The Sire Sheaf (The King of Three Bloods Book 1)

by Russ L. Howard

  Ahy smiled, extending her own invitation. “Please, Surrey, do come.”

  He bowed and said, “It would be my pleasure.”

  Sur Sceaf watched as the women threaded their way through the crowd that was growing thicker in anticipation for their voting that would commence just after dark. He glanced up at the horizon to gauge the time. He estimated it would take another hour before the sun disappeared beneath the skyline.

  * * *

  Sur Sceaf noticed a lot of curious glances shooting his way. Many who passed, smiled and nodded, raising his hopes, but he also noticed that some of those who passed averted their gaze. Not a good sign. He decided to return to his camp. He only wanted to slip away for some jerky and a bottle of kefir Long Swan had left him. Just as he passed the lodge, he spotted his blood brother emerging from it.

  They greeted each other warmly. Mendaka said, “So, Little Doe couldn’t wait to tell me what Taneshewa said about the Lover’s Dance. I guess you know amongst us Sharaka, for a maiden to ask a man to tie her moccasin means you have taken the first step towards marriage. It is our custom.”

  A group of children ran through the camp dragging a coon’s skin, only to be followed shortly afterwords by a pack of hound pups scenting the ground.

  The two blood-brothers laughed. It could have just as easily been them running a bear-drag some twenty years before.

  “You forget,” Sur Sceaf declared, “I was here when Little Doe presented her foot to you, my friend.”

  “Well, I’ll be smooching a moose. I’m still wiping the sweat off my brow from that encounter.”

  “Fortunately, she over looked all your faults.”

  Mendaka grinned. “You know I only had one fault, that high desert ale of your sister’s.”

  “Oh, how I could use some of that myself right now. Anything to calm the energies boiling in my heart.” Sur Sceaf declared before returning the greetings of two young bloods passing by in pursuit of the children and hounds.

  Mendaka fell in step together with Sur Sceaf as he headed for a nearby log, placed strategically for those who were to be called inside the long lodge. As they sat, Sur Sceaf spotted some crows circling over the crater where he saw a golden eagle plunge into the safety of the trees below at the water’s edge.

  “It would seem, Surrey, your scent is attracting all the does,” Mendaka said with a hearty laugh. “First Mendaho and now Taneshewa. You thinking of putting more arrows into your quiver or just trying to feel like a young blood again?”

  “The marriage part is wholly out of my control at the moment. We will see with time. Ahy must be approached with care. I’m not married to her yet. And since you are so familiar with our Herewardi ways, you know that it is not as simple as tying a moccasin.”

  Mendaka nodded, “But does she know that? Does she know she must be examined and chosen by your wives before you can take her?”

  “Not yet! I intend to ask Meny to educate her on the Herewardi betrothal process while I’m at Fort Rock.”

  “In all the years I have known you, I’ve never known you to not get what you want.” He stood up, looked down at Sur Sceaf, placed a bracing hand on his shoulder and said, “But with women, there can always be a first time. I must depart now. I have to get dressed in my regalia and paint my face with the prescribed colors of the rite.” He winked at Sur Sceaf, adjusted his roach and then went off to prepare. As he walked away, he pronounced, “The Thunder Beings be with you, my brother. At least, you know you have my vote.”

  * * *

  Sur Sceaf decided to return to the crater rim in preparation for the coming events of the eclipse. Standing on the edge of the rim, he surveyed the crowd, but caught no glimpse of Taneshewa. Turning, he took in the familiar skyscape of the rim that held the deep blue waters in its stony arms. He walked to the lip of the crater and settled down cross-legged on a smooth stone.

  He had attended many gatherings of the Roufytrof on the Wizard’s Island. It was a cinder cone anchored in the midst of the improbable blue clarity of this lake. The Herewardi came here for their Holy Days of Mid-Summer and climbed to the top of the cinder mound to call upon the Gods of their Fathers. Because of all the preparations in uniting the three tribes only three representatives of the Roufytrof would do the necessary worship this year. Long Swan would be one of them.

