by C Lee Tocci
Slowly, he opened his fingers. Even more slowly, Lilibit reached over and picked the stone from his palm. She placed it on her cheek and felt its faint hum buzzing through her jawbone.
“He’s sleeping,” she said, her eyes unfocused.
Garen tensed with excitement. “Can you wake him?”
“Nope. His job is done.” With a secret smile, Lilibit set the stone gently down on the riverbed and dribbled some mud over it. “He may never have to wake up again.”
With a groan, Garen slumped back on the ground and threw out his arms. “Bury me next,” he said, staring up at the sky. “I want to die too.”
Lilibit chuckled as she began to turn out her pockets. Garen rolled over and watched as she pulled out dozens of small stones and arranged them in a pile in front of her crossed legs. One at a time, she placed them against her cheek, her head cocked and her eyes not seeing. She’d gone through about twenty of them when one started humming so loud, she giggled.
“Here!” She said, sticking the stone under his nose. “This one!”
Garen gave her a weird look as he pushed himself back up to sit next to her.
“His name is Swoop,” she announced with a grin, “and he wants to stay with you.”
“Swoop?” Garen was suspicious as he gingerly reached for the stone. “His name is---”
The rest of Garen’s question was lost when his fingers first touched his stone. “Wow!” he said.
And he didn’t say another word.
Lilibit grinned as she watched Garen stare at Swoop. He stroked it gently and his face lit with a vacant smile.
“Okay, Garen,” Lilibit said after putting the other stones back into her pockets. “Let’s go. We need to get to Quaybo class.”
When Garen didn’t react, Lilibit gave his arm a tug. “C’mon Garen! Let’s go!”
Barely noticing her, Garen jerked his arm out of her grasp and went back to staring at his stone. Lilibit, torn between annoyance and concern, grabbed his wrist with one hand and, with the other, tried to pry the stone from his hand.
With no warning, Garen swung his arm out and the fist holding the stone struck Lilibit’s face, sending her sailing off the ground and landing on her butt, ten feet away.
Rubbing her bruised cheek, Lilibit rolled angrily to her feet. “Fine! Stay here! I don’t care!”
She started to stomp away, but stopped and turned back to see Garen still sitting and staring at his hand.
“C’mon Garen! Fun’s fun, but we gotta go!”
Garen did not move.
“I’ll tell Gil-Salla!”
No reaction.
“I will! I’m going right now! I’m going to tell Gil-Salla!”
Lilibit’s chest was tight with worry. Garen was terrified of Gil-Salla. If anything would scare him out of this stupid game, it would be a threat like that. She walked backward a few steps in the direction of the Crescent Courtyard, but Garen eyes stayed unblinking on Swoop. Finally, thoroughly alarmed, she turned and ran. She ran faster than she’d ever run before. There were times she felt that her feet weren’t even touching the ground. She didn’t stop until she pulled up, her chest heaving at the entry to the Hall of the Flame Voice.
She slapped frantically at the adobe jamb and then, instead of waiting politely for permission to enter, she pushed aside the tapestry and burst through the archway.
Gil-Salla sat alone, cross legged at her hearth, her hands splayed on the ground. At first, she looked at Lilibit with disapproval and surprise, but only for a moment.
“What is it, child?” Her eyes narrowed intently.
“It’s Garen!” Lilibit exploded, her feet hopping impatiently. “I gave him a stone and now he’s acting weird. He just sits there.”
Gil-Salla stood in one quick fluid movement. “Where is he?”
Her voice was calm and hearing it, Lilibit relaxed slightly.
“Under the Jiminy Tree,” Lilibit said.
Gil-Salla raised an eyebrow, questioning.
“It’s a big tree by a stream on Magpie Hill.” Lilibit hoped that this would be enough.
Apparently, it was. She nodded, struck her staff on the ground and waited without moving.
Lilibit skipped impatiently from one foot to another, wanting to say more, wanting her to hurry and wanting to get back to Garen. It was less than a minute, but it seemed longer, before the tapestry pulled back and Keotak-se strode into the hall.
“Garen is enthralled,” Gil-Salla said cryptically.
