Black Eagle

by Karen Kay

“He rode away on one of the horses. But before he left, I was able to secure this.” She held up a musket.

  “Do you know how to use it?”

  She nodded. “Sarah does too.”

  His glance took in the fact that within Sarah’s grasp was a pistol. “Both of you,” he ordered beneath his breath, “move back behind me. Stay down. Fire only if you have a good shot. Otherwise do no more than watch. If I go down, do not fight the enemy. Yield to them. It is doubtful that they will kill you. Do you understand? Do nothing.”

  Nodding, the women backed away.

  Meanwhile, the canoe slid silently to shore. The warriors disembarked cautiously, keeping themselves low. Slowly, quietly, they brought their canoe inland, anchoring it on the rocks lining the shore.

  Stepping onto the ground, one of the warriors bent down, examining the tracks over the rocks. Another warrior crept forward toward the bushes, where Black Eagle and the women were hiding. The two other warriors were sneaking toward the item that had gained their attention: the silver dish.

  Black Eagle waited until the warrior who was stealing toward the bushes was almost upon him. Then crying out, he jumped up, the savage attack and the element of surprise in his favor. The ploy worked, but only for a fraction of a second. Still it was enough. Black Eagle thrust his tomahawk into the warrior’s neck.

  However, with the first war cry, the three other warriors went instantly into action. Black Eagle had known that they would, and he was ready for them. With musket in his left hand, he fired a shot toward one of them. An almost instant scream and another warrior hit the ground.

  Without thought, Black Eagle shot forward toward the other two. They, however, were prepared with muskets ready.

  What they didn’t know was that women were hiding in the bushes. One of the women fired. It was a good shot, carefully aimed, and another one of the warriors fell.

  Black Eagle didn’t wait to see if the shot had killed or wounded the man who went down. Instead he hurled himself toward the remaining warrior. The Ottawa was ready for him and thrust out with his tomahawk. It was a deadly joust, but Black Eagle had expected it, and he threw himself down, turning a somersault underneath the man’s arm. After coming up onto his feet on the other side of the man, Black Eagle stood momentarily back to back against the Ottawa, and with a skilled hand, Black Eagle rammed his tomahawk into his opponent’s leg. The warrior was thrown off balance. Turning swiftly, Black Eagle finished the job and slammed his hatchet into the warrior’s arm, disabling the man.

  But still the Ottawa was standing, and taking hold of his tomahawk, Black Eagle dealt the man a clean blow to his chest. The Ottawa went down.

  Not wasting an instant, Black Eagle shouted to the women, “Come!” He pointed toward the lake. “Their friends have come back to investigate. Hurry to the canoe. We’ll take our chances on the water.”

  Both women came instantly to their feet, and shooting out of the bushes, they made a line to the canoe. Black Eagle had already set the canoe out into the lake, and the women hurriedly splashed toward it.

  Once he was waist-deep in the water, he shouted, “Get in. Pick up a paddle.”

  Already, shots from the oncoming canoe were hitting the water around them, their barrage a deadly reminder of what was to be if they didn’t escape. The women had attained their seat in the boat and were picking up paddles, when Thompson suddenly splashed into the water. After pulling himself up alongside the canoe, he plopped himself into it and picked up a paddle.

  “Let’s get out of here!” he yelled, and Black Eagle didn’t argue. After hoisting himself into the boat and settling his paddle into the water, Black Eagle guided them into the deepest part of the lake, heading west, toward the rapids.

  It was their only possible advantage. They were already outnumbered, the two men against the four of the enemy, two French and two Ottawa warriors. Worse, Thompson was an obvious traitor whose actions could not be trusted. Still, it was Thompson’s neck as well as their own.

  Black Eagle’s plan was a risk. He was counting on the fact that the French might not follow them into the rapids, it being well known that only a fool, or one with no other choice, would deliberately seek out mountain-high waterfalls, which with its deadly rocks awaiting, spoke of an untimely end.

  “Faster!”

  Arrows, aimed at them, hit the water beside them. Seeing them, Black Eagle wondered if this spoke of a possible advantage. Was their powder wet? Was that why they were using arrows and not firing on them?

  “Faster!” he yelled again.

  They had almost gained the passage to the rapids. Meanwhile the other canoe was speeding up on them, and it was a test to see which would come first: the watery death on the rapids, or death at the sure hand of the Ottawa.

  There was no going back. The current took hold of them, pushing them on at an ever faster and faster rate toward what had to be a waterfall.

  It was a double-edged sword. What was taking them away from their enemy held a certain death as well.

  Black Eagle chanced a look over his shoulder. The French and Ottawa were turning back, paddling toward the southern shore. It was surely a truth that if the falls didn’t kill them, the Ottawa, tracking them, would.

  Their only likelihood of survival was to paddle to the opposite shoreline and then run. Run for their lives.

  Black Eagle set the canoe toward the northern shoreline, but the currents pulled him back.

  “Damn!” he muttered, using the English curse word. With all his strength, he set his paddle in the water and headed again toward the northern shoreline. But he had no more than set his course, when an unseen eddy took hold of their canoe and swung them round.

