by Sharon Sala
Book 3 of The Prophecy Series
The Gathering
Sharon Sala
(writing as Dinah McCall)
The Gathering
© 2015 by Sharon Sala
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Electronic edition published 2016 by RosettaBooks
Cover design by The Killion Group, Inc.
Edited by Sharyn Cerniglia
ISBN (EPUB): 9780795348709
ISBN (Kindle): 9780795348242
www.RosettaBooks.com
The Gathering was to be the last book in the Prophecy stories.
These stories were given to me through dreams with the understanding that I tell them in a way that honors The People who are native to the two continents we call North and South America. It was first theirs, and while history was not kind to them, in my dreams they were given a way to change their fate and so I am telling it to you now, as it was told to me.
However, as this story unfolds, it became apparent that this story would not be the end—that the Old Ones had more they wanted known. So I continue as I am led with the full assurance that when it is finished, you will understand the depths of what was lost in the beginning and what is still possible before it ends.
The Gathering marks the third book of the Prophecy series and as the Dove stated, “the end of one thing and the beginning of another,” which could also be an analogy for life.
As long as we live, we are changing. We grow in one aspect until it is no longer valuable to us and then begin anew, looking for a better way to spend our lives.
I dedicate this book to the people who aren’t afraid to peek around corners, to push the envelope, to jump into the tide of change. They are the adventurers who pave the way for those less brave.
I dedicate this book to the People who first belonged in this, our world. Your names may have been forgotten, but the memory of your tragedy lives on.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Excerpt
The Prophecy Series
Prologue
The Old Ones knew. They’d always known.
They told of a prophecy.
They said a storm was coming.
They said a Windwalker would bring it and leave his child to end it.
They said the storm would spread quietly and unnoticed, like roots beneath the ground growing stronger and farther and linking one thing to another until what was above the ground could never be undone. So it was told, and so it would be.
***
The vast land of an untamed continent, which in the time of the New Ones had been called North America, was still a world in the making. The wealth of it was not measured by gold or jewels, but in the richness of a horizon that went on forever, rife with a race of people in perfect harmony with the universe.
But there was a plague in the making. A plague that, in the centuries to come, would decimate their people, destroy the ecosystem, annihilate the wildlife, and forever rock the balance of their lives. And the only thing standing between them and the end of everything were the people scattered out across the vast valley below.
The people in that valley called themselves the New Ones, although the time in which they were living was not the time in which they’d been born. It was difficult to explain to people native to this land that the New Ones were not only from the future, but they were all that was left of the Native American race.
Their quest was an urgent one that began in their time when a burning meteor appeared in the sky. Within the space of a few days it became evident to all that Earth was going to die with no way to stop it. People went mad. Some killed themselves. Others tried to buy their way to salvation.
For the majority of the population, hope was lost, except for the Native Americans. White men called it a meteor, but the People knew different. A prophecy had been handed down among the tribes for many generations that this day would come. They knew the death in the sky was not a meteor but an ancient spirit called Firewalker, and they knew why it was coming.
It had become angry with them for losing their sense of pride and foregoing the Native way of life. They lost their faith and lost their culture and in doing so, lost their pride. They had destroyed who they were meant to be. Even their young were committing suicide rather than face the sadness of a hopeless future. And because of all that, Firewalker had come to end the suffering in a fiery blast of annihilation.
But as the Old Ones had warned of Firewalker’s coming, they had also foretold that a woman of The People would appear, and with the help of an ancient spirit called the Windwalker, would be given all the knowledge and power she would need to lead the thousands who awaited her to safety.
And so it came to be.
A woman called Layla Birdsong let the Windwalker teach her, and then she let him love her. When his task was done, he left her with his baby in her belly and disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared, and it broke her heart.
Still grieving his loss, she did what she’d been born to do. As Firewalker’s journey was coming to a fiery end, she led The People through a portal back in time to the place where everything first began to go wrong—back to the jungles, to a city of the ancient Mayans called Naaki Chava, ruled by a chief called Cayetano.
The survivors came into the city into another way of life, broken by what they’d lost and horribly burned from the Firewalker’s blast.
With time they healed and found a rhythm to their lives, existing in peace and happiness for seventeen years while waiting for the Windwalker’s baby daughter, Tyhen, to come of age. And just as she reached her seventeenth year, the city of Naaki Chava died in a fiery blast of ash and lava.
