The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  Step by hesitant step, he covered the ground between him and his spirit.

  Who sent you here, Wolf? Was if Kakunupmawa? And why have you allowed her to be part of this?

  No sound escaped the deep throat. Instead, as if this moment meant everything to him, the creature slipped slowly and gracefully and silently forward. Shaken anew, Black Wolf stopped and held out a trembling hand.

  In joy I accept your gift. In humble awe I take your wisdom into me.

  Close enough now that he could stretch his muzzle and touch Black Wolf's hand, the wolf inhaled deeply. Knowing his spirit was taking in his essence, Black Wolf willed himself to be a warrior. This wasn't the first time they'd come together, but the wonder of it would never leave him, and he would never want it any other way.

  The great and deadly mouth opened, revealing teeth capable of tearing him apart. Lost in reverence and awe, Black Wolf kept his hand outstretched. He felt hot breath, proof, maybe, that his spirit lived, and then the powerful teeth closed down around his hand and he felt the tips of Wolf's teeth settle over his flesh, wondered, briefly, if Lucita could see what was happening.

  We are one, my spirit. I take courage from you, give myself up to you.

  His hand remained trapped. Wolf's nostrils expanded and he took another deep breath. The fear that had briefly lapped at him no longer existed. Instead, he felt his chest swell; his eyes filled with joyful tears.

  Your courage is now mine, my spirit. My life is in your care. What do you want of me?

  As if in answer, Wolf opened his mouth and released Black Wolf. Fire burned in the animal's eyes, and Black Wolf returned the gaze, his own hot. Although he waited without breathing, he heard nothing. He had no doubt that his thoughts had reached his spirit and had been understood. Should it not now be time for his spirit to respond?

  Instead, Wolf once again extended his muzzle. This time his mouth was closed, upturned slightly as if smiling. When Wolf placed his cold, damp muzzle first on Black Wolf's cheek and then on his forehead, Black Wolf felt as if he was losing touch with himself, flowing outward until he wondered if Wolf had taken everything of him.

  I say you are my spirit, but perhaps I exist for you. Tell me, what do you need of me?

  Wolf's tongue appeared, and he lapped at Black Wolf's face. His heart beating so fast he wondered if it might burst from his throat, Black Wolf buried his fingers in the thick mat of fur covering Wolf's chest. When he did, he felt another heart beating.

  You are real, real to me. And yet you are not one of the wolves who roam this land. Truly your soul belongs in 'Alapay.

  Pressing his fingertips against Wolf's flesh, he closed his eyes. At first there was nothing except the sound of the wind, the sun's heat on his head and exposed flesh, but then he felt himself being lifted, floating, leaving the land of his people.

  Wolf was with him, guiding him through night and into the first rays of dawn. He saw spring-green grasses, a sky so blue it left him in awe, deer and rabbits without number, a clean, laughing creek, and he heard children laughing.

  Then he stopped moving and together he and Wolf settled onto the lush grass, but the deer and rabbits didn't acknowledge his presence. He'd begun to turn toward Wolf for explanation when movement in the shadow of a great tree caught his attention and he realized a man was walking his way, a man with broad shoulders and dark, run-hardened legs.

  Father.

  The man smiled and continued to come closer until he stood only a few feet away. Although he didn't speak, Black Wolf felt the man's love and joyously returned that love.

  Wolf, thank you.

  * * *

  Unsure of how much longer her legs would continue to support her, Lucita didn't move so much as a muscle until Black Wolf rejoined her.

  A wolf!

  The Chumash warrior had walked out to meet a powerful beast, and they'd stood together, touched each other!

  Black Wolf now sat cross-legged on the ground near her, but he wasn't looking at her and hadn't spoken since his return. His eyes had lost focus as if he was locked somewhere she could never go, and yet she understood a great deal. Sitting herself, she reached out and brushed her fingers over Black Wolf's knuckles. Still not meeting her gaze, he turned his hand palm up, and she drew it toward her. Cradling it between her hands now, she stroked his flesh as if the simple contact could free his mind from wherever it had gone.

