Native Wind Page 8

  “I understand,” she replied with her jaw tight. “I didn’t move out to the territories to be safe. I came for freedom. These men owe me blood, and I aim to take all I can.”

  “It’s still two days’ ride to their camp,” Cunning Bird said.

  “Then we ride on.” Trey looked at the dead thieves. “Should we give them a passing? To be honest, I don’t know much about the death rituals of my own people.”

  The woman looked hard at the bodies. “They don’t deserve any rituals. I say we leave them for the buzzards.”

  “I don’t want any ghosts following us,” Trey said.

  “These spineless bastards won’t leave any ghosts,” she snapped.

  “We’re trusting you in this, Missus…?” Gray Talon said.

  “Daily,” she replied. “Sarah Daily.”

  “Mrs. Daily, I’m Gray Talon, my brother is Trey McAlister, there’s Cunning Bird of the Crow, and Copperpot.”

  “Pleased to meet you, gentlemen. Now if we have two more days to ride to find the camp of these… these thieves, we should get started. The good people in these parts will thank us for that.” Sarah turned her horse and started to ride off before she paused. “Which way did you say their camp was?”

  10

  FROM A nearby hill, a coyote called to its pack, letting them know of a successful hunt. Trey lay unsleeping next to Gray Talon. The night was nearly half-over, and he couldn’t still his mind enough to sleep. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember his parents’ deaths. He knew they’d died. That was the reason the Comanche took him in and raised him as one of their own. He knew it occurred about the same time that Gray Talon learned he could assume multiple forms rather than the one animal shape so many Indians could. The two boys had been friends long before he went to live with the People, but he couldn’t remember how his parents died. For years it was like he couldn’t think about it. Now to find out that Gray Talon and the tribal elders knew what happened gnawed at him.

  He forced himself to relax. Even with the turmoil running through his mind, he refused to unleash the anger that being kept in the dark all these years built up inside him. He wanted to lash out at someone, something, but it wasn’t fair to take it out on those around him. Trey wanted to avenge his parents, but more than anything he wanted those memories back. There had to be a way to find that which had been lost.

  Pushing thoughts and anger away, he took several long breaths, the way he’d been taught, and pushed himself down into the otherworld. He knew how to get the answers.

  A full moon hung low in the underworld sky, just like it did in the clear Wyoming sky above Trey’s physical form. The mage shifted and headed south, as fast as a hummingbird’s wings could fly. He had to find Singing Crow. His teacher would know how to reclaim the lost memories. Through the underworld night he sped. Distance wasn’t the same here as it was in the real world. He could twist the landscape with his thoughts. Even so, he was ready to drop from the sky by the time he found the Comanche tents dotting the underworld. They weren’t really there, but enough of the People roamed the underworld as they slept that the tents gave them somewhere to call home on the distant plain they visited in their dreams.

  “Singing Crow!” Trey called as he flew into the shaman’s white tipi. The much-mended old tipi had been passed down from one shaman to another through the tribe for many generations. The sun had bleached the buffalo hides until they were nearly as white as snow. It was one of many symbols of power for Singing Crow. Unless the old shaman found another student, the tent would pass to Trey when the wise man no longer walked the physical world.

  Singing Crow sat on his favorite skin, looking down at some bones he had just tossed. He looked up and smiled as Trey shed the hummingbird form and stepped forward. “The bones told me you’d be coming tonight. How goes your quest for the dragon’s daughter?”

  Trey settled himself on another skin across the low fire from his teacher. “It is strange being away from the People. The world up there is different. I met Crow. He sings your praises. He helped me lay some Crow shaman ghosts to earth. We are on the trail of the thieves that had the dragon’s daughter, but she is now with Rockwall McNair.”

  Singing Crow bent his head and looked sad. “That is not good news. McNair will be a formidable force. If the dragon of Bald Peak was not nurturing an egg right now, I’d urge you to go to her and explain the situation and let her find her own daughter. Dragons help keep the balance of our world, but they are few, and every one that comes into this world must be given every opportunity to thrive.” He looked down at the bones, sticks, and rocks spread out on the skin in front of him. “But this is not why you have come.”