  The Crater of the Elk Spirit was indeed a holy oracle. It emanated powers like a direct conduit from the realms of the gods. He knew this from personal experience and the dreams he had when he slept on the holy mound below. He had proved it in times past. To look into its deep mirrored surface was like looking into the very Well of Creation.

  Centering his mind, he began to pray. God of the Herewardi, God of Hrus-Syr-Os, Howrus, and Elrus, prepare the path for Taneshewa. Guide her feet into the walled garden of my heart. Oil her way through the narrow maze of Herewardom. Do not let her feet stumble over our sacred laws. Let her come to nest in the Herewardi Tree by her own free will. Make it so!

  As the flames of Sur Sceaf’s heart burned hot, he thought, The ways of a man with a maid are surely the highest form of godly love. It can have no greater expression than Holy Marriage. Neither does it have an equal in any other experience. It is truly the delight of the sons and daughters of men.

  As he slid further into his inner world,the crater waters faded into a surreal mist. Now only thoughts of the sweet surrender of Taneshewa’s eyes as she extended her lady moccasin, filled his mind. His body still hummed with the memory of that warm foot against his thigh. A shimmering light appeared at the edge of his consciousness, slowly taking the shape of a golden hind. He slid into what the lore masters called a phantasma.

  The sky was a brilliant hue of pink with golden streaks bathing the meadow where he stood in the soothing light of a warm sun. The scent of spring flowers wafted on the warm air. The golden hind strode boldly towards him. Her eyes were the deep indigo hue of the crater and she surveyed him with the deepest of love. Once again, he ran his hand over her soft fur. Instantly he experienced a deep ethereal connection, a connection that had roots from before this world, a connection that would have branches running into forever after this world. Her brilliant antlers came alive with light, which entwined the entirety of his being and filled him with life and the greatest joy he had ever known.

  Just as he was deliciously encircled in the brilliant entwining shower of light, he was jerked from his revery by the cry of a golden eagle calling to its mate. The sun was fast setting. Time was slipping by. As he watched, an answering cry came from below, when out of the blue, a golden eagle, free of the heckling crows, rose upwards on the winds of the Elk Spirit Crater to join its mate. Together they soared and flew off into the horizon. He wished them well and felt a sense of renewal and confidence filled his being as he stood to take a deep breath of the resinous mountain air. Soon it would be time for the Ring Ceremony. It occurred to him that this ceremony mirrored both his feelings for Taneshewa and the Sharaka people.

  Finally, he made his way down the path to the broad plains, while the sun rested on the horizon like a red ball of fire. The dancing had ended. The people were feasted. Many celebrated with spirits and drink, and were now gathering here at the amphitheater in anticipation of the Ring Ritual. Many were spreading their blankets on the cooling earth and slowly taking up their seats. The spirit chiefs sat in the middle of the multitude with Onamingo and Mesculera’s groups where they could easily add wood to the council fire and enjoy one another’s company.

  Reaching the level of the plain, he noted that Taneshewa and Going Snake waited in the grouping of white barked pines for him. He changed direction to join them.

  “You look nervous, Surrey.” Taneshewa observed as he approached.

  A vision of the golden hind flashed across his mind. “And you look beautiful.”

  Going Snake glanced up anxiously, “You’re not going to throw up, are you, Sur Sceaf.”

  “No, why would I do that?”

  The boy wrin
kled his brow. “My dad said you threw up when you two climbed Mount Leofric because you are scared of heights.”

  Taneshewa frowned, “You mean you really are afraid of heights? I thought you said that in jest.”

  He felt his face grow warm. “I decided it would be worth it if I got to spend that time with you.”

  She looked both surprised and pleased. “I was afraid the first time. Just hold on to the ring and try not to look down. Do as good as you did when we practiced at the Unequa and all will go well.”

  Redelfis walked past them and said, “Get ready. Follow me.” They followed him up to the rim. Redelfis signaled the Ritual was to begin by placing the torch on a rock holder along the rim. As Sur Sceaf stood with the ritual crew, they began lighting the torches and igniting the bonfires for visibility as darkness covered the land with the last passing of the sun’s reflected rays from the west.

