Ancient Forces Collection

by Bill Myers

  “Becka?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “Hang on, I’ll be right there.”

  Quickly she slipped out of her sleeping bag and into her jeans and shirt, threw open the tent, and raced into his arms. “Oh, Ryan!” She was practically sobbing.

  “Are you all right?” he asked again with surprise.

  “I thought you were eaten . . . or got snatched up by the eagle or . . . or . . .” She knew she wasn’t making much sense, but it didn’t matter. The important thing was that Ryan was all right.

  “What eagle?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” she said, taking a deep breath and forcing the last of the sleep from her mind. “It was a dream . . . a dream inside of a dream. And I knew it was a dream, but still — everything seemed so real.” Once again she hugged him, grateful to feel his arms around her.

  “It’s all right, Beck,” he said, almost chuckling. “I’m okay. Really.”

  At last she pulled back to look at him, to gaze into those deep blue eyes. “What are you doing outside at this time of night?”

  He shrugged. “I was just enjoying the view . . . until I heard you calling. Look — ” he motioned toward the sky — “take a look at those stars, will you? Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

  Becka tilted her head back to look up into the night. The sky glowed with stars. They looked so close it was as if the surrounding peaks nearly touched them.

  “I thought I’d take a walk up to the ridge again. You want to come along?” he asked.

  “Sure. I’m so wound up about that dream, I don’t think I’d be able to get back to sleep anyway.”

  Ryan looked at her and smiled. It was the smile that always melted her. The one that made her legs just a little bit weak. She could never figure out if he knew when he was using it or not.

  She coughed slightly and tried to change the subject. “Scott’s still asleep.”

  “Yeah, he was up most of the night, down at the general store, trying to get a hold of Z.”

  Becka looked at him, a quick hope stirring inside her. “Did he?”

  Ryan shook his head. “He got the modem all set up, but Z never came online.”

  “Oh,” Becka said, disappointed.

  “But there was a message waiting.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Not much. Just a Bible verse and a note to write back tomorrow.”

  “A Bible verse?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Which one?”

  “Here, I wrote it down.”

  Becka waited as he reached into his shirt pocket and unfolded a piece of paper.

  “It’s from Timothy. Here . . . ‘The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.’ ”

  They both stared at the paper for a moment.

  “Have any idea what it means?” Ryan looked at her curiously.

  Becka frowned. “No. Do you?”

  He shook his head, and they stared at the verse again. Finally, Ryan sighed and folded it back up. “Well, Z will probably fill us in on it tomorrow.”

  Becka nodded. “I hope so.”

  Becka laced her arm through Ryan’s, and they started their walk toward the ridge. The gorgeous New Mexico mountains, the full moon, an incredible-looking and super-caring boyfriend on her arm . . . these were the types of moments she dreamed of. Unfortunately another dream still clung to the back of her mind. This had been the second dream of an eagle attack. What did it mean? And what did that Bible verse mean?

  As if that weren’t enough to worry about, there was Ryan. He was different. Ever since they’d arrived here, he seemed to be growing more distant. The fact that he rarely looked at her was one thing. The fact that they’d barely had a conversation in two days was another. It was as though everything about this place — the mountains, the village, the people, their beliefs — fascinated him so much that he barely acknowledged she was there.

  All right, maybe she was just being overly sensitive. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or worse yet, maybe she was jealous — but . . . of what?

  They walked together in silence for several minutes as she debated whether or not to talk to him about her worries — but she had never been one to keep her feelings too tightly wrapped. “Ryan, are you all right?”

  He nodded slightly but did not look at her.

  “Ryan?”

  “Hmm? Oh — yeah?” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Beck. What did you say?”

  She softly repeated the question. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s just this place . . . I mean, it’s so . . . mysterious and wonderful. It can get a guy thinking, that’s all.”

  “About what?” she asked quietly. “Thinking about what?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Nothing, really . . . and everything.”

  Not exactly the kinds of answers that made her quit worrying. What was he thinking about? Her? Them? Or was it something else? Something even deeper? She’d noticed that he hadn’t cracked open his Bible once since they’d arrived. Back in the beginning, when he’d first become a Christian, he practically devoured the thing. Back then, he was full of so many questions and he was always studying the Bible to find answers. But now . . .

  She wanted to ask him about a whole lot more — including their relationship — but Becka knew better than to throw herself at Ryan. It was important to give him his space, to let him work things out.

  Still . . .

  A shooting star that blazed through the eastern sky interrupted her thoughts. It looked like a Fourth of July sparkler lighting the entire sky before burning out. Too soon, it faded from sight.

  “There’s something . . .” Ryan cleared his throat and started again. “There’s something about this place, these people . . .”

  Becka listened intently.

  “The way they live off the land — no cars, no factories. It’s so honest that it makes our money-grubbing way of life look pretty sick by comparison. I mean, they’re such a noble people.”

  Becka agreed. She had to give him that. She also wanted to mention that these very same people were starving because they’d based their entire economy on rainfall in the desert, but when someone is waxing emotional, logic is usually an unwelcome guest.

