Windwalker

by Sharon Sala

  The twins came running into the room, their eyes wide with shock.

  “I told you to hide,” Cayetano said.

  “We couldn’t” they cried—not when they had information the chief needed to know. “Chak led them here. He is running to the temple to hide.”

  “Go,” Layla said. “He was the one who betrayed you before. He is not part of the curse. He is unfinished business.”

  Cayetano issued quick orders, leaving part of the guards at their door, and left the palace on the run with the others behind him.

  Layla sent servants to clean the blood from the floor while others carried away the body. As she was issuing orders, the twins got a wet cloth and began wiping the blood from Yuma’s face. He sat without moving as they cleaned away the spatter.

  They didn’t speak because they knew he would not be able to answer. A few seconds later, Layla took the cloth from their hands and finished the job.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Evan whispered.

  “He’s in shock,” Adam offered.

  Layla nodded. “Yes, he’s in shock.” Then she pulled him up to her lap. “Yuma, look at me.”

  His gaze shifted as he focused on her face, and as he did, reality sank in.

  “You did a very brave thing,” Layla said.

  Tears began rolling down his cheeks. “Before our world died, my Daddy told me that it was hard to be a man, but that I would know when it was my time to grow up. I told you I was a man. When I get taller, you will see.”

  Layla’s voice was shaking as she hugged him close. “I don’t know how you could be any bigger of a man than you already are.”

  ***

  Chak was running in an all-out sprint into the city. His heart was pounding to the rhythm of foot to ground, his gaze taking in the familiar sites. He’d been born in this place, and tonight he would die here. Bazat had failed. He’d known it before he’d cleared the palace, which meant his last chance of escape had also failed. All he wanted to do now was just get to the temple. It was where he’d been happiest. It was where he belonged.

  A baby cried somewhere in the distance, but there would be no tears shed for him this night. He was about to die in shame.

  The sounds of shouts and running feet were a good distance behind him, but they were warriors and he was not. They would catch him, and so he ran because it was all he had left to do.

  The temple loomed in moonlight with a beauty almost as great as when bathed by the sun. It wasn’t too much further. He could do it. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, although the men were closer now; their steps almost in unison.

  He didn’t need to turn around to know Cayetano was leading them. He didn’t need to see his face to feel the rage. His legs were giving out; the muscles burning all the way to the bone, while blood shot through his body at an erratic pace.

  When he finally ran into the playa surrounding the temple, he almost stumbled. He’d made it! The wild animals that had been eating from the harvest offerings quickly scampered away.

  Only a few more yards and then it would be over. His ears were roaring from the blood-rush, his legs no longer moving as they should.

  He heard a shout! Someone called his name.

  No, he screamed, only to realize too late that he never voiced it.

  Something hit him in the middle of the back with such impact that the breath left his body. He looked down in shock at the spear protruding from his chest as pain began to radiate into every limb. His knees buckled as his heart gave out. The silence that swept over him was as welcome as the peace that moved through him.

  It was done.

  ***

  Cayetano’s chest was heaving, but it was nothing to the rage in his heart as he stood over Chak’s dead body.

  A second chief eyed the near-perfect throw of Cayetano’s spear that had pierced the chest from back to front. “What do we do with him? Should we put him with the offerings?”

  Cayetano’s eyes narrowed angrily.

  “We do not curse our own offerings with the body of a traitor. Get the Shamans. I would speak with them.”

  Two of the guards ran into the temple, as the others waited there with their chief.

  The air was still. The stars seemed close enough to touch, which lent calm to the night. They waited silently until the Shamans came running.

  Ah Kin was the first to arrive, and the first to recognize Chak’s body.

  “Aiyee! What is this?”

  Cayetano pointed. “That is the man who led a killer into the palace. The killer is dead and now so is the traitor. Do with him as you will and know this. If your heart is as angry as Chak’s was, then you have no place here.”

  By now the others had arrived to receive the full measure of their chief’s threat. They were vocally upset on the behalf of Naaki Chava and of their chief, and Ah Kin had the good sense to agree.

