The figure of a petite woman bending over one of the tallest baskets emerged in his mind. Her long, black hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck and hung almost to her hips. Straight, long bangs covered her high forehead. Her skirt, a soft reddish skin with small, white shells sewn around the bottom hem, came well above her knees. Two strands of tiny white shells wrapped around her slim neck. A loop of matching shells hung from her pierced ears.
The mysterious feeling pumped through Walker’s entire body. In his mind’s eye, he saw the strangely familiar woman stand up from one of the baskets with something in her hand. She turned toward Walker. Her kind, black eyes twinkled; her full lips smiled. Her voice was soft and loving. “Ahh, here it is . . .”
“Walker, Walker,” Tag’s loud voice shattered the vivid images in Walker’s mind. “Hey, what’s the matter? Flute Maiden is talking to you.”
Walker’s eyes flew open. Flute Maiden stood before him, holding a small piece of brown buckskin in one hand and a pair of sandals in the other. “Are you all right?” she asked. Her voice was like a soft breeze.
Walker swallowed hard and managed a nod. He felt dizzy. His mind was cloudy. His heart was beating like a ceremonial drum.
Flute Maiden looked relieved. She pointed her chin toward Tag, “It is too dangerous. His clothes will cause too many questions. I found him some sandals.” She held up the yucca sandals. They were like the ones she was wearing. “And a covering.” Smiling, she held up the small piece of buckskin.
“What is she saying?” Tag asked in a suspicious tone.
Walker stifled the laugh building up in his chest. Here was Tag’s first real challenge. “She said she found you something to wear.”
“You have got to be kidding—that little piece of nothing!” Tag exclaimed, glaring at the buckskin Flute Maiden held out toward him.
Flute Maiden motioned for Tag to stand up.
“Look, Tag, for some reason things are dangerous here for strangers and right now you’d look mighty strange to the ancient ones,” Walker said. “So hurry and get your clothes off.”
Tag began to protest, but the look of urgency in Flute Maiden’s eyes stopped him. He stood up. With a scowl, he started to pull off his T-shirt. “Okay, but I’m keeping my underwear on under that—that thing.”
Walker chuckled, watching Tag pull off his shoes and stockings. Flute Maiden gathered them up. He could tell that she was examining them as she walked to the back of the room. He wondered what she thought of the red striped tube socks, hot pink T-shirt, and the huge shoes with the long, florescent-green shoelaces. She quickly fingered each item one more time. Then without a word, she rolled the shoes and socks in the T-shirt and hid them behind a large brown jar.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Tag said, pulling off his blue jeans. “Maybe I should have stayed in the cave.”
Flute Maiden took the blue jeans out of Tag’s trembling hands. She picked up the buckskin, knelt down, and started to wrap the skin around Tag’s skinny waist.
Walker held his breath to keep from laughing out loud. Tag’s freckles were washed in a deep scarlet blush. Flute Maiden’s nimble fingers wrapped, tucked, and folded the skin into a neat loin cloth that covered Tag’s brightly colored underwear.
Flute Maiden stood up. Turning Tag around, she inspected her work. “It’s a bit big for him, but it will do.” With a mischievous smile, she folded up his blue jeans. “He has lizard legs.”
Laughter thundered in Walker’s chest and echoed off the close walls. Flute Maiden giggled, holding out the pair of sandals to Tag.
“All right, what did she say?” Tag snorted, with his hands on his waist.
Trying to sound serious, Walker answered, “She said to put the sandals on.”
“Hey! These are made out of yucca cactus,” Tag said, eagerly taking the sandals. “Archaeologists found pieces of them in the ruins. They’re on display in the Visitor Center—or they will be back in the future. But no one ever found a complete sandal. In fact, they just guessed that the pieces they found were sandals.” Tag put his big foot down on the mat of tightly plaited yucca leaves. “They could be just a bit bigger, but not bad.” He tied the braided strap of yucca fibers over his foot and around his ankle. “Not quite Nikes, but a lot lighter and cooler.” Tag held up his foot to show Walker. A grin spread across his face. “My Dad would just about die to have a pair of these. Thank you,” he said to Flute Maiden, who was hiding his blue jeans with the rest of his clothes.
