Ian chewed on his bottom lip, unable to imagine such a place. “Is there…is there anything good?”
“Oh, yes.” Whisper nodded and glanced over at her companion. “There are intriguing people in the Land of the Dead. People with fascinating stories, endless imaginations. The people in the Land of the Dead are not like these lost souls. They are simply spirits.”
Ian wasn’t so sure that spirits with interesting stories made up for eternity in a dark place of nothingness. “This place is like Hell,” he muttered, closing his eyes in hopes of making it all disappear.
“No, Mr. Daivya. The Land of the Dead is much worse,” Whisper said in return, her quiet voice traveling the air, echoing all around them. “Given the two, I would rather be in Hell.”
Chapter 11
At first light, Deputy Ben Duff followed through with Julia’s instructions and led the woman through the woods. He’d told his partner, Neil, that he was simply taking Julia on a search, and made sure to leave before his boss showed up. Forbe had a way of knowing things, and he would have seen right through their fake search to what was actually going on.
As they walked silently through the woods, Duff struggled to figure out why he had agreed to take Julia Daivya to see Elder Smoke Speaker. He didn’t suspect what she did, that her husband was off frolicking in the forest with the strange Indian woman, for he knew better. Whisper couldn’t be bothered with such things, and that he could speak of from experience, as could many others who had been rejected over the years. Duff would even go so far as to claim that she held a strange sort of contempt for the human species. Whisper did her best to avoid people at all costs. She came to town only for absolute necessities and spoke to no one, though most avoided her anyway, and when a man dared to cross her path and suggest a night on the town he was met with a glare of spiteful scorn that made him feel like a sniffling child being scolded by his mother for not cleaning his room.
But he didn’t have an answer as to why they hadn’t yet returned. It was odd enough that Whisper had brought Ian along on the search, for she typically worked alone when tracking a missing person. Duff had only been on a search with her once, and it was a day he would never forget.
They’d been searching for a five year-old boy who’d disappeared sometime in the middle of the night, likely due to wandering out of the tent in search of the bathroom while his parents were sleeping. Whisper had been called in only hours after he was reported missing, and Duff had been assigned to her side only because, at the time, she’d had a broken arm due to a nasty fall off the top of Smoke Speaker’s hut and was taking precautions. She’d barely talked to Duff during the search and instead made him carry most her things. At first he’d been annoyed, but then became mesmerized by her ways. The way she walked, the way she stared into the air as though watching a movie in the wind, the way she turned her head ever so slightly like something was speaking to her. She’d been completely oblivious to his presence until she needed something from her pack, and then only acknowledged him long enough to find whatever she was looking for.
Four hours into their search, Whisper found the boy. The child was curled up against a tree, wet and suffering from hypothermia. As they brought him back to camp he rambled on about a little girl he saw playing on the other side of the river that wanted him to play too, but by the time they reached his parents he’d forgotten the entire story.
That was the day Duff had fallen in love with Whisper, not because she found the boy, not because of the way she treated him and everyone else, but because she was fascinating. She knew the old ways, respected her heritage, and didn’t need anyone but herself to survive. There was something mystical about her, something he desperately wanted to figure out. And maybe that was why he was leading Julia through the woods, because he wanted to see her again, and especially wanted the chance to speak to the Elder.
Running a hand through his damp hair, Duff marveled over the fog. He had never seen anything like it before, nothing as thick, as cold, as lasting. If he didn’t know exactly where he was going, it would have been very, very easy to get lost.
“How much longer?”
Duff shook his head at the irritated tone in Julia’s voice. For a woman who had been unable to pick herself up off the ground upon learning of her son’s disappearance, she certainly had a bossy streak in her. He didn’t know what changed in her, but he was starting to miss the basketcase.
“Not long,” he answered, stopping long enough to point. “See those trees up there, rising above the canopy? That’s where we’re going, a place called Howling Vines.”
