Peyewik thought back to the Prayer Ceremony and Kwineechka’s inability to tell a story.
“She is already doing us harm. Our storyteller believes he can no longer tell stories. He is the People’s connection to their power. Without him, the People will be lost before Crow Woman ever comes near them.”
“You must warn them,” Morrigan said.
“But what can we do?”
“Run,” Morrigan replied.
“We cannot leave the land of our fathers,” Peyewik said.
“If your people wish to survive without becoming her slaves, then you must go.”
Peyewik could see that Morrigan’s form was beginning to fade from sight.
“There’s another thing,” she said. “Aoifa is afraid of you. You were able to stop her siren. No one has been able to do that before. She sees you as a threat and will try to kill you.”
Her voice was growing faint.
“By the Goddess, I wish I could have done more to help you…”
“And I wish you did not have to die for helping me,” Peyewik replied. “I hoped we would meet again and that we would be friends…”
“I hoped so too,” Morrigan said, her voice no more than a whisper. “Good bye, Peyewik.”
“Morrigan, do not go!” Peyewik called out suddenly.
But Morrigan Deer Girl was gone.
And Crow Woman was coming after the People.
Peyewik dropped to his knees on the silvery sand and wept in sadness and fear.
he old man made no move to help Morrigan, but stayed beside Peyewik.
“By Dess, she needs help now!” Trib said, starting towards him.
“Trib!” Jongren grabbed her arm.
She shook him off. “He best come now or I’ll make him…”
“Tribulation, the priestess is dead.”
Trib stopped. “No. She can’t be. Peyewik’s grandfather can help her, like he helped me…”
“I’m sorry,” Jongren said. “Consider it a blessing that she is no longer suffering.”
“It ain’t a blessing! It’s wrong, and everyone here is to blame for not helping her,” Trib cried, glaring around at the Natives who were keeping their distance.
“They have never seen one of the crow women before,” Kwineechka said. “They are frightened.”
Trib noticed that even he had moved away from Morrigan’s body.
“Dess damn their fear. And yours. Dess damn all of you!” The telltale flickers of red appeared at the corners of Trib’s vision.
“Kinteka says we can bring Morrigan to her house.”
Trib blinked and the red haze faded. She saw the round-faced girl kneeling beside Morrigan’s body without a hint of fear or revulsion.
“She will sing for her and prepare her body for burial,” Jongren continued translating.
“Thank you,” Trib said hoarsely.
Jongren stooped to lift the priestess in his arms, and Kinteka started singing. Some of the Natives joined her in singing but continued to keep their distance. Trib followed Jongren to Kinteka’s house, aware that Kwineechka stayed where he was.
When Kinteka began to clean the blood off Morrigan’s face, Trib had to step outside. Jongren followed her. “I’m sorry about the priestess,” he said. “But you haven’t said yet what happened with the Scath. The People are anxious to know, and the girl’s death is not a good portent.”
“She promised peace. The Natives have nothing to be afraid of,” she said bitterly.
“Do not blame them,” Jongren said quietly.
“I don’t blame them. I blame the Puritanics who beat her. They’re the ones who murdered her!” Trib felt her Rage coming again.
“It wasn’t the Puritanics…” Jongren started.
“Of course it was! It’s what those murdering bastards do! Attack the innocent and unarmed…”
“Why was Morrigan alone in the forest?” Jongren interrupted.
“How should I know? What difference does it make?”
“You know as well as I do that no priestess would be out in the forest without an escort of warriors. And yet there was no one to take her for help. Did you see any other bodies?”
“No,” Trib said, “but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but the Puritanics didn’t attack your friend.”
“You’re defending them because you’re still one of them!” Trib shouted.
Jongren stayed calm. “It can’t be a coincidence that this is the priestess who helped you escape.”
“Shut up,” Trib hissed. “You’re just like them. I’m ashamed that my mother took up with a liar and a coward like you.” It was instantly clear from the look on Jongren’s face that she had hurt him, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“You’re Puritanic to the core. Only a Puritanic coward could let his family die the way you did.”
“Please,” Jongren gasped as if she was causing him physical pain. “Don’t say that…”
Trib felt a twinge of remorse, but still couldn’t face the truth.
“Trib, Morrigan’s death is not your fault,” Jongren said. “Aoifa did this. She alone is responsible.”
Trib knew he was right, but she couldn’t help lashing out once more. “I ain’t going to listen to you. I never needed a father before, and I ain’t going to start now, especially not a coward like you. I’m ashamed we share the same blood.”
Trib regretted the words before she was done speaking them, but it was too late. To make matters worse, she looked up and saw Kwineechka standing nearby, staring at her.
“Crow Woman killed the girl?” he said.
She saw the fear in his face and knew what he was thinking. If Aoifa would do this to her own apprentice for helping the Natives escape, she would never agree to the Scath’s request to leave the Natives alone.