Taking his backpack off, Walker opened it. Laying the bag of red cornmeal and the paho on the ground, he pulled out his watch and clothes. He fingered his metal flashlight for a moment, thinking. If for any reason they needed to escape at night, the rugged canyon would be treacherous without light. Giving it a squeeze, Walker set the flashlight by the cornmeal. He rolled his watch up in his clothes and handed them to Flute Maiden. “We had better hide these, too.” While she hid them, Walker replaced the cornmeal, paho, and the flashlight in his pack. Standing up, he slipped it on his back.
“We have to go now, before the men come back to the village. We must get to my father, Great Owl, before anyone sees you,” Flute Maiden said, starting to move out of the door.
Walker followed. “Great Owl?” he whispered, the haunting feeling creeping slowly back into his mind.
“He is a Seer, who sees and understands all things. He’s the only one who can protect you now,” stated Flute Maiden. “Stay close.”
“Are we going up to the cliff dwellings now?” Tag asked, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright sun again.
Walker started after Flute Maiden up a very steep, narrow path. “She is taking us to Great Owl.”
Following close behind Walker, Tag asked, “Who’s he?”
“Flute Maiden’s father. He’ll protect us.”
“Protect us from what?”
The air was filled with ear-shattering shrieks and yelps as five men with long spears appeared ahead of them on the path. Four more armed men sprang from among the rocks behind them. With sharp spearheads thrust forward, the men quickly surrounded the three climbers.
8
Stop!” ordered the leader of the group. He looked about eighteen or nineteen years old but was only Walker’s height. His dark brown skin pulled tight across his powerful chest and shoulders. His short, leather loincloth showed very muscular legs and thighs. His long, black hair was pulled away from his foxlike face. Straight bangs hung over his small, slanted eyes.
He stalked toward Flute Maiden. With a hard shove, he pushed her against the rocks at the inside of the path. Before Walker could move more than a step toward her, the young man’s spearhead was thrust up against his chest, just below the eagle pendant. He felt the sharp point all but cutting into his skin. The young man’s deep-set eyes glared at the eagle pendant.
“Why are you sneaking into our canyon on the skirts of a girl?” the young man snarled, pushing his spear point into Walker’s skin.
Walker felt the point prick his chest. He stared into the cold, black eyes. Never had he seen such hatred, bitterness, and contempt in one’s eyes before.
“I cling to no one’s skirt. Nor do I hurt harmless women,” Walker stated in a low but steady voice. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he stood tall against the spear, his eyes locked with its carrier.
“Who are you?” the young man shrieked. His shrill voice echoed off the canyon walls.
Walker felt drops of warmth ooze down his chest as the spear point was thrust deeper into his skin. Still he stared into the hostile eyes without flinching. The putrid smell of death filled his nose and lungs. If I am to die, then I will die as a man, Walker thought. “One that knows better than to scream his wants to the sparrows and mice,” Walker answered.
The man’s eyes glared with anger. With a deep growl, he curled his thin lips back, showing his brown, rotting teeth.
“He is right, Gray Wolf. You sound like a naughty child howling demands—demands that you ha
ve no authority to make.” The firm, authoritative voice came from behind Flute Maiden.
Without lowering his spear, Gray Wolf swung his head around to the direction of the voice. Walker followed his gaze.
On the path above Flute Maiden was a second group of armed men. The man who had spoken was taking long, confident strides toward them. He was about the same age as Gray Wolf and about the same height. He, too, looked underfed yet strong. He wore a short, red loincloth. His blue-black, shoulder-length hair was tied in the back. He wore the same straight bangs above his eyes as the others. Tension showed in his handsome, round face. His intelligent, black eyes were large, his nose broad, his back straight and strong.
“White Badger,” fumed Gray Wolf. Hatred seemed to boil in his eyes as they met White Badger’s for an instant. Walker heard him growl again.
The men lowered their spears, letting White Badger pass. Taking Flute Maiden’s arm, he helped her up. “Sister, are you all right?”