  “No, my teacher,” Trey said, looking down at the pattern the items made. He was still gathering his bag of bones. Actually, a shaman never stopped gathering the bones they used to see the world around and ahead of them. From the way the petrified wood crossed the vulture bone, he knew that Singing Crow already knew he’d come about the past and death. “I’ve come to learn the truth about my parents’ deaths and to try to find a way to unlock the memories that hide from me.”

  The old shaman nodded. “This was something you had to come seeking yourself,” he said slowly. “This wasn’t something that I could just help you with because I thought it was time.”

  “Talon said that my parents were killed by the same band we are now pursuing. Is that true?”

  Singing Crow shrugged his narrow shoulders. “To be sure, I can’t tell. But the band of thieves that has done much to keep control over the area has been the same for many years, more than the ten that you’ve been a Comanche. Therefore, the odds are good that these are the same people.”

  Trey’s gaze never left the skin and the items there. A piece of rose quartz lay over a birch branch. Matters of the heart. “Talon said he could recognize the ones who actually killed my parents. He said we were there.”

  The shaman inclined his head. “That is true.”

  “I want to remember.” Trey wanted to shout, but respect for his teacher was too high. His anger wasn’t at Singing Crow; it was with the men who’d taken his family from him.

  “Then now is the time to find the past.” Singing Crow gestured to where a clear crystal touched the petrified wood and the vulture bone. “We shall find the clarity you seek and make you whole again.”

  “What do we need to do?” Trey asked, looking up into the wise brown eyes for the first time since entering the tent. As always, peace and comfort flowed out of those eyes into him.

  “To reach into the past, we need something of the past,” the Comanche shaman said. “Bring your father’s rifle. That holds more energy of your family than anything else you possess, other than yourself.”

  Trey visualized the rifle where it was bound to his saddle, now lying on the ground in Wyoming near where he and Gray Talon rested. It only took a moment and the weapon appeared in his hands.

  Singing Crow looked pleased. “Good. Now, we’ll use that as our focus to go back to that day. The last time your father fired that gun was the day he and your mother died. Feel its energy. Remember your training and how everyone who touches an item leaves a trace of themselves. Each incident leaves an imprint. The stronger the incident, the stronger the imprint. The last firing by your father should’ve left a very strong imprint. Find that memory and everything should open up for you.”

  With the gun across his legs and his hands lightly resting, one on the barrel and one on the stock, Trey felt the gun. His own memories of using it showed first in his mind. The last rabbit he shot with it. The first elk he brought down. The first time he fired the rifle and actually hit the cactus he’d been aiming at. Each success and each failure was there for him to remember. He worked his way back through the layers of memories. There was a mingling of impressions when Laughing Hawk gave him the gun shortly after Trey had been accepted as one of the tribe. He saw his adoptive mother cleaning the gun, removing dried blood from the barrel and worrying
over a stain that marred the stock. Then was a bloody memory as Laughing Hawk removed the gun from a dead man’s hands. His mind shook for a moment as he saw the scene from two sets of eyes, his foster mother’s and his own. Trey had watched her take the gun for safekeeping that fateful day. His father’s last shot with the rifle came stronger than any of the other memories. The scent of powder filled his nose and the sound of the blast nearly deafened him. He saw the bullet leave the rifle, but the thief turned, and the bullet merely grazed his face and went through his ear. Trey’s training was the only thing that allowed him to keep a calm head as the scene played out.

  Trey also saw that scene from two angles. He’d been inside the cabin, clinging to Gray Talon, who’d been injured earlier in the day. The magic flowed around him. He tried desperately to keep him and his friend safe by keeping the thieves from seeing them cowering on the hearth. His mother lay in the doorway, already killed by the man his father just injured. Other men, he couldn’t tell how many, were outside shouting and shooting. His father went down in the onslaught. A deafening roar shattered the chaos. The thieves screamed and scattered as the dragon of Bald Peak arrived to see what was causing all the noise on her mountain.