Julia followed his finger. The trees he spoke of formed a neat circle, thick vines dangling from the trunks. They didn’t look too far away. “Well then, let’s get moving.”
She walked by the officer’s side until they reached the clearing, and when they entered, the old man was waiting for them.
Elder Smoke Speaker lifted a welcoming hand, the black stone set in a silver band on his index finger glittering in the fog. “It is not every day that my woods deliver two strangers to my door. Osiyo, my guests.” He gestured for them to sit before him. “What brings you to my fire?”
Duff and Julia exchanged a hesitant glance before lowering themselves to the ground, sitting across the fire from the Elder. Suddenly shy, Julie took a moment to observe the old man. He was…beautiful, she thought, and wished she had her camera so as to record his magnificence. Throughout her life she’d often learned about different Native American tribes, seen old, yellowed photographs depicting tribal men and women dressed in their traditional clothing and bearing stoic expressions that told a thousand sad stories. Looking upon Elder Smoke Speaker was, for Julia, like seeing those stories unfold right before her eyes.
Smoke Speaker had tied back his thick white hair into a loose braid, a strand of white bone beads and a lone gray feather crowning his head. The beads matched those that were wrapped around his neck. He wore a tanned tunic wrapped tightly around bony shoulders, loose cloth pants, and worn moccasins. When he offered his welcoming wave, his sleeve fell back just enough to reveal a faded black tattoo accented with small circles that wound its way across his forearm.
His carved, decorated walking staff, made for and given to him by his grandfather upon his initiation into manhood, was lying next to him. In his lap was a mass of hemp, wood, and beads, but neither Julia nor Duff could make out the shape of the object.
“You are the officer who sent for Whisper,” Smoke Speaker acknowledged Duff. “And you are the mother of the missing child.”
“Yes…How did you know?” Julia frowned and stared at the old man over the fire. Her frown deepened when he smiled and ran his fingers through the fire’s smoke.
“The fire told me.” He didn’t expect them to understand, or even ask what he meant. “But it did not tell me what it is you seek to know.”
Duff cleared his throat, a bit nervous. He’d only met the Elder twice before, the same day he’d gone with his apprentice on the search for the little boy, and once when his mother sent him to Howling Vines with a large gift basket at Christmas. “Mrs. Daivya’s husband, Ian Daivya, went searching for their son yesterday afternoon with Whisper. They haven’t returned yet, and Mrs. Daivya was hoping you could tell her where they might be.”
“They have gone to look for your son.”
“Where?”
“They have gone to the mountains.”
Julia sighed, hating to waste time. “Sir, we’re in the mountains.”
“Yes,” the Elder smiled again, “but not the right ones.”
She had no idea what that meant. “When will they return?”
“When they have found your son.”
She wouldn’t get a location out of him. Julia wasn’t sure if he was senile, or purposely being coy. She leaned forward and stared at him intently. “Mr…Smoke Speaker, can you tell me who exactly Whisper is, and why are you so sure she can find Cole?”
Smoke Speaker thought carefully about
his answer before speaking. “Whisper is my apprentice, Mrs. Daivya,” he began, his old, rough voice shaking with age. “She came to me when she had barely seen five summers. I have been training her ever since she was young in the ways of our people, the ancient ways. She knows medicine, nature, the Great Spirit. She knows how to speak, to whisper to the wind, but she also knows the ways of your people. And that is how she will find your son.”
His reply told Julia absolutely nothing. “Where are her parents?”
“She no longer sees her parents. They were of the last few native peoples.”
“Where are they now?”
“Her mother is gone.”
“And her father?”
“Her father was…terrible, a beast of a man.” There was a hint of something in his voice, unidentifiable but unmistakably eerie. “I took her away from him before he could destroy her, but she still carries sadness for her mother and hate for her father’s soul in her heart. For many, many moons I have tried to cure her pain, and I can only pray that I have succeeded.”
