Hunting the Ghost Dancer

by A. A. Attanasio

  Seven summers had passed since the Eyes of the Bear had spurned the offering. Then, Hamr's mother and sisters had been among those carried off. Hamr had not yet been made a man, and he had sworn he would never allow the Blue Shell to suffer so grievously again.

  At the council held on the first evening of the new moon, the night before the Eyes of the Bear would come down from their forest camp, Gobniu reviewed the offering. The mussel trove glistened bountifully, kept alive in nets left in the tidepools. The seal-fur bundles stacked smaller, since the seals had beached farther north than usual this past winter. Feather-sprays from birds-of-prey that had been taken in place of the seals seemed less impressive than the usual pelt-bundles.

  "We must prepare to fight," Gobniu announced.

  Murmurs of agreement seethed from the circles of men surrounding the council fire. Not far from the Tortoise camp yet hidden by dunes, the men deliberated where the women could not hear them.

  The initiated men composed three circles, the inner one Panther, the outer two Tortoise. On the flanks of the surrounding dunes, the uninitiated men sat, Hamr among them.

  Not long ago, he had been a part of the Tortoise circles, and he felt odd, excluded from this important council. He sat farthest from the others, where he could be near his horse, whom he had tethered to driftwood.

  Patiently, Hamr listened to the men plan their defense while inwardly he squirmed. When he closed his eyes, he met the luminous face of the Beastmaker. A tender smile opened beneath the terrible moons of his eyes. Little skulls hung around his neck, human skulls clicking against each other with a sound like crickets chirping.

  He understood: The dead belonged to the Beastmaker. He opened his eyes and observed the heads of the men bobbing as they schemed to defend themselves. No defense could save them. All their fury went nowhere. And their fear changed nothing. Only a man's destiny opened true, and it could not be seen, touched, or talked about, only lived.

  He noticed that among the men, near where once he had sat as an initiated Tortoise man, Spretnak gazed directly at him. Huddled in a woolly hide, pallid face drawn and intent, he nodded once and looked away.

  Hamr took the old man's cue and stood up. He spoke loudly enough to be heard above the mutterings in the fire-circle: "There is no defense."

  The men fell silent, noted who spoke, then muttered their protests. Gobniu quieted them, addressed Hamr: "Hamr, you are not free to speak. You are here only to witness. Be silent, listen, and learn."

  "I will say only this," Hamr spoke again, louder than before. "There is no defense. You know the Eyes of the Bear will attack tomorrow. I say, there is no defense. We must attack them first."

  Deploring groans and shouts erupted from the gathering. Gobniu again quieted the men, and stood for a silent moment regarding the defiant youth. "You speak from outside the circle. You speak without experience. Be silent or be removed."

  "Not long ago, I sat in the circle. My advice proved worthy then."

  Gobniu scowled at him. "Sit, Tortoise man! I will drag you from here myself if you say one more word."

  Hamr sat.

  A few mocking hoots sounded from the circle, with some snickers from the uninitiated men.

  The deliberations continued. Hamr took counsel with himself. He knew destiny moved him to attack the Eyes of the Bear. He planned the best way to do that, mentally preparing himself to die a lone warrior.

  The next day, the men arranged the offering atop the most noble of the dunes. Hamr groomed Blind Side of Life.

  Timov, who had sat beside him at the council gathering and had laughed into his hand when Gobniu rebuked him, went with Biklo to fill the water-gourds, so as to avoid Hamr. After the gathering, Timov's friends, who had been silent about Hamr since he had become a horseman, jeered: "Are you going to lead the attack with Hamr?" Now he wanted to help somehow, only he feared Hamr would guffaw at him.

  From the rill where they scooped water, Timov and Biklo watched the Eyes of the Bear emerge from the shadows of the cedar forest. Forty men moved casually down the slopes and across the migratory gullies toward the beach. They carried spears and axes.

  Timov ran far ahead of the aged and half-blind Biklo, shouting to warn the others.

  The sentinels on the clifftop had already seen them. Abalone shells flashed the warning to where Gobniu stood with the elders before the offering.