  "I saw him," Black Wolf whispered.

  "Who?"

  "My father."

  "He's dead." She swallowed. "How is that possible?"

  "He was at 'Alapay."

  "He... he is well?" she asked because she had no choice.

  Black Wolf lifted his head, but she doubted he saw her. The wolf had remained where he was, watching as Black Wolf slowly walked away from him, and then the creature had evaporated like fog under a relentless sun. She and the warrior were alone, and yet were they?

  "Black Wolf." She tried again. "Please, I want to understand." The voice was hers and yet she didn't remember forming the thought that led to the words. "What happened between you and that creature? Why... I've never seen an animal do anything like that."

  "He is my spirit."

  The explanation, although simple, was everything. "Yes. I know," she said.

  The haze faded from Black Wolf's eyes, and she saw deep, deep into them, sensed the man's depths. "You believe?" he asked.

  No! This was insanity, blasphemy! There was only the God of her childhood, the God she'd always worshiped and feared and tried to obey.

  "Lucita." Lifting his free hand, he laid it over her cheek, the gesture achingly gentle. "I see pain in your eyes and hear it in your voice."

  She couldn't hide anything from this man today. "You must know what I am thinking," she managed. "The padres call your people heathens and your beliefs the work of the devil."

  "Then you say Wolf is one with the devil?"

  No! That dark and deadly entity she had always feared would never take a man to his dead father.

  The sky was incredibly blue today, with none of the haze the padres had told her often hung over the valley in the summer. She could easily see where the wolf had stood, remember what had transpired between warrior and animal.

  "The only thing I know is that there is a bond between you and that... creature."

  "That creature is Wolf. My spirit."

  "Your spirit. And it allowed me to see it. Why?"

  "I do not know."

  "Are you sorry? Do you resent—"

  "I do not question Wolf's wisdom, Lucita. I never will."

  * * *

  Exhaustion clawed at Sebastian and he'd long ago given up trying to push his horse to go any faster, but as the hastily erected buildings that represented the Santa Barbara Presidio and undeniable proof of the Spanish Crown's presence in Alta California came into view he straightened. Even before he could see the post, he'd heard it—the sounds of men and animals and wagons as familiar to him as his own heart beating.

  Still, although he'd gone nearly two days without sleeping in his effort to get here and at the same time scout the land for savages, he reined in his horse and sat looking out at the fort-like structures that had been placed in the narrow shelf of relatively level land between the Santa Ynez Mountains and the Pacific coast. So many of the soldiers here were Mexican-born and bred, while he'd been raised in Spain. Perhaps that was the difference between them—they'd known a freedom, a wildness, foreign to someone who'd grown up under the Crown's shadow and surrounded by centuries of history and tradition.

  It didn't matter, he tried to tell himself, in the end, the only important thing was that they all shared the same goal, that of securing this new land for Spain. Still, as he prodded his heavy-headed mare forward, he forcibly strengthened his resolve. No matter what else concerned Comdr. Bardoniano Herrera, the presidio leader would listen. More than listen, Commander Herrera would grant him the necessary manpower to bring down Black Wolf and the others.

  Nothi
ng less was acceptable.

  Chapter 19

  "You return."

  Black Wolf stepped into the clearing he and the other warriors had transformed into their people's home. After acknowledging the shaman, he took a moment to study his surroundings and again become nothing except Chumash. The valley haze that he usually left behind when he reached the foothills had followed him this afternoon. A large number of men, women, and children were outside, all but a few playing or watching the others play shinny. Recognizing him, many called out a welcome, but out of deference to Talks with Frogs, none came close.

  "It is good to hear my people laughing," Black Wolf said. He wanted to see his son and wife, but that would have to wait. "Has there been successful hunting?"

  "A young elk. And rabbits."

  "Good." Allowing his thoughts to go no further than the present, he told Talks with Frogs that he needed to speak with both him and Walks at Night.

  "You have not yet seen your family?" the shaman asked, his features grave.