Morrigan was dead and their attempt to secure peace for the People had failed. Jongren had said it wasn’t Trib’s fault, but she knew better.
eyewik tried to sing Morrigan’s spirit across the River of Death, but he was crying so hard he could not find his voice. As he cried, he felt rather than heard the approach of padded paws. He looked up into the yellow eyes of Panther.
“Manito,” he whispered.
“Do not despair, Little One,” Panther said. “It is not time for her to go. There is still much of the story to come, and she still has a part in it.”
As Peyewik watched, Morrigan’s form began to reappear, shadowy at first but growing more solid until he felt her take his hand.
“Thank you, Goddess,” she whispered to the panther, and Peyewik wondered how Manito appeared to her.
“Manito,” he said. “Crow Woman has taken the Story of the People from Kwineechka, and he is no longer connected to the ancestors. He can’t tell a story without them. How can there be more of the story without a storyteller?”
“I have heard, seen, and told every story there is,” Panther replied. “They do not always come from the past, and they do not require the voices of those who have come before to tell them. Anyone can tell any story at any time. This is one of the greatest gifts and powers granted to my children.”
“Then we don’t need the Storyteller and the ancestors?” Peyewik asked.
“You need them more than ever.”
“I don’t understand. Does Crow Woman have power over the People now? How do we stop her?”
“You will understand in time,” Manito replied. “You too have a part in what is to come. Now you and Morrigan must return to the living.”
“Will I see you again?” Peyewik asked.
“I am always with you,” Manito replied.
wineechka stood outside Kinteka’s house, his head echoing with the sound of Crow Woman’s spell song. He thought he had escaped her spell once and for all, but it came back the moment he realized she would not leave the People in peace. He tried to fight the spell song but felt it slowly filling him, sapping his will.
“Kwine
echka.”
The spell-song faded, and he saw Trib standing close to him.
“Peyewik is here,” she said.
Kwineechka turned and saw the boy approaching. He had returned from walking among the spirits, no doubt bearing a message or warning.
“Crow Woman is coming,” Peyewik said in lieu of greeting.
As if the words were a summons, the spell song came flooding back, so loud and commanding that Kwineechka couldn’t fight it. It felt as though he was in the airless room with Crow Woman, powerless against her as she ran her hands over him and made him tell the Story of the People, forced him to give her that which was most precious to him. From somewhere deep in his own mind, Kwineechka knew that all was lost, that Peyewik wasn’t there to save him this time, that Crow Woman had him for good.
Then he felt a touch on his arm. It was warm and firm, not cold and caressing like Crow Woman’s hands, and it acted as a beacon, drawing him back to the present moment. His eyes refocused and he found Trib watching him with a frown on her face.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
Her grip on his arm tightened, tethering him more firmly to the present. But before he could answer, there was a startled cry from inside the house. He pushed through the doorflap to find Kinteka staring down at the crow woman’s body.
“She is breathing!”
Kwineechka stepped back in alarm when he saw the woman’s chest rising and falling once more, but Peyewik swept past him with a whoop of joy and went to kneel beside her.
“My friend has returned with me from the land of the spirits,” he said happily.
“You said she was dead,” Trib said to her father.
“She was,” Jongren said.
The woman who had been dead opened one eye. The other remained swollen shut.
“Peyewik,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Have you warned them?”
Peyewik was smiling down at her, but when he looked up again his face was serious. “Crow Woman is coming,” he repeated firmly. “The People must flee.”
The sun had barely risen above the treeline as the People gathered once more in the center of the village. There morning air was cold, warning of the coming of winter, and everyone huddled close to the cooking fires for warmth as well as food.
Kwineechka looked around in a daze. It felt like just moments ago they had gathered for the Prayer Ceremony in exactly the same manner. He turned to Peyewik.
“You…you remember when I told you I was not afraid of what may come?” he said haltingly.
The boy nodded.
“That was before Crow Woman took the Story of the People from me. She did not want to know our story and become part of it. She only wanted power over me, so she took the thing I cared about most. I would have shared it with her in friendship, but she forced it from me. In doing this, she sent part of me into a darkness I cannot escape.”
“I see the shadow that clings to your spirit,” Peyewik said.
“I did not know one person could do something like that to another person,” Kwineechka continued, hearing faint strains of the Crow Woman’s spell-song. “None of the stories I have heard or told can explain such evil. Now I am afraid. I am afraid for the People. I am afraid of what Crow Woman can do to us.”
“That is why the People must run from her,” Peyewik replied.
“That is what the spirits told you?” Kwinecchka asked.
Peyewik was silent for a moment. “No. That is what Morrigan told me. The spirits did not tell me what the People should do.”
Kwineechka wanted to ask him why he trusted the young crow woman so much, why he thought she was right, but just then Okahoki moved to stand before the People, and everyone fell silent, waiting for him to tell them why they had been summoned so early in the morning.
Trib appeared on Kwineechka’s side, touching him on the shoulder to get his attention.
“You’ll tell me what he’s saying?” she asked in a low voice.
Kwineechka nodded, noticing that Crow Woman’s song had faded to silence. Trib stayed close, leaning her head in towards his so he could translate quietly.
