by Sharon Sala
The people who’d been the farthest behind were now running toward her at a more frantic pace. She saw fear on their faces, when before she’d seen relief. Had they been afraid the portal would close before they arrived, or was that danger from behind coming closer?
“Hurry!” she screamed, urging them on, pulling them in, pushing them through until a woman’s frantic warning told her all she needed to know.
“Thousands behind us.”
“What? Who?” Layla shouted, as the woman ran past her.
“White men… soldiers with guns.”
Before she could panic, she heard the Windwalker’s voice.
Leave none behind.
Layla would obey, even if it meant sacrificing herself to make it happen. Within a few moments, she saw the last of the line. It was a miracle. They were going to make it after all.
They were going into the light in twos and in threes, even carrying those they’d refused to leave behind.
Her legs were trembling as she watched the last one go, and still she watched. Leave none behind.
There was a huge cloud of dust rising in the air beyond the twin spires. The enemy was too close.
She looked over her shoulder. The Anasazi who’d come out to greet her were now standing in her way.
Her heart nearly stopped. What did this mean? Was she supposed to stay back and die? Windwalker said she would sacrifice. Did he mean give up her life or were the people making that dust meant to pass through?
She looked back toward the spires, and to her horror, the top of one began to crumble. As it began, it reminded her of watching the twin towers of the New York Trade Center falling the day the world was forever changed.
When the first chunk of rock hit the ground, it sent up a dust cloud so large that it momentarily blotted out the earth below, giving the spires the appearance of hovering.
Then a small boy came out of the dust, staggering and falling, and then getting up only to stagger and fall again.
The war cry in her head became a scream.
Leave no one behind!
Layla bolted, running with a sudden wind at her back, carrying her faster than her weary legs would have ever been able to move. The heat from the sky now was like standing in fire, but the child was in it and still moving, and so must she.
The farther she ran from the portal, the more panicked she became. The ground was shaking beneath her feet.
Then the boy went down and didn’t get up.
She had no memory of running those last yards to get to him—only that he was still breathing when she picked him up.
And that was when she saw the runaway horde, less than a football field away. They saw her at the same time and it felt as if they leaped forward enmasse. There were soldiers with guns, and people screaming, and others crying out for mercy—crying out her name.
She turned to run, and when she did, the drums suddenly stopped, and her heart nearly stopped with them.
All she could hear now was the scream.
The Anasazi were moving into the light.
She wouldn’t believe that they would leave her.
She wouldn’t believe and kept on running; the child held fast against her heart.
The light was fading.
The portal was growing smaller.
The horde behind her was closing the gap.
Just when she thought she was going to be too late, the last Anasazi stopped, then turned and held out his hand.
He was holding the gate!
If only she had enough strength left to make it.
She leaped, felt a hand on her arm pulling her forward and fell into the light.
***
The portal disappeared and with that realization there came a wail of great despair that began echoing down the gorge. But the wail quickly turned into shrieks of horror.
The earth was in death throes.
The ground on which they were standing burst into flames, while rock exploded all around them; raining down boulders and shards of rocky shrapnel. The air was vibrating at a terrible speed and when they looked up, the sky above them was no more.
Firewalker’s journey was at an end.
People dropped where they stood, some with mouths agape in a scream that never surfaced—others catching fire like tissue paper; their skin going up in flames.
The woman next to Farley swelled and burst before his eyes. The only blessing he took with him was going blind before he died.
Chapter Thirteen
The New World: Naaki Chava
Water.
First it was the sound—then the taste—then the silken feel of it on her feet, up her thighs, to her belly, then her breasts—soaking into skin raw and burned.
Layla moaned.
“She wakes! She wakes! Singing Bird wakes!”
The voice was female, as were the hands putting something cool and silky on her eyes, then her face, soothing, whispering in her ear, calming, reassuring. The language was stilted, but she understood the words.
“You are well, Singing Bird. You are safe.”
The news was welcome, but Layla didn’t feel well. She felt like she was still dying. A part of her wanted to go there. Then she remembered how hard they’d all fought to stay alive and the option of dying was no longer a consideration.
She heard footsteps. The stride was long, bringing with it a scent reminiscent of the earth after a rain.
“Open your eyes, Singing Bird. See my face.”
The voice was male and demanding. Layla shook her head. Too much had already been demanded of her. She wanted nothing to do with anymore.
“Sssh, Cayetano. You are too hasty. Her eyes are burned. They need to heal. She will know you when it is time.”
She heard a sigh, then shuffling, then a splash, then that same male voice.
“Give her to me.”
Suddenly she was floating from the arms of one person, into the arms of another. She didn’t need eyes to know that a man was holding her now. The hands beneath her breasts were callused. The muscles in the arms cradling her neck were hard.