She had never met the woman, but Julia’s own heart broke for the girl. The way Smoke Speaker talked of her, the love in his words and the desperation for her safety, touched the mother part of her. “So you not only train her, but you raised her.”
“From the time she was a child,” the Elder agreed. “I saw something in her, something very special. Whisper was born into a world she was destined to change, and I am here to guide her on her journey. I taught her how to honor her culture, and how to honor those different from ours. She spent many moons learning your language, because it is important that Speakers can understand even the most unfamiliar words.”
“She speaks English better than I do,” Duff agreed. He’d always marveled at how Whisper could so easily switch back and forth between the languages.
“Yes.” Smoke Speaker nodded in Duff’s deputy. “Though she still has trouble finding the right words at times. But, Speaking is a constant journey for our people. And now, her journey is to find your son.”
“Why did she bring Ian along?” Duff spoke up then. “She usually goes on searches alone.”
“She brought you with her once.”
There was a hint of amusement in the old man’s voice, as though he could sense the officer’s feelings, and Duff wasn’t happy about it. “I was asked to accompany her because she was injured at the time. But she’s healthy now, so why would she suddenly need help?”
“Perhaps she thought it best, considering this fog.”
“But they went out before the fog,” Duff argued, now suspicious.
“My apprentice knows the weather. She can sense such changes,” Smoke Speaker answered easily.
Also suspicious that the Elder was hiding something behind those old eyes of ancient wisdom, Julia tried a different approach. “Mr. Smoke Speaker…have you ever lost someone?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Who?”
“My daughter, Blue Feather.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t expected he’d have a family. An old man who lived deep in the mountains with only a young woman to care for him didn’t exactly scream “family man.” It seemed like a lonely life, all alone in the woods. “May I ask what happened?”
It was only fair that he share his own story, as Ian was entrusting his very life to Whisper. But it stung his heart to think of his only child, so precious and irreplaceable. “My daughter was young, beautiful, full of life. She loved our animal friends, and loved children, and dreamed of becoming a storyteller.” He beamed at the memories before his grin turned downtrodden. “One winter morning, she went out for a walk. Such a simple thing, a walk through the woods, something she did every single day. A terrible storm blew through the trees before she could return…..and she never did.”
Julia could relate to the sensation of terror and grief. “You never found her?”
The Elder pressed his palms together as though praying. “I searched for months, and when the snow melted and the ice thawed I searched again, but I never found her body. The police searched for seven days before deciding that her body must have been taken by the river, or by the local wildlife. The only trace of my daughter’s death that I found was her necklace.” He reached up and fingered the bones around his throat as though to emphasize his point.
“Then you understand why I need you to tell me where my husband is,” Julia pushed urgently. “I need to be there, helping them search. I need to find my son!”
Smoke Speaker cleared his thoughts of his beloved daughter and shook his head sadly. “I do not know where they are, Mrs. Daivya. But I can offer you this.” He picked up the object in his lap and held it across the fire.
Julia found herself staring at a beautiful dreamcatcher. A circle made of treated and carefully curved wood created the frame, and thin pieces of hemp spun around the casing to form an intricate web tightly woven down to a small opening in the center. Blue beads were tied to the hemp in different areas, and pieces of buckskin hung down from the wooden frame, black feathers dangling from the strands. Painted on the feathers were outlines of different animals in a variety of colors.
“The wolf,” Smoke Speaker pointed to a blue outline, “for your husband. Wolf, Waya, is the creature of fierce loyalty. He walks his own path, but always returns to the one he has chosen to protect. And Mockingbird, Huhu, to help you find your inner song, and recognize your natural talents. Mockingbird shows no fear, and protects her young to the death.”
Julia pointed to a drawing at the base of the dreamcatcher. “And that one?”
Smoke Speaker smiled. “Kahnanesgi. Spider. The Weaver of Fate, my totem. An artist always marks his creations.” He gestured to the woman across the fire. “Here. This will keep your dreams safe and your sleep sound, so that when you wake you will be ready to face a brand new day.”