  “And when I hear Little Creek talk about the Great Spirit and nature and Mother Earth . . . I’m not so sure they’re all that wrong. I mean, there’s certainly nothing evil about respecting the earth and treating her correctly.”

  “Respecting the earth is a very good thing. It’s worshiping it that gets to be the problem,” Becka responded.

  Ryan looked at her strangely, then smiled. “I think you’re just afraid because this is all so new to you.”

  Becka started to answer, then thought better of it. She was afraid, all right, but not because things were new. After all, she and her brother had spent most of their lives in the South American rain forests, living around people who worshiped nature and believed in animal spirits. Shamanism was nothing new to her. The vocabulary and details might be a little different, but for Becka many of the things she’d been seeing and hearing were all too familiar.

  She wasn’t afraid for herself. She threw another look at Ryan. She wasn’t afraid for herself at all.

  Scott heard the commotion before he was really awake. Several of the people from the village were nearby, talking in loud voices. He rolled over to see that Ryan had already gone. He roused himself enough to hear what the people were saying. A few spoke English, but most spoke a language he couldn’t understand. He did, however, make out occasional English phrases like big meeting, time something was done, and full moon.

  Whatever they were discussing, it sounded important. So Scott quickly rose, dressed, and stepped into the morning light.

  The group was a few dozen feet away, walking past the campground toward the village. Little Creek was trailing along behind them. “Hey,
Scott! What’s up?” he asked when he caught sight of Scott.

  Scott shrugged. “You tell me.”

  “Dark Bear has called a council meeting on the first night of the full moon. That’s two days from now. He wants to have Swift Arrow expelled from the village.”

  “What?” Scott said.

  “And there’s more. He wants to throw you guys out with him.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Little Creek shook his head. “Nope, that’s what it says.”

  Feeling his face start to burn with anger and unsure what to do, Scott turned back to his tent and pulled out his sleeping bag and started rolling it up. “I’d like to see him try,” he snorted. “Just ’cause ol’ Antler Head can do special effects with lightning doesn’t mean he has any power over us.”

  “You’re in his village,” Little Creek replied simply. “He has the power. Besides, I would think that after yesterday, you would have stopped mocking his power.”

  Scott paused and looked back up at Little Creek. “I’m not mocking his power. I’m just not quaking in fear over it.” He turned back to his sleeping bag and continued rolling it up. “Besides, if you ask me — ”

  Suddenly he stopped mid-sentence. There, inches from his hand, a rattlesnake slithered out of the folds of his sleeping bag.

  “Careful . . . Don’t move,” Little Creek whispered. “That one is deadly.”

  Scott froze, holding his breath as the snake’s tongue darted in and out and the creature glided even closer to his outstretched fingers. Any second it would strike. Any second it would —

  Shuuuushing!

  A steel-tipped arrow hit its mark, f lying directly between Scott’s fingers and straight into the snake’s head. The darting tongue ceased its movement.

  Scott stared in astonishment, his usually witty brain numb, his usually smart mouth dumb.

  “Didn’t get you, did it?” Swift Arrow asked.

  Scott slowly turned to see Swift Arrow standing on a slight ridge, about twenty feet away. True to his name, the young man had fired the arrow and killed the snake just as it was about to strike.

  “No . . . ,” Scott half spoke, half wheezed. “I’m fine.” He swallowed hard. “Just fine . . .”

  “That was close,” Little Creek said, marveling. “Nice shot.”

  Swift Arrow nodded a thank-you and approached. “I suppose you saw these notices,” he said to Scott while pointing to the yellow sheet in Little Creek’s hand.

  Scott still wasn’t sure if he had a voice, but he gave it a try. “What . . . what are you going to do?”

  Swift Arrow seemed to wilt slightly. “I’m not sure. Perhaps I heard the Lord wrong. Perhaps I am causing more trouble here than good.”

  “When things start going nuts around you, sometimes that means you’re on the right track.”

  “But sometimes it can mean you are not in God’s will.”

  Scott paused before responding. “Maybe. All I’m saying is, don’t be so quick to give up. Haven’t you been doing what you know is right?”

  “Yes. I’ve followed what I believe is true, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “But Dark Bear has very strong medicine.”

  “It may be strong, but it’s not right.”

  Swift Arrow shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean . . . much of the way he believes is how I grew up.”

  Scott carefully searched the young man’s face before he continued. “Do you believe the spirit of a human can go into an eagle? Do you believe that the earth is something to worship?”

  “No,” Swift Arrow replied. “But I know that my grandfather, like most of the tribe, based his life on such beliefs. And my father, he believes some of the legends still. Besides, it’s not just a question of what I believe. Little by little my people are adopting the white man’s ways. We are a disappearing people.”

  “Things aren’t like that,” Scott argued. “If something is true, then it’s true, and if it’s not, then it’s not. It doesn’t matter whose grandfather believed what.”

  Swift Arrow shook his head. “Only a white man would say something like that.”

  “But you can’t believe something just because your grandfather believed it. That doesn’t make sense. Don’t let that trick you into running away.”