But the touch was gentle and his patience unflinching as he kept her afloat.
She licked her lips, and within seconds, she heard a sigh as one callused finger lightly rubbed more of that cool, silky liquid on her lips.
“Not food, Singing Bird. Medicine.”
Something about his voice made her think of Niyol, and the pain of that loss was raw beyond measure. She sank back into the safety of unconsciousness—because it was easier—and because she was suddenly afraid to see his face.
***
The next time Layla woke she thought it was night. Everything around her was silent, save for the occasional sound of an intermittent snore. She needed to go to the bathroom, which became an issue. Not only did she not know where she was, but she couldn’t see. And, she quickly realized she was still naked. She touched her skin. It was tender to the touch, but the pain was less. Whatever they were putting on her was healing, but it didn’t change the fact that she still needed to pee. She reached out to feel for the side of the bed, realized she was on the floor, and she wasn’t alone.
What the hell? Hard muscles. Long arms and a callused hand. Definitely a man.
She felt him stir, then sit up.
“You are awake, Singing Bird. Do you thirst or have a wish to pass water?”
The phrasing was odd and she knew it was the man from the pool, but he was correct.
“Yes, both.”
He rolled off the other side of the mat then picked her up and carried her outside.
The moment the soft air hit her skin, she realized he was carrying her away from the house.
“I’m naked,” she said.
“You are too burned to cover your body.”
“B
ut other people will see me.”
She heard him chuckle.
“It is dark now, but when you can see, then you will also see them.”
“Are you saying that none of you wear clothes?”
“We cover parts. Not all. There is no need.”
He stopped and gently stood her on her feet.
“We are here now. You are safe to do what you need.”
“Are you going to watch?”
“I won’t be far, but I will not look. When you have finished, call my name. I will take you back.”
“You sleep in my bed, but I don’t know your name,” she muttered.
“My name is Cayetano, and you sleep in my bed because you are mine.”
Shock mingled with anger. She’d lost the man she loved. She didn’t want another.
“I do not belong to you. I belong to no one but myself.”
“You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. You have yet to remember, but you will love me.”
She heard him walking away, but was so shocked that for a few moments, forgot what she’d come here to do. That was what the Windwalker had told her—the same words that Niyol had used. She shuddered.
The night was still, but she could hear rustling all around her. She reached out and felt leaves in front of her, bushes behind her, vines hanging above her. She could hear what sounded like frogs, and some night birds, but nothing threatening.
By the time she had finished her business, she was even more confused. She called his name.
“Cayetano.”
“I come, Singing Bird.”
And in that moment, standing in the dark, in this place with the wind blowing on her bare skin waiting for him to arrive, there was a feeling of deja’vu so strong that by the time he got to her, she was crying.
He swung her up in his arms, and in the moonlight saw her tears. He laid his cheek against the crown of her head.
“My heart hurts that you are sad.”
“What happened in my world was very bad. Everyone I love is gone. I came to this place with thousands of others, and yet I came alone.”
“You came to this place to return to me, Singing Bird. This is Naaki Chava. It is home.”
His breath was on her cheek. She knew he was close to her face, to her lips. If she let herself go there, she could almost believe it was Niyol, and they were holding each other as they had in the Canyon del Muerto—in the cave with the little spring.
When he began to move, she knew he was carrying her back to where they slept. What was it he’d called this place? Naaki Chava? Two Earth? Or, maybe he was saying Earth Two. The second home? Wherever she was, it was far better than the place from which they’d come.
***
One moment Adam and Evan Prince had been in the plantation house waiting to die, and the next thing they knew they’d been dropped into a strange land, in a busy marketplace, and half-naked people were running and screaming from the explosion of light that had dumped the boys into their midst.
The crystal was on the ground at their feet and they grabbed it. It had gotten them here. They would need it to get back. They didn’t know where they were, but it was hot, it smelled bad, and there was too much noise.
Before they could move, the crowd parted to reveal two large, brown-skinned men running at them with spears.
“Run Evan!” Adam shrieked, and turned, only to fall headlong into the arms of more guards coming up from behind.
As the guards grabbed them by the napes’ of their necks, they launched into twin speak, cautioning each other not to give away their secrets.
They were dragged through winding streets, past a large temple-like structure in the middle of the city, to what could only be called a palace set into the side of a mountain. There, they went up countless more steps, down long dark halls, into a large great room in the center of the building.
They had little time to notice the architecture, the decorations, or the tables filled with bowls and platters piled high with fruits and breads as they were dumped, rather unceremoniously, at the foot of a very large throne.
A guard handed their crystal to a servant, who quickly carried it up the steps to the man sitting on it.
