by Jacob Nelson
A shadow fell across the men as Kit arrived at the scene. Having sized up the situation, he jumped to his friend’s rescue and pulled back on the brave which dislodged Caribo. Freed of his antagonist Caribo backed against the far wall while he gasped for breath through his bruised throat.
As he wheezed a heavy thud brought his attention back to the pair as the brave’s head rebounded from the floor where Kit had driven it.
Leaving the brave behind, Kit hurried to Caribo’s side. As Kit attempted to help his friend, a scraping sound caught Kit’s attention and he turned in time to find the brave recovering his knife. Leaving Caribo, Kit launched himself toward the brave, determined to end the fight one way or another. The brave in turn must have had similar thoughts as he jumped forward. Meeting halfway the two slammed into each other as they grappled to keep the knife from each other’s throats. The fight was about to yield to the victor when, with a final loud crack, the floor finally gave way! Kit and the brave fell through into the darkness below.
Chapter 8
Kit fell first. As he did so, he tried to imagine what might happen when he hit whatever was below him. He turned his body so that he was falling feet first and he placed his hands to his sides. Looking up for what he expected was the last time; he saw the silhouetted body of the brave falling above him as the only source of light gradually faded into the background. It was because of this posture that Kit survived the fall at all.
When Kit entered the water his body sliced through the surface like a hot knife through butter. The force of the frigid water instantly enveloped him.
A second after he sliced through the water, the body of the Indian brave slammed into the surface. Only the fact that Kit broke the surface of the water first made it possible for the brave to survive at all. The impact instantly knocked him unconscious and the cold water started its process of slowing the blood. It was a few seconds later that Kit started kicking and trying to catch some air. The kicking forced his body upwards and as he shot back up to the surface, he came across the body of the chief’s son.
The moment his head broke free of the water, Kit started gulping in fresh air. With one hand, he held onto the Navajo, and with the other he scrambled to find a hold of any kind.
The age of the lava tube that made up this incredible well that Kit discovered had also caused the sides to calcify and corrode according to the waxing and waning of the earth’s water table in relation to the desert floor. The resulting movement of water height during those thousands of years had created a small but firm ledge that started a few feet below the outside landscape and extended down for several yards. It was this small ledge that Kit’s fingers were able to anchor themselves to.
Pulling with all his might Kit dragged the unconscious brave from the water despite the numbed feeling that was creeping throughout his limbs. Feeling around him, he realized that he had a thousand-foot climb to make. He stood on the narrow ledge and tried to find a handhold within the tube, but instead found only smooth walls. Despite that, no panic beset him. Instead, he thought about his predicament and assessed his options.
He was stuck on the bottom of a thousand foot well. He had no means to escape. He was very wet and very cold. He had plenty of water, but no food and no way to keep warm. He quickly realized he would die of cold long before he starved.
‘Well, if I can’t go up, and I can’t go down, I might as well dig my way out,’ he thought to himself. He recalled that his pistols and espadas were with Miya. He really had nothing on him that might serve him. Or did he? ‘The rings!’ he thought to himself. ‘The rings are made of metal… so if I tap the walls…’
Caribo was frantic. Kit and the Navajo brave had fallen through a large hole. He was afraid even to get close. But he had to try. Lying on his belly he inched up to the edge. “Kit! Are you well?” he called down.
“Kit! Are you well?” The reply came back repeating itself, bouncing off the walls as an echo.
Then Caribo heard a sound. A faint call of “I’m alive… don’t worry about me but help Miya!” repeated itself.
As Caribo backed away from the edge to descend the tower, Kit began tapping his ring against the volcanic rock. Bit by bit he made his way around the circle of the ledge. Little by little he found himself a bit more dejected, a bit less sure. As he was to give up hope, he located it: a hollow sounding spot. A natural small side chamber formed by a gas bubble when it was closed over as the lava continued its course. It was too high to kick, which would have been best, as legs are stronger than arms, but having no other option he started hitting the hollow spot with his fists. Cracks started to appear as the metal rings struck the face of the wall until his hand finally went through the surface into a dark nothingness.
Working on the opening, he made it large enough to crawl inside. On the other side of his opening he uncovered a tunnel that was large enough for a seven-foot tall man to walk through. To one side was a small opening into a larger chamber that led into an immense cave. But he didn’t care about that. (What he looked for and what caught his eye) was at the far side of the opening: where a small pinpoint of light shone. Kit nearly cried.
He returned immediately for his burden, the other man who fell down with him. Hoisting him up into the small chamber, Kit climbed back up beside him. Then, thinking it through, Kit lay on his back against the pinpoint of light and using his legs and feet kicked against the rock. It did as he had hoped: a large piece broke free and suddenly he could see green.
The green came from a large plant that took advantage of the water below to grow healthy and strong against the side of the Eyrie. He pulled free a few more pieces of the crumbling stone and made an opening that was wide enough to allow him to carry the man out of the chamber.