Julia took the gift with a sense of dread. She worried he was offering the dreamcatcher because he knew her son’s terrible fate. “Thank you, Mr. Smoke Speaker, but I—”
“Will need to be strong for your son,” Smoke Speaker interrupted quietly. “Now, I apologize for sounding rude, but I must see to my morning nap. These old bones wear out easily these days.”
Whisper let Ian sleep. Time itself was irrelevant in death, and she was in no hurry for what was to come next. It was true that the child would eventually forget who he was, which would make it harder for him to return, but she may have exaggerated the urgency to find him just a bit because she was eager to begin the journey.
Instead of gathering their packs, she stroked the fire, eyes trained on the thin trails of black smoke. She quieted the voices inside her souls, cocked her head to the side, and listened as the smoke reached for her ears.
The words were faded, as though being spoken through a wall, but Whisper recognized the Elder’s voice. Smoke Speaker was reaching out to her, urgently trying to deliver a message, and while smoke speaking wasn’t her gift she could still hear the whispers that made their way through the haze.
“The mother comes…her son…they search harder…suspicious…husband’s infidelity…you must hurry.”
Then the fire went out, cloaking them in shadows.
“So,” Whisper muttered, tying back her long hair, “time does matter after all.” She was curious about Smoke Speaker’s charge of infidelity, but that was the least of her concerns, something to consider only when they reached the Land of the Dead.
“Mr. Daivya.” Whisper reached out and kicked Ian in the ribs. She didn’t care about hurting him, not after the display on the Bridge of the Dead. Ian grunted and took a few moments to rise, gather his wits.
“What?” he muttered, rubbing his scabbed cheeks tiredly.
“We must go.”
They packed up their small camp quickly. Whisper pulled on her cloak, hiding her face in the fur-lined hood, and slung her bow and quiver across her back. Ian pulled on his shirt tenderly, barely noticing that the tears had been stitched up while he was sleeping. His
hands and arms were stained with his own blood, and though he couldn’t see it, he guessed his cheek looked worse for the wear as well.
Whisper, on the other hand, appeared refreshed and perfectly healthy. Her only visible wounds were the small scratches on her face and the slice on her palm that he’d witnessed her perform on herself at the river. How many days ago, he didn’t know. Days and nights were all blended together in this place of waiting. But he did know that she certainly didn’t seem too concerned with keeping him in one piece. He was beginning to wonder just what her intentions were, and if she was actually enjoying his pain.
“Where are we going?”
“To the Land of the Dead.”
“How far is it?”
Whisper led him out of their camp, and together they walked along the edge of the craggy mountain, avoiding the lost souls, some that wandered aimlessly, others that headed in the same direction they did. “Just around that bend,” she replied, pointing with her knife. Ian eyed the blade. He’d seen it before, when she dragged it across her palm. He hoped that she held it now only for protection against potential enemies.
As they came closer to the bend, Ian struggled to keep his eyes forward, but all he could think about was that if all of this was, in fact, real, his son had taken this very path, walked this very ground, traveled amongst these very dead souls. How could he have known where to go, or where he was going to? Were children granted guides? And how the hell did Whisper know everything about this place?
“Whisp—”
He clamped his mouth shut, annoyed, when she merely lifted a dirty, bandaged hand to silence him. His annoyance started to fade when she crouched down and leaned against the rock, gesturing for him to do the same. “What?”
“Mr. Daivya, I need to ask you something.” Whisper pulled back her hood and stared at Ian with those haunting black eyes. “Are you ready for what is to come?”
The question confused him. “…Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning, you must prepare yourself for the Land of the Dead. You will be tested in new ways than before. The Bridge of the Dead was the first test, and the Western Sun is the second. You must be prepared.”
Beyond the Western Sun Page 9
