by Mike Blakely
“I have given my word that no Noomah warriors who follow me will break the truce of Tachichichi. But, you must remember what I said at the buffalo camp, Speaks Twice. Beyond the place where my arrow falls, our enemies must beg the mercy of our spirit-protectors.”
Speaks Twice said nothing in reply. He turned and made his way through the Tiwa guard. He would go once again before the council assembled in the kiva. He would inform the elders that they would watch a fight in the morning.
27
Dawn sliced across the vast eastern plains like a flint knife, thrusting the rough edges of orange and yellow and white up through the dark valley of the River of Arrowheads. Long, wiggling shadows retreated into the large band of Inday slavers and the small party of Noomah searchers, as each made ready to leave Tachichichi.
Father Sun stood just one fist above the eastern horizon when the Inday began to move south. Speaks Twice watched from the roof of the second level of the pueblo, which commanded a fine view of what was soon to be the field of battle. Whirlpool called the Tiwa guard into the pueblo, and the force of warriors who had kept Inday and Noomah apart all night ascended ladders to watch the coming fight from the safety of the sun-baked mud walls. They also carried the wounded Noomah warrior, Bear Heart, up the ladder to safety.
Before leaving Tachichichi, Battle Scar approached the wall under Speaks Twice, Whirlpool, and the elders. He led a skinny woman by the arm, her face cast down. He began to speak, using Inday words and hand signs.
“What does Battle Scar say?” Whirlpool asked of Speaks Twice. “My old eyes are poor. I cannot see the signs.”
“He says this,” the translator answered, now speaking for Battle Scar. “‘I bring a gift to the people of Tachichichi. This woman was captured as a girl by the Wolf People from a Tiwa hunting expedition on the plains. She was a slave among the Wolf People. Now I have captured her from the Wolf People in a raid one moon ago. I return her to the people of her own blood.’”
“This is well,” Whirlpool said. “Battle Scar wishes to make amends for the attack last night.”
Then suddenly, with the quickness of a snake striking, Battle Scar grabbed the woman by the hair with one hand as the other drew and slashed with his knife, cutting the throat of the poor returned captive before she could react. She fell dead in a pool of her own blood.
The men on the roof of the pueblo gasped and leaned over the walls as Battle Scar shouted up at them.
“What does he shout now?” Whirlpool said, his anger and disgust making him tremble.
“Battle Scar says, ‘Now she is back.’”
Battle Scar stalked away to join his band, and the Inday procession began to draw slowly away from Tachichichi.
“Shall we attack them?” Speaks Twice asked his chief.
“No,” Whirlpool said. “The slave woman may not have been Tiwa. Battle Scar taunts us with this killing because we have forbidden him to return here. Let us hope the Horse People punish him.”
A clatter of hooves rose from the crooked passageway between two of the pueblo structures, and Speaks Twice saw Horseback emerge on the south side of the village. His three remaining followers came out of the narrow passage behind him. Their faces had been blackened with war paint. Horseback reached into his quiver for an arrow.
“Watch,” Speaks Twice said. “They shoot arrows from the backs of their ponies.”
The war chief grunted. “Last night, they did not look very fierce, standing on the ground in their little camp. But now they look terrible on their ponies, with their faces painted black.”
Horseback drew his bow and angled his arrow high. It flew, arched long through the air, passed over the entire Inday band, and pierced the ground in front of the lead Inday warriors.
Battle Scar rode to Horseback’s arrow, dismounted, and pulled the arrow from the ground. Breaking it over his knee, he threw the two pieces aside, and began to jeer at the Noomah warriors waiting back at the pueblo. The other Inday warriors joined in the taunting, their voices like those of a pack of coyotes. They formed a rear guard behind their women and children, daring the Noomah braves to fight.
“Now we will see how much courage these Horse People have brought with them from the north,” said one of the elders.
Whirlpool narrowed his eyes against a gust carrying particles of stinging sand over the edge of the pueblo roof. “Courage is a thing that changes like a thunderstorm, for it is made of two parts. As the storm is made of wind and water, courage is made of pride and wisdom. The wind is like pride. It howls and lashes with anger. It can tear the limbs from a great tree, yet it cannot last for long.