Lilibit was confused, but Keotak-se, seemed to know what she meant. He nodded briefly and shot a cold glance at Lilibit, who sniffed and looked guiltily at her bare toes.
“He is on Magpie Hill. Meet me there.” With that, Gil-Salla struck the ground with her staff, burst into flames, and disappeared.
Lilibit, eyes wide, stared at the few charred dust specs that floated to the ground where the Flame Voice had stood. “I really don’t think I’m going to get used to that,” she whispered.
At that moment, she wasn’t going to be given the chance to. A hand on her shoulder pulled at her and she quickly found herself back out on the courtyard standing beside Keotak-se.
“CHEE-ot-say. Toh-GEE-na. Sha-be-KAH,” Keotak-se called out in a deep voice.
Eyes wide, Lilibit watched as Keotak-se turned into a giant condor. She ducked as, with a few mighty flaps, he launched himself into the air. He quickly circled around and before Lilibit knew what was happening, had dived low and grabbed the shoulders of her tunic firmly in his claws.
“Eeep!” Lilibit yelped as her feet left the ground and she found herself sailing over the valley. They circled around the silver tower of Quapan, then towards Mount Theeta to the east. They rose high over cornfields and then followed the Wishkapoo River, south. Lilibit squirmed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Quaybo arena. It would be funny if Todd and the others saw her, but the mesa top where the others were dutifully practicing their stickwork was too far to the west to be seen.
It had taken Lilibit nearly twenty minutes, running as fast as she could, to get back from Magpie Hill, but it took Keotak-se less than five to fly back. He dipped down and, when her legs were only a foot or so from the ground, released her from his claws. She tumbled as she landed, rolled to her feet and scowled at the huge bird as it circled in the air above her.
He came in low again, turning back into a man as his feet met the earth. He ran as he landed, his staff in one hand, and started up the hill to where the Jiminy Tree looked over the stream. Lilibit ran to catch up.
Garen sat where she had left him, but now Gil-Salla squatted in front of him, staring intently into his face.
“Garen?” Her voice was soft but firm. “Garen? Can you hear me?”
Garen ignored her. When she gently used her hand to block the stone from his vision, he impatiently pushed it aside. She stood up and brushed the grit from her palms. Her face showed no impatience or even concern. If anything, she seemed faintly pleased. She turned and nodded to Keotak-se, who placed his staff on the ground next to the boy and wrapped his arms around him. Garen tried to shrug him off, but since it didn’t break his eye contact with his stone, it was a half-hearted effort.
“Child,” Gil-Salla called softly to Lilibit. “Come here.”
Biting her lip, Lilibit stepped reluctantly forward.
“I’m going to open Garen’s hand,” said Gil-Salla. “I would like you to take the stone from him and then step back.”
Lilibit rubbed her face where it still hurt from when Garen hit her last time she’d tried that. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, shaking her head.
Gil-Salla did not seem to hear. With one hand, she grabbed Garen’s wrist while Keotak-se tightened his hold on the boy’s torso. When Gil-Salla began prying at his fingers, Garen suddenly broke into a screaming rage. Lilibit watched, frozen, her eyes wide, as her friend kicked and wrestled, but Keotak-se held firm. Lilibit gasped when Garen tried to bite Gil-Salla, but Keotak-se quickly pushed one
of his arms under Garen’s chin, forcing his head up.
“Lilibit. Now.” Gil-Salla raised her voice to be heard over the boy’s howling.
Lilibit leapt forward, seeing the smooth green stone exposed in Garen’s sweating palm. She grabbed it quickly and leaped back. Garen yelled even louder.
Yet Garen’s screams were nothing compared to the frenzy pouring out of Swoop. She squeezed the stone against her jaw, whispering to it, trying to calm it down. Swoop was not happy to be separated from Garen and the Earth beneath Lilibit’s feet trembled in sympathy.
“Strong stone,” Gil-Salla muttered with a faint smile. Keotak-se grunted.
Minutes passed while Gil-Salla and Keotak-se patiently waited for Garen to quiet. When his screams faded to sobs and his writhing subsided into the shakes, Gil-Salla spoke softly.
“Garen?” Gil-Salla pushed the hair off of Garen’s sweating brow. “Listen to me. You must master your stone. You must not let your stone master you. There can be only one master and it must be you. Do you understand?”
