She fanned out her black wings, and took to the sky.
“It’s her!” Bettie screamed. It no longer sounded like fear in her voice. It sounded more like reverence.
Ecstasy.
“She freed us! She’s an angel! An angel!”
T Is For Tsul ‘Kalu
D.M. Youngquist
Tim Wilkinson sat in front of his fire. Flame burned low on the moon lit night. It gave little light to the small clearing. He was halfway up the Tanasee Bald Mountain on the Transylvania County side of the line in North Carolina. The woods here were thick. He’d driven in for several hours, first by truck, then on his All Terrain Vehicle. He parked that miles back, dragged his ‘guests’ out of the dump box of the ATV, and walked in the rest of the way.
The two men Tim brought with him leaned against an ancient oak tree on the other side of the fire from him. They had rags stuffed in their mouths, covered over with duct tape. Their hands were held behind them with zip-ties looped through their belts. Now that they had stopped their hike, Tim had taped their legs together as well. No one was going anywhere.
Over the fire, roasted several deer steaks and tenderloin strips he had cut from the buck he killed earlier in the month during bow hunting season. The scent rose into the night as he sang. The ancient song floated out among the stars on the wind. An occasional gust would rattle the drying leaves. It was a cool fall night, and the fire did little to chase away the frost. During parts of his song, he would sprinkle herbs over the fire. The essence mingled with the aroma of the meat and was carried deeper into the woods.
The song he sang had been passed down to him from his grandfather, to his father, to him. They were of the Aniwodi Clan of the Cherokee. The Red Paint Clan. Mystics. Seers. Tim lived his life in the White Man’s world. His family had for generations, but when his father was young, it was decided that the old ways needed to be preserved and taught to the children. Without this, the Cherokee would cease to be a people.
His blood, his heritage, was as mixed as many Americans, with Irish, German and African blended with the Cherokee, but his heart and his soul belonged to the people who lived on this land since time forgotten. Tonight on the Tanasee Bald, his song reached back over the millennia. Back to a time and place forgotten and dismissed by modern science and religion. Back into the dark corners of the Cherokee ways to hopefully reach the ears of Tsul ‘Kalu and find his favor.
Tim sang the last verse of his song, sprinkled freshly dried tobacco over the coals, and sat back to wait for his guest. The men against the tree had stopped their struggles. Their wrists bled after fighting with the hard plastic for hours. Like their host, they waited.
A minute passed. Then five. If his song failed, Tim would eat a slice of the meat, put out the fire, and walk back to his ATV. The men he would leave to the mercies of the wilds. As time passed, he reached for a slice of meat with his knife.
“Did you bring enough to share?” a voice rumbled from the north side of the clearing.
Tim caught his breath as he turned to the voice. “Yes, Grandfather. I did.”
“Then I would have a piece. As my friends would.”
A giant stepped into the clearing. He was eight feet tall, if he were an inch. Dark brown hair covered his body, except for the upper part of his face. Tsul ‘Kalu was as wide across the shoulders as two axe handles laid end to end. He wore a deerskin breechcloth and simple vest made of the same. His eyes were striking. They seemed huge as they slanted up like deep pools of night sky. Tim pulled a spit from the fire. The steak sizzled as he handed it to Tsul ‘Kalu, who rested his weight against his lance.
“Please, join me.” Tim offered a place by the fire. He glanced up as two wolves appeared in the clearing. Forms shifted, and two men stood before him. Others gathered as well. Badgers. Coyotes. Four deer. Soon a dozen men stood in the clearing with them. They gathered round the fire as Tim shared as much venison as he had. They ate in silence until finished. Only occasionally did a sound come from the men behind them.
Tsul ‘Kula finished his steak, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Thank you. It is good, my son. What is your name, and why are you here?”
“My name is Tim Wilkinson. I am here to ask a favor of you.”
“That is your white name. What is the name you use when among our people?”
“I am called Red Coyote.” Tim said. It was late. He hoped they didn’t spend all night talking. Now that Tsul ‘Kalu was here, he didn’t want to waste time.
