Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  Atina spoke to Red Feather. “Did they get much grain?”

  Red Feather glowed with pride at having been the first one the cacique addressed. “No, Cacique. In their haste to escape they spilled most of it. All they got was what they ate right there in the hut.”

  Red Feather turned to look at Calling Crow. “Isn’t that so?”

  Calling Crow nodded. “It is so.”

  Black Snake raised his hand to speak and Atina acknowledged him.

  “Cacique. This raid should not go unpunished. The whites are weak as children. Now is the time to attack. We should rub them out.”

  Calling Crow’s pulse quickened as he thought of the possible consequences. Surely the whites were desperate to have done such a foolish thing. He remembered the faces of the women at the granary and the wretch of a man lying on the ground. He should have foreseen this. The Spanish would have slaves with them, like he and Juana had once been slaves, and they would die as well. And then the Spanish would return in force for their revenge-taking. He must prevent a raid!

  Calling Crow raised his hand and Atina acknowledged him. Black Snake sat.

  Calling Crow got to his feet. “Cacique, there should be no raid.”

  “Why?” said Atina. “Are they not growing more bold?”

  Calling Crow shook his head. “Cacique, this is not boldness. This is desperation, and it is not that much different from what I said would happen. The whites are as out of place here as fish would be on land. They do not know where to find food plants; they cannot catch enough game. If we continue to have nothing to do with them they will leave.”

  Atina’s eyes narrowed. “I am not so sure.” He addressed himself to Black Snake and his bravos. “Post a sentry to watch their camp day and night. Tell him not to show himself and to report only to me.”

  Atina studied Calling Crow for a moment before turning to Rain Cloud. “You and Calling Crow and the Fox bravos, move the granary into the village. See to it!”

  Calling Crow and Rain Cloud bowed slightly as Atina got to his feet and left. Black Snake followed him out of the hut. Running Wolf glared at the assembly and left. The other Wolf society bravos followed.

  Rain Cloud looked over at Calling Crow. “Let us go.”

  Later that day as the sun set, Black Snake sat on the rotted corpse of a fallen tree just inside the great forest. A short distance away, Running Wolf peered out from behind some bushes at the village of Aguacay across the clearing.

  “Calling Crow and the Fox bravos have returned with the first load of maize,” said Running Wolf.

  Black Snake got to his feet and went over to look out. He grew angry and began pacing. “Atina has become soft. To continue to listen to Calling Crow’s crazy talk in the council is wrong.”

  “Aieyee,” said Running Wolf, shaking his head. “That is so, but what can we do? Rain Cloud and the Fox bravos, and many of the Hawk bravos are also taken in by him.”

  Black Snake turned and his eyes pierced Running Wolf like two racing arrows. Running Wolf flinched.

  “We will have to do something about them,” said Black Snake.

  “What do you mean?” said Running Wolf, intrigued by the implied threat to the cacique.

  “I don’t know,” said Black Snake. “But we must think of something. Calling Crow, Rain Cloud, and Atina, all must be dealt with, and soon.”

  Calling Crow and Green Bird Woman watched with some others as Running Wolf prayed in the square ground. Whistling and sending up an offering of smoke, he called to the cloud spirits to come and bring rain. Green Bird Woman turned to Calling Crow. “They say he will bring down much bad weather on the white people.”

  Calling Crow said nothing as he looked at the sky. The light was fading, but in the distance he saw rain clouds coming their way.

  Running Wolf looked in their direction and Green Bird Woman flinched. She took Calling Crow’s arm.

  Running Wolf shouted over at Calling Crow. “You say we should not attack them.” He pounded his chest. “I am not afraid. I will freeze them with icy rain and then I will scorch them with the sun!” He threw back his head and howled crazily.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “Aieyee,” said Green Bird Woman nervously. “See how quickly the thunder beings do his bidding!” She held Calling Crow tighter. “Let us go. He is evil and he will put a spell on us.”

  They began walking the earthen streets. When they reached Green Bird Woman’s hut, cold rain came down with a sudden roar, putting out Green Bird Woman’s outside cook fire.

