by JR Green
For the first time ever, in this age or the last, a human heard the true name of Underwater Panther. Mintikwa felt a power course through his body. Images danced before his mind. All the stories that he heard from the time of his childhood passed before him. In those moments under their beloved river, at Wildcat Cove, the dwelling place of the Great Panther, Mintikwa was witness to the workings of a god.
He waded from the waters and stepped onto the beach. Underwater Panther swam close but remained in the river.
“You hold the covenant now,” he said. “You hold power.” With that, the Panther moved away and then submerged.
He was gone.
Mintikwa looked down at the copper scale and the blood of the Panther. “I have the power?” he said. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.
Despite his exhaustion and weakness from hunger, Mintikwa did as the Panther said. He hid the copper scale with the blood resting upon it on a stone beneath a cedar tree. Then he hunted for otter. In other circumstances, it might have taken him several days to trap the animal, but in this case, Mintikwa found it that afternoon. He suspected some sort of supernatural aid was present. He was ready for this to be over, so he welcomed it. He killed the animal in a sacred manner, with respect, and then thanked the Otter spirit totem for providing for him and his people. Mintikwa skinned it and set to making the sacred pouch. By midday, he completed his task. He retrieved the copper scale from its hiding place. The syrupy blood still clung to its surface. He tilted the copper piece and let the blood pour into the pouch. He set the copper scale inside the pouch also and then tucked it all away to keep it safe.
It was over. He had his vision. He saw Beaver for the distraction that it was. His starving had had a voice. But now it was over. He only had to make his way home. He gathered his things and made for the river. He found his canoe and loaded it up. Finally, he could let the river carry him home. Likely he could find a fish to eat. But then he remembered, Underwater Panther had said that mussels were no longer taboo. In fact, he said not to eat fish so that they could recover. Mintikwa looked out to the river and imagined the river bottom, which he knew was layered with a bed of the mussels. He walked into the water and began to gather them. Soon he had more than he could carry. He brought them back to the beach and fashioned a depression in the clay-like soil he could use for boiling. He built a fire, relishing in its bright glow. He gathered rocks and lay them carefully in the coals for heating. He would have his first meal at Eddytown, and it would be made of mussels! A few minutes later, he dropped the rocks and the mussels into the clay bMintikwa and cooked his first meal in seven days.
The mussels were delicious, though Mintikwa wondered how much of his enthusiasm was due to his starving. In any case, they were enough to keep him alive. His side began to throb with pain. The bruise deepened. He took the last of the birch bark. Mintikwa desperately needed a healer.
He said goodbye for now to Wildcat Cove, the place of his vision, crawled into his canoe, and paddled for home.
Soon he would see his family. He thought he would like to fish again. Of course, now it would be for mussels. He chuckled at the prospect of convincing Uncle of that! It seemed like ages ago since he had been on the river with his uncle. Suddenly he felt the sacred bundle at his chest. It was heavier now. Its contents - a feather, a tiny smooth river stone, the crystal core of a geode, an owl-shaped walnut shell, were light compared to his newly found totem. He wanted to get back to his days on the river. He wanted normal again, but he realized that things likely would never be the same. He had a mission now, to convince the people they could eat mussels. He knew that after recovering from his wounds and fasting, he must return here. He planned to gather a scouting party to explore Eddytown to find out more about the Maulsa. Perhaps Willow would join him. And eventually, they would make the break from their village and return to the ridge above the river, and begin the resettlement of Eddytown.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE APPROACHED THE bridge which led to the stone city. He eyed the rock which spanned the river. Drops fell from the stone beams above and struck the water around his canoe. They echoed against the rafters. Mintikwa felt like he was in a cave. He held his breath as he passed quietly beneath the bridge.
