Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  Jacques stopped and searched the forest ahead. Where was the Indian? Only a few moments before, Jacques had paused to expel his waters against a tree when, fifty paces away, a figure had appeared, as if out of the trees and leaves. Jacques had stepped back behind the tree as Calling Crow walked past and disappeared.

  Jacques waited a few more moments and continued in the direction the Indian had gone. He did not want to get too close, yet he did not want to lose him either. Perhaps he already had.

  He paused to search the surrounding forest. He looked for the signs that Atapaki, the Cheraqui, had taught him, like the spot of damp uncovered by a careless foot, the curling of a leaf as it re-assumed its shape after having been flattened. Jacques came out of a thicket into a stand of pines. The tall, round trunks of the big trees rising straight up reminded him of the stone columns in the cathedral of Notre Dame.

  He noticed something moving ahead and froze. It was the Indian. Jacques waited a moment longer and continued on. By the time he got to the end of the stand he had lost him. A thick mass of vegetation-- bushes, vines and scrub trees-- formed an almost-impenetrable wall. Jacques walked along it and found a small opening at the bottom, an animal trail. Getting down on his hands and knees, he crawled in about ten feet and heard something. He crawled in further and saw a glade with a pond of black water. A small native woman wearing a Spanish mantilla sat on a log talking to Calling Crow. Jacques was too far away to hear what they were saying. Being this close to the man he hated, while still remaining undiscovered, thrilled him and he smiled. Soon he would have his revenge. He backed away without making a sound.

  Chapter 31

  In the heat before the rains that came at full day, the Coosa men sought out the cooler air of the large council house. Many of them now wore Spanish iron knives tied to their belts. Some had begun fashioning the iron from the knives into tips for their arrows. Much of the talk this day was of the Floating House that had come from the sea and now hovered offshore from Spanish Town. Corn Planter of the Hawk Clan looked around at the different groups of men. He was hoping to spot the powerful bravo called Calling Crow who, as everyone knew, understood everything about the strange Spanish and their ways. Not seeing him, he turned to the man next to him.

  “Where is the one called, Calling Crow, I wanted to ask him about the Floating House?”

  “He is gone hunting,” said the man, turning back to talk quietly to one of his clansmen.

  Corn Planter walked over to a group of men from his own clan. Little Bear was talking and the other men listened with focused attention. “One of the Spanish at the trading place told me that they have dyes for every color of the rainbow,” said Little Bear, “and cloth from a land across the great waters that is woven by worms.”

  Corn Planter said nothing as he thought of these strange things. He wished that Calling Crow was here so they could ask him if these things were true. He heard a loud voice. Not far away, Black Snake of the Wolf Clan was haranguing a cluster of men. Corn Planter walked over to hear.

  “Calling Crow said they would leave,” said Black Snake. “Do you remember?”

  “I remember,” said one of the bravos.

  Another shouted out. “I don’t remember. When did he say that?”

  “Why would they leave,” said another, “Did he say why?”

  Black Snake’s sharp voice cut through the din. “Your memories have been dulled by the pretty Spanish things you have gotten,” said Black Snake.

  “Black Snake is right,” said Kicking Dog. “In the council, Calling Crow said that the hairfaces would be so hungry when their ship finally came that they would leave on it. Well, their ship has come and they are still here. Calling Crow lied.”

  “No!” said a commanding voice.

  Corn Planter turned and saw the older bravo, Rain Cloud. Rain Cloud addressed Black Snake. “Their ship has not left here yet,” he said, “so you cannot say that.”

  Black Snake scowled at old Rain Cloud. “They show no signs of leaving. We have been watching them.”

  “Why is it bad that they are not leaving?” interrupted another man. “They have made no trouble for a long time now and the trade has been good for everyone. Has it not?”

  “It is bad that Calling Crow, an outsider, has lied to us,” said Kicking Dog, “and it is bad that the Spanish will not trade us the things we really want, like the thundersticks. Don’t you see?”