  Bright Eyes smiled at them with shy eyes as they entered the hut. Calling Crow touched her warmly on the head but said nothing. There was still a heaviness in his heart over the baby’s death. They watched the rain come down. Hail rattled on the thatched roof. It bounced and rolled on the packed earth outside as thunder rumbled in the distance. Calling Crow left the entryway and knelt at the fire. He fanned the coals into flame. Green Bird Woman remained standing at the entryway, looking out into the growing darkness.

  Green Bird Woman turned to Calling Crow; her pretty face now dull with fear and sorrow. “Running Wolf is the most powerful medicine man in the entire village,” she said. “Never cross his path.”

  Calling Crow felt bad for her, but he knew she would recover her former confidence in time. “I am not afraid of him,” he said.

  “He can turn himself into a wolf.”

  Calling Crow said nothing and she went on.

  “Bright Eyes, isn’t it so?”

  Bright Eyes did not look up as she nodded nervously.

  “Several say they have seen this,” said Green Bird Woman.

  Lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud crash.

  “Aieyee!” said Green Bird Woman, “see his power!”

  Calling Crow went to her and brought her over to the fire. They sat and looked into the flames, while over in her corner, Bright Eyes made ready to sleep. After a while Green Bird Woman lay down to sleep and Calling Crow put more sticks on the fire. He felt odd, as if something were coming. He looked into the flames for a long time until the others were asleep, and then he lay down. Unable to sleep, he turned his head and watched the flames. The rain clattered as the flames twirled and jumped from one part of the fire to the other. The odd, dizzy feeling grew and the fire in the hut seemed to move, to travel in circles around him. Then he was spinning away rapidly. He closed his eyes to steady himself. When he opened them he was walking through the forest. He thought he had gone crazy because he did not care where he went or how loudly he went. There was no wind and nothing stirred. It was as if all the birds and four-leggeds had gone away. Something dark flashed overhead and he saw a large black crow fly powerfully toward a thick copse of bushes in the distance. He followed, watching to see where the bird alighted. When he got there, the bird looked down at him and said, “You will find what you want inside.” It squawked loudly and flew off. Calling Crow moved into the thick bushes and entered a magic place. There was a small pond about the size of a hut, fed by an underground spring. In its center, a solitary tree sprouted, its roots forming a small, mossy island. A woman sat there with her back to him. His heart beat faster as he approached. There was something familiar about the slight shoulders, the length of her hair. He paused at the edge of the pond. He called to her but she would not turn around. Despite that, he knew she was Juana.

  Calling Crow awoke. The storm had passed and the night was still. He stared at a patch of stars visible through the smokehole. What did the dream mean? Where was that place? He lay on his back, looking up at the stars, listening to the whisper of Bright Eye’s breathing, the deep sighs of Green Bird Woman, and the rasping drone of Santee.

  Something bad pressed in on him, a thought. He lay still for a long time, trying to keep it at bay, and then had to let it in. The place must be the netherworld on the other side of death. That was where he would finally be reunited with Juana. He did not want to admit it, but he knew it must be so. With a heavy heart he
went back to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  A small pale sun ascended into the gray sky. Senors Peralta and Valdez, Father Tomas, and some of the colonists inspected the wreckage of two of the colony’s huts. The thatched roofs had been blown clear away by the mysterious, quickly passing storm of the day before. The people inside, frightened half out of their wits, had then been badly bruised by hail as they ran to the other huts for shelter. Peralta knocked a half-fallen timber down with his boot and looked at the devastation in disgust. “I’m surprised the other two withstood the fury of the storm,” he said.

  Valdez nodded.

  Father Tomas turned away from the debris and looked at Peralta and Valdez. Faint from hunger and lack of sleep, and despite the terrible loss, despair was the farthest thing from his mind. The Lord meted out such punishment for good reason and so they evidently had much sin to atone for. But once they did, God would feed them. He thought of his closest followers who were kneeling in prayer in the meadow at the edge of the forest. Their prayer vigil had gone on for three days now, halted only during the hail storm. They were tired and hungry and he must get back to them soon. He must also get more of the colonists involved. Only when enough had atoned for their sins would God provide. Not before.

