by Sharon Sala
The message was frightening, but there was no time to lose focus. Like Yuma, they shifted the loads they carried, grabbed the hands of the young and the old and started moving—first at a trot, and then a little faster, and then lengthened their strides to an all-out race.
Yuma purposefully moved part-way up the slope on the opposite side of the valley so that he was easily visible then set a pace. Their numbers were in the thousands and the river was still at least an hour away. He didn’t know if they could outrun a fire and get across the water before they burned, but they were about to find out.
Tyhen watched until the people were in motion before she walked down the other side of the rise and out of sight. She had to go higher to see what they were facing, and since she had been standing on the highest point in the area and still saw nothing, she had to go to the air.
Lifting her arms above her head, she began to chant, summoning the wind to do her bidding. The air above her began spinning, going faster and faster, gathering in size and power until it grew into a giant whirlwind and took her up, carrying her high above the ground.
From that height she could see for many miles in all directions and it didn’t take long to find the source of her concern. The storm clouds far behind them were dark and low to the ground, and every few seconds a quick flash of the long fire would come down from the clouds and strike the earth and the dry grass upon it.
In the jungles of Naaki Chava where she’d been born, rain came quietly and without warning, falling from the sky like tears from the eyes. But in this land, the fingers of fire that came down from the storm clouds made noise like the mountain that had burned up Naaki Chava, popping and cracking in horrifying explosions before it would let go of the rain. She didn’t like cold and frozen, and she didn’t understand how fire and rain could come from the same clouds, but in this land they did.
She rode the wind a little higher, going farther away from Yuma and closer to the gathering storm. When she finally saw the wide swath of smoke many miles behind and how fast it was growing in power and speed with every bite the fire took of the long grass, her heart sank.
She rode the whirlwind back down to the ridge and looked toward the east, to the frantic exodus of the New Ones. There was a knot in her belly as she watched them run. She had to stop a wind-fed fire before her people burned.
To the New Ones, the horror of Tyhen’s warning was like a bad dream. They’d run from a landslide after leaving Naaki Chava. They’d survived so much since that it was difficult to accept that they were running for their life again.
Tyhen was still on the rise when she heard Yuma’s voice in her head.
Run with me. I cannot keep you safe if I cannot see you.
She felt his fear for her and understood because she felt the same for him.
But I cannot keep all of you safe if I hide from what comes. I am the Windwalker’s daughter. I cannot die.
Yuma wouldn’t look back. It took everything in him to lead the people away from her and certain danger. She’d made the right call. He just didn’t like it.
And so the New Ones ran until their sides were aching and their lungs were burning. When someone stumbled and fell, others paused long enough to gather up the dropped belongings and pull the runner back to his feet. They’d come too far together to abandon anyone now.
Yuma was young and strong, yet even he felt the strain of keeping up the speed. Running in cold-weather clothing was confining, but there were no other choices. Even after they reached the river, getting everyone safely across would take longer than the race to get there.
He did not panic until the animals came up from behind them and ran into their midst as if the people were not there.
The first to appear were antelope. They came over the ridge beside him in a thundering herd and enveloped him. Before he knew it he was running with them, caught up in a life and death situation completely separate from the fire. If he stumbled or fell they would trample him before he had a chance to regain his footing.
He could feel the heat from their bodies, hear the grunts and the squeals as they jostled each other to get away, and when he caught a glimpse of their wild-eyed panic, the flared nostrils, and the flecks of bloody foam coming from their gaping mouths, he knew they had been running for a very long time.
When the last of the herd finally ran past him and up and over the next rise, his legs were shaking and his gut was in knots.
After that, he began seeing rabbits coming out of their burrows and running in circles, as if unsure of which way to go. Flocks of birds that should have been going to roost were, instead, taking to the skies.
When a small herd of buffalo appeared on the horizon ahead of them and running at an angle the New Ones would eventually intercept, he groaned. They had to stop and let them pass or be trampled.
Luckily, the herd was small and the time loss was brief. It allowed the New Ones pause to catch their breath. When they began to run again, they moved faster, lengthening their steps to make up for lost time.
***
The smoke was getting stronger. Already it was making Tyhen’s eyes water and burn even though she had come to what felt like an impossible conclusion. She had to stop the fire. But how? Her power came from the wind, but it was wind fueling the fire that threatened their lives. She looked up at the clouds. If only it would rain here—now—but the wind-driven storm front was ahead of the rain.
She wouldn’t let herself think of Yuma. She couldn’t think of what they might lose if she didn’t succeed. She stood up and began to chant, once again creating the whirlwind that took her up into the air. Now she was flying above the smoke and below the storm—a dangerous place to be, even for a Windwalker’s daughter.
Never before had Tyhen doubted her ability to do what must be done, but she’d never before been faced with an enemy that did not have feet.
