CIRCLES IN THE SKY (The Mother People Series Book 2)

by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT

  "I am impatient! You have told me much of where the power comes from, but I wish to know how you use it!" She raised the knife, ready to bring it down on Zena's chest.

  Torlan's voice stopped the gesture. Veeta's interruption had given him time to think. He did not entirely understand what Zena wanted, but he would do his best.

  "Zena wishes me to show you how she uses the power," he said quickly, "so you can see how the rituals are done.

  "I am the one who does these rituals for her," he went on, thinking fast, "for she cannot. You must watch me carefully, see how each gesture is performed."

  Reluctantly, Veeta turned to watch him. After all, Zena could hardly escape. She could not walk, and the men were watching if she tried.

  "First, you must do this," Torlan said, bringing his hands together on his chest in an attitude of prayer. "Speak words of great power to the one you worship, as Zena has done, words of praise and gratitude, then slowly spread your arms to the sky and remain that way while your words take effect. Three times you must do this - three times, always with the same words and gestures."

  He repeated the movements while Veeta watched. "Then," he continued, "you must kneel and gather the supplies you have brought. There must be something from each of the sources of power - from the sky, even if it is only a fistful of air that cannot be seen, from the earth, a handful of dirt perhaps, a bowl of water from the lakes or streams. You must have something, too, from one creature that roams the land, one that crawls beneath it, one that swims the waters, and one that flies through the skies."

  He made gestures to match his words, then stopped for a moment to catch his breath and think of more ideas. He dared not look at Zena, lest Veeta follow his eyes. Her attention began to shift and he spoke again quickly.

  "All these must be placed in a deep hole you have dug, a hole filled with fire, for that is the other power." He knelt again and made digging movements. "They must be there for a full cycle of the day and night, burning slowly. When only ashes remain, you must sprinkle water over them each day, just as the sun goes down, and say the strong words again. Then, at the time of the next full moon, the power that is in all these things will begin to come into your body."

  "And then," Zena's voice took up the words, "then the power will be yours, will be in your body, your mind, and will never leave it. Great Mother," she continued without stopping, "I ask now for Your protection, not just for myself but for the little one that grows inside me. Great Goddess, be with me now, as You have always been before."

  Fear coursed through her body then, a fear that seemed to emanate from her like a scent. She knew what Veeta would do next, had tried to prepare herself, but she could not be certain. She must trust the Goddess now as she had never trusted Her before.

  A look of triumph came into Veeta's face when Torlan finished his explanation. "Now I know all," she said, and her voice was filled with malice. "I have made you tell me all the magic, the rituals, and you did it without protest. I have thought before that the Mother People were stupid, and now I know I was right. Of what use are you to me now? No use at all. Did you not think of that?"

  Torlan leaped toward Zena, guessing Veeta's intent. He had not saved Zena, had only put her in more danger, even as he had tried to help her. He must find another way distract Veeta...

  "Not all," he said desperately. "There is something else you must know." With a dramatic flourish, he pulled back the garment that hung from his shoulders.

  Veeta turned and gasped at the sight of the mark on his chest. "But what does the mark mean?"

  "It means you cannot kill her. To get her power, you must kill me instead. I am the one from whom the power truly comes."

  "Then I will kill you both," Veeta said calmly. "I meant to do that anyway.

  “It is no use trying to escape," she added maliciously. ‘My men are behind you, ready to attack when I give the order.”

  She laughed. It was the most horrible sound Zena had ever heard. She braced herself as Veeta raised the knife into the air as if in blessing, then plunged it toward her chest. She must not move, must not let there be even the smallest gap...

  The knife hit with a strange, cracking sound and slid harmlessly away. Veeta stared at it, enraged. Why had it not penetrated?

  Zena sensed rather than saw Torlan leap toward her, ignoring the men running toward him from the woods. Above her, she saw Veeta raise the knife once more, higher now, to get more leverage.