Flute Maiden nodded her head. She whispered something to him, nodding toward Walker and Tag. With long, powerful strides, White Badger stalked down to them, his eyes never leaving Gray Wolf. With a quick, powerful jerk, he wrenched the spear away from Walker’s chest, out of Gray Wolf’s hand, and hurled it to the ground.
“You have no right to harm my sister,” White Badger said in a low voice. His intense eyes were locked with Gray Wolf’s. “And you have no authority to question these visitors. Only the Warrior Chief has such authority when the High Chief is gone. Or maybe you have forgotten that it was I who was chosen Warrior Chief, not you.”
Gray Wolf lashed back, “I have every right to stop strangers who are here to steal our food and bring the spirit sickness.” His voice was as sharp as a knife.
White Badger’s face was tense, but his voice was even. “If they were here to steal our food, why would they save Flute Maiden from a rattlesnake?”
Walker saw Gray Wolf’s eyes widen, then blink. “So these—these boys just appeared even though all trails and entrances into the canyon were closely guarded. How did they get here? Through the air? And they can control rattlesnakes!” Gray Wolf was looking around at the other men in the group, trying to gain their support. “What more do we need to know! They are two hearted—witches! Witches here to spread more sickness and pain. Witches that have come to steal our very spirits away!”
Walker heard mumbling around him. He could see fear and confusion in the faces of the men surrounding them. Some took steps backward, others lifted their spears toward them.
“I say kill these witches right now! Cut out their double hearts and burn them before any more hunger and death come to our people!” Gray Wolf’s high-pitched voice screeched.
“A child has more logic than you,” said White Badger staring at Gray Wolf. With firmness, he spoke just loud enough for all to hear. “Why would witches save Flute Maiden from the rattlesnake? Witches would have let the snake bite her, just so they could enjoy watching her die in agony. No, these strangers are not witches. They are just very courageous.”
Turning his back on Gray Wolf, White Badger looked around at the frightened men. Meeting each man’s eyes, he continued with a firm voice. “As the Warrior Chief in command, I say we take them to Great Owl. Only he can—”
“Take them to your father?” Gray Wolf interrupted with scorn. “His eyes and heart will be blinded because of Flute Maiden. He is just an old man ready to die like our chief,” he ranted, throwing up one arm and shaking his fist.
The men shifted from one foot to the other, whispering to each other. Fear filled the air.
“No,” stated a man to the left of Walker. He was about twenty-five years old and had a long, deep scar running down his right cheek. “Great Owl is a Seer. He will know if they are witches. He has always held the good of the people in his heart; his eyes have always seen truth for our people. If there is danger here, he will see it. Let’s take them to Great Owl now!”
Walker’s heart pounded in his throat. He glanced at the men surrounding him. They talked to each other in low voices for a few seconds, then heads began to nod.
“Yes, let’s take them to the Seer!”
“The Seer will know what they are.”
“We must take them to Great Owl now!”
Walker looked at Gray Wolf. His face was twisted with disgust and hatred. With a growl, he swung around and stomped to where two of his men stood together.
“Come quickly before Gray Wolf changes their minds,” White Badger whispered to Walker.
Walker nodded. “Thank you, friend.”
“You saved my sister’s life. It is I who owe thanks.” White Badger looked deep into Walker’s eyes. He continued in a low voice. “We must go before any more can be said against you. We have waited a long time and time is running out.”
With brisk strides, White Badger started up the path. Flute Maiden smiled and nodded at Walker and Tag, then followed behind White Badger. In silence the other men lined up in single file and began climbing the steep, rocky path.
Gray Wolf glared at Walker, growled, then fell in line. But just before he started up the path, he turned to stare at Walker. An ugly smile curled his thin lips.
Walker waited until Gray Wolf was well up the path before he looked at Tag. “Are you okay?”
Tag nodded. His freckles stood out on his pale face. “Boy, I thought we were goners for sure. What is going on?”
“I’ll explain as we walk. You’re doing great. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Tag screwed up his freckles in confusion. “What am I doing?”