When the thick black smoke enveloped the whirlwind, it began pulling sparks from the fire into it until she was part of the blazing inferno. The heat enveloped her, and the smoke blinded her, but still she flew until she’d reached the backside of the fire—until she saw the vast landscape of blackened earth behind it, and the still smoking bodies of animals that had not been able to outrun it, and felt sick.
Off in the distance the thunderstorm was in full force. Rain was falling from the clouds like water spilling over the waterfalls back in Naaki Chava. It was what Yuma called a deluge. Tyhen needed that rain. If only there was a way to move the rain forward like she moved through the sky. And then a thought occurred. She didn’t know what would happen, but she was willing to give it a try.
She flew into the rain, chanting as she went, wrapping the rain up in the whirlwind like the smoke and fire had done before, pulling more and spinning faster until the whirlwind became the eye of a rain-wrapped tornado. She aimed the storm to the East and began barreling across the prairie, pushing the tornado toward the fire and then through the fire until she outran it.
Then she threw back her head, held up her arms and closed her eyes. Remembering the feel of her father’s arms around her as he gave her all of his wisdom and power, she called upon the Old Ones and pulled the breath from the sky into the storm front, turning it into a maelstrom.
Seen from below, it was a mile-wide monster of rain and hail sweeping across the prairie ahead of the fire, so big and so powerful that it was pulling up grass and earth within the funnel as it went.
Inside the storm, the long fire ebbed and flowed around Tyhen, growing and waning as the power continued to build, swirling all around her as it popped and cracked until suddenly it exploded and shot down through the tornado, cutting through the rain and the clouds all the way to the ground.
The hood of Tyhen’s coat had long since slipped from her head. She had become part of the storm and the rain and she was so charged by the power from the long fire that the mass of dark hair normally
hanging halfway down her back was fanned out around her face like shiny black feathers on a warrior’s headdress.
She rode the storm until the flames were gone and the valley was rain-soaked for miles, too wet to catch fire. The New Ones were safe, but the funnel of the tornado had become too dense for her to see. She didn’t know how far away she was from Yuma, but her strength was almost gone. It was time to let go of the wind.
She began decreasing the power until the tornado she had created was gone, and all that was left was the small, rain-wrapped whirlwind around her.
Unaware of where she was and was too weak to focus, she went down, landing on the slope of a hill. The moment her feet touched earth, she staggered, dropped to her knees, and passed out.
The thunderstorm finally caught up, pounding the land and the smoking remnants of the fire and soaking the body of the unconscious girl lying on the side of a hill.
Chapter Two
By the time they finally reached the river, the New Ones collapsed where they stood. Some were too tired to be afraid, while others dropped to their knees sobbing, praying to the Old Ones to save them.
Yuma looked back, but all he could see was a wall of black smoke rising higher, coming closer. If he didn’t get them across the water, this race would have been for nothing.
His legs were shaking and he was trying to catch his breath when Montford and Johnson Nantay came stumbling toward him. They looked as exhausted as he felt, and yet the first words out of their mouths were offers of help.
“Yuma, what do you need of us?”
“We need to find a safe place to ford. The river is wide. I am hoping it is not so very deep.”
“We can both swim. We will search,” they said, and hurried back to get their gear.
Yuma called out to those around him, telling them to rest until they could find a safe place to cross and to spread the word. And so they did, repeating the order until every person there knew what came next. After a brief rest they began coming to the river to quench their thirst and refill water bags.
Yuma walked down to the shore, dropped to his belly and drank water until his teeth hurt from the cold. When he got up, he turned around to look at the wide swath of towering smoke and closed his eyes against the horror of what he saw.
Tyhen… I cannot fly with you. You have to fly back to me.
Then he dropped to his knees, swung the pack from his back to his lap and dug out a piece of jerky. He ate without tasting, eating only for nourishment while watching the sky, wondering how long they had before the fire caught up with them.
Montford and Johnston came back, but not with good news. The river was over their heads a mile in either direction. Either they swam across, or started walking downriver to find a crossing, or waited for a miracle.
Yuma felt sick. He didn’t want to believe they had come this far only to die in some random prairie fire.
“There has to be another way,” he muttered, but before he could offer up a suggestion, Johnston grabbed him by the arm.
“Look! Look at that!”
Someone screamed while others groaned in disbelief. A massive tornado had just come out of the smoke. It was many miles away but because of its size, easily seen. After a few minutes, it became evident that, with no place to run and no place to hide, unless that tornado turned or dissipated they would not burn, but they would still die.
They watched the rain come down from the massive cloud, falling so heavily that at times the tornado almost disappeared.
The little boy who called himself Gecko walked up beside Yuma and pointed at the sky.
“The fire is dying,” he said.
Yuma flinched, and then his eyes narrowed as he put a hand on the young boy’s head.
“I think you are right,” he said.
Satisfied that he’d said what he came to say, Gecko walked away.
Yuma glanced at the boy and then back at the storm. It did appear as if the smoke was less, but he’d thought it was just hidden. And then it hit him. A tornado was made of wind and the rain wrapped tornado was putting out the fire.