  "I spoke to Dog Girl on the way in. She told me that my son is with other children looking for blackberries."

  "Ah. And your wife?"

  "I will see her soon."

  "Soon, yes." Talks with Frogs' heavy lids briefly slid down to cover his eyes. "But first—"

  "First there is much I must tell you and my wot."

  Talks with Frogs informed him that Walks at Night was in the temescal. "He has been there twice already today," the shaman said, sounding more than a little disapproving. "Waiting for me to tell him of the results of my prayers to miwalaqsh."

  Miwalaqsh could mean several things: north, the North Star, or the ceremonial sun staff used during the winter solstice ceremony. As a 'alchuklash, or astronomer shaman, Talks with Frogs interpreted the movement of the sun, moon, and stars. Surely he had no concern for the ceremony that was months away.

  "Why are you not with Walks at Night?" Black Wolf asked as the two headed toward the temescal.

  "I was waiting for you."'

  Nodding, Black Wolf waited until Talks with Frogs had stepped inside the ceremonial structure before entering it himself. His grandfather had told him that in the old days all power lay in the hands of the wots and shamans. No matter how brave or skillful in hunting a man might be, he would never be considered an equal with the tribe's most powerful men, but the old days were no more. Neither Talks with Frogs nor Walks at Night went near the mission or understood the newcomers' language. He did both, and because of that the other two relied on him for a great deal.

  "Much Rain's wife and her unborn are with their ancestors," the shaman said once all three men were seated, their bodies already glistening with sweat. "She is at peace."

  "And Much Rain?" Black Wolf asked.

  "His heart is heavy. I have shown him the way to healing, but he has not yet begun the journey. Instead, grief and anger fill him. Enough!" Talks with Frogs clapped his hands together.

  "Yes, enough," Walks at Night echoed. "Much Rain must walk at his own pace. Other things concern us. Black Wolf, tell us."

  His voice low but steady, Black Wolf told the two men about the corporals decision to go to the presidio to ask for more help in defending the mission against Indian attack.

  "They think we plan to attack?" Walks at Night shook his head in disbelief. "It is not the way of the Chumash to seek battle. Why would they believe that has changed?"

  "Perhaps they have made us into what they think we are," Black Wolf said. "Besides, one of their kind is dead, at my hands."

  "We know. Much Rain told us."

  He tried to remember where he'd been in his telling, but his thoughts snagged on Lucita's role in the leatherjacket's death. She had held the man as life slipped out of him, just as Black Wolf had been part of Willow's dying. For a while hate had flowed between him and Lucita and his heart had closed itself against her and he'd believed he could walk away from her and never want to see her again, but that had changed.

  "I do not know when the leatherjacket will return, or whether he will be successful with his request," he explained.

  "That is what I felt during my prayers." Talks with Frogs spoke with his eyes closed and sweat dripping off the end of his nose. "His anger is so great that it reaches the stars. A fire burns within the corporal; he can think of nothing except revenge. He is a man with much pride, and that pride has been wounded."

  "Yes, it has."

  "Ah. Yes. This I say to you: the leatherjacket carries his hatred for us to the place of so many of our enemy, and that hatred will speak for him."

  And other leatherjackets will feel and hear that rage and respond to it; Black Wolf had no doubt of that.

  "They have come looking for us before," Walks at Night said. "But they were like a single ant trying to eat the leaves of a mulberry tree. However, if there are more of them, perhaps this time they will find us. What do you say, Shaman? Will Mitakuya Iyasin protect us?"

  "Ah. You speak as if you believe I can guide the soul of the great unseen, but no shaman can."

  "I did not say that." Walks at Night glared at the shaman, then blinked away the sweat threatening to slide into his eyes. "Do not turn my words in your direction. But you have spent much time in prayer and magic making since the Chumash woman's death. Surely if you can hear miwalaqsh, you have heard Mitakuya Iyasin as well."