  Jose Ayala, a slope-shouldered, hawk-nosed tailor, looked at Peralta. “What are we to do?” he said in a plaintive voice.

  Peralta’s face twisted in annoyance. “Rebuild, of course.”

  “But the people are weak from hunger.”

  “Yes,” said Peralta, “but there is something we can do about that.” He studied the smashed hut as the men waited for him to go on.

  Peralta turned away from the hut. “We will have to raid the Indian village.”

  “What?” said Father Tomas. “They have done nothing to us.”

  Peralta looked at him. “The old Turk gives us no choice.”

  Bartolome Valdez turned his bearded face to Father Tomas. “Si, Father, they have food and they refuse us any of it. Surely that is enough reason.”

  Father Tomas shook his head as he glared at the men. “No. I forbid it. They have done nothing to us.”

  Peralta threw a look of consternation at Valdez and turned back to the priest. “Are we to simply starve here and do nothing to save ourselves?”

  “Perhaps they have only enough food for themselves.”

  “Perhaps,” said Peralta, “but however much they have, I think we shall have to take some.”

  Father Tomas pointed a large finger at Peralta. “If you would disobey God’s laws against assaulting innocent people, then remember that it is also against the laws of the Council of the Indies to assault these people for no reason.”

  Peralta glared at the priest then walked away. Valdez and the others looked at the priest in confusion. Father Tomas said nothing and the men watched Peralta walk off toward the other huts.

  Father Tomas looked back at the wrecked hut and shook his head. “He is searching for the answers to our problems in his head, when instead he should be praying for answers.” He placed his hand on young Senor Valdez’s shoulder and looked at the other two men.

  “Come with me. Join our prayer vigil.”

  Father Tomas and the three men reached the pasture a few moments later. About three dozen settlers knelt in a loose group. Valdez and the others made the sign of the cross and knelt. Father Tomas knelt at the head of the group, near Juana the Arawak woman.

  Tomas folded his large hands in silent prayer. Behind him he heard an occasional murmured plea, a pleading ejaculation, crying. A swarm of hungry mosquitoes drifted by and people erupted in a frenzy of slaps and cries. A tepid breeze moved them away. Father Tomas thought of the terrible freezing rains, the winds, hail, now clouds of mosquitoes; it was as if the devil himself had decided to torture them.

  A boy arrived with a pail of water. The people drank thirstily, attempting to alleviate the pain in their bellies. Father Tomas shook his head when the boy paused before him. The day passed slowly. A cry sounded and Father Tomas turned to see a man lying passed out on his back. He nodded in approval as two others carried him back to the huts. As he prayed, Tomas turned to look at those behind him. Many of them were now wobbly on their knees. Only Juana seemed to be holding up. He smiled. The Indians had a great physical courage that never failed to amaze him. He turned around, spotting a cloud in the distance. He prayed that it was not another violent storm. Lord, help them! The faithful needed food, good weather, and a ship with supplies.

  He put his head down and closed his eyes as he silently recited the Ave Maria. Whispers tickled his ears, then anxious murmurs. He tried to ignore them. Someone touched him on the arm. It was Juana.

  “Father,” she said, “the people are afraid.”

  He was confused. “What?” he said.

  She pointed to the sky. “The cloud. See!”

  He looked up. A cloud was coming their way. It was moving much too swiftly. His parishioners had stopped praying and watched it wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

  “Es el Diablo!” shouted a woman, frantically making the sign of the cross.

  Other women cried out as they made the sign of the cross.

  “Quiet,” he called to them as he continued to study the cloud. His heart pounded. It was a great migratory flock of birds, seemingly stretching away forever.

  “Pajaros,” said Juana in wonder, “so many!”

  “Si,” said Father Tomas, smiling at her, “more than we could count!”

  Juana shook her head in wonder.

