Passion's Series

by Adair, Mary

  Shaking his head, he set aside the thoughts within, steeling himself against further introspection. Dancing Cloud let him join on this path to blood, and the result of the chief's harsh words would play out upon his return. There was no need to worry over it further.

  The braves darted through the woods, their legs pumping in a rhythm of one. Each warrior's footfall was practically a shadow of that from the man before them. In this way, they left little trace of their passing, and their silence was nearly absolute.

  They headed in the direction Raven Cloud had spoken of when recounting his experience with the scouting party. It was a quicker pace than the last time as they had no need to stop and check for signs. Derek Smith's map also gave them a clear idea of their target.

  Nonetheless, soon enough Raven was beckoned to take the lead so that he could show them the thicket where that short battle had taken place. When they got there, it was still undisturbed from the days before. Animals had been in the clearing. The decaying bodies of the enemy, left to feed the forest without the dignity of burial, told of an ending suitable to their actions.

  The group made a rudimentary search for any other information to be gleaned then took off once more. They were making excellent time. He was sure they would reach a good place to observe the enemy camp before nightfall.

  After setting aside his worries, Raven began to feel as if he were a part of the group. A deep bond connected the warriors in the closeness of each step and their single purpose. They embraced unity. His help in leading them to the thicket added to a building sense of belonging. After seeing the scene of battle, the braves had flashed somber glances at Raven. Their eyes were full of respect.

  Farthest Running Antelope gave Raven a grim look. They had battled the Spaniards in their leather armor and helmets, yet at least Antelope's group had been able to ambush their prey. Facing a sudden rush of enemies in the night was a dark prospect. You always wanted to be on the attacking side of such a plan.

  The bond between the war party seemed to strengthen, their purpose reinforced, and the pace increased yet again. Around them was a forest that was increasingly cleared, trails snaking back and forth and underbrush hacked up sloppily. They were close. Someone had cut into the woods in this area for timber.

  With twilight, nearly an hour away, Dances in Battle brought them to a halt as the land began a sharp descent. Growth was getting thicker, and it seemed likely that the drop in elevation was leading toward a well-known gulley. Dances motioned for the group to veer away from the trails the Spanish men were likely responsible for. The many trails converged into one, and it was evident that their camp was probably along an outcropping of rock that made up one of the ravine's edges.

  It made sense to setup base in such a place. It would be nearly impossible to attack from the direction of the gulley's steep cliffs. Their enemy could use the natural rock outcroppings to shield one of their sides as well. Yet, such decisions were made without considering those who had lived nearby for their entire lives.

  Dances in Battle split them up, gesturing for half to climb down into the gulley to approach from below. The other half were to climb the rock outcropping ahead. He pointed at his eyes, then forward. This was to be a scouting attempt only. They had to find out what they were facing.

  For both groups, it was slow going. The way was treacherous down the rocky slope where moss-covered boulders teetered and vines crisscrossed between arching saplings. Thicker, older trees were rare, and those that had grown large enough to support a man's weight often seemed precariously close to falling over from their own weight. Some grew nearly horizontal.

  Handholds were easy enough to find on the cliff's side, but the rock was sandstone. It crumbled easily if weight was distributed badly. Those climbing up left two on the ground to watch extra rifles and other gear. Moves Like Wind and Dances in Battle stood guard there, watching as the others crept down or clambered upwards.

  Their suspicions were confirmed once the scouting groups got into position. A small camp surrounded by a wooden palisade was fitted snugly against sandstone walls. The logs were at least twelve feet tall, and a doubled-gate guarded any from easily broaching the main entrance. There were few walls inside. Two single-roomed houses built along the wall furthest from the cliff and a tower rose from one of these. A thin walkway ran along the top of the walls. The boards were built to meet the rocky protrusion's upper ledges, allowing guards to use the higher parts of the cliff for over watch. Below, wedged right into a crack in the rock, was a small caged enclosure barely covered with rags and rough-hewn burlap. The rest of the space was primarily filled with tents.

  Raven studied the location carefully from atop the rocks, keeping as flat as possible to the stone to prevent from being seen. A Spaniard stood on one of the lower ledges, hardly a breath away from the climbers.

  The half-breed gritted his teeth. It was a good thing the guard had decided it too troublesome to climb the rest of the way up. Flecks of shale and sandstone dug into Raven's arms and chest, scratching at him with sharp edges. He hardly noticed the minor discomfort, and could not afford to. His blood seemed thunderous in his ears, adrenaline surging at being so close.

  ‘Red Panther is in there,’ his mind screamed as he pictured the man who had raised him and molded him into a warrior. ‘We will get you out of this prison, Uncle,’ he silently swore.

  He refused to consider the enemy might have tortured his near-father to a point near death or that he might not live at all. Was Panther’s death not the goal of this evil plan all along? He’d promised Dawn before he left the village he would save Red Panther, and he had every intention of doing just that.

  Raven considered the enemy’s plan. They were to kill James Fitzgerald and then a Will would be found that would instruct all his business ventures in London to be sold to Allan Radcliffe. That plan steeped with foolishness. What court would believe James Fitzgerald would leave his legacy to the crook Radcliffe?