Garen’s eyes were still wild and there was no spark of understanding in his face. Gil-Salla repeated her instructions again and again until it began to sound like a chant. Finally, Garen nodded, a flicker of awareness returning. He licked his lips and then stiffened, looking appalled to be so close to the two people that terrified him the most.
“Very good.” Gil-Salla smiled. “I will ask Lilibit to hand back your stone to you. When she does, I would like you to place it on the ground in front of you.”
Gil-Salla nodded to Lilibit, who stepped forward. As soon as she got within two feet of Garen, he snapped the stone from her hand and clutched it against his chest, eyes wild once again.
Patiently, Gil-Salla again asked Garen to place the stone on the ground. When she had asked three times, she nodded calmly to Keotak-se, who again tightened his grip on the boy’s arms. Gil-Salla again grasped his arm and unwrapped his fingers.
“Lilibit.” Gil-Salla’s voice implied that Lilibit would know what to do. Guessing, Lilibit dived forward again and snatched the stone from Garen’s hand. Again she calmed down the raging stone while Garen stormed against his restraints.
It took four tries and more than an hour of tantrums before Garen was able to retain his awareness with the stone in his hand. Both Garen and Lilibit were shaking with exhaustion and even Gil-Salla looked a little weary. Keotak-se stood and picked up his staff.
“Keotak-se, if you would bring young Garen to my hall.” Gil-Salla used her staff to push herself to her feet. “Lilibit, I would like to see you as soon as you may get there.”
Garen squawked in fright as Gil-Salla struck her staff on the ground and again disappeared in a flurry of white flames.
“CHEE-ot-say. Toh-GEE-na. Sha-be-KAH.”
Garen turned in time to see Keotak-se morph into a giant condor. He grabbed Lilibit’s hand in shock as the bird launched itself into the air and circled overhead.
“Don’t worry,” Lilibit squeezed Garen’s hand reassuringly. “He won’t drop you.”
Garen spun to question Lilibit. “What?” he squeaked, thoroughly panicked, but he had no chance to get out even an “Eeep!” before Keotak-se swooped down and grabbed him by the shoulders.
His hand slipped out of hers and she waved to him as he disappeared over the trees. She wished the other Ravens had seen her flying with Keotak-se. It really did look as cool as she thought it would.
All alone by her Jiminy Tree, Lilibit walked over to where she had dropped her library book, hours before. She brushed off the grit and smoothed the wrinkled pages. She plopped to the ground and pulled out her own stone, Ewa-Kwan, and rubbed it against her cheek.
She felt horrible. She hadn’t thought that obeying the stones would cause her friend so much pain. And now she had to go back to the hall of the Flame Voice and Gil-Salla was going to be mad at her and she’d probably call the Council of Elders and they’d disband the Ravens and everyone was going to hate her.
Her stone buzzed reassuringly, but Lilibit wasn’t buying it. Her feet dragged as she slowly hiked back to the Crescent Courtyard and prepared to meet her doom.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Will of The Stones
All three of the totems were awake. They watched Lilibit as she trudged onto the courtyard and toward the entry of the Hall of the Flame Voice.
Wakinyan flexed his wooden wings and raised his head. “ENTER THE STONE V---”
Before he could finish, Mato the Bear let out a tremendous roar that cut him off.
Lilibit, already nervous about having to face Gil-Salla, yelped and hopped backward.
“Hush!” Heecha the Owl hissed, but she was looking up at the thunderbird, not down at the roaring bear.
Lilibit skipped from one foot to the other, regrouping her courage before heading back toward the door. She edged her way in, staying as far away from the totem as she could before slipping in behind the tapestry.
At the far side of the hall, Gil-Salla, Cohanna and Keotak-se gathered around the hearth. They all stared at her for a moment before Gil-Salla reached into a nearby clay pot. She sprinkled some crushed leaves into the flame and a ribbon of dense smoke, faintly purple, drifted up and wove around the elders. The three then turned back to their conversation.
Lilibit didn’t know whether she should approach them or wait where she was. She fidgeted by the archway, straining her ears to try to catch some scrap of the conversation, but the violet haze deadened all sound from around the hearth and she could only pick out the faintest mumbles.