  Corn Planter frowned as he listened. He had not heard these things before. Just then Atina and Two Clouds entered, followed by two of their aides, and everyone quieted. They went to the far side of the council house. Atina wore a pair of bright red Spanish breeches wrapped around his waist, hanging down in the front like a breechclout. A few of the men wore the breeches over their legs in Spanish fashion. Corn Planter smiled at the name someone had given the Spanish garment-- buttocks bags.

  Corn Planter turned back to Black Snake and the others, but they had wandered off. He walked over to some others to hear what they had to say about the Spanish.

  Chapter 32

  The great forest held the heat as Calling Crow ran through the dimness, avoiding the bright columns of light pushing down through the overhead. Calling Crow stopped and peered out of the trees at the Spanish palisade across the field. His nose tickled from their smoke as he watched. He saw nothing unusual and went back into the forest. He ran on, slowing to a walk when he could no longer smell their smoke. Something crashed in a nearby thicket and he went to investigate. Threading his way through a wall of foliage, he stopped and waited. He heard a sneeze. A doe moved out from behind some nearby trees. Head down, she foraged. A large buck moved into view, coming up behind her. The buck licked her hind quarters for a moment and she remained where she was, indicating her availability. Then the buck brought up his two front legs to mount her. His member, extending outward, sought out the doe as if it had eyes of its own. The doe braced backward against the buck’s thrusting and they moved forward in little jumps till they were through. The doe moved out from under the buck and leapt, crashing into some nearby bushes. The buck watched for a moment and ran after her.

  Calling Crow continued walking, the heat beginning to make him feel crazy. He thought no thoughts as his feet took him to the dream place. He heard the movement of water and parted the bushes. Juana bathed in the waist-deep water of the pool. Her back was to him and her wet buttocks glistened. She turned when she saw him and made no attempt to cover her nakedness. Without a word he went to her and pulled her to him. She became aware of his excitement and held him tightly. He whispered her name and felt her body relax. Picking her up, he carried her to the bank and lay her down on her dress. Her eyes closed. Kneeling before her, he brought his face down onto her belly and kissed her there.

  She sat up. “No,” she said, pushing him away. I am sorry.” She began to cry.

  What, he wondered, had these Spanish and their priests done to her? As he looked at her, confusion washed over him. She was his woman; he was her man. It should be as simple as that. The Great Spirit had not made it complicated. This was as uncomplicated as the deer he had seen earlier. But no, they had changed her.

  He watched her cry for a little longer and then his sadness turned to anger. He got to his feet. “I will come back in twenty days’ time. You think about what you want. If, when I come back, you do not want me, then I will go away and not bother you again. It will be over.”

  She said nothing and he left.

  Chapter 33

  Calling Crow smoked tobacco with Red Feather in the shade outside the sweat house as they waited for Sees Far. Calling Crow handed the pipe to Red Feather. He pulled a draft of smoke into his lungs, paused, then blew the smoke skyward in worship. He pointed northward. “Here he comes.”

  A young man of about fourteen summers carried Sees Far down the street. Calling Crow and Red Feather followed them into the sweat house. They waited until he sat Sees Far down upon a skin-covered platform and then they sat on some skins spread
upon the ground.

  “Calling Crow,” said Sees Far in his phlegmy voice, “do you know that Black Snake is still talking against you?”

  “I have heard it from others,” said Calling Crow. He knew it was bad and that he would have to do something about it at some point, but his heart was already burdened with thoughts of Juana and their last meeting, and what would happen when he went back there. Would she even be there?

  “You will have to do something,” said Sees Far.

  “Yes,” said Calling Crow. “It is a tricky situation. I do not want to cause division among the people.”

  “I know,” said Sees Far. “A split must be avoided if at all possible.”

  Soon, hot vapors were curling around them, ticking their skin and making them sleepy. The young man came and went, dropping hot rocks into the pit, pouring water. The steam rose in billowing clouds, obscuring Calling Crow from the others. Sees Far’s rattle sounded as he sang to the grandfathers for a vision.