  So why would Panther still be alive? Did they think to force him into writing the Will so his script could be verified in London? Did they not know Panther? Did they not know death held no fear over a warrior such as Red Panther?

  Panther would die rather than…His mind froze as an image of Dawn materialized. They were after Dawn. They would have used Dawn to get what they wanted and then leave them both dead. The fools did not know he traveled back to warn of their plan. They would think to torture Dawn, get what they wanted, kill them both, and then stage some mishap to divert any suspicion.

  It was all he could do not to leap down onto the men below with wild rage. Such would have been suicidal and all would be lost. Now was the time to pull in his anger, to focus and to be the warrior he needed to be. He no longer was Little Buffalo. He was Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds. He would met the clouds today. He would face his enemy, and he would defeat them. Today would be a good day.

  He studied the enemy below. The party of mercenaries was just as large as estimated. With a rough approximation, thirty seemed to be a good accounting for the number of men within. Most were lounging in tents, some playing cards while others dozed. A single guard stood in the wooden tower, a companion for the one along the rock wall. He could not see inside what was undoubtedly a prison, but the location's occupant seemed obvious. There could be only one man inside such a small space.

  Dances in Battle signaled with a wave of his hand, beckoning everyone to rally back to him. As they did this, the warrior and his uncle heard the faint scratch of a careless step. Alerted, both of the Cherokee turned to look toward the base's entrance. They crouched, readying weapons as Dances tightened the straps that held the ark of war he swore to carry and protect.

  Moves Like Wind sprang on a Spaniard who had just rounded the corner, thankfully catching the foreigner by surprise. Wind jammed his forearm into the enemy's mouth, gagging and quieting the man all at once.

  Dances in Battle sprinted around the fighting pair as he caught sight of a Choctaw peek
ing around the corner of rock. If the other brave called out to the camp, all would be lost. Leaping at the bewildered warrior, Dances in Battle wrapped his legs around the other's back, bear-hugging about the chest and neck with fists clenching together to lock in the grip. The Choctaw struggled, but Dances in Battle was already smothering the man by pressing his chest into the rogue's face.

  Rustling, jerking spasms were the only sounds that the two fallen made as they died. The Great Spirit was surely with them.

  As the rest of their group returned, all were astonished to see that first blood had already been drawn. A vicious bite-mark oozed blood on the chest of Dances in Battle where his adversary had tried to escape for want of breath. Moves Like Wind had a rising welt on the side of his head from a pounding by the Spaniard's helmet. Neither had suffered any other injury of note.

  Still, the group would have to move quickly. Close calls would be ever-present this near the enemy, and luck would not always hold out. Once night fell, they would creep into the camp and kill as many of the villains as possible. Dances in Battle mimed his intent to the others and all agreed readily. Dragging the corpses with them, all crawled carefully back down into the ravine. When next they arose from those depths, wrath would carry them into the walls of criminals.

  Chapter Twelve

  That night was moonless in a sky empty of clouds. Cold air seemed to sharpen the brilliance of the stars above. Gusts with ice on their breath whirled through a ravine full of shadow. Some of those shadows began to move.

  They split their forces once more. Two were to climb up either side of the base after creeping around from the ravine's edge. The rest were to come straight up into the camp from the drop into the gulley below. Climbing would be treacherous, but once accomplished it would almost guarantee their success. All of the men of the camp were too confident that none had found them, and that the walls and location would help protect them.

  Raven and another scrambled back up the sandstone. Farthest Running Antelope went with another that was good at climbing; those two were scaling the wooden wall, shoving their hands into the gaps between each log to pull themselves upward.

  Antelope and his partner swung over the top of the wall. They came out right next to the tower, leaping out and catching handholds on the beams making up its floor. One went up each side and pulled themselves into the cramped room as one. The guard's surprise was short lived, death taking its place.

  Raven waited to see Antelope's profile break the top edge of the palisade. As soon as the other team broached the camp, he propelled himself over the cliff top. The two on the rocks made short work of the sentry there. Both guards were silenced perpetually within moments of each other. Only two fires flickered inside the walls, but the men watching those flames would have destroyed their night vision. It was unlikely that they had seen or heard anything.

  An owl's call drifted over the camp, the sound a practiced signal given by one of the war party in the tower. Those quiet shadows from the ravine had been waiting, hanging on the edge of the walls facing the gully in tense expectation. Now they sprung on the men below. There would be no pity for lazy guards and warriors lacking caution. They flooded over the walls like a river in a storm, each of the braves leaping from the top and landing with a roll.

  The Cherokee spread out, assaulting the tents with savage efficiency. Some of the Spaniards rose at the last moment of their life, but at first none managed to give shout or cry to warn the others. That did not last. One, who slept lightly, woke before he could be silenced.

  A rapid shout of Spanish rang out, “despertar! Estamos invadidos! Los indígenas están aquí!” Wake up! We are overrun! The natives are here!”