“That is a good name,” said one of the men who had transformed from a wolf. “Why have you brought us?”
“I have need of justice,” Tim said. “The two men I brought with me raped my girlfriend. She had left me. I want justice.”
“Why bring them to us?” Asked a warrior whose hair blew around him liked a black cloud every time the breeze shifted.
“Did they not receive a trial with the whites?” Tsul ‘Kalu enquired. They are not of our people. “Why would we have interest in what they have done?”
“My wife was of our people. She was like me.” Tim said. “They raped her, and they beat her. They followed her from a bar she walked past on her way from work, forced her into our home, and had their way with her. I found her barely alive and called for help.” Tim paused a moment, and wiped at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “She was carrying our baby. She lost it on the way to the hospital. After she left the hospital and healed, she left me. I haven’t seen her in months.”
Tsul ‘Kalu was quiet for many moments. He glanced from Tim, to the fire, to the men struggling against their bonds. “Why did they not get justice among the whites?”
“A jury, a council of white men, did not think there was enough evidence presented to prove they had done it. They were released.”
“Then why are you convinced these two were responsible?” Brother Wolf asked.
“Two things. Shelia, my wife, said one of the men who raped her had a large tattoo of a snake on his arm.” Tim stood and walked over to the men. He rolled one over onto his belly, and rolled the man’s sleeve up. A large black snake crawled down the man’s arm, its head tattooed onto the back of his hand. “And this other one told another inmate while he was in jail they had done it and gave a description of what Shelia looked like naked.”
The group sat briefly in silence. Then they began to talk among themselves in the old language. There was no loud argument, just conversation. Each member of the group was heard. When the last had spoken, they turned back to Tsul ‘Kalu.
“What do you want of us? Ask. We allow you one favor.” The giant rumbled.
“I want them killed.” Tim said through clenched teeth.
Tsul ‘Kalu was silent. So long Tim feared he would simply vanish. “Why should we kill them?” he asked at last.
“It is the season of the hunt. You offered me one favor. This is the only favor I ask. Hunt them.” Tim looked at the ancient spirit across the fire. He was determined in this. He didn’t glance away.
“It will be so.” Tsul ‘Kalu stood.
The men around him shifted to their animal forms. The wolves approached the men silently, hackles raised. The men tried to squirm away. Tsul ‘Kalu stepped through the group. He slashed through the plastic zip-ties the men wore around their hands and legs with an obsidian blade. They stood shaking and ripped the tape from their mouths.
“What the hell is this?” The man with the snake tattooed on his arm asked as he tried to back away.
“Justice.” Tim stated from the edge of the group.
“Bullshit!” The other man spat. “You threw something on that fire to burn to make us see things. This ain’t real.”
“It is quite real.” Tsul ‘Kalu raised his staff. Around them the woods spun in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Wind blew in a shrieking gale. Tim and the men staggered as they tried to stay on their feet. There was nothing to hold on to, each fell to the ground to lie immobile while the world spun around them.
&nb
sp; When the trip ended they were in a clearing of soft grass, lit by the moon high in the sky. The three humans brushed stray leaves and twigs from themselves as they stood.
“This is insane!” The man with the snake tattoo said.
“It is what was asked for.” Tsul ‘Kalu said. He stepped into the center of the group. The men shrank back from him. He took the first by a shoulder, and looked deep into his eyes. The man froze, like a deer caught in a spotlight. The second tried to back away, only to be nudged forward by a growling wolf. Tsul ‘Kalu did the same to him. He said nothing as he looked deep into the men’s eyes. When he released them, they stood shaking.
“Both have done what you have said, Red Coyote.” Tsul ‘Kalu turned to face the man. “And more. You have called us and shown us hospitality. We shall grant your request, but you will join us in the hunt.”
Tsul ‘Kalu raised his hand. Tim grunted as a wave of energy washed over him. His face pushed out in a long muzzle. Teeth sharpened; fingers curled under to become paws. Hair changed to russet fur and spread across his body. A tail sprouted from his spine. As the changes passed, Tim stood blinking in the clearing, next to the others.
