end of the island. He certainly could not make it with the aquila.

  He squinted as a shaft of sunlight cut through the tiny opening between the doorframe and the skin covering it.

  What a day.

  It had started in complete triumph and ended in capture. No wonder people said the gods were capricious.

  Ceti heard Sky talking outside again, though too faintly for him to understand her words. It was almost enough just to hear the lovely cadence of her voice. She had felt so warm, so vital in his arms while they were in the tree. Gaius would say he’d been too long without a woman and it was playing with his mind.

  Ceti snorted. It w
asn’t just his phallus talking, though Sky was stunningly beautiful. No, it was his mind that had fixated on Sky. No Roman or even Viking woman—aside from Dinah—would climb up a massive tree and risk their life retrieving his aquila.

  Sky had understood his need to fly instantly. And yet, he’d likely never see her again after he left this place. Nighthawk certainly was opposed.

  Sky did have the power to disobey her father, if he recalled correctly. The Lenape, like the Mahicans in Seneca, were ruled by a women’s council. Ceti smiled. Some in Seneca said the Vikings were also ruled by women, given how strong the voices of Sif and Dinah were. But only those who didn’t recognize Gerhard’s steady leadership or Ragnor’s stubbornness would believe that.

  Surely, though, Lenape fathers would still be careful with their daughters, as Gerhard fussed over little Kata, his only daughter. And if Kata was grown and Ceti looked at her with even mild arousal, he was sure Gerhard would cut him in half.

  And Gerhard liked him.

  A Lenape woman scooped up something that had been brewing in a pot over the fire and deposited it into a ceramic mug. She brought it over to him, holding it out.

  He took it the offering, nodded in gratitude and smiled. She nodded, but did not smile and went back to her work chopping the vegetables on the table.

  He sniffed the stew. Deer meat with corn but there was another sharp smell he didn’t recognize. He sipped. Not..awful. Salty. They had mixed in clam with the deer to provide more nourishment, he decided. Out of the corner of his eye, Ceti saw the warrior watching him intently. Was this a test of some sort? He took a longer sip and smiled but the man watching him remained impassive.

  Despite Sky’s promise of safety, Ceti suspected they’d kill him without compunction if he tried to escape.

  Would Dinah come after him?

  Yes, if possible. But the Imperial fleet’s arrival could halt any attempt. The attack might even be underway, as far as he knew.

  Ceti ground his teeth.

  And now he’d made matters worse by stirring up the Lenape at a time when Manhatos needed their help, not their anger. And Sky would potentially be caught in the middle of a battle that he’d caused by his carelessness.

  Chapter Six

  As they entered Shorakapkok, Sky knew she had done something unprecedented by the stares their little procession collected. The stares grew more intense the longer she spent walking around, studying Ceti’s aquila. If she dared, she would have kept Ceti with her to question him about how it worked, especially how he had gotten it into the air.

  She had a feeling Ceti would be happy to provide answers. But the unvoiced hostility from the villagers prevented her from fetching Ceti from the longhouse. She’d already browbeaten the others into taking Ceti prisoner instead of killing him. She didn’t know if she could push for more than that.

  These people were scared.

  Ceti’s arrival had made a war, only previously a possibility, far more real to them. They feared for their homes. They feared the Romans. And they were scared of the aquila because they didn’t understand it.

  Sky had always wanted to learn new things, to question traditions. She’d come to understand that not everyone was like that.

  The larger question was whether Deep Water would share the hostility. She was the one Sky had to convince to...what? Sky frowned, realizing that beyond keeping Ceti alive and somehow eventually flying herself, she had no plan.

  That would not do. She had to present Deep Water with a solution. Let Ceti go? Allowing the Roman to walk away with his aquila would be simple enough. He’d go back to his life. She would go back to hers, as if nothing had even happened.

  No, that was the wrong answer. Ceti was important to what happened next to her and her people.

  As the saying went, if the skies brought snow, one didn’t curse the gods and wish that snow would stop falling in the winter. One learned to live with the snow and make use of it.

  What use could be made of Ceti?

  Her father came up to stand next to her. He remained silent for a long time as she walked around the aquila, committing every line to memory. She didn’t think she could build one like it herself. Her people lacked that hollow wood, for one. And she suspected it was very precisely built. Spears had to be just the right length to fly true. The same principle likely applied to the aquila.

  “Daughter, come with me,” Nighthawk said. “We have to talk in private.”