  All rose in a state of excitement, panic, and fury. They had no time to prepare themselves, and some were still in their small clothes. Many were confused and frightened, unable to see who or what they faced. To them, it appeared the night was dark and full of terror. Once the enemy's base had been alerted, silence was no longer needed, and the war party yelled out with war cries and ululating shouts.

  Raven Cloud was the first to jump down into the camp after helping dispatch the guards. His target was not the men in their tents, but the small prison and its occupant. However, as he approached the small enclosure a figure broke from the darkness in that corner.

  Red Panther stalked forward, moving at a crouch, “I knew tonight would be lucky for breaking out. The moonless sky would be a favor, but little did I know that friends would be near.”

  Raven could not believe how his heart surged to see his near-father again, “Looks like you'd hardly have needed us to come. You were almost free on your own.” Relief welled up in his mind. He would not be fatherless again.

  Panther smirked, “I would have had much more of a fight before me. One of the fellows by the fire was watching me.

  “And doubtless you'd still have escaped with a dozen or more scalps.”

  Panther chuckled. There was still tension between them, but for the time it was forgotten. When Raven offered his arm Panther clamped arms in welcome and then pulled Raven into a quick embrace that did much to mend the drift between father and son.

  They broke apart to face the mounting battle to their side. Each gave one last glance, a nod, and then they rushed forward to finish off the Spaniard's and rogue Choctaw.

  It was a tough fight even with their initial element of surprise. By the time the camp woke, the odds were evened. Before that, the mercenaries' numbers were over double that of the Cherokee braves. Still, the effects of enemies’ cries of war and springing up as if by magic were severely demoralizing, and none was able to ready their rifles or don armor.

  Every one of the warriors of the war party would be taking home multiple scalps after this night of rescue and justice claimed for fallen warriors. They worked well as a team, sometimes fighting back-to-back while acts of singular bravery filled other moments. Every warrior was committed and willing to give his life. This was not simply a matter of rescuing Panther, but one of revenge and ensuring peace for their people. Every threat would be eliminated.

  Finally, all of the camp's men were dead or dying. None had tried to surrender. It would not have been accepted. The scene inside of those walls had turned grisly, and the place was set to flame. The palisade walls were doused with lamp oil, the tents used as fuel, and a lit branch thrown to light it all. Their task completed they pulled the gates open and slipped back into the night.

  There pace was slower, but their hearts beat harder, buoyed by success and pride in their teamwork and personal ability. They would stop soon tonight. Tomorrow they would return to the camp victorious.

  ***

  Red Panther went to water, rejoicing in the ability to do so again. After being stuffed into that half-prison for weeks, though it felt like it had been even longer, it felt good to stretch his legs, and praise the sun.

  Raven Cloud joined him, the two completing their rituals separately before addressing each other. “You have been sorely missed, Uncle.”

  “I made a mistake, and fell into a well-placed trap. I regret the worry and pain that I must have caused.” Panther smiled to Raven, “Thank you for being one of those that came after me.”

  Raven shook his head, staring into the water, “I had worried that they'd kill you. It seemed unlikely that you still lived, so sure we were that you wouldn't be kept away while breathing.”

  “I think they would have murdered me, eventually. They held out on the hope that torture would entice me to write them some documents.” The blue eyes twinkled, amused, “All of this was just for money, a ploy to take over the transportation of goods.”

  The other man scoffed, incredulous, “I hardly believed it when I gave you the message, and even now I think it ridiculous. Greed drives men to such villainy.” He thought of Dawn, his Little Funny Face. The thought of what they could have done to her sickened him.

  Panther shrugged, turning to leave the water, “I have settled some things so that I
will not need to worry about this any longer.” Laughter seemed to bubble in his words, “Come, let us go home.”

  Raven Cloud shook his head, watching the sky's lightening streaks of color, “Home...” He supposed that now he would find out where that would be for him. If not Chota Town, then perhaps it was time to answer the questions about his past that haunted him so often.

  The two returned to the hasty camp from the night before, helping to pick up and return to nature what little had been disturbed. None of them had gotten more than a few hours of sleep, but it had been enough to refresh. Without another word, they took off running through the forest once more.

  They returned to the village showing strength, backs straight and heads held high. As the last of their group filed through Chota Town's gate they began a chant of victorious warriors. They had been victorious, and the village was ecstatic. More than half of the war party bore bruises, scrapes, and other injuries. Some would have proud scars in the years to come.

  New Moon couldn't help herself from running to Red Panther. She had hoped as much as she dared, and those hopes had come true. The two embraced and Moon found that she was trembling.

  Panther smiled softly, “Do'nae be a'feared any longer, m'lass. I am home.”

  Golden Dawn clamped onto her father, looking up into his eyes with her own wet with the promise of tears, “Father.”

  Raven Cloud stood to the side with the rest of the war party. He watched Panther with his true family. It made him realize that the belonging he wanted would never be his here. He had pushed others away from him through his own actions. Despite that thought, peace filled him as the village moved with the energy of a happy, excited people. They would have a feast soon.