A distant banging came from above. He could hear it reverberating from the stone walls of the Maulsa town, sounding strangely melodic. It echoed among the rafters of the bridge. What was this strange sound? And who was making it? Despite his need to go home, his curiosity won out again. Perhaps he could just take one last peek before heading back. So he paddled to the edge of the bridge. Lily pads grew in the shallows. There was no beach, only the ever prevalent stone of the Maulsa. Waves lapped against the smooth rock, which shot down among the lily pad stems into the black water. The underside of the bridge was a perfect place to conceal his boat, so he pulled it onto the stone.
Mintikwa crept up the stone hill which led to the top of the bridge. The musical clanging sound continued.
A cluster of bushes stood along a stone walkway. Sunny ground stretched between the cover of the bridge and the bushes. He sprinted between them. Mintikwa dove behind the brush and crouched as he walked along its length. He continued on under cover of a stretch of sumac trees.
He closed in on the clanging, which grew louder and more haunting. One of the Maulsa buildings rose before him. The sound was just around the corner. Mintikwa ran into the shadow of the structure and circled around the building.
He peered around to see.
Two of the Maulsa people, a woman, and a big man, were gathered around a structure across a courtyard. They were new to Mintikwa. He had not seen them before. Three Soulless were bound and kneeling on the ground facing the two of them. The woman seemed to be addressing the Dark Ones. The man was striking at something propped up against the building. This is what had drawn Mintikwa’s attention. The man hit it with a large club, seemingly for no reason at all. It reminded Mintikwa of a drum. He would run at it, rear back and slam his club into it and then jog away and around the Soulless, only to walk toward his makeshift drum again. As he watched, Mintikwa began to wonder if the big man had lost his mind. It was unnerving the Soulless.
Mintikwa watched from the shadows.
The man struck his drum again, but the woman had had enough. She turned and shouted at him. Mintikwa suspected she meant for him to stop. Then she turned back to the Soulless, gesturing wildly. Then Mintikwa realized she was interrogating them.
Suddenly, as the man again arced around the Dark Ones, he raised his club high in the air and, swinging it with all his might, struck one of them in the back of the head. A plume of blood misted the air briefly. The force of the blow sent the Soulless face down. He didn’t move. The Dark One was surely dead.
Mintikwa gasped and withdrew, pressing his palms and his back against the cold stone wall behind him.
Images passed before his mind from his vision of the end of the last age. These people had hated the earth and his brethren in the fifth age, he remembered. Apparently, their brutality hadn’t lessened in the centuries since. He squeezed his sacred bundle and had a sinister thought. Did he have the power to destroy them now where they stood? Mintikwa shuddered. He wished they would just go back where they belonged, back to the Dawn-land.
Mintikwa peered around the wall again. The woman was staring right at him. She shielded her eyes with a hand against the sun. Again, Mintikwa ducked back into the shadows. Did she see him? He decided he didn’t want to find out. He scrambled to his feet and retreated to the trees. He ran along the stone walkways, heading back to the river.
A sharp and loud sound echoed among the buildings. Mintikwa cringed and reflexively hit the ground. It sounded like thunder. He looked to the sky but quickly realized it wasn’t from a thunderstorm. The sound came from the place where the Maulsa had the Dark Ones. One more time, the thunderous sound came echoing off of the stone. It occurred to Mintikwa, there were two sounds, one for each of the remaining Soulless. He sus
pected they were dead too. Fearing for his own life, he got up and raced back to the river.
Reaching the bridge, he climbed down to the water.
His canoe had dislodged from the stone bridge and drifted along the shore and downstream. He felt desperate to get in the river. Mintikwa jumped into the deep water and swam among the lily pads toward his boat.
Drifting with the current, he quickly cleared the bridge. He was going to make it.
Something flashed out of the corner of his eye. He stroked the water, stopped, and then spun about, trying to see what it was. Perhaps it was a big fish. But he saw nothing.