“Water is like wisdom. Water draws its strength into a valley, and roars with fury. A small stream will go around a hill. A large river will wash it away.
“Now we will see if these Horse People possess courage made more of wind or water. Speaks Twice, you know them better than the elders. What does your heart tell you of the Horse People’s courage?”
Speaks Twice watched the Inday draw slowly away, even their women and children jeering now. Even the old ones were taunting the Noomah by waving sticks and throwing dirt in the air.
“Their courage is plenty windy,” Speaks Twice said. “Yet, the young leader, Horseback, knows the strength of water. His warriors amount to nothing more than a small stream, and he knows this. Their arrows do not even carry war points, only hunting points. If Horseback’s warriors attack, they will ride like whirlwinds from the four points of the sky. They will make much noise, and raise much sand, but they can cause little harm against so large a band of Inday.”
The last of the Inday people passed south of the place where Horseback’s arrow had fallen. Horseback rode under the gathering of Tiwa onlookers on the roof, looked down on the body of the murdered slave woman, then shouted up to Speaks Twice:
“Now I have kept my word. Our enemies have gone beyond the place where my arrow falls. The Na-vohnuh no longer hide under your truce, like a chicken under its mother’s wing. I have prayed to the spirits all through the night. I have lighted my pipe and sent my prayers up to the Shadow Land on sacred clouds of smoke. The spirits have told me what must be done.
“We are going to attack the Inday now. The spirits have told me that my warriors must take only one scalp as vengeance for the wound of our brother, Bear Heart, and the violation of our sacred camp last night in the dark by our most ancient of enemies. We go now to take our scalp.”
He turned his horse toward the Inday, and his searchers followed him.
“How will they ever get a scalp from such a large party of Inday?” said one of the elders.
“Their courage is all wind,” said another. “The Wolf People are ready for them. The Wolf People outnumber them. The Wolf People have iron arrow points and guns. The Horse People have no advantage.”
Speaks Twice said, “You have not yet seen them ride,” but he spoke under his breath, for he did not wish to offend his elders.
The Noomah rode within range of the Inday. An Inday warrior drew a bow. Another raised a gun to his shoulder. But the Noomah warriors scattered, seemingly into chaos. Horseback rode east, into the sun, followed by Whip. Shaggy Hump and Echo rode west, but soon curled back toward the pueblo and fell into the tracks of Horseback and Whip. They thundered around the front of the Inday band, causing panic among the warriors who had all gathered behind their women and children in a defensive stance.
A warrior aimed an arrow at Horseback, but Shaggy Hump veered in toward the bowman with a war cry. He drew the attention of the Inday bowman, then veered away again, and Horseback continued to circle the enemy band. He galloped his horse among a group of frightened boys and struck three with his bow.
Whip peeled away from the circle and rode back toward the pueblo, only to fall into the circle again behind Shaggy Hump and Echo. The riding continued, the Horse People traveling like antelopes, like hawks. Horseback completed the circle, then stopped to notch an arrow and let a shrill war cry rattle up his
throat.
His warriors joined him for a moment, then all four were riding again, circling, darting in toward the Inday, who scrambled to cover all sides of their band at once. The Inday warriors with horses had dismounted and turned their ponies into the middle of the band where some old men were holding them.
Horseback found a lone warrior on one side of the enemy band and rode straight toward him, somehow urging even more speed from his mount. Other Inday warriors began to move to this lone man’s aid until the other three Horse People warriors angled in, shooting arrows from their ponies.
The Inday defense froze for a mere moment—all the time Horseback needed to overtake the warrior he had singled out. He rode his pony directly toward the warrior. The Inday waited with his bow strung, expecting Horseback to leap from the animal and fight. Instead, Horseback made his pony run over the enemy warrior. The Inday stabbed the horse in the shoulder with his arrow, but not deeply.