  Sur Sceaf took a deep breath. “Here we go,” he said. Struggling to keep his fear at bay, he walked over to his ring and positioned himself inside the woven branches wrapped with buckskin and bedecked with bright yellow and orange cloth to signify the streamers of the sun. Near him, Taneshewa took up her position in the ring wrapped with brilliant green streamers and leaves to represent the Ea-Urth and its fecundity. Finally, the third, and smaller ring, was occupied by Going Snake with its silver streamers to signify the moon. The only thing different is now they would be raised up sixty feet instead of twenty as in practice.

  Sur Sceaf stood inside the ring, spread-eagled, awaiting the signal. Taneshewa and Going Snake did likewise. Glancing down, he noted that the spectators filled the amphitheater to over flowing. A hush of anticipation settled over the whole assembly. Below he watched as the ropes were securely tied to the waiting stakes. Some young bloods and braves sat on the lower branches of the mighty hemlocks and spruces lining the plains. His heart began to pound. His mouth went as dry as if he had sucked a persimmon. Silently, he sent up a plea to Mighty Tyranis, the God of the Skies, for protection. Please! Do not permit me to disgrace these people who have invested such trust in me.

  Redelfis appeared to be waiting for the right moment as he watched the sky until the moon rose orange on the eastern side of the crater. As the moon paled, the dark shadow of the Ea-Urth began veiling it, what the Herewardi call behooding.

  Redelfis gave the signal for the strong braves to raise the rings into the sky. There was a brief jerk, then Sur Sceaf felt the tug under his feet as they lifted off the ground. The hours of practice had paid off as the rings rose in perfect unison. A murmur of awe went through the crowd as Sur Sceaf, Taneshewa, and Going Snake rose like celestial bodies into the darkening sky until they were five man lengths into the sky suspended from the beam by strong leather ropes.

  Redelfis stepped to a perch at the lip of the rim, raised up his arms where he proclaimed in a manly voice, “The joining of the sun and the moon represents the coming together of the gods and the ancestors to unify their powers in furthering our causes and rendering us protection. Perhaps tonight, they will direct us, not with voices, but certainly in our hearts and minds. Let the ritual speak to you, that it may affect the necessary changes to bring about the unification of our cause.”

  The moon was now half-hidden under the Ea-Urth’s shadow.

  Beyond the three rings was the backdrop of the darkening crater representing the black sun, and the large columns of hemlock trunks thrusting up through its center. Suspended between Heaven and Earth, the three began to swing until Sur Sceaf caught hold of Taneshewa’s ring. He positioned her ring so that it connected to his ring by leather thongs before quickly fashioning the two rings to form a globe. The two of them swung together, symbolizing that Heaven and Earth were now conjoined in a holy eclipse.

  While they stood together inside the globe, Redelfis related the story of First Father and First Mother forming the world in harmony with all the celestial bodies. They made it flourish with life that their children might dwell upon it.

  After Redelfis finished speaking his part, Sur Sceaf and Taneshewa swung over and pulled Going Snake in his ring inside their rings. Sur Sceaf quickly fastened all three rings into one encompassing globe. He realized that to a Herewardi, this globe would appear to be the Mark of Howrus. It pleased him that perhaps the gods were giving similar messages to similar peoples.

  The resounding voice of Redelfis then proclaimed, “Once the globe was filled and with all lifeforms, First Father God and First Mother God married and brought forth children of their own represented by the moon and the stars.”

  Redelfis remained silent as the sliver of the moon gradually disappeared into the darkening shadow of the Ea-Urth. A rolling murmur passed through the clans as the moon disappeared into its behoodment. After a dramatic pause, Redelfis continued, “Thus the First Parents, with their children, rested from all their labors they had done to the earth and the heavens. They reposed here on the Rim of the Great Crater and pronounced it holy. To this day, we their children, gather here at every eclipse, which the stargazers have announced. It is for this reason that we hold our pow wow to assist First Father God and First Mother God in performing their works on the earth through the workings of our council fires.”

  Redelfis finished just as the moon moved out of its hiding place in its full glory.

  The braves untied the leather ropes and began lowering the globe slowly back to earth as Redelfis said, “The joining of the rings is representative of the spiritual portal by which the Thunder Beings enter and visit our world. May it be that they visit us this night through the door we have opened here.”