  She found the two boys on the hearth. The fledgling magic Trey wove was easy for her to see through. Her human form was nearly as beautiful as her dragon form was terrifying. With bright green hair, she was like nothing he’d ever seen before. She’d been there with them when Laughing Hawk and Singing Crow arrived with a small band of warriors.

  Tears ran down Trey’s face as he remembered the kindness the dragon had shown them. He remembered the way her golden eyes had looked deep into his own. She was a mother, she explained. She understood the need to protect the young from the horrors the world could deliver. He’d been lost in those golden eyes. Then the eyes vanished along with the dragon. He hadn’t remembered them until now, until he tapped into the memories stored on his father’s rifle.

  “Talon didn’t tell me the dragon had been there that day,” he said softly, looking back to his teacher sitting still across from him.

  “He doesn’t remember her,” Singing Crow said. “We all agreed that it would be best for you two not to remember her presence. The dragons try to keep their contact with humans to a minimum. It helps with their mystery and lowers their allure. There has only been one dragon in recent history that let itself be widely known.”

  “The one that Stonewall Jackson rode in the war?” Trey asked.

  “That’s the one. And even that dragon managed to keep most of his mysteries while helping free the slaves and win the war. Little did anyone imagine at the time that he and Stonewall were actually working for the Union. There are rumors out there still that the dragon didn’t die that final day of the war when the Union cannons shot it down, but that he just shifted shape and disappeared. With no body found, it was impossible to prove he’d even fought in the war.”

  “But a lot of people know about the dragon of Bald Peak,” said Trey.

  “Out here among the tribes, we do,” Singing Crow corrected, gathering up the items scattered on his hide. “But remember that there are a lot more of your people in the east. To a lot of them, the Comanche are a thing of legend. Most of them probably think the dragon of Bald Peak is also a thing of myth. I think she’d like to keep it that way, particularly in light of how the whites have slaughtered the buffalo. Can you imagine how they’d hunt them if they knew dragons were real?”

  Trey shuddered. “Is this why you agreed to the storm spirit’s request? You knew that we already owed the dragon a debt and this was a way to repay her?”

  “I did,” his teacher confirmed. “That was part of it. I also knew that you’d uncover parts to your past and have this need to unlock your memories. I saw it as a good thing. It was time for you to be whole again.”

  With tears still trickling down his face, Trey pursed his lips and bowed slightly. “Thank you. I will find the man with the scar and a hole in his ear.” He held up the rifle. “When I do, I will kill him with my father’s rifle. This time the shot will find his brain and he will die.”

  “Just be careful, and do not lose sight of the quest for the dragon’s daughter. You owe the mother a debt. If you fail to pay it in this life, you will pay it in the next.”

  “I won’t forget,” he said with a firm set of his jaw. “When this is all over, Talon and I will find the tribe in the wintering grounds.”

  Singing Crow nodded.

  Without bothering to find his way out of the otherworld, Trey willed himself back to his body. The moon still hung over their sleeping forms in Wyoming. Gray Talon still slept next to him. He wrapped his arms around his sleeping lover, buried his face in the broad back, and let his tears flow freely. After several minutes Talon woke, rolled over, and cradled him as he cried.

  11

  THICK TREES lined the canyon walls, effectively cutting off much of the thieves’ camp from view unless someone was right in the middle of it. They made normal reconnaissance difficult. Gray Talon, wearing the shape of a magpie, sat in a tall tree next to Cunning Bird, in his crow form, and watched the place. They’d been watching now for more than a day, and the sun hovered on the horizon.

  “We’ve seen enough,” he said to the Crow. “Let’s head back to the others and get a plan going.”

  The black bird jerked his beak sharply and dropped off the branch, spreading his wings to head north where they’d set up camp, some two miles from the canyon. Gray Talon relaxed as they flew away. The thieves’ camp made him nervous. From their observations, the men were a jumpy bunch, or maybe they were just cruel. After the two Indians watched the outlaws shoot several creatures, including a stellar jay, for no obvious reasons, they’d moved their perches up as high as they could. They sat quietly in the shadows on the far side of the tree, where they could watch the five cabins that made up the camp but not be easily seen. It wasn’t worth the risk of getting shot at before they actively attacked the camp. In addition to the cabins, the thieves also had one barn and a large corral that currently held ten horses and a mule.