  “We will bury Chak in the proper way, and let the Old Ones deal with his spirit,” Ah Kin said.

  “Get him out of my sight,” Cayetano said, and watched until the Shamans were gone before heading back to the palace.

  But it was a good trip. They walked when before they’d been running. Justice had been done.

  Cayetano knew there would be little sleep tonight, but he needed to see Singing Bird’s face now, just to be sure that the curse had been broken.

  He was tired, but oddly satisfied as he strode down the halls toward their quarters. As he entered, the last of his anxiety disappeared. Singing Bird was there, sound asleep on her mat, with the boys snuggled close around her.

  His heart was full as he dropped his weapons and his clothes, dragged up another mat and stretched out. He pulled a cover up to his waist, and then pushed himself up on one elbow long enough to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

  Singing Bird opened her eyes.

  “Is it over?” she whispered.

  “It is over,” he said softly.

  “Then it was all worth it,” she said, and went back to sleep.

  Epilogue

  Eight months later

  A cry broke the silence of the night, piercing in its clarity. It was a cry of dismay for having left the warmth and safety of a mother’s womb that was soon silenced with an offer of the mother’s breast.

  Layla was exhausted from the labor of birth, and relieved to have her body back to herself. It would take time to recover, but she had that luxury. She was Cayetano’s woman and he was her heart.

  She looked down at the baby cradled against her breast and sighed as the little mouth finally found her nipple to nurse. She would soon forget the pain of childbirth, but never would she forget this night. She had felt the earth shift the same moment the baby took her first breath. Change was in the wind.

  She knew she had not imagined it when Cayetano, who had never left her side throughout the nine hours of labor, suddenly jumped as if in fright.

  They looked at each other, and then down at the baby.

  “It is beginning,” Cayetano whispered.

  She nodded.

  A short time later, Acat appeared at the doorway.

  “The boys want to see her.”

  “Let them come in,” Cayetano said.

  The twins entered first.

  In the past eight months they’d grown in height and in stature. Here, they were not only accepted, but loved and valued for more than their abilities. They knew what this baby meant to the future, and were prepared to devote the rest of their lives to making sure nothing went wrong.

  They entered with smiles on their faces, each carrying a gift they had made.

  Adam laid a small doll at Layla’s knee and then stroked the thatch of black hair on the tiny baby’s head.

  “She’s so small,” he said, and then laughed when she tugged even harder at Layla’s breast.

  E
van laid another doll beside the first.

  “There are two of us. She should have twins as well.”

  Cayetano grinned.

  “Thank you,” Layla said. “When she is a little bigger, she will love them.”

  And then she saw Yuma. He was still standing in the doorway and with a look of awe upon his face. Something dangling from his hand as he came forward and she recognized the necklace Bazat had cut from her neck. She thought it was gone and had grieved for the loss. She was glad to see it again.

  But it was Yuma, above all, who had changed the most in the past eight months. Not only had he grown in height and breadth, but his hair was longer, his features less like the child he’d been—more like the man he would be. He moved with the assurance of knowing his worth and place in the world, and knelt at Layla’s feet.

  “When she is old enough,” he said, and laid the necklace he had found and repaired near her knee.

  Layla nodded. “I will save it for the time when she will wear it, rather than eat it.”

  Again, everyone laughed.

  “She is so beautiful,” Yuma said softly, and like Adam, laid a hand on the top of her hair.

  At his touch, the baby stopped nursing. Her eyes opened, and it appeared to Layla as if she was trying to focus.

  “Yuma, come stand behind me,” Layla said. “I think she wants to see you.”

  Yuma knelt then peered over Layla’s shoulder, straight into the baby’s face.

  “I am here,” Yuma said.

  Layla watched the baby trying to follow the sound of his voice, and when her eyes suddenly opened wide, Layla smiled. “She sees you.”

  “I see you, Tyhen. You will call me Yuma. I will protect you with my life, and you will love me.”

  The End

  The Prophecy Trilogy