The Dove

by Sharon Sala

  ***

  Singing Bird had spent the day in isolation, strengthening her resolve for tomorrow. She would not shame her daughter or herself by weeping at their parting. Some things were beyond mortal control and this was one of them.

  Cayetano had been noticeably absent all day, and while she wondered what he was doing, she didn’t feel the need to find him to satisfy curiosity.

  She had walked down to the healing pool during the heat of the day and shed her clothing on the rocks before immersing herself in the clear, bubbling water. This was where they’d brought her to heal from Firewalker’s wrath, and this was where she first laid eyes on Cayetano. His presence had been just as imposing then as it was today and she was proud of him, both as a man and as their chief.

  She lay back in the water, floating freely as she closed her eyes and prayed to give up her fear and heartbreak to the gods who’d set them on this path. She lost all track of time until she heard someone coming up the path. Quickly, she shifted from floating to a standing position, wishing she hadn’t come here alone.

  Moments later, her anxiety ended as Cayetano emerged from the jungle.

  “I have been looking all over for you,” he said gruffly as he shed his clothing, stepped into the water, and then took her into his arms.

  She sighed as he pulled her close. He always made her feel safe. “I came to the healing pool for solace,” she said softly, then gasped softly as his hands slid beneath her backside and lifted her before easing her down onto his erection.

  “I have need of solace, too. We will heal each other,” Cayetano said, and let nature have its way with the both of them.

  Their stolen moments alone were as healing as the love they made together, and by the time they were on their way back to the palace, the sun was going down.

  “This is their last night with us,” Singing Bird said.

  Cayetano’s fingers curled a little tighter around her hand. “As long as I have you, I can bear anything.”

  Singing Bird glanced up, eyeing the profile of the man beside her. His nose had a slight hook to it; making her think of an eagle’s beak. His forehead was wide, his cheekbones sharp and angled toward a strong chin. His long hair was tied into a loop at the back of his neck in the style of the people of Naaki Chava. In a brief moment of connection with her past, she remembered a college history class and seeing a similar profile that had been carved on the stone walls of an ancient Mayan temple. She smiled. Never in a million years would she have ever believed that a man like that would belong to her.

  Cayetano sensed her stare and turned.

  “Why do you smile?” he asked.

  “Because, my chief, you make me happy.”

  “Your smile lights my life, but we need to hurry. It is getting dark and not even your smile will be enough to light the way back.”

  She thought of the jaguars that hunted at night and lengthened her stride.

  ***

  Yuma was dreaming, and in the dream, he was watching his father driving in from the pasture with a truckload of hay just ahead of an oncoming thunderstorm. The first drops of rain were beginning to fall as he drove across the cattle guard and headed toward the barn.

  Yuma leapt off the porch and was running to meet him as the wind began to rise. He looked up into the underside of rolling clouds turning darker by the minute and started to run, but the harder he ran, the farther he got from the barn. He could hear his father yelling, but the wind had risen to a high-pitched whine, stealing the words coming from his mouth. At that point, Yuma was just about to panic when he heard a voice that had no place in that dream. He opened his eyes.

  Tyhen was standing beside the bed taking off her clothes and the wind that he’d felt in the dream had been real after all. But it wasn’t caused by a storm. It was the emotional tie between them with a good helping of lust. She crawled into the bed and straddled his body without speaking a word, then lowered herself onto his erection, and just like that, the wind was gone and there was nothing in that moment that mattered more than the storm they made with their love.

  ***

  It was a moonless night. The palace halls were dark, lit only by the smoking torches along the walls.

  After Singing Bird fell asleep, Cayetano got up and went out into the halls, talking quietly to each guard as he passed, thanking them for their loyalty and loss of sleep, and promising to take care of them, no matter what.

  Unknown to Cayetano, Yuma was on a similar mission. He’d served with these warriors and felt a kinship to them as well. He moved quietly from post to post, saying one last good-bye to the tribe of men who had accepted him without question, asking them to take good care of Cayetano and Singing Bird when he was gone.

  When he turned a corner and saw Cayetano coming down the same hall toward him, his heart thumped. Even though he’d outgrown the mighty chief in height, Cayetano’s stature as a man and as a chief was without question.

  “So, my son, it seems you do not sleep, either,” Cayetano said as he approached.

  “It is hard to say good-bye,” Yuma said.

  Cayetano grasped Yuma’s arm briefly. “Walk with me.”

  Yuma fell into step beside his foster father, still coming to terms with the fact that he would never see him again.

  “You have been a good son to me, and you are a strong warrior. Remember all I have taught you. You will need that knowledge and more in the coming years.”

  “I remember,” Yuma said.

  “Even though it is promised that you will be well-received on your travels, there will always be those who do not want to give up their power. Be aware of them.”

  Yuma nodded. “Do not worry. I will see into their hearts.”

  “People will die along the way. You know this,” Cayetano said.

  Yuma’s gut knotted, remembering how the people died as they ran from Firewalker. This time it would be different, but he knew that death still came to unsuspecting souls.

