by Sharon Sala
Yuma was at her side and a step ahead.
The twins were right behind her, walking side by side.
The New Ones watched from the hillside, grateful to be off their feet.
The trip down was silent, and when Tyhen reached the edge of the vast crowd awaiting them below, they had already parted to make way for them to enter.
She saw fear on their faces as well as confusion. They didn’t understand who she was and were still looking for the Dove. It was time to take flight.
Adam and Evan were on edge. They could hear the people’s thoughts. They could feel the fear and distrust. Evan clutched his spear a little tighter while Adam scanned the faces for sign of the girl from his vision. He did not know she had already seen them and was hiding behind her father, too rattled by the sight of the two men who would love her to let herself be known.
Yuma was trying not to be shocked by the crude weapons and clothing. For some reason he had expected the people of this continent to be as advanced as the Mayans, but it was obvious they were not. The New Ones were going to have to influence far more than language and lifestyle.
He was still processing the scope of things the People were going to face when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Before he could utter a word of warning, Tyhen lifted off the ground and sailed up into the air.
The cry from the People sent the doves into a frenzy. Within moments they had disappeared.
Warriors didn’t know whether to go for their weapons or run.
Women fell to the ground.
Children ran back into the lodges to hide.
Yuma groaned as Evan stepped up on one side of him and Adam moved to the other.
“It will be fine,” Adam said.
Once Tyhen left the ground, the bird’s eye view she now had of the Gathering was overwhelming. She had never imagined there were this many people in the world and for the first time realized what a task they were facing. She knew the people below were afraid, but she had their attention and now they would hear her voice, as well. She didn’t know what language to use because there were so many dialects here, so she used the language of the Muscogee—the tribe from which Layla Birdsong belonged, before she became Singing Bird of the Mayan people.
“You have been waiting for the Dove and she is here. I am Tyhen… the Windwalker’s daughter.”
Another gasp went up, but this time it was one of awe. They had only heard of Windwalkers in the stories told by the elders around the campfires late at night. They had not believed that they could really exist, but it must be true. How else could a young girl command the wind to lift her into the air and fly?
Tyhen’s voice was strong—her manner queenly. Seeing her beautiful face and her long black hair billowing out around her like a dark halo was staggering enough, but to see her floating so high above their heads was surely proof of her magic.
Tyhen continued to move as she spoke, circling the vast area of camps and people so that they not only heard her words, but saw her face.
“I was born for you. I have come with the New Ones to save you and this world in which you live.”
Women began to weep and warriors looked upon her in awe.
“You see your way of life as something that will never end and never change. You see me, yes?”
“Yes!” they shouted, and the air vibrated with the energy of their voices.
“Now look to the hillside,” she cried, pointing to the New Ones. “Look upon the faces of the people who came with me. Know that the earth into which they were born is many, many lifetimes into the future.”
The gasp was palpable, as if they’d momentarily sucked all of the oxygen from the air. They could not envision such a thing. They could not understand if it was true, how they came to be here? Did all of them have magic, too?
Tyhen swirled up higher, spinning through the air with her arms outstretched as if beseeching them to believe.
“The earth into which they were born and on which you now stand no longer exists. It was burned up by an angry Firewalker who came from the sky, killing every living thing upon it because of what our people let happen. Throughout time, we lost our way and then lost our land and our way of life. Firewalker destroyed everything because of that. Look upon their faces for they are all that is left of our magnificent race.”
This time the gasp that went up was a moan. Faces turned to the hillside as they tried to imagine what disasters could have befallen the future of their People that would have caused that to happen.
And then Tyhen received a message from the twins that quickly brought her first meeting at the Gathering to an end.
Tyhen! Look to the east. The strangers come.
She turned in mid-air and in the distance saw a dark line of travelers approaching. Yuma had talked of horses, an animal she had never seen. He had spoken of how men rode them, but she had never seen this sight until now. She spun up even higher so that all could see her and pointed to the east.
“The beginning of our downfall started with the strangers who began coming to our land. Strangers like those who are approaching from the other side of the river. We did not know how to deal with them, and over time they took everything that was ours. Do you see them approaching?”
They turned, trying to see through the tree line on the shore and through the light of the sun still resting on the horizon, but they could not see and so they refocused on her voice.
“The two men with the same face who came with me are my brothers. They have the power to see the future and to hear people’s thoughts. Nearly two days ago they told me the strangers were coming, and that they have a sickness. It is why we did not sleep. It is why we walked all day and all night without stopping to get to you. Again the New Ones have suffered on your behalf so that we would get here in time to save you. If the strangers come among us, we will all sicken and we will die.”
Warriors jumped up and began brandishing weapons, shouting that they were ready to do battle.
Tyhen spun into a whirlwind, flew toward the river then turned back to the encampment and shouted so loud it knocked the warriors back to their knees.