Another servant kicked at the boys.
“Stand in the presence of Bazat!” he shouted.
The boys rose, their arms around each other as if they were connected at the chest and looked up.
Adam and Evan Prince had read many books and many minds. They knew things about the human race that only God should know. From the time they were tiny children they heard vile thoughts they were too young to understand, and seen past outward behaviors to the hearts beneath. They learned the hard way to trust none but each other.
And when they looked into the heart of the little squat man sitting on the throne, they saw that he was not kingly at all. He looked Native American, but the breechclout he was wearing was a fabric, not of skin, with both silver and gold threads woven into the fabric. The big collar-like jewelry around his neck looked to be made of gold with turquoise fastened about. There were small curved bones in the piercings of his nose and ears, with small pieces of turquoise hanging from the bones.
His hair was in red, muddy hunks, not unlike dreadlocks the boys had seen on the islanders back home. There were dozens of green and red feathers fastened throughout the crown of his head, giving him the appearance of plumage. Despite his appearance, Adam knew he was but a brute and a criminal in royal clothing.
And he had their crystal. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee as he yelled down.
“Look at me!”
They didn’t understand the language and immediately shifted into reading his mind to understand the words.
He frowned. “You have the same face.”
Now they were faced with trying to communicate with a man who would not understand their language. They’d never tried it before, but wondered if they sent their thoughts into his head without saying them aloud if he would understand. So they tried it.
We are twins.
Bazat stood up. “How is it that I heard your words yet your lips did not move?”
We do not speak your language, but we can hear your thoughts. We are sending our answers to you in the same way.
Bazat was immediately afraid. Witchcraft was a danger.
One of his servants standing beside the throne leaned down and whispered in Bazat’s ear. He listened, then looked up and addressed them again.
“It is said that you fell out of the sky in a flash of light. Is that so?”
They nodded.
Bazat’s thoughts were spinning. The sons of Sun and Earth Mother were twins—Little War-Gods. Gods would be able to read human thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t witchcraft. If the Little War-Gods had been sent to this place, they would have come out of the sky. He was nervous. He didn’t want to anger Sun or Mother Earth, or go to war with these Gods, even if they were small.
“Speak your names!” he demanded.
I am Adam Prince. I am Evan Prince.
Their voices were as interchangeable as their faces. They intrigued Khan, but he didn’t trust outsiders and this could still be a trick.
“Prince. What name is this?”
Evan had already picked up on the fact that Bazat thought they might be Gods.
A prince is the son of a king…like a God, he added.
Bazat did not like that at all. He was the ruler here, God or not God.
“You cannot rule here. This is my land. I am Bazat and you are trespassers!” He rolled the crystal between his hands then held it up to the light. “What is this thing you have with you? Is it an amulet? Does it work magic?
“You talk,” Evan whispered.
Adam was reading Bazat’s mind as fast as he could think, figuring out how to word his answer to their
best advantage. He’d already guessed they had gone back in time. He used to hear Landan Prince talk about such things, and they were young enough to still believe anything was possible.
And, Adam thought the man was Mayan. He picked up on the fact that he was very superstitious, and was thinking he and Evan were some kind of War Gods. He thought back to the Harry Potter movies he and his brother had loved so much, and went for the magic angle.
We were cast out of our land for divination. We are shamans. We know secrets.
Evan’s eyes widened. He knew the meaning of divination. It was straight out of Harry Potter!
Bazat believed his own Shamans had power, and for him, this added to the possibility that they could be the sons of Sun and Mother Earth, especially if they knew magic.
“Where is this land of which you speak?” Khan asked.
Adam waved his hand. On the far side of the world.
Khan frowned. “You lie. The world is flat. Everyone knows that.”
No, it is round, like your belly, Evan said.
Adam gave his brother a frantic look.
“You tell me no! You tell me the world is round like my belly?” Bazat yelled.
The great hall went silent. Servants held their breaths, waiting to see which head was chopped off first. But to their surprise, Bazat threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed within the great room and then out into the halls. And when he laughed, the servants laughed also.
Adam clutched Evan’s hand and waited.
Bazat’s laughter was over. He looked back at the boys. The smile was still on his face, but there was murder in his eyes.
“If you two are truly shamans and you know secrets, then tell me something only I would know is true. Tell me now, or I will cut out your hearts to the Sun God and chop off both your heads.”
Adam straightened his shoulders.
You made your first kill when you were nine. It was the man who ravaged your mother.
Your spear has a name. You call it Heart-eater, Evan added.
Bazat hid his shock well. He’d asked, never believing their claims to be true. But this was another thing altogether. No one knew this but him. He waved to a servant.
“These little princes were cast out of their land. Let it be known that they are now mine.”