  “Yes, I know,” Yuma said and nodded at a guard as they passed his post.

  Cayetano was still talking. “Rarely can it be prevented. Do not take the blame onto yourself. Remember that they chose this walk with you.”

  “I will remember,” Yuma promised.

  When they reached the war room where most of their weapons were kept, Cayetano took a torch from the wall and carried it inside, then handed it to Yuma.

  “Hold this for me. There is something I want to give you,” he said and went straight to the place where his personal weapons were stored, then sorted through an assortment of knives before he found what he was looking for. “My father gave this to me. It has a name. It is called Warrior’s Heart. Even though we do not share blood, in my heart, you are my son. One day you will pass it to another and that will make me happy.”

  When Yuma pulled the knife out of the leather scabbard, his vision blurred to the point he could barely make out the deadly curve to the blade or the chunk of jade mounted at the end of the hasp.

  “I am honored, my chief. It will be good to take a piece of you with me.”

  Cayetano was equally moved, but managed a brief nod of satisfaction as they headed out the door. “We should go back to our beds before our women wake up and set the guards in search of us.”

  They walked in silence all the way back to the chief’s quarters, and the look that passed between them was solemn, then Cayetano paused and gripped Yuma’s arm.

  “Walk strong on your great adventure, my son, and I will walk with you in my dreams.”

  In a rare gesture of affection, Yuma gave him a hug. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for being the father I had lost.”

  Cayetano nodded once, but his eyes were glistening with unshed tears as he went inside and closed the door.

  Yuma walked the distance back to Tyhen alone. He entered, quietly closing the door behind him
. He slipped the knife into his pack, crawled back into bed with Tyhen, and closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  Tyhen had known the moment he left their bed, and even though she wasn’t physically with him, she’d seen every step he took, just like she’d seen him running through the jungle on the night he’d nearly died. The moment she felt his weight against her back, she let go of the vision and slept, and in her sleep, walked back through her childhood in Naaki Chava, all the way up to seeing the Windwalker in the temple. In the dream she could feel his arms around her and then the moment of his death, when he gave her his power. Just as she was waking up, she heard her mother’s voice, but it was faint and Tyhen could tell that she was crying.

  “How do I say good-bye to the child of my heart?”

  Don’t cry, Mother. When you need me, speak my name and you will hear me.

  “Tyhen?”

  Yes, Mother?

  “This is you?”

  Yes, Mother. I heard your cry. I am the Windwalker’s daughter. I will always hear your voice.

  When she woke again, it was to the sound of rain. It would seem the people were not the only ones who would be crying when they left Naaki Chava. Even the heavens wept the loss.

  ***

  After all the build-up, and all the planning and talking, the ensuing downpour made their exit from the city anticlimactic.

  Adam and Evan had said their last good-byes to Yuma and Tyhen at the palace with a reminder that they would see them again, and then the twins had raced down to the temple to blow the Conch shell and gather the people. This time Adam did a decent job of sounding the signal, but considering the blinding flood of the rainfall, few came to see them off.

  ***

  Tyhen’s focus was on the journey, not the rain. The day was dark and gray from the overcast sky as she and Yuma arrived at the playa where the New Ones waited. If the sun had come up, they could not see it. When Johnston Nantay approached with her pack, she slipped into it without comment, thanking him with a quick nod and then climbed up a step at the temple so that the people could see her.

  Yuma stood at the foot of the temple, only a few yards away from his woman, and all he could do was marvel at what she had become. The rain plastered her shift to her body like skin, showing every sinew and muscle. Her long hair was flat against her head and neck, her feet slightly apart as she braced herself against the pounding rain, but she did not look defeated. She looked ready for war.

  The moment the thought went through his mind, she thrust her fist into the air, threw back her head and let out a war cry that even the rain could not mute. It was the perfect salute to their exit, because this journey was, in truth, a battle to save the human race.

  As if the downpour wasn’t reason enough to take shelter, the answering cry sent everything and everyone within hearing distance into hiding and put the people of Naaki Chava on their knees.

  Tyhen’s heart soared as the sound reverberated through her body. “We go!” she shouted, then came down off the temple in a leap that sent water splashing into the air and flashed Yuma a grin.

  He answered with a laugh, then took her by the hand and headed out, walking behind the New Ones who had been chosen to take the lead, heading due north, straight past the dying mountain and into the future.

  ***

  Rather than add to the confusion with all that the guards and ceremony their presence demanded, Cayetano and Singing Bird had said their good-byes at the palace and watched the procession’s exit from their vantage point on the hill above the city.

  Singing Bird stood in the rain without moving until the last person had walked out of sight, and then she went back to her room and collapsed, prostrate with grief.

  Cayetano stayed beside her, afraid if he left her, that she would die from a broken heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  The jungle through which they walked was rife with undergrowth, much of which had to be cut down to get past. Thin vines with rough stems tugged and pulled at their clothing, as if unwilling to let them walk away. The rain made the path slick, and the terrain often caused moments of panic as sure feet suddenly slipped off narrow paths.