“There are conditions to this hunt though.” Tsul ‘Kalu explained. “We stand in the center of my home. We hunt these men until the moon falls, and the sun rises. If they are off of my land in that time, they shall be spared. And they cannot escape as men of the white world, they are quite helpless in this manner.”
Again he raised his hand. Energy flowed around the two men. Their clothes melted away. Faces elongated, ears sprouted from the tops of their heads. They fell to all fours as the magic pushed them down. Brown hair washed across their bodies, and large tails, white on the underside sprouted from their spines. Two does stood on the opposite side of the clearing. One had a front leg that was black from the shoulder down, as the ink tainted even the hair of their new bodies.
For a moment they blinked around them at their surroundings. One tried to walk. She staggered and fell. The other took cautious steps on unsteady legs. She quavered as she began to move more easily. Her partner gained her feet as they walked slowly among the others who growled up at them. Red Coyote tried to lunge forward, only to be held back by Tsul ‘Kalu.
“No. They must have time to get a start before we hunt them.” Tsul ‘Kalu said as he looked down at Red Coyote. “Otherwise the hunt is nothing more than a slaughter.”
Red Coyote growled something and started to take another step forward, but was cowed into place by the two wolves. He was not the senior member of this pack.
Tsul ‘Kalu turned his attention to the two does, who now walked through the long grass more easily. “I will give you a start of ten minutes, as the white’s measure time. Then I release the pack. If you make it off my property by sunrise, you are allowed to live.”
Red Coyote snarled from his place beside the wolves. The deer looked first at him, then at Tsul ‘Kalu. They tucked tail and ran. Red Coyote made a move to bound after them, but was stopped when Tsul ‘Kalu placed his spear in the way. He frowned down at Red Coyote, who bowed his head and stepped back.
They waited. For long, maddening minutes, they waited. Red Coyote paced behind the wolves and the leader of the hunt. He had the scent of the does in his nostrils. They’d be easy to find. Both did stink of being on heat. They stunk of human. They stunk of fear. Red Coyote could smell all this now. His world opened up as never before with the new sense he had. He could hear ants walking through the grass. A day bird in the treetop fluffed its feathers as it slept. A mouse scurried past a few feet away, and caught his attention. He almost turned to catch it. He was hungry, but caught himself.
Tsul ‘Kalu tapped his spear on the ground. All turned to him. With a sweep of his arm, he started the hunt. Red Coyote bound forward after the wolves as they raced after the deer. The wind rolled past them as they ran. No one barked or howled. All were excited, but they weren’t hounds. Scents were still there, all they had to do was focus on those. Red Coyote’s lungs filled with the night air. His heart hammered in his chest with the rhythm of the hunt. Ground flew under his paws as he ran. The sensations were amazing. Why would anyone want to live as a human? To the human body, the world was an entirely different place. It seemed more dead and lifeless to him, now that he could truly experience it.
A wide stream flowed through the forest. The Hunt stopped on the banks. For long moments they slaked their thirst on the crystal clear water. Silver moonlight reflected across the surface as the creek flowed over stones and swirled away into the night. Red Coyote watched as the wolves cast about on the bank, noses to the ground. He realized the deer had crossed the creek, and with a whine, he began the search for the scent as well.
A short distance from where they had drunk, they found where the does had jumped the last few feet into the water. It was deep, and the current was slow where the deer went in. These two weren’t just running blind. They could think as well as the group who were hunting them. Red Coyote followed the wolves along the bank as they looked for sign. For a hundred yards either direction, they searched and found nothing. Tsul ‘Kalu waited as his people puzzled out the trail. Time was passing quickly as they searched. The deer were getting further away. Red Coyote growled in frustration. One of the wolves looked over his shoulder, and shook his head with a low growl. He and his partner eased into the stream.
The wolves set a course for the far bank. Red Coyote hesitated. The creek was deep. He didn’t know the current. He didn’t know if he could swim in this body. He whined in frustration as the other two climbed onto the far bank, shook themselves, and resumed the search. He rocked back and forth on his paws, debating on whether or not to cross, when he felt the shaft of the spear lift his rear end from the ground, and he hit the water with a splash.