“Psst!”
Looking around, Lilibit saw Garen at the other end of the hall. He twitched his head, signing for her to come over to where he sat. Glancing back to the hearth, she saw that no one was watching her, so she inched over to her friend.
Garen looked horrible. There were purple smudges under his eyes and his cheeks seemed sunken in. He looked like someone had stuck an old man’s head on his body.
“I’m so sorry, Garen,” Lilibit whispered. “I never figured that the stone would hurt you.”
Garen’s eyes grew wide with surprise before he broke into a huge grin. “Oh, no, Lilibit! Don’t ever be sorry about Swoop! He’s the most wonderful thing in the world!”
Garen pulled out his stone from his pocket and for a second, Lilibit was worried that he was going to enthrall again. His smile became lax and his eyes lost focus, but then, with a visible effort, he shook his head, hard, and forced his hand back into his pocket. When he drew it out again, his hand was empty.
“Gil-Salla says that I have to stay here in the hall all day and all night, just to make sure, but by tomorrow, if I don’t enthrall again, I can go back to the Rabbit’s hogan.”
“Oh no, Garen!” For Lilibit, to be stuck inside Gil-Salla’s hall all day and all night was awful.
“It’s okay.” Garen pointed down to the objects scattered around him. “Look what’s she’s given me to do.”
Spread in piles on the ground were a half a dozen matching leather bound books and a stack of rawhide parchments. The books were blank except for where Garen had been writing in them and the parchments were etched with faded stick drawings.
“I’m transcribing the ancient chronicles into our language. See? This is the ballad of Witanya, and this one is about the Battle of Minniwacka.”
Lilibit frowned as she picked up one of the old parchments. On each page there were only twenty or thirty stick figures. “How can this be the entire story of Witanya?”
“Yeah, that’s how they used to do it. They’d do one picture to remind the storyteller about that part of the story. Then the storyteller would have to remember all the details from when he’d heard the story before, but when I’m done, anyone can pick up this book and know the entire story without hearing it first.”
Lilibit thought that, as wonderful as books were, she liked hearing Gil-Salla tell the stories better. But still, they only got one story a night. If all the stories were written dow
n, she could have a dozen stories a night.
Lilibit sprawled on the floor to watch as Garen continued. With his tiny neat handwriting, he seemed to know where the lines were even when there were no lines to be seen. At the top of the page, he would copy the pictograph, then he’d write down the story that went with it. Sometimes they’d be one paragraph per picture, sometimes one page, and sometimes there’d be a dozen pages.
“I leave space on the bottom of each page.” Garen was almost talking to himself. “This is ‘cause when I’m done with a story, I have to go over to Gil-Salla and read it to her. If I forgot anything, or got something wrong, then I can fix it there.”
Lilibit watched silently for a few minutes and then came to a blinding conclusion. “Garen! You’re writing a book!”
“Yup,” Garen nodded with a grin. “Cool, huh? Gil-Salla says there are thousands of these parchments in the Tower of Quapan, each with a story from the old history.”
“I want to write too. Can I?”
“I don’t know, Lilibit.” Garen’s brows creased as he frowned. “You’d have to ask Gil-Salla, but you have really lousy handwriting.”
“Lilibit.”
Lilibit leapt up, startled. Gil-Salla’s voice had sounded like she was right next to her, but when she looked around, there was no one nearby. She’d been so fascinated watching Garen, she’d completely forgotten about the others. Looking across the hall to hearth, she saw all three elders, watching her. The purple haze was gone. They must be done talking about her. Reluctantly, she dragged her feet as she headed over to the hearth.
“Child?” Gil-Salla didn’t sound angry so Lilibit looked up from her toes. “Why did you give that stone to Garen?”
“He asked me to,” Lilibit whispered.
Gil-Salla’s brow furrowed. “Garen asked?”
“No, not Garen. Swoop.”
“Swoop?”
“The stone.”
“I see,” said Gil-Salla.
Cohanna leaned forward. “How did Swoop tell you he wanted to go to Garen?”
“Well,” Lilibit thought for a moment, “first he buzzed. And then he said his own name over and over again. Then he sort of reached for Garen.”