  Swift Arrow nodded slowly. “Much of what you say is true. Maybe . . . maybe I’m just afraid.”

  “Well now, being afraid is something I can relate to.” Scott grinned. He couldn’t help throwing a look over to the charred remains of the picnic table. “And there’s nothing wrong with being afraid, especially when it comes to this kind of stuff. But God can handle even our fear. If we let him.”

  Swift Arrow stared at Scott for a long moment. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t know how you people came to me. I don’t know who this Z is — though I have a friend who is into computers with whom I have spoken about these problems. Perhaps he knows your Z. Then again, maybe you are simply angels who have come to help me.”

  “Whoa!” Scott protested. “I’m no angel.”

  “That’s for sure!”

  Scott turned to see Becka and Ryan approaching from the road.

  Swift Arrow laughed. “Maybe not, but you bring messages from on high, and they help keep me to the path.”

  “We call that being a friend,” Scott said with a grin.

  Swift Arrow returned the smile, but it slowly faded, and he let out a long sigh. “Well then, my friends, I must tell you. This friend of yours is afraid. He is afraid to face Dark Bear, and he is afraid not to.”

  Later that evening, Mom, Becka, and Scott stood around the telephone, which rested on the worn wooden counter of the general store. Scott had his laptop up and running, trying to contact Z.

  “After all,” he said, punching up the number, “Z’s the one who got us into this mess. Hopefully he’ll have an idea how to get us out.”

  Becka glanced out the window. The sun had already set, and it was getting steadily darker. “I just wish Ryan were here,” she said quietly. “This could be really important.”

  “He’s out with Little Creek looking at more Indian stuff,” Scott said as he typed away.

  “Again?” Becka sighed.

  “I know,” Scott agreed. “It’s like the guy can never get enough. He loves everything about Indians. What they eat, where they live, what they believe . . .”

  “That’s what I mean,” Becka said. “It’s like he’s completely carried away with it. I just wish he were here to talk to Z.”

  “I do too. But if Swift Arrow’s going to do anything before Dark Bear’s council, it should be soon. We’ll just have to fill Ryan in later.”

  Becka nodded. She knew Scott was right. She just wished he wasn’t.

  Moments later the familiar Internet logo came up on the laptop screen.

  “Got him!” Scott exclaimed. “We’re both online.”

  Mom and Becka moved in closer to watch. They’d talked to Z dozens of times and had received dozens of pieces of advice. But contacting the mysterious stranger was always an important event for them. One they never seemed to tire of.

  After Scott filled Z in on all that had happened, there was a long pause. Finally, the words of Z’s answer began to form:

  There is a spiritual battle raging. Much is at stake. Swift

  Arrow has been called to bring his people the gospel.

  Dark Bear will never allow it.

  Scott reached for the keyboard and typed:

  Then what should we do?

  As they waited for a reply, there was a rumble of thunder in the distance. Becka glanced out the window. “Looks like the wind’s picking up.”

  As if in answer, lightning flashed again, followed seconds later by a much louder clap of thunder.

  Scott sighed impatiently. “What’s taking him so long to respond?” For the briefest second the lights in the store dimmed and the computer screen flickered. “Oh no,” Scott groaned.

  “What’s wro
ng?” Mom asked.

  “The phone line may be going.” But the screen stabilized, and Scott said, “It’s coming back.” And then a moment later, “Ah, here we go.”

  Once again Becka leaned forward to read the words as they came on:

  You have encountered situations similar to this. You

  know your authority. Swift Arrow need not be afraid.

  However, be careful not to underestimate Dark Bear’s

  power.

  Scott and Becka exchanged glances. But Z wasn’t finished.

  Did you receive the Bible verse?

  Scott typed:

  Yes, but we didn’t understand. Who’s it for? What does it mean?

  Once again the lights and the screen flickered, and once again power returned. Mom, Becka, and Scott watched as Z’s answer formed.

  You are waging two battles. One is offense, the other defense. I am very concerned that one of you is about to fall. And if one falls, you all will fall.

  Quickly Scott typed:

  Who are you concerned about?

  No answer. Scott tried again.

  Z? Z, who are you concerned about?

  And then once again the verse formed.

  “The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.” 1 Timothy 4:1

  Scott let out a sigh of frustration and typed:

  Yes, yes, we have that verse, but what are we supposed to

  Scott never finished. There was another flash of lightning, and the telephone line went dead. The computer was disconnected.

  7

  The next morning Swift Arrow came to their camp at daybreak. “I have decided to call a council of my own a day before Dark Bear’s. I will speak to the people about my beliefs.”

  “Hey, that’s great,” Scott said.

  Swift Arrow nodded. “But I need your help to get the word out.”

  “We can do that,” Becka said. “When will it be?”

  “It must be tonight. For it is tomorrow that Dark Bear will try to incite the people to drive us out.”

  Scott and Becka agreed to spend the morning going through the village and telling everyone about the meeting. At least that was their plan. Unfortunately they ended up spending most of that time looking for Ryan. Apparently he’d taken off before sunrise with Little Creek, and no one knew where they had gone. And now Becka wasn’t just kind of worried. She was really worried.