Eagle of Seneca

by Corrina Lawson

  “Say what you will of that, father,” Sky said, “but the Mahican villages were spared. The Romans were the ones who sent out emissaries after the battle to call for an end to all fighting. There has been peace for nearly a generation now. If the Romans truly wanted to wipe the Mahicans out, that was the time.”

  “Perhaps the Romans were too badly damaged to fight just then,” Nighthawk said.

  “They blew up the earth itself,” Sky said. “I don’t think that shows weakness. It took years for the Mahicans to regain strength. Yet the Romans still did not destroy them.”

  Nighthawk shook his head.

  Sky tried to keep her expression neutral, fighting anger at her father’s opposition. He usually supported her, especially when confronted with the truth. She’d no idea why he was being so contrary today. If he disagreed, he should simply remain silent. She did not need to be undermined like this.

  “Sky is right,” Deep Water said. “We either must find a way to live with the Romans as the Mahicans have done, or destroy them all. The Romans forget even ants can destroy in enough numbers.”

  “They’ve been here for five generations now,” Sky said, pleased the shaman had taken her seriously and not dismissed the idea of accepting the Roman presence as her mother and the others had. “They are here to stay. But if the numbers stay small, we can contain them.”

  “And how do we do that, other than letting them kill each other?” Deep Water asked.

  “We pick a side in this war,” Sky said. “My people have already met the one who commands the new Roman fleet, Legate Makki. He offered us assurances and promises that the Romans will stay within the confines of their Manhatos village if he wins with our support.” Sky shook her head. “But we didn’t believe him. He is a man who likes violence.”

  Deep Water nodded. “Such a man is likely to continue to go to war.”

  “It also makes him more likely to win,” Nighthawk said. “The soldiers in the town are outnumbered. Makki has a formidable fleet and the advantage of surprise. If we don’t remain neutral, I am certain he will come after us immediately.”

  “Numbers don’t always carry the day,” Sky said. Perhaps her father was arguing with her to make her think.

  “No, numbers don’t always supply victory,” Deep Water agreed. “But you don’t trust this legate and we don’t trust the Romans in the town. Perhaps we should attack the victors in this fight between the Romans just at the moment that they think they are safe. Then we wipe them all out.”

  Sky’s jaw almost dropped. And she thought Makki had seemed bloodthirsty.

  But everyone else in the circle was nodding.

  “So we let them kill each other until they are few enough for us to be able to slaughter the rest?” Sky shook her head. “I thought we did not make war like that.”

  “You are young,” Nighthawk snapped. “You don’t remember the damage the Romans did when they settled Manhatos. When we objected, they killed us. They took some of our people as their slaves. Look how young Quiet Dog mourns. The Romans are worse than snakes and an insult to the Corn Goddess who created this island. They deserve slaughter.”

  “This is all true.” Deep Water stood and the others in the circle stood with her out of respect. “We will do what we must to protect ourselves. But I’m torn. Destruction might bring us peace. But it seems wrong to profit from death. We cannot survive by becoming just like our enemy. And the Romans have proven hard to kill. As Sky said, there is nothing to stop them from sending another fleet if this one is destroyed.”

  “We could approach the Romans in Seneca through the Mahicans, and have them bring the ones in Manhatos to negotiations,” Sky suggested.

  Nighthawk shot her an angry glance. “In this, you should know that Sky speaks for herself, Shaman. It was the consensus of both the Wolf and Turkey clans that we stay away from the Romans as much as possible. We came for two reasons. First, this news. The second was to offer sanctuary to your people if you wish to leave Shorakapkok until the danger is past.”

  “Leaving seems yet another bad choice. It’s only the beginning of the planting season. We can ill afford to abandon the fields.” Deep Water bowed to Nighthawk and Sky. “I must think on this and pray. I thank Lake Wolf for sending us such honored messengers so quickly and all the clans for the offer of sanctuary. I only hope that my prayers are answered and the gods show me the way as quickly.”