  Again, Zena braced herself, but this time there was no need. A rush of movement came from the edge of the clearing closest to her, and then Lupo was upon Veeta. The impact of the wolf's heavy body knocked her backward, and the knife dropped from her fist. Veeta screamed and tried to scramble to her feet, but Lupo held on fiercely. Her beloved Zena had been threatened, and for that there was only one solution.

  Another scream came from deep in Veeta's throat, and she managed to get up. She ran a few steps, shouting for the men to come and help her, but then the pups were upon her as well, tearing at her savagely.

  "Lupo," Zena called out. "Lupo, you must stop now." She had known what would happen, but to watch was hard, so hard...

  Lupo paid no attention. She had smelled the evil, knew its form, had smelled the fear that came from Zena and knew its source.

  Torlan ran toward Veeta, but before he could reach her she had struggled up again and run screaming into the woods, calling again for help. Her men paid no attention to her pleas. Panicked by the sight of four snarling wolves, they thought only of escape. Torlan saw the abject terror on their faces, watched as they leaped onto horses and rode away. Another horse, riderless, followed. Veeta kept running; the grey streak of fury that was Lupo charged after her, the pups were right behind.

  He saw Veeta stumble and fall again, and ran as fast as he could. He was too late. When he came to the place where she lay, the four wolves were standing over Veeta, watchful lest she move again. Torlan knew she would not.

  Zena covered her face with her hands. Slowly, she took them away again and pulled out the Goddess figures, wrapped so tightly in the thick fur that lay across her chest. Only one was damaged, the one her mother had given her long ago.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The days passed swiftly as the tribe prepared to leave for their new home. There was much to do. New water bags were needed, new fur garments and foot coverings had to be made; food had to be gathered and dried if possible. Other Mother People tribes also had to be notified, about the children who had been found and about the new home Zena had seen in her visions. Various members of the tribe took turns looking for these groups, telling them where to go, asking if any of their children had been stolen. It was a joyous task, as people who had given up hope of finding their beloved children alive learned that they were safe.

  Each group told others; as the word spread, grateful tribe members came to collect their children and to find out more about the journey. They should go east, Zena told them, east into the rising sun, until they came to a huge body of water she had seen. Mounds of small stones would be left along their route as markers, so that others could follow. The children had been given this job, and they were looking forward to it eagerly. The adults were no less eager. To know that they were at last heading for their new home filled their hearts with wonder and excitement.

  Only two problems worried the tribe - the difficulty of carrying Zena a long distance in her sling, and Gunor's lameness. It was very hard now for the old man to walk.

  Nordal suggested a solution. "We can get the other horses, the ones that were used to bring all the children, if they are still there," he said. "Torlan could ride one with Zena in front, so he can help her to stay up. Gunor could ride one, too, and any others who are tired could take a turn."

  Everyone agreed that this was an excellent plan. Borg and Bukkor went back with Nordal, since they knew the way, and found five horses still in the area. Accustomed now to being with people, they whinnied eagerly when Nordal and Alare appea
red. Except for the horses, the place was deserted. No doubt the men had run as fast as they could, Borg realized, fearful lest the wolves come and attack them as Veeta had been attacked.

  The thought of riding on top of a horse alarmed Gunor at first, but Nordal selected a very calm one, and Gunor soon began to feel quite comfortable as it plodded along. Torlan and Zena, on the other hand, were enthusiastic and as they grew accustomed to the horse’s gait Torlan was able to let the animal run while he clung to Zena and she to him, while the wind rushed through their hair. But of all of them, Katalin loved the horses the most. It seemed as if she had been born to gallop through the fields on a horse, so closely did her body merge with the animal she rode.

  Nordal galloped beside her on Alare, thrilled that someone else loved the horses as much as he did. His mother's death had left him sad and bewildered, but he was slowly recovering. The rides with Katalin helped a great deal; so did the novelty of being with people who truly cared for him. He was especially popular with the children, mostly because they liked and admired him, but also, Zena suspected, because each of them wanted a turn on Alare. Nordal was happy to oblige and quickly became adept at teaching them how to ride, and how to treat Alare and the other horses. With both children and horses, he displayed an exceptional gentleness.