  Someone cried out and Tomas turned. People ran in panic across the field and into the woods. Others stared up at the sky, immobilized by their fear.

  Father Tomas looked back up. The flock began flying in a great circle overhead, forming a spiral. He began to feel light-headed. “Enough,” he called to them, forcing himself to look away from the birds and at the people. “Look away.”

  The people continued to watch the birds, their faces etched with fear.

  “Close your eyes” shouted Father Tomas, “remember the story of Lot’s wife and keep your heads bowed in prayer.” He shouted again. “Close your eyes,” glaring at them until they complied.

  He looked up. The thick cloud of bodies darkened the sky. Then they could hear the wing beats of the birds, like a great humming. The sound seemed to go right through them and people moaned in terror.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” Father Tomas shouted over the sound. He saw that some birds were now coming down from the cloud as if to land. Soon they were lighting on the ground. In a short space of time they were everywhere. Most of the people remained on their knees with their eyes closed, but some looked about in awe.

  “Everyone,” said Father Tomas, “be calm and make no sudden moves. The lord has answered our prayers.”

  “Amen,” said someone softly in wonder

  Father Tomas got to his feet. “Bartolome Valdez,” he called softly, “go to Senor Peralta. Be careful. Do not frighten the birds! Tell Peralta to gather everyone and bring harquebuses, pots, knives sticks, nets, cloaks, anything with which you could possibly catch a bird. Bring them back here. Tell him to bring me a loaded harquebus and I will give the signal. When I fire, we can take our bounty.”

  “Si, Father,” said Valdez, already moving toward the settlement.

  The birds were thick on the ground and moved out of Valdez’s way. When he was out of sight, Father Tomas turned back to his followers. “Now,” he said, smiling, “let us pray. We must give thanks to God for this miracle. Our prayers have been answered.”

  ***

  Black Snake, Running Wolf and six Wolf bravos exited the palisade and began running, grim determination etched into their faces. The people they met on the trail pushed into the bushes, giving the fierce-looking bravos plenty of room. Later, despite the cool air, the bravos’ bare, muscled chests glistened with sweat as they arrived at the top of Turtle Hill. They crept into the thick copse of bushes and looked out.

  Most of
the settlers were in their huts. Outside the settlement, near the forest, a small group of men and women, knelt in the grass as they prayed. The big Black Robe medicine man knelt in their midst. Every now and then he raised his head and arms to implore the heavens.

  “What god would listen to such a crazy people?” said Black Snake. “The hairfaces are evidently praying for a good harvest but they haven’t a crop in the earth!”

  The others laughed.

  “Ha!” said Running Wolf in disgust. “The Black Robe medicine man is a fool. They are hungry and he has been praying for three days now, and nothing! His medicine is no good.”

  “It is so,” said Kicking Dog, shaking his head in wonder.

  They continued watching in silence.

  “Rain comes so early this day?” asked Walking Bird, a tall, thin-faced bravo.

  “Huh?” said Black Snake.

  “Look at that,” said Walking Bird. He pointed to the south where a thick dark cloud appeared to be moving in their direction.

  Black Snake looked at it briefly. “Eh, so we will have rain.” He looked back down at the white’s silent vigil. It grew dark and Black Snake was vaguely aware of Kicking Dog and Walking Bird talking.

  “It is not rain, I tell you,” said Walking Bird in agitation, “not rain.”

  Black Snake looked up. “Aieyee! What is it?”

  The others said nothing as the thick, dark mass cut off the sky. It came lower and lower and turned toward the sea; it grew dark.

  “It is birds,” said Walking Bird, his mouth hanging open in wonder, “all the birds in the world, come here at once.”

  Far out over the ocean the flock turned and began heading back to the land. The lead birds caught up with those at the end of the flock, blotting out the last patch of blue sky. The flock then became a giant wheel, circling overhead. The mass grew as more and more birds joined the whirling. They stretched so far that Black Snake and the others could no longer see the ends of the earth and sea.

  “Aieyee!” said Kicking Dog, “what magic is this?”