Then something clamped down on his leg. It felt like fire touched his skin. He screamed in pain, and something pulled him under. Suddenly, he realized what had his leg. Revulsion and fear welled up in him. It was Underwater Serpent. In the next instant, the snake coiled around his ankle. Mintikwa struggled to find the river bottom with his free foot but couldn’t. He had to get to the beach. He went down to the bottom in the shallows and dug in the sand, fighting against the snake. He pulled toward dry ground. He was moving. He pulled with all the strength he could gather. Finally, he climbed out onto the beach. But the snake was right behind him. It struck at him and missed but landed on the beach with him. The snake was a monster. These snakes were big in any case, but Mintikwa had never seen one so fat and long as this one. Still, it was fast in spite of its bulk. The tail, which had wrapped around his leg, tightened. It continued wrapping around his leg up to his thigh. Mintikwa knew it wanted to get to his chest.
He felt his strength leave him as he landed on the ground. The snake took advantage of his weakness and wrapped around his torso. Mintikwa sucked in a breath but stopped. He knew what was going to happen as he inhaled. The snake would sense his breathing and would constrict, preventing him from exhaling. If he couldn’t exhale, he couldn’t inhale. Soon he would suffocate. Mintikwa fought to sit up. He raised his head, but a moment later, his cheek hit the sand.
His canoe rocked back and forth among the lily pads. It was drifting slowly away.
Mintikwa looked out across the river, to the far bank, and beyond that to a ridge thick with forest. It was Eddytown.
He realized he might never see home again. If he couldn’t break the grip of this snake, he would die here. Either the snake would kill him, or the Maulsa would find him. Mintikwa strained to see the ridge. Perhaps there was something he missed, some remnant of his ancestors. There was something there. Something above the spot just on the ridge, just inside the trees. It moved, and he recognized what it was. A great rack of antlers poked out from the trees and reflected in the sunlight. Great-horned Serpent peered out at him from the ridge. Once again, Mintikwa felt the intense hatred coming from the creature of the underworld, but now he also seemed pleased. The Great-horned Serpent sent Underwater Serpent to kill him. The snake pinned him in such a way that the serpent god would be the last thing he saw.
Underwater Serpent squeezed at his chest, trying to bring his struggle to a quick end.
In one last effort, Mintikwa shifted his position so that he could at least die with a clear view of the river upstream and without a view of Great-horned Serpent. He landed in the sand again, the fine granules pressing against his closed left eye. Mintikwa looked toward the bridge, to the stone city.
His lungs burned for air. Instinct took hold of Mintikwa, forcing him to suck in air. The breath was a welcome relief, but Mintikwa knew it would be his last. Sensing the air passing through him, the snake squeezed again near his lower ribs, forcing him to hold the breath in his lungs. Soon it would be spent, but he would be unable to expel it.
Blackness closed in on Mintikwa’s vision. He fought to draw in a tiny bit more air.
Then a figure emerged from the north side of the river, on the bridge. It was the Maulsa woman. She was quite a distance away, but Mintikwa thought he saw shock register on her face. She shouted to Mintikwa, but he couldn’t understand her words. She left the bridge and ran toward the riverbank, but then she stopped. Mintikwa had no idea what she was doing. Perhaps looking for the best vantage point to watch him die. Maybe she thought to tell her companion to come see the boy die before he had a chance to stop them. The snake had looped another coil around Mintikwa’s chest.
What a curious thing that the sixth world was inhabited by others besides his own. Mintikwa was delirious, he realized. The lack of air was clouding his mind. The woman reached over her shoulder and pulled free a long stick. It looked to be some kind of spear. She set one end at her right shoulder and gripped it in the middle with two hands. The other tip she brought around to point directly at Mintikwa. What was she doing now? The woman fiddled with something near her eye.
Another coil gripped him. Mintikwa was finished struggling. He couldn’t draw any more air. The dimness returned to the corners of his vision. It was just as well because the head of Underwater Serpent came around then, most likely to look into the eyes of his prey, to gauge how much struggle was left before he could eat.
Then Mintikwa heard a voice in his head. It was Underwater Panther.
Free yourself.
He wasn’t sure if the words were actually spoken then or if he was just remembering them. Mintikwa recalled the sacred bundle. It was attached to his waist. His left arm was near it. He shifted his fingers. He moved them as far as he could. One finger touched the little bag, then three, and he had a grip on it. He nudged it into his palm and gripped it tightly.