  "It is strange to think that Tron, who was so violent, helped to give Nordal life," Marita commented, coming to sit beside Zena. "He is such a kind, gentle child."

  "And that Veeta was his mother," Torlan added. "She was worse than Tron, I think. She would have corrupted the children, taught them to kill their own people. That was truly evil, even more terrible than killing."

  Zena nodded. "What she wanted to do was almost beyond evil, beyond just the absence of good. Or perhaps that is what evil consists of - the desire to destroy everything that is wise and good in others."

  "Still," she continued somberly, "I felt pity for Veeta. She was cruel because she had never known the meaning of love or compassion and so turned to revenge."

  "I did not," Marita declared stoutly. "She was cruel even to her own son. A woman like that does not deserve pity.

  "I hope Nordal can stay with us," she added fervently. "I do not like to think of him returning to his own tribe, where the adults, even the children, are so violent toward each other."

  "I hope so too," Zena agreed, but she was not sure that was possible. Nordal often spoke wistfully of a man called Gorn, who was his mother's older brother, and had always been kind to him. If Gorn came for Nordal and wanted him to return to his own tribe, they must let Nordal go, if that was his choice.

  The question was settled when a tall man strode into the clearing some days later. His bearing was proud, but suffering was etched into his face. He was alone, and held out his hands as he came, so they would know he meant no harm.

  Nordal ran to him. “Gorn,” he cried. “Gorn, you have come!”

  The big man swept him into a warm embrace. "I am so happy to find you safe, Nordal!" he exclaimed. "So very happy. I did not know..."

  Nordal interrupted excitedly. "I have been here, with these people, and they do not even mind my leg, and the children do not tease me. They are my friends, and I have taught them to ride. You must stay here, too, Gorn. To be here is very nice."

  Gorn laughed, and for a moment the tension on his face relaxed. "I thank you for caring for Nordal," he said to Zena, seeming to know already who she was. He spoke in her words, she realized, surprised.

  "I learned your words as I traveled," he explained, seeing her surprise. "To do such things pleases me."

  Zena smiled at him. How very different he was from his sister! "We are happy to have Nordal," she told him. "He is a brave and thoughtful boy."

  Gorn nodded. "That is certainly true."

  He looked down at the boy. "Now you must go find Alare," he told him, "so that I may greet her and see how she is!"

  Nordal limped off, and Gorn turned to Zena again. "I did not wish to say what I must tell you before the boy," he explained, and Zena saw his lips tighten again with pain.

  "I am the brother of Veeta," he continued. "She was my only sister, but still I could not find it in my heart to love her. Veeta was hard to love."

  He shook his head wearily. "Once, I, too, wished to avenge Vetron's death. Always, we have been taught that a death must be avenged. But I have changed. Now, I have lost all desire for such things. When I realized what Veeta was doing..."

  He broke off; then he forced himself to continue. "It was a terrible thing Veeta planned, more terrible than perhaps you know. She wished to be the leader of all the Northern tribes so she could make them help her take the children and teach still more of them to kill, until all other people but ourselves were gone."

  "No," Zena breathed. "No, I did not know that, only that she would take the children herself."

  "She wanted to rule all the land in these parts, the people, the animals - everything. She had to be stopped. Still, I would not have wished such a death on her." Gorn stopped, too anguished to continue.

  Zena spoke into the silence. "I am sorry for the manner of her death, truly sorry. It seemed the only way. It was the only way, and so I took it. I alone bear the blame.

  "I do not think Veeta knew how cruel she was, or understood the pain she inflicted on others," she continued softly. "She could think of only of revenge, and power. For Veeta, there was nothing else."

  “In that you are right,” Gorn agreed after a moment. "Revenge, and the urge for power, for herself alone, was all she thought of."