The natives of Naaki Chava escaped to the south with the Chief and Layla, who had taken the name of Singing Bird, while what was left of the New Ones followed Tyhen, the Windwalker’s daughter in the opposite direction. Once again, the New Ones were on a march to finish what they’d come to do.
Chapter One
Tyhen stood motionless on a ridge above the valley where the New Ones had stopped to rest. She had called a halt knowing there would be protection from the wind between the two hills. As she did, the people dropped where they stood, some sitting, others stretching out to catch a quick nap.
Now the wind slapped her in the face like a jealous lover, stinging her skin and making her eyes burn. She turned her back to the blast and pulled the hood on her coat up closer around her face. The coat was made from bearskin and her leggings were made of deer skin. If she had been down on all fours, she would have blended easily into the background as an animal.
Although she stood lookout for unseen dangers, she stole a few moments to look for sight of Yuma, the man who held her heart. The New Ones called her The Dove, because
she had been born to unite the native race, but it was Yuma, the Eagle, who loved and protected her.
Tyhen was young, barely seventeen when her journey had begun, and although the experiences had been harsh and they’d all lost weight and sleep over the months on the march, nothing could mar the beauty that came from within her.
As the daughter of such a powerful spirit she had been given all of the abilities she would need, all of the magic that a Windwalker possessed, but today she was feeling most human, grieving the loss of the family she’d left behind.
She would never see her mother or Cayetano again, and the twins Adam and Evan, who saw both the future and the past and who were like her brothers, had stayed behind as well. In the midst of thousands, she stood alone but for one man.
Pushing aside the sadness, she swept the horizon with one last glance and then began walking back down to join the others. As she did a harsh wind ruffled the brown fur lining the hood of her coat, tickling her cheeks and reminding her of the winter to come.
Once she reached the edge of the gathering she shoved the hood from her head, letting her long hair fall free as she sat down.
Grateful to be off her feet, she began watching a young boy of about ten years playing a few feet away. He was a handsome little man with skin as brown as hers and dark hair almost as long. He called himself Gecko. The name fit. He was skinny and as quick with his movements as the lizards that used to crawl on the walls inside the palace at Naaki Chava.
At the moment he was playing intently with something he’d found in the grass, and she wondered what it was that held his interest. When she realized he’d caught her staring she smiled. As she did, he quickly looked away.
She combed her fingers through her hair and then frowned as she glanced up. Storm clouds were gathering quickly—too quickly. Yesterday they’d found a marker tree pointing the way to water. The trunk had been bent when the tree was young to let travelers know which direction to go, and from the carving on the rock beneath the tree, it appeared to be a river. Now the tree was older and the trunk had formed an unnatural bend that would, for the life of the tree, point the way. However, from the looks of the sky, it was likely it would rain before they reached the river, so the riverbank would have to be their campground for the night. In the morning they would cross, bringing them one day closer to the great gathering of tribes. The Gathering would be the end of one thing and the beginning of another and while she was ready for this march to be over, for now she had other concerns.
With one last look at the sky, she pulled the pack off her back, dug out a piece of Montford Nantay’s deer jerky and took a big bite. She eyed the people as she chewed and then glanced up at the sky again. The clouds were building, growing taller in the sky and turning dark. Soon they would have to leave.
She looked back at the little boy called Gecko as he continued to play, unaware that he’d been casting looks of longing her way. As she took another bite of her jerky, she caught Gecko watching, and laughed out loud at the startled expression on his face. When he grinned, she waved him over. As he approached, she offered him the other half of her jerky. As he took it from her hand, he dropped something in her palm in return and then ran.
Tyhen looked down at what he’d given her and frowned. She was still frowning when she felt a hand on the back of her shoulder and then Yuma was kneeling behind her. When he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, a swath of his long dark hair swung away from his face and slid down across her shoulder onto her breast, making her wish it was his hand and not his hair touching her there.
“You, my little Dove, are most beautiful when you laugh.”
Just the sound of his voice made her ache for him. Some day they would have a life of their own again. It was enough to keep her focused on all of the dangers that still existed between them and that day.
“Thank you, my Yuma,” she said, but in truth, she was silently admiring his wide shoulders and long legs as he knelt down beside her.
Yuma studied the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked as weary as he felt. They had all been pushed to both physical and emotional limits, but none as much as Tyhen.
He traced the shape of her cheek with his thumb and then ran it lightly beneath the edge of her lower lip, remembering how soft it was and how crazy she made him when they made love.
“Did you eat?” he asked.
“Yes, a piece of Montford Nantay’s fine jerky. I gave the last bit of it to Gecko.”