  The chief reviewed the stack of pelts and feather-displays and the seaweed-swathed baskets of mussels, then turned and made certain the men he had positioned among the dunes stayed out of sight. A spearhead appeared here and there, and he shouted orders for those men to lower their weapons until the attack began.

  As the Eyes of the Bear approached the beach, they began to prance truculently. They jeered at the Blue Shell's uninitiated men, who had gathered on the cliff-trails to watch.

  Gobniu and the elders had retreated from the offering dune and stood before the tribe's dugouts, where their weapons waited. None of the Forest tribe directly mocked Gobniu, though as they mounted the dune to claim their prize, they stared with scorn at the chief and his men.

  At the crest of the dune, the Forest men picked over the offering. Holding up the few seal-pelts, they kicked the rabbit hides and feather bundles into the sand. Forest men below the dune brandished their weapons with disdainful shouts.

  The Blue Shell elders drew together behind Gobniu. "Out to sea with you," the chief ordered. Several of the men responded instantly, and shoved their dugouts into the waves. Those who remained took their fishing spears from their dugouts and lined up firmly at the chief's side. He nodded his approval, prepared to give the signal that would bring forth the men he had hidden among the dunes.

  The sight of the fleeing elders and the appearance of fishing spears incensed the Eyes of the Bear. Angry yells from atop the dune began the attack. Screaming battle cries, the Forest men charged down the dune and across the beach toward the dugouts.

  Gobniu gave his signal and snatched his fishing spear and battle ax from behind his dugout. The Eyes of the Bear did not falter when the sand hills around them bristled with spears. They had expected this, for this was what had happened seven springs earlier.

  The Blue Shell had won renown as great fisherfolk, but the Eyes of the Bear survived as hunters, accustomed to coordinating attacks to take down large prey. While the fisherfolk attacked haphazardly, from every direction, with varying courage and ferocity, the hunters had bunched into battle groups, backs to one another, moving as one.

  The fiercest of the Blue Shell engaged the enemy first. They knocked spears with the invaders and hacked with their axes. While each of these vehement warriors engaged one hunter, the other Forest men at his side closed in. They clubbed and speared the courageous Blue Shell, while his companions yelled with dismay from a distance.

  Gobniu and the fighting elders, with their dugouts between them and the invaders, shouted for their laggard spearmen to press harder. Some responded, and the Eyes of the Bear cut them down. Most bawled with anger and fear, threw their spears futilely, and backed away.

  Timov and the other uninitiated men hurled rocks from the sea cliff, too far to hit anyone. Though the battle had raged for only moments, six Blue Shell lay dead and not one Forest man sustained injury. The rout nearly complete, only Gobniu and the handful of courageous elders stood between the Eyes of the Bear and the shore camp.

  Timov looked for Hamr to share his grief: Mother, Aradia, and Duru hid in the field camp above the cliffs, the second objective of the victorious Forest men. Those avid hunters would track them easily. He scanned the cliff-trails and could find no sign of Hamr. The other boys on the cliff with him had clearly not seen him, either. Their faces, wrought with desperation, fixed on the slaughter below, fearfully anticipating the plunder to come.

  Hamr had not waited for the attack. He knew the certainty of it. As soon as the Forest men reached the shore, he had led Blind Side of Life away from the steep cliff-trails and down the long path in the c
left of the rock wall, reaching the dunes as the fighting began.

  He had seen all this before, as a boy. He had stood, like Timov, with the other boys on the cliff-trails and had watched the slaughter and the plunder. The fisherfolk and the handful of Panther men had behaved then as now: The brave died swiftly, the others screamed, danced, and wept. Soon, the chief and his elders would flee in their dugouts, and the Eyes of the Bear would take women and young children. The huts would burn, and the invaders would make their way laughing up the trails to the Panther camp.

  Before that happened, the Eyes of the Bear would have to kill him. Hamr had no doubt he would die now. Forty hunters, men skilled at slaying and eating horses, would make quick work of him and his blind steed. Even so, he too well remembered what he had seen seven springs ago: He knew the leaders by the bearclaws they wore at their shoulders—and he determined to kill at least one of them before his destiny played out.