He sucked water into his lungs, and for a moment felt panic try to grab him. Then he saw the moon above the surface of the stream, and reached for it. He broke through with a gag, coughing the water out of his body. Tsul ‘Kalu stood on the bank in front of him, and Red Coyote realized he was not only facing the wrong direction, but being swept downstream as well. He turned in the water, paddled, and finally got the far bank. Tsul ‘Kalu waded across the stream with several animals in his hands and placed them gently on the ground while Red Coyote tried to catch his breath.
“If you are to hunt with us, you had best earn your keep.” Tsul ‘Kalu climbed out of the water. “It is not fair you make your brothers do all the work so you can share in the rewards.”
Red Coyote shook himself best he could then trotted down the bank to join the wolves. They cast about together, as they looked for the scent. The does hadn’t circled back to the bank they’d left, which meant they had to have come out on this side, or swam down the stream a distance. As they thought as men, it was hard to predict which direction they would take. First fifty yards downstream, then fifty up they searched, and found nothing. They split up going opposite directions on the bank. Red Coyote followed the wolf who went downstream. Logic would say to with the direction the stream flowed, to not wear yourself out fighting the current. It’s what a deer would do.
For long minutes they sniffed along through the weeds and mud. Saw grass pulled at their eyes and against their face. Burs stuck to their fur. More than once, Red Coyote stepped on a thorny branch that had fallen to the ground. He began to question if this revenge were worth the trouble. He never expected to be part of the Hunt. Never expected to have to make this sort of deal. He was cold and wet and had a sore nose and was muddy and full of burs. He was about to go back to Tsul ‘Kalu and ask to be let out of the deal, when a yip far up the bank reached his ears. The other wolf had found the scent.
They turned and ran upstream to where the other wolf stood. Tsul ‘Kalu joined them. The first wolf indicated the direction the does had run. Red Coyote didn’t smell anything at first, but as he cast around, he found a scent that his brain told him was deer. He glanced up at the wolves, who watched as
he puzzled out the track. They stood, walked past him, and broke into a lope as the trail lined out in front of them. Red Coyote ran to keep up.
They caught up to the does, but Red Coyote didn’t know how much time they had left. The hunt had been running since past midnight, and puzzling out the trail had cost time. He also didn’t know how close they were to the border of Tsul ‘Kalu’s home. With an excited yip, he raced ahead of the wolves.
The does heard the hunt coming. As they turned and saw the group closing on them, the doe with the black leg shoved her friend in the ribs. The doe staggered to the side, turned and tried to limp away. The doe with the black leg bounded out of sight. As the Hunt closed on the first doe, Red Coyote saw she had broken her front leg somewhere on her flight. Jagged bone stuck out one side of her skin, and she held it in the air as she tried to hobble away.
No time was wasted. The group swarmed in around her as they cut off her escape. She turned, lowered her head to fight. One of the wolves darted in to nip at her hind legs. She whirled to fight that wolf off, and the other nipped her haunch. She spun to face him, and Red Coyote leaped in to grab her throat. She reared up, and struck Red Coyote in the ribs with her hoof. A gash opened along the path of her blow. As she came down, Red Coyote shifted his grip on her throat, and tightened his jaws.
Blood spurted across his face as his teeth punched through the veins of her neck. She bleated as she started to collapse. Hot, lush, blood filled his mouth as he dragged her down. He growled and yelped in excitement as she fell. The taste of blood was like liquid steak. He gave a shake of his head. Teeth ripped more flesh. Blood flowed faster. The doe collapsed.
The wolves jumped in and clamped their jaws onto the doe. She struggled, but was held down. Red Coyote held her throat as she died. She struggled more, but was weak. She tried to kick them away, but her strikes were nothing more that twitches now. She bleated again as she rolled her head back. Red Coyote locked eyes with her, and watched her die. The wolves felt her go limp, and tore through her hide to eat.
The Bestiarum Vocabulum (TRES LIBRORUM PROHIBITUM) Page 31