“Keeping quiet!” whispered Walker. He started up the path to the ancient ones’ village and possible death.
9
Being accustomed to climbing the rugged terrain of the canyon, White Badger and the others moved with remarkable speed and agility. Lagging behind, Walker and Tag followed with less ease and grace.
“Why did Gray Wolf accuse us of being witches?” asked Tag, his worried voice audible to only Walker.
Walker wiped the sweat out of his eyes. He turned his head so the warm breeze carried his words back to Tag. “For some reason we are . . .” Walker reached up to touch the eagle pendant hanging on his chest. “That is, I am a threat to Gray Wolf. He wanted to kill me the minute he saw my pendant. But he couldn’t in front of the others, not without a good reason. So he gave them an excellent one, hoping they would kill us.”
“Wonderful! What happens if this Great Owl person decides we are witches?” Tag sputtered, trying to keep up with Walker.
Walker took a deep breath and let it out. He had been studying that, along with other questions. Why did the name of Great Owl summon the mysterious, haunting feeling? Why did it have a strangely familiar sound to it? Walker shook his head in confusion. “Flute Maiden said Great Owl is a Seer. True Seers can peer into one’s heart, into one’s very being. If Flute Maiden is correct, then her father will see us for what we are.”
Tag slipped on a loose rock and caught himself. Shaking his head, he asked, “Do you think he will see my empty stomach?”
Twenty feet ahead Walker saw an enormous, fifty-foot cliff rising straight up. White Badger strode to the limestone wall, then disappeared into the cliff’s face. Directly behind him, Flute Maiden also vanished into the cliff, as did each man after her.
Walker moved quickly up the path, straining to see. Gray Wolf stood at the head of the line. He turned to stare at Walker. Pulling his lips back into a snarl, he turned and disappeared into the base of the cliff.
“Neat trick. Too bad he can’t just disappear for good,” Tag stated.
Walker stepped up behind the last man in line. He could see the spot where the people seemed to be melting into the cliff. A passageway, thought Walker, watching the next man slip behind a huge, flat slab of limestone leaning against the bottom of the cliff. The slab was about twenty feet long. Rising about twelve feet into the air, its top rested against the cliff’s face. Walker’s mind t
ook in every detail of the slab’s location, realizing that the passageway could also serve as an escape route.
Walker felt Tag’s breath on his neck. The bahana looked over his shoulder and watched the next two men slip into the passageway. Walker turned his head to look at Tag. He could tell from the expression on Tag’s face that he was thinking the same thing.
“Come,” said the man with the deep scar running down his cheek. They were the last ones on the path. From the tone of his voice and the caution in his large, black eyes, Walker knew that Scar Cheek was still uncertain if they were witches or not. Yet he had had the courage to walk just ahead of them, Walker realized. His opposition to Gray Wolf had taken great inner strength. Such a man would be a good friend to have, Walker noted.
Walker nodded at Scar Cheek. The man turned sideways and stepped into the narrow opening between the rock slab and the base of the cliff. Walker followed, with Tag right behind him.
“I guess they don’t have to worry about any fat enemies getting up this way,” Tag mumbled. “If this gets any narrower, I won’t have any skin left on my back or my nose. There’s got to be an easier way up to the ruins—I mean to their village.”
“I am sure there is. But this is probably the fastest way up to Great Owl,” Walker whispered. And to our deaths?
About five feet into the passageway, Scar Cheek stopped, pointing upward. Walker saw a path of chiseled notches leading up the side of the cliff and ending just below the top of the slab. At that point, a deep crevice in the limestone began and continued up to the top of the cliff. Using the grooved path of toeholds, Scar Cheek scaled the rock to the crevice. Looking down at Walker, he swung his thin body into the crevice and disappeared.
Walker slipped the toe of his moccasin in the first notch and lifted himself up. He heard Tag mumble, “Mountain goats. You have to be a mountain goat to live here!”
Walker could tell by the depth of the notches that much time and effort had been spent chiseling them out. Climbing up to the crevice wasn’t difficult using the deeply grooved notches.
Walker of Time Page 5