The pony wheeled with incredible quickness, and Horseback used his pogamoggan on the warrior, knocking him onto his rear. As the Inday warrior tried to get up, Horseback grabbed him by the hair that grew out of one side of his head, then gathered a shock of his mount’s mane with the same hand and began to pull the warrior farther away from his kinsmen.
Echo had thrown the Inday band into turmoil by riding into the midst of it, stampeding the Inday horses, beating the old men holding them with the shaft of his lance. Whip and Shaggy Hump were still circling, darting near to shoot arrows, keeping the Inday resistance scattered.
From the roof of the pueblo, Speaks Twice saw Echo drive the captured ponies from the Inday band, joining Horseback, followed soon by Whip and Shaggy Hump. A woman in the Inday band began wailing, and Speaks Twice presumed this woman to be the wife of the warrior Horseback was dragging away.
Speaks Twice watched in awe as Horseback’s war pony dragged the warrior away, his legs and arms writhing under the blows of Horseback’s club. Echo galloped by at full speed and, in view of the Inday band, ran his lance through the warrior’s stomach, leaving the weapon halfway through the enemy. The wailing reached a hideous crescendo as Horseback dragged the victim still farther away.
Speaks Twice felt his whole body seize with tension as he watched. It was Whip who rode by the dying warrior next, slashing with a knife even as Horseback continued to belabor the head and face of the Inday warrior with his club. The warrior’s legs dragged now, but his arms still groped, trying to ward off the merciless blows.
Now Horseback stopped, let his war club dangle from his wrist. He drew his flint knife and made a slash across the forehead of the Inday warrior, releasing a curtain of blood. A musket fired from the Inday band, but the invisible ball hummed harmlessly past the Noomahs and kicked dust into the air beyond. Horseback’s mount lurched forward between his heels and jerked the scalp away from the writhing warrior’s skull. The horseman hacked with his knife as the scalp peeled away, freeing the places that clung. When enough scalp had come free, Horseback made a final swipe with his jagged blade, and the Inday warrior fell facedown.
Speaks Twice watched in mute horror as the scalped man attempted to stand, in spite of the blood in his eyes and the lance shaft piercing his body. Shaggy Hump shot an arrow into the dying Inday, pinning him to the ground. He shot another arrow, and another, until the shafts rose from the warrior’s body like porcupine quills.
The wind whipped stinging sand over the roof of the pueblo again, and Speaks Twice smelled a foul dust in his nostrils, felt it in his lungs. He glanced at the elders, their mouths open as they stared over the field of battle. The wailing streamed from the Inday band, mingling with the scalp yells of the Noomah. The scalp was on the end of Shaggy Hump’s lance now, flying high. Whip was making his pony ride over and over the body of the dead Inday warrior.
“My fathers,” Speaks Twice said, his voice shaking. “I must go now. I must ride with the Horse People. I must take them to the Metal Men.”
Silence gripped the elders. Finally, Whirlwind turned to Speaks Twice. “Take the sacred road. The spirits will protect you. Be wise, Speaks Twice. Do not anger these Horse People against us.”
28
Four sleeps from Tachichichi, two great mountains rose up from the plains, like sacred lodges large enough for the dwelling of the thunderbirds. The Tiwas called these peaks the Breasts of Mother Earth.
Looking upon the two snowy summits from the beautiful rolling grasslands under the hooves of his pony, Horseback became suddenly consumed with joy. He would rather die today than live fifty winters in the harsh hills of home having never seen these new places. The things he felt here made him believe that Sound-the-Sun-Makes was speaking to him, telling him to gather many horses and weapons, and lead his people to these rich lands of buffalo and grass and rivers and mountains and endless places to ride.
The Breasts of Mother Earth were unmistakable and gave Horseback much confidence that his trail to the villages of the white people was the right one. He remembered every river, every mountain range, and every pass from the map the Tiwas had made for him back at the buffalo hunting camp, and he knew he was only two or three sleeps from the Metal Men if the searchers continued to travel well. He also knew that he was about to cross into the country of the Yutas, and that he could easily encounter large warrior bands of these enemies of the True Humans.