  Minutes after leaving their observation post, the two birds swooped down into another smaller canyon and flew along until they found the cave where they’d set up a cold camp. They landed at the entrance to the cave and shifted back to their human forms.

  Copperpot stepped out to meet them. “Greetings, Master Gray Talon and Master Cunning Bird, Master Trey and Mistress Sarah are awaiting you inside. I trust everything is progressing as planned.”

  “Thanks, Copperpot, and it is.” Gray Talon paused just inside the cave’s darkness to give his eyes a chance to adjust. Trey moved in the shadows, giving him a focus point.

  “So are things down there ready for us?” his partner asked.

  Gray Talon nodded. “There are at least eight of them down there. I managed to catch a glimpse of the one with the long scar that ends in the hole in his ear. From what I can tell, he’s the leader.”

  “Do you think we can get to the cabins undetected in the dark?” Sarah asked as she wiped a cloth across the barrel of her gun.

  “Don’t know for sure.” Gray Talon shrugged. “I’ve spotted two sentries that seem to rotate out every few hours. They stay near the barn and the trail coming into the camp. I think, if we come over the canyon wall, we should be able to avoid them. Unless the horses give us away.” He hadn’t seen any dogs around the place, so the horses were the biggest potential problem.

  “Do we know which cabin the man with the scar sleeps in?” Trey sheathed the knife he’d been cleaning. He’d been focused since regaining the memories of his parents’ deaths and their existing debt to the dragon. He still turned to Gray Talon each night for comfort, but otherwise had grown colder and harder as he pushed them to find and eliminate the band of outlaws.

  “I’m pretty sure I know which one,” Gray Talon replied. “But we won’t be sure until we get down there. They moved around a lot during the day, and I saw which one
he came out of shortly after first light this morning. We’ll try there first.”

  “Do they have a campfire out tonight?” Sarah asked.

  “Not that they set up before dark,” Cunning Bird said. “They may have felt the hint of autumn coming and decided to stay inside tonight. Here in the foothills, even you whites can feel the coming winters.”

  The moon above them was mostly full, and light clouds raced across its glowing yellow face. If they didn’t have Sarah along, Gray Talon would’ve preferred a dark moon. He knew he and Cunning Bird could see easily in the dark. Trey could have cast a spell to help him out, and from what they’d observed, Copperpot’s night vision was nearly catlike. With the woman along, having the extra light would work to her advantage. However, it would also work for the thieves.

  “I take it you two are ready to head out, then?” Gray Talon asked.

  “Unless you guys need something to eat first,” Trey said.

  Gray Talon shook his head. “We’ve been acting like birds all day. That means eating lots of stuff while we sit around and pretend not to watch anything in particular. I don’t know about Cunning Bird, but I’m full.”

  “I have no need for additional food at this point,” Cunning Bird replied.

  “Then let’s move out,” Sarah said, walking over to where the two horses waited just inside the cave entrance. “Have you guys found a path down the canyon wall?”

  “We haven’t,” Gray Talon replied. “But Trey will get the two of you down.”

  She stared at the mage for a minute as her hand rested on her saddle horn.

  “I’ll get us down, don’t worry.” Trey chuckled. It was the closest sound to a laugh he’d made in two days. For some reason, heading into battle must be relaxing him. Gray Talon hoped he’d return to normal when this was all done. He wasn’t sure he liked the darker Trey.

  Gray Talon shifted into the form of a snowy owl. They’d seen one of the big birds two days before, so they were in the area. Cunning Bird said they came down into the Crow lands sometimes during the harder winters. Seeing one this early in the season was a bad sign. He’d warn the chief when he returned to the Crows. The white form was perfect for the dark night. Trey, Sarah, and Copperpot would have no problem following as he led them to the canyon. Cunning Bird flew on ahead as their advanced scout.