  Sky bowed back, ignoring the spasm in her right leg as she moved. They’d traveled hard and fast. Her legs were cramped and sore from kneeling in the canoe all the previous day. Standing for a while would feel good.

  The entire circle broke up as Deep Water left to pray.

  “I need a walk,” she said to her father.

  “You should come into the longhouse and break bread with everyone,” Nighthawk said, frowning. “To refuse to do so is an insult.”

  “They will understand my need to stretch my legs.” The last thing she wanted to do right now was sit down with her prickly father. “And surely, they won’t begrudge me a chance to explore their beautiful home.”

  “Fine. I’ll make your apologies. Come back soon.”

  I will come back as soon as your foul mood is over. She didn’t understand this. Nighthawk was rarely angry with her. Perhaps it was because she usually followed his orders when traveling as his assistant and now he was unhappy to be following her orders.

  But her mother had given her this charge, not him. She must do as she saw right.

  Sky walked out past the longhouses to the fields that were almost ready for the spring planting.

  Shorakapkok was known for growing the most mouth-watering squash and corn in the region. Even though it was early spring, several villagers were already working on the sod, turning it over and over with metal spades attached to long handles. The spades were Roman metalwork. So, despite what Deep Water had said, some trading did occur.

  Sky wondered if the sod were as stubborn and difficult as people. Likely not.

  She leaned against the trunk of a great pine tree at the edge of the field and looked up at the clear sky again, hoping for inspiration.

  An eagle flew high above the treetops, a large black shape against the clouds.

  What does it feel like to fly, bird?

  Sky had wished so many times that she could soar. Her father had insisted she take special interest in all flying creatures because of the prophecy around her birth.

  As a child, she believed herself special with her whole heart because of the events surrounding her birth. She’d always thought the gods would speak directly, send her a sign. But it was clear now that she needed to act instead of waiting for her destiny to appear.

  The Romans in Manhatos could be allies. They didn’t want to wipe out her people. If they had, they would have attacked in great strength long before this. Instead, they committed offenses that were more careless than malicious. Sky’s instincts said this could be changed.

  Unfortunately, neither of her parents agreed with Sky’s instincts.

  In any case, she could not act by running off to Manhatos alone. She didn’t speak Latin, for one. Perhaps Deep Water would prove an ally after she was done with prayers.

  Sky sighed and focused again on the eagle’s shadow against the clouds. Strange. She could swear that it looked twice the size of a normal eagle. This bird’s wings didn’t flap at all. And now that it drew closer to the ground, Sky heard a noise like a sail flapping in the wind.

  It was no eagle. It was no bird.

  It looked....man-made?

  Yes.

  The flapping sound she’d heard was the wind whipping against cloth that covered a wooden frame. And there was a man holding onto the frame, just below the center of the wing.

  A flying man.

  The flying thing swooped lower, closer to the field. Sky flinched, involuntarily, but it was still too high up to be a danger. The field workers shouted and pointed, voicing the disbelief that Sky felt.

  The man
and his flying wing zoomed past them, brushed the top edges of the trees in the forest and disappeared from sight.

  Sky heard a crash.

  Branches cracked and snapped. There was an explosion of leaves from one of the treetops in the woods. A human sound of pain and anger echoed through the air. Then there was utter silence.

  She ran toward the woods while the others chattered in shock.

  ****

  Ceti gripped the top branches of the tree hard, his hands slick with sweat. His shoulders hurt. His head still rang from the crash. Blood dripped down one side of his face. His knee throbbed.

  But wind blew across his face. The smell of pine and the faint taste of moisture was in the air.

  I flew.

  He closed his eyes for a second and indulged in the memory of what the forest had looked like from above.

  I did it.

  And he was not even dead.

  Though how he would get down from this tree remained a puzzle. And he didn’t know how he would get home. He knew from the fields that he was near one of the northern Lenape settlements on the island but he’d no idea if they were hostile.