  "But we are not all like that," he went on, with an attempt at a smile. "The people of the Northern tribes are harsh, often violent, but few are truly cruel. It is the way we live, I think - the brutal cold, the struggle to survive, to keep warm, keep food in our bellies when everything we depend on is covered with ice. We learn early to take what we find for ourselves and to mistrust those who might take it from us - and to mistrust those who are different from ourselves."

  "In that you are not alone," Zena commented. "Most of us mistrust others who are different. We must learn to overcome this, but it is hard."

  Gorn nodded. "That is what I wish to do for my people, to help them change. In a way, my ambition is as great as Veeta's. I, too, wish to lead, but not in the same way."

  He stopped for a moment to think, and when he spoke again his voice was strong, utterly determined. "There has been enough violence among my people. I wish to show them that there are other ways, that words can settle disputes better than knives, that the thoughts and beliefs of others are not always wrong, only different. I do not know if I can succeed, but I know I must try."

  Nordal returned at that moment with Alare, and Gorn jumped up. “You have cared for her well, Nordal," he told the boy, running his hands along Alare's smooth flanks.

  Nordal smiled proudly but then anxiety came into his face. "Can you stay here, Gorn? It is a good place to be."

  Gorn knelt to hug him. "I cannot stay, Nordal. I must return to the tribe. I am their leader, and have much to teach them."

  "Then I must come with you," Nordal said bravely.

  Gorn shook his head. "For you to stay here would be better," he said gently, "if that is all right with these people, and with you." His eyes questioned Zena, and she nodded in affirmation.

  "We hoped Nordal could stay," she said sincerely.

  "You see, Nordal," Gorn continued, "I must travel a great deal now, from one tribe to another, teaching them, and then I would have to leave you behind, and that would not be good."

  Nordal frowned. "What will you teach them?"

  "I hope to teach them other ways than violence," Gorn explained. "Perhaps I will be teaching them much of what you are learning in this new home. That will be fine, I think. And when you are older, you can come to help me."

  "I will promise to help you," Nordal answered seriously. "I think it is much nicer to live as Zena and the Mother People live than for people to be fighting and hurting each
other all the time. Here, people care for each other instead."

  "You are right. I will remember your words as I travel," Gorn answered, rising. "They will help me to remember when there is no one else who can remind me of my mission."

  "You must have sustenance before you leave," Lilan said, handing him fruit and cooked meat, and a bowl of broth Pulot had made.

  Gorn accepted gladly. When he had finished, he gave Nordal some fine foot coverings he had brought, and a pouch filled with various tokens - a beautiful feather, some carved pieces of bone, and a small knife with intricate designs on its handle.

  "Use the knife well," he instructed, "not to do harm, but to prepare food, to make carvings and designs. That is the proper use for a knife, is it not?"

  Nordal's face lit up with pleasure at the gift. "Yes, that is true," he answered. "I thank you, Gorn, and I will be certain to do no harm." He looked up from the treasures, beaming, then his eyes filled with tears as he realized Gorn was leaving.

  Gorn hugged him hard and assured him he would be back soon to see him, then he strode away.

  Katalin took Nordal's hand. "I have just begun to brush the horses, Nordal. Perhaps you would like to help?"

  Nordal nodded, unable to speak. Katalin led him gently away, chattering all the while about the horses, what they would need to do to ready them for the journey, and after a while, Zena heard Nordal's husky voice joining hers.

  "Gorn is a fine man," Lilan observed. "I hope he can succeed in his mission. It will not be easy."

  "No, It will not be easy." Zena sighed, wondering if it would really be possible to change people whose lives and beliefs were so imbued with violence and with the idea that one group of people had the right to control another. Just as the men controlled the women, so each tribe tried to control the land and the other tribes around them.

  Except Veeta had wanted even more. She had wanted to control everything, everyone. If she had succeeded, if she had convinced the other Northern tribes to follow her, to obey her... Zena's eyes closed in horror at the thought.