“No! You cannot touch them. You cannot be close to them or you will carry their sickness back to your families. I will stop them. I do this for you now, and you will do something for us. When you leave this place, some of the New Ones will go with each tribe. They will live with you and teach you how to save our people and way of life. After they are gone, it will be your destiny and the destiny of all the generations who come to continue the changes and the languages and the skills that they will give you.”
The people moaned at the thought of life as they knew it ending, then watched as she flew back to her people and quickly dropped out of sight.
***
Yuma was not happy, but saw no way out of what she had to do. When she landed beside him, he slid a hand beneath her hair and pulled her close.
“Stay in the air. Don’t get close enough that they might touch you.”
“I know, but do not worry. Windwalkers cannot -”
“I know, I know. Windwalkers cannot die. But if their disease gets on your clothing, it can harm others.”
She laid a hand against his cheek, feeling a muscle jerking against her palm.
“I hear. I understand.”
Adam pointed to the backpack that she’d dropped at their feet.
“The silver buckle that Dakotah gave you. Take it with you,” he said.
She didn’t ask why. She just dug it out of her pack and took to the sky. A dark whirlwind formed around her and then she was gone, flying over the river into the sunlight, leaving the people of the Gathering on their knees.
Evan’s eyes narrowed.
“When she turns away, one will throw a knife into her back.”
“Tell her!” Yuma cried.
Evan shrugged.
“It will not stop her.”
Yuma dropped his pack at Evan’s feet.
A look of understanding passed between them and then he was gone. He ran to the river’s edge and jumped into the icy waters without hesitation, knowing he would only have one chance to save Tyhen from terrible pain and the possibility of becoming infected by the disease running through the troops.
He swam frantically against the current and when his water-soaked clothing began pulling him down, he swam harder. By the time his feet finally touched bottom on the other side he was so cold he was almost numb. He crawled out of the water and then crouched down in the tall grass to get his bearings. He would have to stay hidden to save her but he needed to get closer, so he began moving toward the approaching soldiers, and the closer he got, the more anxious he became.
***
Diego DeVille was thinking about last night’s dreams as he and his men rode west. He dreamed they were on a ship sailing home when a storm came up at sea. As sailors scrambled to lower the mainsails, a wall of dark water rose out of the ocean like a monster from the deep and swamped the ship.
Within moments they were sinking. The men who had washed overboard were either screaming or praying for mercy, but in his dream Diego did nothing. Instead, he was clinging to the mast with his eyes closed, remembering the lush green land of Iberia, imagining the smell of roasting meat coming from a turning spit outside the back door of the kitchen and baking bread coming out of the oven. He saw the new foals running through the meadows on long, spindly legs and his mother waving at him from a window, and in that moment he wished for the ability to turn back time.
It was his greed and desire for power that had driven him from such a paradise, and now it was sending him to a grave at sea. The water was washing over his feet, then up to his knees and when the ship began to list sideways, he knew they were sinking. Just as the water rolled over his head he woke up.
He had crawled out of his bedroll, drawing in long hungry breaths of air, and made a promise to himself that the trip home would be his last voyage. He would choose a life on the run before he’d come to this godforsaken place again.
It was because of the dream that he routed the men out of their bedrolls so early. In the midst of cold and darkness they had saddled up their mounts and struck camp while the stars were still visible. Now here they were with the new sun at their backs, elongating the shadows that rode ahead of them. From a long distance away they’d seen what appeared to be a line of trees running horizontal to the valley. DeVille guessed the trees were growing along a river and raised his arm to signal a halt.
“Lieutenant Estevez!”
Estevez spurred his mount forward.
DeVille pointed toward the faint line on the horizon.
“Send a man to scout that out. Tell him to ride fast, take the high side of the valley to see what’s up ahead, then report back.”
Estevez nodded, rode back down the line and picked out a soldier named Juarez who had a fast horse then sent him ahead.
“We ride,” DeVille said, and set the pace at a walk, not wanting to get too close until he knew what they were riding into.
If there were any savages nearby, the likelihood that they would camp near water was almost certain, but the minutes passed into almost an hour and Juarez had yet to return. DeVille was getting anxious and now so was Estevez. He rode up beside the captain to voice his concern.
“Something is wrong,” Estevez said. “Juarez should have been back long ago. Do you want me to send another scout?”
DeVille felt the same way, but hesitated to show it.
“No, we will see what we see for ourselves,” he said, but straightened up in the saddle to stay alert and continued westward.
They were much closer to the trees when the horses began nickering back and forth. He guessed they smelled the water, and when he was within a half-mile of the location they began seeing spirals of smoke rising above the trees. As he guessed might be the case, there was a campground on the other side of those trees. He was hopeful it was his missing soldiers.