  Calling Crow moved in and out of consciousness, but the dream he sought eluded him. He prayed for an answer to the village’s problems but only pain came into his head. Afterwards they sat in silence. Calling Crow looked over at Red Feather and Sees Far. Red Feather appeared tired as he looked down at the rockpit. Sees Far’s eyes were closed. Calling Crow motioned to Red Feather that they should leave. As they made to go, Sees Far put his bony hand on Calling Crow arm. He opened his unseeing eyes. “Take me to the river.”

  “Yes,” said Calling Crow. He sat in front of Sees Far so that the old man could climb onto his back.

  They went outside and left the village. As they walked through the forest, Sees Far called out directions to Calling Crow. They came to a place where the bank sloped gently down to the river. The spirit of the river sang as it tumbled over the rocks.

  “Do you see it?” said Sees Far.

  Calling Crow looked around but saw nothing unusual. “See what?” Red Feather said, “I see nothing.”

  As if he hadn’t heard them, Sees Far said, “strange, I saw it here.” Calling Crow and Red Feather exchanged puzzled looks. They turned to start back up the bank when Red Feather paused. He went into the water, wading toward a clump of weeds next to a rotted log.

  “Wait,” he said. “There is something!” He bent and picked it up and brought it back.

  Calling Crow saw that it was a severed, blackened hand, clenched into a fist.

  “It is a Spanish,” said Sees Far. “I saw him in my dream.”

  “Aieyee!” said Red Feather, dropping the hand as if it had come to life. It landed in the mud and the jingle of a bell could be heard.

  Calling Crow knelt, holding Sees Far on his back with one hand while he inspected the severed, tightly clenched hand with the other. He could see the brass bell moving about inside as he turned it over. He got to his feet and gave it back to Red Feather who did not look happy to have it.

  “How did it get here?” said Calling Crow.

  “I don’t know,” said Sees Far. “In my dream I followed the killer, but someone obliterated the trail and I lost him.”

  They heard someone and turned. It was Rain Cloud. He spoke to them with great excitement, “People are saying that Black Snake has killed a Spanish. They say he killed him for his thunderstick, but that its medicine was no good.”

  “Ah,” said Calling Crow, “remember those burns he had on his arms and chest?”

  “Yes,” said Red Feather.

  “What do the people think about all of this, Rain Cloud?” said Sees Far.

  “They are very impressed. More and more are coming to his side. They think he should be cacique, and not Atina.”

  They fell silent for a moment as they considered this.

  “One of us must fight and defeat Black Snake,” said Calling Crow. “Otherwise the village will split apart.” Calling Crow looked over his shoulder at Sees Far. “Black Snake’s influence is growing too strong; he must be stopped now.”

  “You are right.”

  Calling Crow looked at Rain Cloud. “Could I challenge him as a representative of the Fox Clan?”

  Rain Cloud nodded. “Yes.”

  Calling Crow turned to Red Feather. “Take my challenge to Black Snake.”

  Chapter 34

  All morning people crowded noisily into the square ground to see Calling Crow and Black Snake fight. Atina and the old men sat on a platform built for them outside the council house, where they had a commanding view of the entire field. At full day, Calling Crow and Black Snake were led to opposite ends of the square ground. Both men were armed with their bows and two arrows each, their war clubs and their knives. They waited for the signal to begin.

  Atina raised a war club of polished hickory set with bear’s teeth and the noisy speculation of the crowd stopped. Calling Crow squinted against the sun as he nocked one of the arrows into his bow. Black Snake did the same. When Atina dropped the club, Calling Crow began trotting, not taking his eyes off Black Snake’s movements. Black Snake stopped and shot his first arrow. Calling Crow continued to run as he followed its arcing flight. It buried itself in the earth well behind Calling Crow. Calling Crow shot one of his own arrows as Black Snake quickly reloaded. Black Snake stood his ground, then jumped sideways at the last moment, lashing out with his club. He knocked Calling Crow’s arrow aside to the delight of the crowd, and then launched his next arrow at Calling Crow.

  Running sideways, Calling Crow tracked the faint line of the arrow, smiling with satisfaction as it whistled over his head. He shot his last arrow and Black Snake successfully dodged it, screaming out a cry of triumph.