  Studying the interplay between the two men, Black Wolf was struck by their complex relationship. No one within the tribe had more power than the shaman, and although Talks with Frog's father had presided over winter ceremonies honoring the sun, Talks with Frogs outstripped his father's reputation because he was also an'alchuklash, an astronomer priest. Walks at Night had become wot because his father had been wot before him, but although he was in charge of all ceremonial objects and costumes and decided who would give the ceremonies and perform the dances, he could not command the tribe. Unless the other braves agreed with his opinion, it would become empty air.

  "Talks with Frogs, there is something you must know," Black Wolf said, momentarily ignoring his wot. "It is beyond my comprehension to understand its meaning, which is why I came to you."

  Walks at Night glowered but said nothing. Looking wise, the shaman waited.

  "My soul had much need to pray at Humqaq," Black Wolf began. "I could not return here until I had bathed in the sacred waters and cleansed myself of the leatherjacket's stench."

  "That is good. You returned pure," Talks with Frogs said. "What happened?"

  Lucita found me there. "Wolf spirit," he said instead. "My spirit revealed himself to me although I had not asked him to do so."

  "Ah! Yes, yes, this is a matter for much thought." Leaning forward, Talks with Frogs placed his palm on the ground, his whispered chant the only sound. Finally: "Wolf came because he believes you need his protection."

  Black Wolf would never doubt that. Just the same, he felt chilled. "I humbled myself before him," he admitted. "Bowed my head and asked what he wanted of me."

  "Did he answer?"

  He couldn't be sure; despite his awe at being able to touch Wolf, he'd been unable to dismiss Lucita's presence, her role in what had happened. "Wolf's eyes glowed with a red light, and his breath was hot on my flesh."

  Talks with Frogs nodded his wise and studied nod, now staring into the fire. When he mumbled under his breath, Black Wolf strained to hear. Walks at Night simply waited, his arms folded over his sweaty chest.

  "You say you know where the corporal went," Talks with Frogs said after a long silence. "You stood close enough to him that his words reached you?"

  "No." Much as he wanted to protect Lucita—and what existed between them—from these two men, he couldn't. Looking first at his shaman and then at his wot, he told them about his meeting with the corporal's daughter. What he kept to himself was where he and Lucita had met, the emotion between them, and that she had seen Wolf.

  "This is not the first time the two of you have spoken. Be careful, Black Wolf." Walks at Night's
eyes, although small for the rest of his face, dominated. "She may have cast a spell over you."

  She had; why else wouldn't he share certain things with the two most powerful men in the village?

  "Tell me this," Walks at Night said. He'd angled his body so that his back was partly toward the shaman. "Does the daughter believe her father will attack?"

  "She does not know."

  "What did she say? Black Wolf, we must know everything."

  "That her father is full of anger," he explained. "He wants all of our people dead. He will not rest until the ground runs red with our blood."

  Walks at Night recoiled and the shaman pushed his hands outward in a gesture designed to keep evil spirits at bay.

  Finally Talks with Frogs cleared his throat. "I have not been to Humqaq for too many moons. When we lived at Tolakwe, it was a simple thing for my father to renew himself there, but now the mission stands in my way." He indicated their surroundings. "Ah. This place will never be the home of my heart."

  "Nor mine." Fists clenched, Walks at Night straightened. "Black Wolf, it is a dangerous thing to go to Humqaq, but the Chumash must not forget the home of our ancestors. I say it is better that one makes that journey than none."

  Looking deep inside himself, Black Wolf found an image of the way he must have looked as he bathed under the sacred waterfall. His spirit had found him there, and he would forever feel blessed because of it. Humqaq was where his grandfather had taken him when it was time for him to begin the journey to manhood and where he must take his own son.

  "If we flee the leatherjackets, we will have to go far from Humqaq," he said, his voice strangely without emotion when what he felt threatened to overwhelm him.

  Talks with Frogs rocked back, his voice too quiet. "Your words may be the truth, Black Wolf, but I do not want to hear them because without Humqaq, we can no longer call ourselves Chumash."

  * * *

  The time he'd spent in the temescal had left Black Wolf weak and even more in need of sleep, but after cooling himself in the nearby summer-quiet creek, he entered his hut.