The day was cold, even though the sun was at their back. Their breath was visible, a visual reminder of the approaching winter. The creak of saddle leather, the slight jingle of metal against metal from parts of their tack and clothing sounded loud within the silence around them. The swish of the long grass as they rode through it made DeVille think of the sound of the handmade broom against the old stone floor in his mother’s kitchen. The longing for home was so strong it actually brought tears to his eyes. He was still blinking to clear his vision when a small, funnel-shaped cloud suddenly appeared above the trees. When it began moving toward them, the horses began to rear and kick, nickering wildly as they began to buck.
It took several moments for them to get the horses under control and when they turned to look back toward the river, a young woman was standing in front of them, close enough that the new sun at their backs made her eyes look like they were glowing. The skin crawled on the back of DeVille’s neck. Who was she? What was she?
***
The moment Tyhen’s feet touched earth the flow of negative energy they brought with them was so strong she could smell it. It had to do with something they’d done but she didn’t quite understand, and then she saw the bone necklace around the leader’s neck and frowned. It seemed out of place.
He raped the old woman who wore it. They are Spaniards. Speak the Spanish you were taught.
Evan’s voice startled her, but not as much as what he said. Now she understood what she’d been feeling and her anger came through loud and clear through the tone of her voice.
“You stop here and go no further,” Tyhen shouted, speaking in perfect Castilian.
DeVille was stunned. She was speaking their language as clearly as if it was her mother tongue. He shuddered. What kind of witchcraft was this that she not only knew it, but could be heard so easily from that distance? Still, they’d come a long way for answers and one female was not going to stop them, even if she was somewhat frightening.
“We are searching for the soldiers who manned our outpost,” he shouted, then watched the woman walk closer. When he realized how young she was, he did not understand why a tribe of savages would send one girl to speak for them. He had yet to realize the spinning cloud and the woman were the same.
“You want your soldiers?” she asked, then opened her hand and flung the silver buckle Dakotah had given her through the air. It landed a few feet away from his horse.
Deville dismounted, saw the buckle and grabbed it, yelling out angrily as he turned her way.
“Where did you get this?”
“On the prairie. It is all that is left of your men. You are trespassing on our land. You will leave now.”
He reeled as if he’d been slapped. How dare she?
“We go where we choose! We claimed this land in the name of Spain when we built our fort and raised the flag of our King. It is now Spanish soil.”
When she did not respond, he thought he’d made his point. But then the wind began to blow as if from a storm front, only the sky was clear. He was looking up when she lifted off the ground and when he saw the funnel of air spinning around her, breath caught in the back of his throat. She was a witch. His heart started to pound as she swooped toward them, her voice blasting at them from above.
“You are a thief. You are all thieves! You cannot claim what already belongs to another! This place is called First Nation. It is the mother-land of the People. We are as many as the stars up in the sky and you will take nothing of ours, not now! Not ever!”
The horses were stomping as if begging their riders to leave. It was all the soldiers could do to hold them into a semblance of formation.
“I never heard of a land called First Nation!” DeVille shouted.
“Just because you are an ignorant
man, does not change what is. Leave now! Go back to your people and tell them and all who would sail across the great water that they will lose their lives if they come onto our land with evil intent.”
DeVille didn’t know how to respond to an enemy who flew like a bird, but she was still just one woman. He mounted his horse, pulled his sword, and was about to order an attack when she sent a blast of wind across the troops that knocked him and his soldiers out of their saddles.
The moment the horses lost their riders they turned and galloped away, leaving the troops afoot. The soldiers pulled their weapons and then watched in disbelief as she rose even higher above them, spinning the air around her until it was a massive blast that ripped the swords from their hands and the helmets from their heads and then rolled their bodies across the prairie.
DeVille was flat on his back looking up at the sky as she swooped down toward him. All of a sudden the necklace he’d taken from the old woman was torn from his neck by the force of the wind, scattering the pieces within the grass. Certain he was going to die, he began to pray to God, asking forgiveness for his sins and wondering if he could go to heaven without last rites. Just when he thought he was done for, the force of the wind was gone. When the men realized they could move, they got up and started running without waiting for orders. Deville heard them screaming and crying as he got to his feet. He wanted to run away, too, but his fear of turning his back on this woman was greater.
“Run!” Tyhen shouted. “Run like our people ran when you killed them. Run like the women did when you caught and raped them. Run like the cowards you are and never come back!”
He wet himself as her voice slid through his mind, ripping through his conscience, holding him captive with the power of her words and making him feel what the old woman felt as he’d raped her—from the fear to the pain to the shame. When she finally let him go he turned and ran, sobbing with every step.
Tyhen wanted to destroy them all, but they needed to go back. The rest of the world needed to acknowledge what the People already knew. This continent was not up for grabs.