  She nodded and followed him to a small wigwam set against the cliffs, the private residence of honored guests. She ducked under the low doorway and sat down on the furs inside. Her shoulders ached. Her forearms were stiff and sore. The cuts on her arms and hands stung. The hurts from retrieving Ceti’s aquila were going to sting for a while.

  But the real sting was that her actions seemed to have caused such anger in Nighthawk.

  He sat down with a deep sigh. “You were almost killed. For no reason.”

  “There was good reason,” she said.

  “Did you ever think the omen of a Roman falling out of the sky doesn’t necessarily mean he has to live?”

  She smiled. “No.”

  “What if he’s not the only Roman who can fly these things? What if they attack from above?”

  “Ceti’s the only one who has an aquila,” she said. “He told me.”

  “And you’re so sure he’s telling the truth?”

  “Yes.” She was certain inside that Ceti hadn’t lied. Apparently, that was not good enough for her father.

  Nighthawk shook his head. “I can’t make you follow my orders, Sky. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to remain silent while you make poor decisions, ones that set you against our best interests.”

  “I am the one who decides what our best interests are. I’m the one in charge here, not you, by Lake Wolf’s decree.”

  Nighthawk’s back stiffened. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Lake Wolf isn’t always right. She makes mistakes far more often than you realize. She should listen to good advice more often. So should you.”

  Meaning that Sky and her mother should listen more to his advice. She’d heard her father make this argument with her mother before. She hadn’t expected him to use it with her.

  Sky slapped the furs with the flat of her hand. “I’m not harming anyone. I’m trying to find a way for us to survive in the middle of a war not of our own making.” She sighed, letting her temper flow away. Nighthawk wanted to help. But he still saw her as his little daughter, his eager helper, and his apprentice in storytelling.

  His lesser.

  She was more than that. She needed to make him realize it.

  “You’re determined to speak for the Roman, against all reason?” he asked.

  “It might be against reason, but it’s not without foundation. Father, tell me the story of the night I was born.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ve always said that understanding the future depended on knowing what happened in the past,” she said. “You’re the keeper of our history. Help me understand. Tell me my story.”

  He sighed. But he did as she asked, likely because the familiar tale would relax the tension between them.

  “On the night you were born, your arrival was early and unexpected. Your mother was having a difficult time with your birth. In her pain, she called for me but I was still traveling and couldn’t help her.”

  His voice settled into the singsong pattern that lulled his listeners. “When I heard her plea on the wind, I was in the middle of the Mahicanituck River, planning to stop for the night with the Turtle Clan. I abandoned that plan. I knew in my heart that I must hurry home or risk losing you and your mother.

  “The water carrying my canoe was swift. The gods sensed my urgency. The night sky had no moon but the stars lit my way. The red star shone the brightest, eclipsing all the others.”

  For years, this had been her bedtime story. Sky closed her eyes, picturing Nighthawk on the river under the stars rushing home. H
ome. The smell of stew at the fire. The warmth and voices of family in the longhouse. The feel of her mother’s arms around her.

  “As I set foot on land, the sky burst into beautiful light,” Nighthawk continued. “Color streaked across the paths of the stars. Streaks of blue and of red and of the brightest yellow. I ran along the path from the river to the village, fearing for your mother, our child, and my home.

  “I arrived at our longhouse, out of breath, my heart nearly bursting, dropped to my knees, and called your mother’s name,” he said. “It was then that the streaks across the sky changed from yellow to bright orange flame. The heavens were on fire.

  “At that very moment, a baby drew in her first breath and cried out.” He smiled. “I went inside our home to find a healthy, strong daughter in my wife’s arms, the heir we’d all hoped for.”

  Sky nodded, wishing she could answer “Me!” as she had as a child. But she was grown now. “And so I came into the world.”

  He nodded. “And then the lights vanished and all was dark again.”

  “And there has never been another night like that,” she said.

  He smiled. “No. Else there would be more like you, Sky, and I don’t think I would survive that.”

  She smiled back. Her three brothers had never been such a trial to her parents. They listened. “Then why don’t you believe that a flying man landing at my feet is a sign, finally, that relates to my birth omen? Especially with war coming?”

  “He’s Roman,” Nighthawk said. “I believe he’s a warning of a danger that you have to oppose. You must guard against him and protect the skies above us.”

  She frowned. She hadn’t considered that interpretation. “Many Romans were born on this sacred island. Perhaps by letting the Romans stay, the Corn Goddess is bringing them into her protection. Ceti falling at my feet might be a message to take up his cause.”