As he stepped out of the chamber past the bush, he looked back and realized that the bush effectively hid the opening in such a way that it was impossible to know there was even an opening there. The heat from the sun immediately warmed him, and picking up a small piece of broken obsidian, he held it close to the other man’s nose. There he saw the tell tale marks of his breathing as he fogged up the cold black stone. Hoisting up his burden again, he headed off in search of Miya.
“Miya! Where are you?” Kit called out, as he rounded the corner to where he had left her.
Without warning a band of men arose from a low spot in the ground. They all stared at Kit and then prostrated themselves on the ground. One of them, remembering Miya, slipped back and cut her free, pleading for her forgiveness.
Miya spat out the soggy leather gag from her mouth and ran to Kit.
Kit meanwhile laid the unconscious brave down and, as he saw Miya, ran forward and swept her up into his muscular arms. This time they kissed, and there was nothing and no one that they were aware of to interrupt them. As their kiss ended, a call was heard from above.
“Kit?” came a voice from high above. Hanging like a fly on a window pane Caribo was steadily making his way to the ground.
Kit looked up. “Hello, Caribo!”
“‘Hello!’ you say! I should shoot you for scaring me like that!”
“So, what are you waiting for? An invitation? Come on down!” Kit called out. “I made it in less than five minutes, with him on my back most of the way. Beat that record!” he taunted.
“I believe I’ll just continue to climb!” called back Caribo.
As Kit and Miya untangled themselves, an old man approached Kit and bowed himself to the ground.
“Kit, do you know the language of the Pueblos?” asked Miya.
“I do not. I am familiar now with the tongue of the Cubans, and the tongue of the Mayas, but have not had a chance yet to learn the tongue of this people. Do you speak it?” Kit responded.
“I know Natuahl, an Aztec dialect. I will try that and see if he speaks it as well.”
“Aye, let’s give it a try,” replied Kit.
Kit asked Miya to ask the old man to rise, and as the old man rose, he did so with an astounded look
upon his face.
“May I ask you a question, O great one?” he reverently intoned as he took in Kit’s features. Miya translated.
“You may ask,” Kit simply replied, trying to guess what sort of trouble he had landed himself into this time.
“Are you the Great Spirit?” the old man asked almost silently.
As Miya translated the question to Kit, he wondered. “Why do you ask that of me?” replied Kit, still trying to fathom what the old man was getting at.
“I saw you at the top of the rock,” he replied through Miya, “and then you were at the bottom,” he continued. “There was not time for you to climb and no man can survive such a fall,” he continued, saying the words that the other braves were thinking.
As Miya finished translating, Kit laughed. The laughter brought up the old man’s eyes, and Kit composed himself quickly. “I am made of flesh, as yourself,” he stated, grabbing the man’s hand. “I am no spirit.”
“But, I see the sign of death upon your hand,” responded the chief.
“This one in the shape of a skull is to cause fear in the hearts of your enemies,” replied Kit via Miya. “As for the other…” Miya continued, grabbing up Kit’s hand to show the old man the ring.
“I do not know the other sign.”
“The other in the shape of his crossed swords is a sign of protection to be given to those that I bestow it upon.”
“So you are the defender of all that is evil?” persisted the old man.
“Yes,” responded Miya, not allowing Kit to even answer.
“Then you are the Wind Walker,” the old man stated, satisfied. Miya translated the name literally.
“Kit Wind Walker. I like that name for you Kit,” she added of her own accord.
“I am beginning to like that name too, Miya,” said Kit, momentarily lost in her eyes.
“Kit Wind Walker,” repeated Miya. “Yes, I really like that name.”
Kit just blushed.
The Chief continued, and Miya continued to translate for them. “How is it that you know not the tongue of the people?”
“I speak the language of the gods,” replied Kit through Miya. “It is a blessing when people can use the language gifts the gods have given them. I have therefore chosen to let this girl be blessed of the gods. For this reason she translates for me.”
Having settled the first account, the chief then turned an arm out toward the unconscious man on the ground. “And what will you have of him? He is my son, and he did not know that this was a sacred home to you. Will you restore his spirit to his body?”
“Your son…” began Kit. Then realizing that this may be a great way to make life-long friends, Kit started over. “This girl that your men had with them is a servant of mine and with her help I will see if I can restore your son’s spirit to his body.” He thought for a second longer and added, “But it may take some time and even then the Great Spirit may not wish to let his spirit come back to his frame.”
“The old chief nodded his head. “As the Great Spirit dictates.”
An old woman, the medicine woman of the tribe, approached the chief and with an accusing finger pointed at Kit. “We do not know that he is a Wind Walker. He may instead be an evil servant sent from the great mischief maker. Let us do our rituals first and if the chief’s son is not recovered, then we will let them do theirs.”
The chief reluctantly agreed.