  Dinah was right. I should have worked on the landing.

  Around him, the remains of his aquila swayed precariously on the top of the branches. He took a deep breath and, bit by bit, moved his hand to his back and disconnected the rope hooking him to the frame. He did not want to fall with the aquila strapped to him.

  He heard splintering, a sure sign of wood cracking but couldn’t tell if that was the tree branches or the bamboo frame. But nothing moved, at least not yet.

  He’d succeeded too well. He’d flown farther and faster than he’d ever anticipated. He could almost hear Dinah’s dry voice in his head, telling him that he’d missed a variable. Crashing into a tree had not been in any of his contingency plans. He was going to have to fix that the next time. How would one land and—

  The branch holding him cracked. He lost his hold.

  Vulcan’s forge!

  He half fell, half slid down the great tree, grabbing for branches on the way down. That slowed his descent, but did not halt it. Smaller twigs hit his back. Leaves smacked his face. Skin was ripped from his hands as he tried to gain a hold.

  A twig smacked him across the eyes and his vision went blurry.

  For a second, he was clear.

  He hit the ground hard with his shoulder. The blow knocked the air out of his lungs. He struggled to breathe.

  Darkness.

  When he opened his eyes, his vision was still blurry. He took a deep breath and his joy at being able to breathe again was cut short by a stab of pain. Ow.

  He flexed his feet. They worked. He flexed his hands. They worked also. His breathing still hurt so he decided to wait to check the rest of his body. Hopefully, no bears, wolves, or Lenape would come along and menace him. He’d no idea if this village had contact with Romans. And, if they had, whether that would be a good or a bad thing.

  He should have paid more attention to things other than soldiers’ tools and aquilas.

  A hand settled on his chest. He blinked to clear his vision. He saw the long, elegant fingers first. A woman’s hand. His gaze traveled up her arm, past the eagle tattoo on her shoulder, and to her face.

  Her features were delicate. A small chin, a slim nose, and high cheekbones but the face was dominated by her large, dark eyes. She looked like Lady Sif of the Vikings but her skin was a darker tone. Sif was only a half-blood Lenape. This woman was pureblood.

  And very beautiful.

  His chest rose and fell under her hand. Ceti felt blood trickle down his check. He should try to speak or move but he did not want to scare her away. He’d seen the sky today, as he’d always dreamed. This woman was just as beautiful as the heavens.

  A female spoke from behind this woman. “Is he dead?”

  “No, he’s hurt but alive,” said the woman with her hand on his chest.

  Ceti blinked again and realized that they were speaking Lenape and he was translating without thinking. The words sounded very like the language the Mahicans near Seneca used, though with a slightly more musical flavor.

  “Go to the village and fetch my father, please,” said the woman with her hand on his chest. “He’s had some dealings with the Romans around Seneca. He knows some of their language. And bring your healer, if she’s available. This man needs help.”

  Thank you.

  “Why do we need a healer for a Roman?” the other said. “You’re Sky, yes? The one who brought the news this morning? Then you should know he’s an enemy.”

  His rescuer’s name was Sky? How perfect.

  Sky shook her head. “Even if he’s an enemy, he’s unable to attack. I won’t refuse treatment to anyone, Roman or not. Besides, tell my father that he fell from the sky. That makes him mine.”

  It does?

  The other woman shrugged. “I’ll bring what you ask. I’m also going to bring warriors. Be careful.”

  Warriors. Not good.

  Sky turned her attention back to him after the other left. She frowned as she realized that he was watching her. He smiled, hoping to reassure her. At least, he thought it was a smile. Hard to tell what it looked like from her end, with his face bleeding and likely bruised.

  She snatched her hand back but did not otherwise move away. Ceti cleared his throat.

  “Thank you for your help,” he said.

  She frowned.

  “Do you understand me?” he asked.

  “Yes, certainly. But I didn’t expect—” She nodded. “You surprised me.”