“The Seer of the People has brought a warning from the spirit world,” Okahoki said. “Crow Woman is looking for the People and she will do us harm. Flame Hair’s attempt to secure peace has failed, and it is said that the People must flee from Crow Woman and her Fighting Women.”
The People responded with anxiety and dismay, but it was nothing compared to the distress caused by Okahoki’s next announcement.
“The People must leave the land of the fathers,” Okahoki said. “Mikwin will go with you and be your chief. But I will stay behind.”
The People cried out in shock and denial, but Okahoki spoke over them. “There is a hole in my heart and a shadow on my spirit that no prayer can heal. This shadow makes me hungry for revenge and violence. I must stay here and fight whoever attacks my home next. But the People cannot stay with me or Snakebrother will put shadows on their spirits as well.”
“He does not know how many others already carry shadows,” Kwineechka heard Peyewik murmur.
“He can’t fight Aoifa!” Trib said when she understood what the chief had said. “Even if he knew how to fight and had an army behind him, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Aoifa, the Scath, and the Rage. I have to find Jongren, tell him to talk some sense into him.”
As Trib walked away to find her father, Kwinnechka felt a sudden panic and a desire to call her back. Before he could figure out why, someone new started to speak, shocking everyone by interrupting the chief.
“I will stay with you, Chief Okahoki. I too feel Snakebrother’s shadow on my spirit. If you are a danger to the People, then I am too. Violence has been in my heart for a long time now, ever since my sister was killed by the Pure Men. I will stay and fight with you.”
It was Kinteka.
There was a few beats of silence and then Kwineechka heard a familiar voice say, “I will not let you stay here to die alone. I will stay with you.”
Nishingi, whom Kwineechka had always known favored Kinteka but had never felt confident enough to tell her so, was now pledging to stay and fight with her. She looked at him for a moment and then nodded.
“I will stay with my brother,” Nikismus spoke up, and all at once chaos broke out as the Original People rose to declare that they too would stay.
Okahoki shook his head. “I can no longer be your chief. I will give you my advice one last time. Go with the Away People to a new place where you can live and pray in peace and where the stories will make sense once more.”
“You are our chief. We must go where you go,” the Original People insisted.
“Stop this! Stop it now!” Kwineechka recognized his mother’s voice cutting through the pandemonium.
“You cannot do this,” Shikiwe said. “You are allowing Snakebrother to divide the People. The stories tell us that the People must not be divided or resort to violence.”
“I do not want anyone to stay with me,” Okahoki said. “But there are no stories that tell the People what to do in a situation like this. I have lived in peace with my brothers and sung my prayers to Manito every day, as the stories tell me to do. But this did not stop the Pale Men from destroying my village and killing my people. Stories and prayers can no longer help me. There is nothing left to do but follow my heart, and my heart is full of grief and anger. If others feel as I do, I cannot stop them from following their own hearts as well.”
“Where is my son?” Shikiwe called. “The stories still make sense, as they always have. My son is the Storyteller of the People, and he will know what story needs to be told now. He will let the ancestors speak through him, and they will tell the People what to do.”
Kwineechka felt sick as all eyes turned towards him.
“Come.” Shikiwe gestured for him to stand in front of the People. “We need to hear the wisdom of the ancestors now, so that this foolishness will not continue.”
&
nbsp; Kwineechka stayed where he was, unable to move or speak.
“Kwineechka, what is wrong with you?” Shikiwe said. “You are the Storyteller of the People. You must do as you are asked.”
“I cannot tell a story,” he said, finding his voice at last. “I am no longer connected to the ancestors. I cannot hear them anymore. They no longer speak through me.”
Kwineechka did not hear his mother’s reply or the reaction of the People. Crow Woman’s spell-song enveloped him and he heard and felt nothing else.
rib spotted Jongren through the increasingly agitated crowd of natives. He turned when she called out to him, but she could tell by his face that he was still hurt by what she had said earlier. She didn’t know how to apologize so she spoke brusquely and without preamble.
“We can’t let the People try to fight. Aoifa will massacre them.”
“We’ve tried everything we can,” Jongren replied. He sounded tired and wouldn’t meet her gaze. “We failed. It’s best if we don’t interfere with what the People decide to do next.”
“But they don’t stand a chance!” Trib said. “And killing them isn’t the worst Aoifa can do.”
Jongren just shook his head.
“Are you acting like this because I was rude to you?” Trib asked.
“No. You were right about not needing a father. I have no right to interfere with your life, just as I have no right to interfere with the People’s lives. Every time I meddle, someone gets hurt…”
“That ain’t true,” Trib said, trying to soften her voice. “You were right about Aoifa beating Morrigan almost to death. I…I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to believe I’d stopped this from happening. I was a fool. You and I both know Aoifa can’t be stopped once she’s set her sights on something. Now she’s set her sights on the People, and the only way they can survive is if they get away from here.”
“If you wish,” Jongren said, finally looking Trib in the eye, “I will speak with Okahoki, though I don’t know what good it will do.”
The Rage Page 19