Yuma’s heart skipped a beat.
It was Tyhen!
He looked out across the land where the New Ones had stopped. He could see their fear but no one seemed ready to quit. Some were praying. Others were talking about running out of the tornado’s path, when Yuma began running through the crowd, shouting aloud to be heard.
“That is not a tornado. It is Tyhen. She is bringing the rain to the fire to save us,” he yelled, and word began to spread.
The New Ones turned, staring in disbelief at the monster of rain and wind, trying to imagine the tall, slender girl being capable of such a feat.
But then one of the New Ones noticed the tornado was beginning to dissipate, which caused great elation among those stopped along the river. The funnel got smaller and smaller until it ended as abruptly as it had appeared. When they realized the fire was out, they knew that Yuma had been right.
She’d saved them! The Windwalker’s daughter had saved them once again!
Shouts of happiness and the laughter of relief rang out as the people began recounting their luck. Even if the rain came later and drenched their camp, being alive to get wet was a good thing.
Yuma was in awe. His pride in what she’d done was beyond words. He began setting up their camp, expecting her to show up at any time.
***
Back in the jungles far south of the ruined city of Naaki Chava, the survivors who’d gone with Chief Cayetano and Singing Bird were building a new place to live, laying it out like they had in Naaki Chava, with streets that intersected and dwellings built within in a small square plot of cleared land. They named this city Boomerang. They were the same people, but in a new place with new ways.
Word was already spreading throughout the nearby tribes about the new way of life and that other languages were being taught in the new city. The People had been told if they learned these things, they would know how to protect themselves from the strange white men who came in from the water, who ravaged their people, stole their food, and left babies in their women’s bellies.
Meanwhile, Adam and Evan, the adopted sons who’d grown up to be the shamans of Naaki Chava and who had followed Cayetano and Singing Bird to help them get safely settled, were making plans to rejoin Yuma and Tyhen.
Two new shamans had been chosen to serve the Chief once they were gone, and despite their initial fears that Cayetano would not accept them, the past few weeks he had proved them wrong.
The morning had been spent discussing the wisdom of putting guards at strategic places along the shoreline. They would be the warning system for the city should any long boats reappear. They were deep in discussion about the project when the meeting was interrupted by a long, high-pitched scream. Before the twins could react, Cayetano was on his feet.
“Singing Bird!” he shouted, and ran out of the throne room toward his sleeping quarters with the others close behind him.
Guards ran into the palace, thinking someone was attacking the queen, and for a few frantic moments, chaos reigned.
Cayetano found Singing Bird face down on the floor, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
“What’s wrong? Who has hurt you?” Cayetano shouted, but she couldn’t answer.
As he picked her up in his arms, she fainted.
“Look and see if she was bitten,” Evan said, and started to examine her arms and legs for sign of snakebite.
But the moment he touched her, he saw what had made Singing Bird scream. He gasped and jumped back as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Dark clouds. A firestorm! Tyhen flew into it and disappeared.”
Adam’s heart sank. If this vision from daughter to mother was so strong that it crossed the thousands of miles between them, then Tyhen was in trouble.
“It is tim
e, brother!” he said quickly.
Cayetano was torn between concern for the love of his life, losing the two men he’d raised as his own sons, and the daughter of his heart in another country in dire need. And much as he regretted the need, they’d all known this day would come.
“Go! Do what you must! Better my children live away from me than not at all!” Cayetano cried.
“But what about Singing Bird?” Adam asked.
The tallest shaman, a young man named Moki who bore the scars of a jaguar on his face and chest, quickly stepped into the conversation.
“We are here and will not betray your trust,” he said, and with that, Adam and Evan took off at a lope, heading for their lodging.
They had packed for this day many weeks ago, and now all they had to do was grab their things, take the crystal cube from their childhood that had saved them from Firewalker, and find Tyhen.
Adam was digging through his pack for Tyhen’s silver necklace with the little bird charm. It was the link they needed to find her when they stepped into the portal. He dropped it over his head while Evan was stripping off his clothes and issuing orders.
“We have to dress for colder weather like we see the New Ones in our dreams, and we need to hurry. I can’t get a fix on Tyhen and she’s not answering my messages,” he said,
“What did you see?” Adam asked, as he also began to change.
“All I saw was her flying into fire,” Evan said.
Adam paled. “Windwalkers don’t die, remember? Surely she is alright.”
Evan shrugged. “She may not die, but she can suffer great harm. If she is alone, many things could happen that might hinder the process.”
Within minutes they were ready to leave. The pants they were wearing were long and made of animal skin which they wore tucked into the fur moccasins that laced up to their knees. Their shirts were also animal hide, scraped and cured to soft, supple leather, and their long, hooded coats were spotted jaguar skins lined with Alpaca wool procured from the traders who passed through their city. It was clothing for cold and frozen, not here in the sweltering heat.