  The New Ones had been wet before, and although it was an uncomfortable start to their journey, it did not faze them. Few spoke, saving their breath for walking the terrain, up hills and down into valleys heavy with the wet jungle growth.

  When the rain finally stopped and the sun came out, it didn’t take long for their clothing to dry and the insects to descend. Sensing the large quantities of fresh blood, they came in swarms, lighting on the plethora of bare flesh with vicious intent.

  Tyhen had been walking without thought, just hoping to get through the first day without incident when the bloodsuckers enveloped them. Like everyone else, she began swatting them as they landed.

  “Where on earth did all these bugs come from?” Yuma asked, then spit when one flew into his mouth.

  She frowned, then turned around and looked down the long row of people behind her. As far as she could see, people were swatting and fanning at the insects, trying to keep them from their eyes and mouths. Because it had been raining when they left, no one had thought to rub their bodies with the medicine leaves. They’d passed the bushes in the jungle earlier, but obviously no one, including her, had thought to gather some for later.

  “I think rain was better,” she said.

  Yuma wasn’t going to disagree. “We need some of Little Mouse’s stinky medicine rubbed on our bodies.”

  “I have a better way,” she said.

  Without missing a step, she raised her arms and swirled them over her head like she was stirring a stew. Within seconds a wind came, blowing down the line of marchers from the first to the last and blew the insects away. It continued as a breeze against their skin until they were completely out of the thick growth and entering a clearing that consisted of cleared fields and growing crops. In the distance, they could just see the rooftops of the villagers little huts.

  The marchers immediately shifted course to keep from trampling the crops, and within minutes, people began coming out of the jungle on both sides of them, carrying fruit and offering drinks as if they’d known that they were coming.

  When they spotted the young woman with long legs who walked among them, some dropped to their knees while others began chanting her name.

  Tyhen waved, and when she did, they began shouting and pointing in delight that they had seen her for themselves.

  Yuma was elated that their first meeting with another tribe had been a positive one, but he was under no misapprehension that it would always be this way. This tribe was still close to home. The truth of her journey would have been well-known to them. When she glanced at him and smiled, he smiled back. No need letting his concern shade the joy on her face.

  The sun was directly overhead when they made their first stop beside a river. Some of the older ones dropped where they stood, too exhausted to even fill their water jugs, but the younger ones quickly picked up the slack. When they began to take food from their packs, they chose perishable food first.

  Tyhen was tired, too, but she could tell morale was low. She stood silently, looking across the sea of stoic faces. They had endured so much already. She couldn’t imagine what they must be thinking, but she knew they were grieving the loss of friends and family they’d left behind because she was, too.

  Yuma walked up behind her, sliding his hand around her waist just to let her know he was here. He felt the tension in her muscles and then the release as she cupped his hand and leaned against his strength.

  “Are you okay? Do you need to relieve yourself? If you do, I’ll watch for you,” Yuma said.

  She nodded once, then turned and followed him a short distance into the jungle. She wasn’t the only woman looking for a little privacy, but paid no attention to the others as she found a clump of bushes and did what sh
e needed to do. She was on her way back when she heard someone crying.

  She stopped and then followed the sound to a young woman who was down on her knees, her hands covering her face in a futile effort to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

  Tyhen recognized her as she knelt and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you hurting, Nona?”

  The young woman looked up. “No, I’m not hurt. I’m sorry,” she mumbled and began wiping away the tears from her face with shaky hands.

  Tyhen knew what was wrong the moment she touched her. Nona’s mother had become a cripple after her run from Firewalker, she had stayed behind.

  “I left my mother behind, too,” Tyhen said.

  Nona’s face crumpled as the tears began all over again. “We’ll never see them again, will we?”

  A muscle jerked near Tyhen’s eye, but she didn’t give in to her own emotions. “No.”

  Nona took a deep breath, and then slammed her hands against the ground. “I hate this!”

  “Then why did you come? Why didn’t you stay with your mother?” Tyhen asked.

  Nona’s shoulders slumped. “Because I love my husband, too, and he said it was our duty. Both of his grandparents died during the Last Walk. He is determined that their deaths not be in vain.”

  “So, do you love your mother more than your man?”

  Nona’s eyes widened. “No, but—”

  “Grieve the loss, but do not regret it. You have to want to be here, Nona. This is hard enough without hard feelings, too. It’s not too late. You can go back if you want, but remember, you will not stay in Naaki Chava either, because it will die.”

  Nona shuddered, then swallowed back a sob and wiped her face.

  “I don’t want to go back. I’m sorry, Tyhen. Thank you for talking to me.”

  “You’re welcome, and don’t ever be sorry to admit how you feel. Just remember, we all hurt, every one of us.”

  Nona nodded as she got to her feet.

  Tyhen stood, brushed the dirt from her knees and then held out her hand. “Walk with me?”