  The resonant sound of deer whistles arose from the throng below, honoring and acknowledging the gods, whose presence was spiritually felt by many. Gradually, the globe came into contact with the earth. Sur Sceaf felt his chest swell with pride at how well the ceremony had gone. Stepping from the globe, he turned to help Taneshewa and assisted her in leaving it. Going Snake hopped out on his own.

  The boy said excitedly, “Good for you, Surrey, you didn’t throw up.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed. “The gods were with me.” He took Taneshewa by her hand. “This whole day has been very magical for me. Ahy, I have enjoyed the beauty of this night with you. I would also prefer to spend the rest of this special night with you, but for now I must ready myself for the examination of the people.”

  Taneshewa said, “You did well, Swan Lord. It seemed to me that you had conquered your fear, because I couldn’t imagine it being done better.” In the glow from the torchlight her skin took on a golden hue as if her spirit shone through her skin.

  “I can only rejoice that this was the first and the last time I’ll put myself through that.”

  She laughed. He looked into her eyes and felt a powerful and overwhelming urge to kiss her. Instead, he honored her by putting the back of her hand to his forehead. “I hope the night brings us together again.”

  She gave an encouraging smile and then headed for the tree shadows. He turned and went into a grove to prepare his heart to hear the voice of the people. While approaching a shadowed harbor of privacy, he caught Standing Bull, once again, giving him the evil eye, while smacking his fist with his tomahawk. As soon as he saw Sur Sceaf looking his way, he deliberately shifted his gaze at Taneshewa. Then he turned and threw his tomahawk into a nearby hemlock, embedding the head deeply. A menacing glare was shot at Sur Sceaf before the thug retrieved his tomahawk and disappeared into the darkness. The threat could not be clearer.

  Fury rose within him. I shall never allow Standing Bull to harm her again, he vowed silently, no matter what. Mendaho was right, if I have to kill him, so be it.

  * * *

  Sheltered beneath the branches of the hemlocks, the crowds of people could not see him in the shadows, and yet he was close enough to participate when needed. Sur Sceaf watched in awe as the moon moved from an orange hue and continued its march across the sky clothed in all its brightness that shone over the surrounding crater and plains like
honey or amber. As he waited the call for voting, his heart pounded in his chest louder than the drumming. He could sense the mood of the crowd shift from spiritual and festive to sober and serious. All at once, the drumming ceased. The council fire blazed high as one by one, each talking chief brought a log to the flames causing them to rise higher and higher.

  Once again attired in colorful war paint and ritual attire, Mendaka walked into the light and gave the opening ceremonial chant heralding the call to speak and vote. When the chant was finished, Mendaka stepped back and resumed his seat among the talking chiefs. Sur Sceaf felt his mouth grow dry. The success or failure of his mission was about to be decided by the voice of the people. People who were not all privy to the evils of the Pitters, nor the true dangers they faced. He placed his right hand over the medallion in his pocket and felt the energy it emitted like a bee humming in his palm.

  With great ceremony, Onamingo walked into the light, stood there until the clamor of the crowds died down until complete silence reigned. He proclaimed, “Now is the time to hear the voice of the people. It is the time to speak your hearts, all will be--”

  Before the great chief could finish, Standing Bull ploughed forward, pushing people aside until he stood a man’s length away from Onamingo. “No white man will ever lead me. He and his alien elves want us to leave our land. They are worse than the Pitters, who at least, would allow us to remain here. Am I, Hotuekhaashtait the Standing Bull, the only one with any sense anymore? We should never go from our beautiful lands. Who can think to burn them? Only cowards and fools would think to do such. We should pay tribute to the Pitter Empire just like so many of the Whites of the Rogue Nations have done. And some other tribes do it also, such as the Comanche. That way, the Pitters will not molest them. If we do this, if we pay them their tithes and taxes, the Pitters will go elsewhere to extort.”

  While Standing Bull was speaking, Mendaka had made his way to the grove where Sur Sceaf stood and whispered. “What a long winded bull’s fart breaks the night air.”