  “I suppose people don’t fall out of the sky often,” he said.

  She grinned.

  Oh, keep doing that.

  “I meant that I didn’t expect you to understand and speak our language so well,” she said. “You have only a slight accent.”

  Huh. Falling from the sky didn’t surprise her but his words did. “I’m Ceti, from Seneca.” She should know the place. She’d just mentioned it. “What do know of Seneca?”

  “It’s the settlement where the Romans unleashed underground thunder on the Mahicans.”

  “That is Seneca.” So his explosion had reached legendary status, even here. Best not to mention that the destruction had been his handiwork. “But we have made peace with our neighbors for many years now. I have friends among the Mahicans.” Acquaintances, more like, but right now he needed to say whatever proved that he was dangerous.

  “Friends? I’d heard that Romans and Mahicans were only trading partners.” She put her hand back on his chest, over his heart. “What hurts, Roman?”

  “Everything,” he said. “And the name is Ceti.”

  She ran fingertips over his chest and he wished he wasn’t helpless, bruised, and broken. But he must be addled in the brain, somehow, to react this way so fast to a stranger. Gaius, who often teased him about being indifferent to beautiful woman, would be laughing at him.

  “Move back,” he said. “I am going to try to sit up.” He needed to know what the damage was to his body before the threatened warriors arrived. He doubted they’d all be as friendly as Sky.

  He rolled to the side first. Blood pooled in his mouth and he spit it out. He breathed in and out and there was no stabbing pain. Good. He used his arms to push himself to a sitting position. The world grew dizzy and blurry again. He put his head between his knees.

  “Roman?” she said. “Are you all right?”

  He winced and raised his head. “I appear to be mostly intact.”

  “Then you must have the favor of the gods, Ceti of Seneca, not only to fly but to be alive after falling from the tree. I thought you were dead at my feet,” she said. “I’m glad that you’re not.”

  “So am I.” And he was glad that she was glad. What a horrible time to want to impress a woman. Spitting out blood had probably not been charming. “But I prefer to think of it as my hard work succeeding, rather than favor of the gods.”

  “You made that thing
?”

  He nodded. “I did. It’s called an aquila. A man-made eagle.”

  Her eyes widened. She looked up to the top of the tree, where his aquila still perched like a downed eagle. “Have you done this before? Do all Romans do this?”

  “No Romans do this. Not in Seneca, not in Manhatos. Just me.” He grinned. “And this was my first flight. What do you think?”

  She continued to stare at the aquila. “It looked glorious.” She glanced at him. “Until the tree tried to consume you and your man-made thing.”

  He grinned at the idea of an aquila-eating tree. “The crash was certainly the worst part of it, yes.”

  She studied him. Not like before, out of concern, but a penetrating stare that reminded him of Dinah.

  “Why would you want to build something to travel the skies?” she asked.

  Now she sounded like Dinah. “‘Why’ is a question everyone asks me.” And none of them had understood the answer.

  “And?” she said. “What is your answer?”

  “Because I wanted to soar like the eagles.”

  Her eyes widened. “Ah.” She smiled, not her quiet welcome from when he’d first spoken but a smile so broad that her whole body seemed to participate.

  Sky of the Lenape. Who are you and where have you come from?

  “I understand wanting to soar like the eagles,” she said.

  “You would be the first.” He put out his hand. “Will you help me stand?”

  She stepped closer and offered her hand.

  “Back away from the Roman, Sky.”

  Warriors surrounded Ceti, their spears pointed directly at his chest.

  Chapter Four

  “Lower your spear, father,” Sky said. “The Roman is hurt. He’s no threat to us.”

  “He’s dangerous, injured or not,” Nighthawk said. “Back away, Sky.”

  “I will not,” she snapped. “He’s offered no violence.” She stepped in front of Ceti so they wouldn’t be able to attack without shoving her out of the way first. “He speaks our language. He’s given me every courtesy.”