  The approximate length of a long hut separated the two men. Calling Crow filled his lungs with the hot afternoon air. Although Black Snake was not as tall as Calling Crow, he was a younger man, and a strong, brave fighter; they were evenly matched. Calling Crow vowed to kill this man who insisted on war. If not, the land would run with the blood of innocents.

  Calling Crow dropped his bow and pulled his club. Raising it high he shouted out his war cry and ran forward. Black Snake ran to meet him. Calling Crow swung at Black Snake, but the Wolf bravo jumped and rolled away, nimbly regaining his feet. He ran at Calling Crow, his club whipping the air. Calling Crow jerked out of reach, bringing his own club around to within a hair’s breadth of Black Snake’s face. They moved in tight circles, probing, attacking, retreating, and counter-attacking as the sun crawled across the sky. Their feet raised the dry dust up into a cloud that enveloped them. After a while, the dust settled on their sweat-soaked skins, turning both men the color of the earth. Calling Crow continued to pray to his grandfathers for a victory. Many lives depended on him now and this fight would be lost by the first one to make a mistake.

  The fight wore on, both men swinging their clubs slower now. Sensing that it would soon be over, the crowd pressed in closer. Calling Crow saw Green Bird Woman in the crowd and they shared a brief look. Black Snake saw and it pushed his controlled rage over the edge. Screaming as if in pain, he pulled his knife and ran with abandon at Calling Crow. Calling Crow’s club smashed the knife out of Black Snake’s hand, then he threw him sprawling in a cloud of dust.

  Calling Crow leapt upon Black Snake, pinning him, as the crowd closed around them tighter. Spittle bubbled from Black Snake’s mouth as he looked upward, his eyes unseeing. He closed his quivering eyelids, accepting the death he knew was coming.

  Calling Crow raised his club high and the murmuring of the crowd stopped. Calling Crow tightened his grip on the club, but he could not bring it down. A great river of thought and feeling rushed through him. He could not kill Black Snake; Black Snake was a small man now. He would lead no revolt.

  The crowd watched in shocked silence as Calling Crow got to his feet. “If I kill Black Snake,” he said to them, “some among you will forget this day and will want to walk the same path as he did and split the village in half. Therefore, I will leave Black Snake alive as a reminder to all of you. His ideas are evil. His tongue
is twisted, and his words are false. Do not follow him on this path!”

  Black Snake staggered as he got to his feet and faced Calling Crow. In a voice that rasped like the sound of dried leaves crunched underfoot, he said, “Calling Crow. You should have given me a warrior’s death. You shame me in front of my people.”

  Calling Crow said nothing.

  Black Snake glared at Calling Crow, then pushed through the crowd, knocking people out of his way. He disappeared in the direction of the palisade entrance.

  As Calling Crow swayed on his feet, the people stared at him in confusion. He waved them away. “Go home!”

  No one moved. Calling Crow staggered forward. Green Bird Woman and Santee rushed over and took Calling Crow’s arms. They led him away.

  Chapter 35

  Calling Crow walked through the forest in the direction of Spanish Town. He moved with caution, alert for an ambush, looking for the slightest sign that he was being followed. For the better part of his journey he detected nothing and he increased his pace a bit.

  Back in the village Calling Crow had not seen Black Snake except from a distance. Despite this, he was ever aware of the man’s presence-- evident everywhere like the scent an animal leaves in the forest, strong and ugly. Calling Crow’s treatment of Black Snake had left many confused, but they did not voice their confusion. Perhaps, he thought, because of his rising stature in the village, or perhaps they simply considered it another of his supposed, strange ways. Green Bird Woman, however, had no such reticence, and had only just recently stopped telling Calling Crow that he should have killed Black Snake.

  Calling Crow frowned. Green Bird Woman seemed to sense his involvement with Juana. But she would never ask him about it. He thought that she must be afraid of what he would tell her, for he would tell her the truth. He thought again of his enemy, Black Snake, now more dangerous and unpredictable. When and where would they clash? Calling Crow let the thought fade. There was something else in his head, something even darker.