Yuma shook his head. “That little one is never far from you. I will have to watch out for him. He is in love with you, I think.”
Tyhen shrugged. “He is too young to know love.”
Yuma’s smile faded. He reached for her then and kissed her, leaving the imprint of his lips and his love on her heart.
“I was his age when I killed the man who would have ended your mother’s life, and with you still in her belly. I knew I would love you before you were born. I knew you would be mine and you would love me forever.”
The ache grew within her to lie with him again, but there was never any place or time to make that happen.
“Yes, I remember the story.”
His dark eyes flashed. “I wasn’t any older than Gecko, so I have no doubt what he feels is real to him.” He started to say more when he saw what she was holding. “Where did you get that?”
She dropped it in Yuma’s hand. “Gecko gave it to me. It’s something I think he found in the grass.”
“So, they were already here, too,” Yuma muttered as his gut knotted. Yet another sign of how urgent this journey was becoming.
Tyhen frowned. “Who was here? What is this called?”
Yuma turned it over and over in his hand, studying the size and style of the hammered silver.
“It is called a buckle. It comes from a white man’s belt to hold up his pants. It looks Spanish, which means the explorers—the men who were part of the ruin of our people—have already been here. Most likely this one died here since this would have been part of his clothing, but that won’t stop more from coming.”
The burden of what lay on Tyhen’s shoulders felt even heavier.
“Are we too late to stop them?”
“No, no, but this just makes our journey more urgent,” Yuma said.
Before she could answer, a hard gust of wind came over the rise, sweeping down the hill and bringing with it the faintest tinge of a scent that did not belong.
Yuma saw her frown.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Probably nothing. I think I’ll walk around a few minutes before we leave just to make sure everyone is okay.”
“Don’t forget your gift,” Yuma said, and held out the buckle.
She didn’t want anything that would remind her of intruders into their world, but Gecko had given it to her innocent of its origin, and so she dropped it in her pouch.
Yuma brushed a last kiss across her lips, then stood and helped her up.
“Soon, we need to start moving,” Tyhen said.
Yuma nodded. “I will see to it, but first I need to find Stanley Bluejacket. He wasn’t feeling well this morning.”
Stanley was the oldest man living from the ones who’d come through the portal with her mother, and they all went out of their way trying to keep him healthy and on his feet.
“Find a healer if he needs one,” she said.
“I will,” Yuma said, and walked away as Tyhen ran back up the rise for a better view.
The wind was changing. It was coming out of the southwest now, moving the gathering storm clouds above them at a fast pace. She was trying to judge how long it would be before it caught up with them when she felt movement around her feet. Just as she looked down, a half-dozen rabbits came out of the tall grass, moving at a frantic pace. Startled by the unusual behavior, she turned to watch as they disappeared and
missed seeing the deer that came over the rise behind them.
She jumped as it leaped past her. At that point she then turned and ran the rest of the way up to the highest ground. Yuma had the people up and moving now, strung out across the landscape as far as the eye could see and walking at a steady, plodding pace. The wind, which was part of the storm front, was pushing hard at their backs, giving them a sense of unspoken urgency and subconsciously hastening their steps.
She watched them a few moments longer then turned and faced the wind and heard screams coming from within. Her skin crawled. The Old Ones were talking.
Something bad was coming!
She began looking for Yuma and when she didn’t see him, had to trust the spirits to send him her thoughts.
Yuma! Where are you? Can you see me?
Yes, I see you. I always know where you are. Look down. Both my arms are in the air.
She saw him and quickly shared her concerns.
Something is wrong. The New Ones must get to the river as fast as they can. I will give the warning, but you must lead them and see to the crossing. They have to get on the other side of the river to be safe.
She saw Yuma’s reaction to her warning as he turned in place, searching the horizons.
I see nothing. What is it you fear? Is it the buffalo? Do you fear a stampede?
No, not the buffalo. Fire. I think the land is going to burn.
Yuma had long since learned not to question the Windwalker’s daughter. She might be young in years, but she was ancient in power and wisdom. He was already shifting his pack for a swifter pace when he heard her voice on the wind, carrying her warning for all the New Ones to hear.
“Danger comes! Follow Yuma! Run with the wind at your back and don’t stop until you have crossed the river! The prairie is on fire!”
The New Ones had been moving in groups, staying together in families, walking without looking up and, when needed, leaning on the younger and stronger, determined to see this walk through to the bitter end. But when they began hearing Tyhen’s voice they immediately stopped. Her warnings had saved them too many times before to ignore one now.