Horseback felt glad that Speaks Twice had come with his party of searchers. The Tiwa were not at war with the Yutas, and Speaks Twice could help prevent a fight Also, Speaks Twice would make the Meted Men know that he and his searchers had come in peace.
Now, riding close to Horseback as he looked at the Breasts of Mother Earth, Speaks Twice made signs warning of Yutas. For these past four suns on the trail, Speaks Twice had spent much time teaching Horseback many hand signs. This slowed the pace of the searchers, but Horseback thought it important to be able to communicate on these strange plains should he lose his interpreter for any reason.
Speaks Twice gave a warning in the language of hand signs: “The plains around the Breasts of Mother Earth are favored hunting grounds of the Yutas.” Horseback acknowledged the warning, yet brushed it aside as if it meant nothing.
“My father,” he said, as Shaggy Hump rode up to his side. “We have ridden long in the sight of Father Sun. Now we must move like spirit-deer in the shadow of tall trees.”
His own talk sounded good to him, for he had thought through each word on the long day’s ride.
As Father Sun buried his warm face between the Breasts of Mother Earth, Horseback’s party came over a roll in the grassy plains and beheld a line of dark green timber tumbling down from the slopes. Knowing they might easily have been sighted by lookouts in the mountains, they made their horses trot, hoping to gain the cover of the trees undetected.
With the timber still as far away as a turkey could travel in one flight, a motion of some kind caught Horseback’s eye where the timber began at the base of the southernmost mountain. He jerked back on his reins to halt his party as a line of mounted Yuta warriors, eleven strong, streamed from the trees and galloped toward a point halfway between Horseback’s party, and the timber.
“Our enemies!” he said, feeling Echo, Whip, Shaggy Hump, and Speaks Twice stop even with him on each hand. He watched the tails of the Yuta horses stream like black smoke whipped in the wind, hurrying to cut him off from the cover of timber. “They ride well,” he said.
Shaggy Hump looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face. “My son, you should watch the ground before you as you ride with the sun at your back. Even your shadow rides better than our enemies.”
This filled Horseback with confidence as he watched the Yutas rein their ponies to a stop on the plains between his searchers and the line of trees. He felt spirits in his stomach and in his heart. He began to hear the voice of Sound-the-Sun-Makes, and felt upon his face and bare chest the fire of Father Sun, sinking low now between the Breasts of Mother Earth.
“I will make talk with them,�
�� Speaks Twice offered.
But suddenly Horseback’s voice burst loose in a wild spirit-song, and his mount flinched, leaping toward the party of Yutas. Leaving his bow unstrung in his quiver, Horseback rode on with his shield on one arm and his lance cradled in the other. He noticed that the ground here sounded different under a charge—better than the ground of his home country.
As he watched over the lunging head of his pony, he saw the Yutas slip from their mounts and thought how foolish these enemies were—like the Inday—to remove themselves from the power of their four-leggeds. He charged directly at the Yutas until he moved within the range of their arrows, then swerved to his left, beginning the circle he would ride around them. Hurtling in a curve cut through the waving grass, he skirted the shadow of the southern breast of the earth, and felt his mount taking on his great joy of moving like an antelope over new ground.
The defiant song of his spirit-protectors screamed up his throat again, lending the pony an even greater speed, when an arrow flew like a shooting star from the gathering of Yutas. Though Horseback knew in an instant that this arrow would fall well behind him, he flung himself to the side of his pony away from the enemy and slipped his arm into the loop slung under the neck and woven into the mane.
As the arrow passed behind him, he clung to the hot neck of the mare, his leg slung over her back, his lance lying across her withers. He had moved onto the western curve of the sacred circle. He felt the sun upon his shoulders, and heard the voice of Sound-the-Sun-Makes behind him: a great crackling and rumbling of fire, a roaring of wind and medicine-smoke, a thundering of storm and avalanche and all that was powerful. It was at this moment that Horseback chanced to look under the neck of the mare and saw her shadow. He saw nothing of himself in the image that lunged and changed fantastically across the grass and the ground. His spirit had leapt into the heart of the beast that carried him, and he was, himself, horse, as well as Horseback.