The rest of the braves each laid a hand under the brave, and as a body of four, carried the brave back to the chief’s hogan, a specially built home constructed of logs, bark, and packed earth in a round dome-roofed shape, according to instructions found in the Navajo creation story: the sections of the hogan corresponding to the structures of the universe; the earthen floor representing Mother Earth and the round roof symbolizing Father Sky. The four posts of the hogan representing the four sacred mountains: Blanca Peak in Colorado, Mount Taylor in New Mexico, the San Francisco Peaks in Arizona, and Hesperus Peak in Colorado. According to their own history, the Navajo people believe that the Creator placed them on land between four sacred mountains where they have always lived since as the Navajo people have been instructed by the Creator never to leave their sacred homeland.
As such a representation, the hogan constitutes one of the most sacred places for the members of a Navajo family and binds them to the land of their birth, and is the site for all religious ceremonies, which sanctify it through use. A traditional hogan can never be abandoned unless it is struck by lightning or someone dies in it from a cause other than old age. In essence, the Navajo family's hogan dwelling is a microcosm of their homeland.
As the brave was laid down in the center of the room, with his head facing east, the chief ordered the women to gather sands of different colors from around the area.
The Navajo used healing ceremonies to cope with the uncertainties and dangers that occur in the universe. They were performed to bring the dangerous powers that move around them under control and to restore physical or spiritual imbalances in an individual. These curative ceremonies, which could last up to nine days, must be performed in a hogan by a specially trained medicine person. The medicine person often used sand paintings and herbal remedies made from local minerals and plants to heal the patient.
Plants must be collected for each individual ceremony; they cannot be gathered in advance or stored in a kit. For example, a medicine person must walk to the spot where a plant is growing and tell the plant the name of the person who is sick. Each plant is addressed as an individual with offerings of corn pollen, songs and prayers. The use of local plants for Navajo ceremonies illustrates the need for the Navajos to remain on their sacred land.
Offerings of turquoise, white shell, jet and abalone are made to sacred sites such as rocks, springs, buttes, herbal gathering areas, and trees, to obtain blessings and protection.
So without hesitation, the women were sent out in search of those curative sands. While the women were gone, collecting the sand, the chief said a prayer of consecration of the lodge, to remove any evil spirits within the dwelling.
When they returned, the medicine woman spread out the sands around the man and placed them in patterns of symbols of life: the bird, the fish, and the wolf, each representative of the various sacred elements of air, water, and earth. At his head, the sun was drawn of yellow sand, representative of the final element: fire.
Then the medicine woman breathed into the man’s mouth, in an attempt to give him the breath of life.
Kit, meanwhile, sat observing the ritual. In whispered conversation he asked Miya what was happening, and though new to the experience, Miya understood the symbolism, and correctly explained the acts they performed.
By the end of the day, the chief’s son was no better. He also had the chills. The medicine woman had a large fire stoked up and placed wet pine and cactus into the flames, which filled the hogan with healing steam, the pine making the air a bit easier to breathe. As the steam escaped, the whole of the Hogan became a large sweat bath, a place of intense heat that allowed one to sweat out impurities.
Finally, before retiring for the night, the medicine woman mounded up sand on the four corners of the bed while invocating her deity for help.
The chief would not leave, but had his hand on his son’s forehead. The brave was obviously burning up from fever, and nothing that the medicine woman had done seemed to help.
The following morning the braves came in and lifted the fallen chief’s son and turned his body so that his head was now facing south.
This time they found the medicine woman wearing a dress made of evergreen fronds. The old chief intoned an exorcism of the body, demanding any demons that resided within to depart. Following that, there was a second Morning Prayer ritual.
The trio was left without anything to do. Caribo suggested that they explore the region, and Kit had Miya explain to the chief that they wished to look for the sacred medicine that might heal his son.
The chief consented as
long as a certain number of braves went with them. That day the trio ventured out, east, searching for the best route to travel. The route took them through unfamiliar country and along the way they found an area with black shale; petroleum rich rock. Collecting a few small samples, Miya stashed them into her bag before continuing on.
When they returned to the village several hours later, Caribo was left on his own and Kit and Miya stayed with the brave.
However, as the day waned, the patient was not any better. The fever was still not done and the healing had apparently not completely taken place. The medicine woman again prepared a sweat bath. But as it did not revive the patient, she began the preparation of the many offerings.
The third day found the brave as before, but this time able to drink a little water. Though he could swallow, he was still quite unconscious. Kit took great hope in this. The brave was moved so that he was now facing west. The morning ritual of exorcism and prayers took place as before, with one exception. Kit noted that this time instead of leaving just colored sand many of the offerings (the kethawns) were strategically placed around the body. The offerings were samples of turquoise, white shell, jet and abalone.
By the end of the day, following the sweat bath, the patient had still not awakened.
This was followed by an amole bath, a bath made by the soaking of the root of the local version of the yucca. Having accomplished her daily rite for the young brave, he was left for a time, which Kit supposed was to allow him to heal throughout the night.
However, in a trice she was back, with a sapling in her hand and a mask on her head. This time she started an all night sing, a sort of vigil, as she waved the sapling over the brave.