What should he do now? He remembered a bit of advice that his uncle gave him once - believing in yourself is most of what makes things happen in this world. He decided to give it a try.
Underwater Serpent was a denizen of the underworld, beneath Great-horned Serpent, who was beneath Underwater Panther. So if it were true that he was the eyes and ears of the Panther in this world, then it seemed reasonable that Underwater Serpent would obey him. He had only to assume the authority of the Great Cat.
Mintikwa turned the bundle over in his palm, and as he did, he willed Underwater Serpent to loosen his grip.
It didn’t seem to be working.
Mintikwa tried another tactic. He got angry.
In one last effort, he used up what tiny bit of breathing room was left in his chest.
“I am the eyes and ears of Underwater Panther!” he screamed. “I command you to release me!”
Underwater Serpent hissed at Mintikwa.
He closed his eyes and dove down deep into his thoughts. I am the eyes and ears of the Underwater Panther, he said to himself. He spun the bundle around in his palm until the opening was easier to get to. Mintikwa stuck his finger into the little bag. He touched the slimy surface of the coagulated blood. He withdrew his finger and smeared it over the snake.
The effect was immediate. Underwater Serpent unwound from him.
Mintikwa gasped and sucked in air. He continued laboriously drawing in and expelling air for several moments as the snake slid away.
This time Mintikwa shouted the words.
“I am the eyes and ears of Underwater Panther!”
The snake slithered away from Mintikwa but then hissed at him again. Then he remembered the Great-horned Serpent. Mintikwa looked across the river to the ridge. He still sat under the tree, glaring at him.
Mintikwa took up the sacred bundle, some of which was still smeared on his hand.
He ran into the river, splashing as he went until he was knee-deep in the water. He held up the sacred bundle, taunting the Great-horned Serpent.
Despite his warning, he spoke the secret name of Underwater Panther.
Great-horned Serpent reeled. His great body roiled and then slid along the ridge. Its head arched back, and it faced the sky, hissing to such a degree that it sounded as if the river was boiling. Then he did something Mintikwa thought he’d never see. He bowed to him, under great strain and resistance, but bowed nonetheless. A moment later, the Great-horned Serpent left his place under the tree, turned, and disappeared into the forest.<
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He remembered the Maulsa. He had to retrieve his boat and head south. Staggering, Mintikwa took a couple steps, looking downstream for his boat. It was a long way away now. Luckily, it had drifted toward shore again and was caught by some brush.
Mintikwa left the shallows. Standing on the beach, he looked back to the bridge. The woman was gone. He needed to get out of here, now. He turned downriver.
Before he could take another step, something struck him in the back of the head. In the next instant, he hit the sand. He fell unconscious before pain could reach him.
The Dark One stumbled. He was near exhaustion, but Willow had already learned he would push himself beyond his limit.
“We’ll stop here and rest,” she said, not wanting him to pass out. “One more walk, and I’ll leave you to your own.”
He collapsed.
Willow steered wide of him, turned, and leaned against the base of an oak.
The Soulless dosed.
Willow pulled some deer jerky from her pack and chewed quietly.
Her thoughts wandered back to the events of the night the Dark One attacked Mintikwa. For the first time, she grew curious about the few words they exchanged between blows.
“What was it that you asked Mintikwa?” Willow asked.
He stirred awake, suddenly wide-eyed and looking startled. She felt an unwelcome empathy for him.
“I’m looking for a talisman from the last age,” he confessed.
“A talisman?” Willow said, suddenly curious. She was surprised to hear him give away his purpose so easily. He seemed resigned to his fate now. Perhaps he had given up on whatever scheme he had planned. Or maybe he was just trying to deceive her.
“What is this talisman?”
The Soulless suddenly grew fearful. “I cannot speak its name,” he whispered.
“And you supposed that Mintikwa knew of it? What gave you that idea?”
“Because of his grandfather.”