  As Hamr had foreseen, Gobniu, recognizing defeat, heaved his spear uselessly against his attackers and rushed with his dugout into the waves. No one pursued him except his own elders. The few who remained behind jigged briefly, then fell, quickly slain. With a triumphant howl, the Eyes of the Bear lifted their red spears to the sky and marched boisterously down the beach to claim their prizes. From the camp ahead came the shrill wails of the women.

  Hamr, mounted on Blind Side of Life, had loaded his slingshot and hoisted his fishing spear. He would not see the women taken. He would return first to the Beastmaker. Goading his steed with his heels, though his insides churned with fear, he went forward to complete his destiny.

  The carousing Forest men pulled up short at the sight: a horse mounted by a man! Some stood confused before this bestial fusion of man and horse. Most reeled, simply awed. Well they knew the wildness of Horse, and assumed a great spirit power possessed this man who rode to battle.

  The leaders felt only anger that anyone—or anything—would dare block the way to the prizes they had won with blood.

  Blind Side had often ridden on this shore, and he recognized the firm sand and the lapping whisper of low tide. The driftwood would lie tangled higher on the beach, and the way ahead opened clear. When Hamr signaled him to go forward, the horse did not hesitate. He liked to run when sure not to trip.

  The Eyes of the Bear, astounded and befuddled, scattered before him. Only the leaders stood fast, spears raised, shouting for the others to come back.

  Hamr pointed his charge directly at the men with the bear-claws at their shoulders. He slowed Blind Side when within slingshot range, then let fly his rock. The missile arced true, and struck one of the bearded men in his eye, felling him. The others cried out, aghast.

  Eager to meet his death—and be done with the fear twisting in him—Hamr urged Blind Side forward again, pressing him to run. The horse lurched forward. Then, hearing the alarmed cries of the Eyes of the Bear, faltered and stopped. Two spears slashed through the space where he would have been. Hamr snatched one of them from where it stood straight up in the sand and trotted the reluctant Blind Side toward his enemy.

  The Forest men who had thrown their spears attacked, battle axes whirling over their heads, screaming doom at the man-horse. Hamr returned their cry, lying flat against Blind Side's neck, both spears thrust forward, kicking hard at the ribs of his animal, expecting him to rear at any instant.

  Alarmed by Hamr's yelling and kicking, Blind Side abruptly leaped forward. The unexpected rush caught the attackers head on, and impaled one of them on a spear that snapped in half with the impact.

  The collision startled Blind Side. He reared, sending the second attacker staggering backward. Hamr clung to his steed with his one free hand and heaved his spear at the easy target below. The spear pierced the hunter's chest and dropped him thrashing into the sand.

  Amazed, Hamr hugged Blind Side's neck, and the horse sidestepped nervously until he felt the sea sloshing at his legs.

  The Eyes of the Bear, anguished at the swift deaths of their leaders, fled toward the dunes. Now the Blue Shell pursued. Tortoise men speared two more of the Forest men before the others disappeared into the ravines that led back toward the cedars.

  Hamr watched, suddenly very far away. He sat tall on his horse and gazed out on the world as though he had never seen it before.

  The joy in his people's faces and their jubilant cries arrived new. Dunes dazzled. The sea's dark body gleamed. Grasses bowed shyly beside the bodies of the men who would have killed him—and, experiencing all this, he felt he understood now the ancient stories of men returning from the dead.

  With his legs, he hugged Blind Side, until he felt again the immediate strength of his life. All fear had passed and left him pure, possessed of a divine secret. Joy opened with holy simplicity. He lived. He lived, because he knew fear—and had set fear aside for destiny.

  The Blue Shell who had chased off the enemy returned jubilantly to the beach. The boys from the cliff-trails arrived too. Their laughter died off at the sight of their own dead.

  Gobniu and his elders, humiliated to have fled before the fight was done, wore baleful expressions.

  Hamr walked Blind Side to the dugouts and dismounted. Gobniu surveyed the dead, and refused to meet his stare. But the others gazed admiringly at him. Today his legend had become secure. The clan would retell this day for generations. Not yet initiated among the Panther men, he stood apart, already a Great Man.

  Timov recognized the pride flushing Hamr, and expected to hear his customary boast. When Hamr spoke, he merely named those who had died. The initiated men shouldered around, touching him, taking some of his power, and the uninitiated men grinned and gaped at him, wanting to look into his eyes and gain his favor. When the women came, they threw onto him and Blind Side red seaweed, emblem of mother’s blood, and sang his name loudly.

  Aradia knelt before him to the cheers of the women and the gasps of the men. Women knelt only before the chief, and then only on the most sacred of the men's ritual nights.

  Hamr knelt beside her, and the men laughed with relief.

  The tribe's reprieve from defeat had been so unexpected and unprecedented that at first no one knew what to do. One of the elders called for the heads of the enemy to propitiate their fallen comrades.

  The Blue Shell men hurried to claim the heads of the fallen Forest hunters. This rite the women could not witness. “Blood calls to blood!” a crone shouted, reminding all that menstrual blood invited possession by enemy blood.

  Those mothers, wives, and daughters who had lost men in the battle gathered around Hamr and Blind Side, expecting his escort back to the camp to the joyful singing of the others. This prerogative belonged to the chief.

  Hamr looked to Gobniu.

  The chief met his proud stare unsteadily, and waved him off. "Our dead must be honored. Take the women away." Gobniu lowered his gaze in shamed concession to Hamr's greatness. The chief belonged to the living and never tended the dead. Today, however, the chief had gone to sea, believing the battle lost. He had abandoned the women. They would not forgive him that. He had no choice now but to tend the dead like a common man, or return to the camp and be mocked and rebuked by the women.

  As the women marched off with Hamr and his horse, their elated trills rang off the sea cliffs. Gobniu watched after them.

  Timov and the others observed his face darkening. When he turned toward them, they hastened to busy themselves with the dead.

  "You—" Gobniu's stern voice cracked the air over Timov. "You are of the Great Man's family. You wash our dead. That will give them some honor."

  Timov hurried to obey, though fear of the dead rippled through him. The bodies had been stripped, wounds laid bare. Timov's breath tightened at sight of the punctured flesh clotted with gore, and the skulls bashed in, bone-chips and brains frothy with blood.

  Gobniu signed for the other men to move aside and left Timov alone to cleanse the wounds and pack them with seaweed.

  Even in his glory, Hamr bestowed troubl
e on Timov. As a braggart fool whom his sister loved, he had made Timov the butt of endless mockery. Then as a horseman, he had favored Duru as much as himself, and retarded his initiation into manhood. And now this, a job that usually all men but the chief shared, spreading the possibility of spirit attack among them. Surely, blood spirits would possess him now, and he whimpered.

  Gobniu barked at him to take more care, to accord due respect to each of the corpses.

  Hurriedly, the other men gathered driftwood to build death rafts, hoping to avert the chief's wrath. Gobniu ignored them. Hamr he hated and Timov provided as close a target as he could get to Hamr—for now.

  )|(

  A scream, shrill with evil, pierced the night.

  A child had died. The ululating wail of the Mothers announced this tragedy to the tribe. By the wail's length and tone, everyone knew a daughter of the Panther cult failed to thrive. The wail repeated, slicing the night with horror, until the elder women, the guardians of the Great Mother's mysteries, roused from sleep and replied.

  Two of the older women of the Tortoise clan set out upon the steep, nightbound trails. Their gourd lanterns winked like fireflies on the cliff ledges a long time before they reached the high camp. Before dawn, their spark-lights flickered back down the trails, bearing news of what they had witnessed to the other Mothers.

  The dead girl had fevered the day that the Eyes of the Bear attacked, and she had died two nights later. None of the Panther Mothers' herb infusions or root broths had quelled the fire in her frail body. Hardened lumps had appeared under arms and jaw that did not respond to the leafmash plasters strapped to her.