  Suddenly another unforeseen force made itself felt upon them. The canoe rocked back and forth unnaturally. Black Eagle, looking back over his shoulder, beheld Thompson, who had taken advantage of Black Eagle’s inattention to the women and had come up onto his knees and taken hold of Ahweyoh, battling with her, attempting to throw her out of the boat and into the lethal undercurrents of the eddy.

  Marisa was screaming and fighting; Sarah was yelling and beating on Thompson, but it was all for naught. Thompson was too strong.

  Black Eagle faced around, and keeping low, surged back toward the struggle to confront Thompson.

  Let the traitor do battle with someone not quite so weak, thought Black Eagle.

  Thompson was big. He was vigorous and tough. But Black Eagle was more determined. He was also in the right.

  The two men wrestled. Thompson raised a knife. Black Eagle blocked his hand, lifting Thompson’s arm high in the air. Both came to their feet, even though the canoe lurched precariously against the currents.

  Their skirmish pitched the canoe out of the eddy, but only into the rushing stream of the currents, washing them steadily toward an even deadlier end. Mountain-high falls awaited.

  Thompson launched out at Black Eagle, socking him in the jaw. Black Eagle was sent backward, but he recovered. He shot forward and caught hold of Thompson’s arm, raising it again high in the air.

  Both men fell down into the canoe. Thompson looked up, and Black Eagle glimpsed the horror on Thompson’s face. Without further pretense at continuing the fight, Thompson let go of Black Eagle and dived over the edge of the canoe, disappearing into the water.

  Black Eagle, still in the throes of battle, felt urged to do the same and take their battle into the water’s fatal depths, but with a quick look about him, sanity returned. There were women here to protect.

  Glancing forward, he too experienced Thompson’s terror. Their boat was on a one-way path to the falls.

  This was it. They were doomed.

  Black Eagle gazed at Marisa with all the love and admiration in his heart. If this were to be his last moment on this earth, he would shower her with adoration by looks alone. As her look mirrored his, he knew a flee
ting glimmer of happiness.

  Ripping his glance away from hers and scanning forward, he saw an earthly structure that both he and Thompson had missed previously. It might give them a chance.

  “Take Sarah’s arm!” he yelled. “Don’t let go!”

  Marisa instantly took hold of Sarah.

  With his left hand, Black Eagle grasped Marisa’s arm with all his might. “Hold tight to me. Use all your strength. Use everything in you, but don’t let go!”

  Marisa nodded.

  Their boat, caught in the currents, tipped over the edge of the falls. But there was a branch—a sturdy oak branch—extending over the falls. It was a risk, but if he could gain a grip on it with his arm…

  Using his right arm, he grabbed hold of the branch as their canoe carried them past it. It worked; he held on with the crook of his arm. The force of the movement swung both Marisa and Sarah up and out, but Black Eagle held on tight. However, there they hung, delicately balanced, he holding Ahweyoh, and Ahweyoh clutching at Sarah.

  Glancing toward shore, Black Eagle used the momentum of the natural force of their swing to aim them back there. It wasn’t that far away.

  “Hold tight! I’m going to swing you both to shore.”

  “I can’t keep hold! It’s too slippery!” Sarah yelled, crying.

  “Nyoh, you can. You must!”

  “I’m trying to, but—”

  “She’s slipping away from me!”

  “I’ve got you,” he yelled at her. “Keep hold. Keep hold!” Though he was swinging them with every ounce of strength he possessed, Sarah’s grip was failing. He could see it happening.

  But Marisa wouldn’t let go. “Sarah!”

  With a deafening scream, Sarah fell, and Marisa, casting a fated look up at Black Eagle, let her grip on Black Eagle’s arm slacken, but maintained her hold of Sarah. Black Eagle reached down to tighten his grip on Marisa, but it was too late. She had already let go of him, her screams echoing in his ears.

  They were gone. Gone, into the sheet of water that was the falls. Not willing to assign them to their fate without his possible aid, Black Eagle, resigned, let go of the tree limb. Whatever their destiny might be, so too would it be his own.

  Somewhere between plummeting down the length of the falls and into the water, Sarah’s hand became separated from Marisa’s. Had they not become dislodged during the fall, the force of the impact with the water would have accomplished it.

  “Sarah!”

  “Marisa!”

  They hit the water and sank down, down, down. Underwater, Marisa watched helplessly as Sarah became caught up in an undercurrent, and before she could reach out to save her, Sarah was swept away. The tow didn’t take hold of Marisa, and she struggled to rise to the water’s surface. There was one good condition, however, and perhaps only the one. Due to the recent rain, there had been deep, deep water between them and any sharp rocks awaiting them beneath the falls, thank the good Lord. But the undertow was another force altogether.

  She fought it, afraid if she let it take her, there would be no hope for her at all. Her lungs were aching and her head was pounding as she used all her might to rise to the surface. She was almost there, and she reached upward, at last emerging. She gulped in air as though it were a feast. But she had no more than caught her breath when the water again took her in its strength and swept her away, forcing her under. Briefly she rose again, then back down, over and over.

  Had she been able, she would have cried out. But she couldn’t. She could only go with the tow and catch her breath when possible. It seemed a hopeless struggle.

  Still, she hung on, if only in the belief that, somehow, somewhere, she might find and save Sarah. It was all that kept her alive.

  Black Eagle plunged down deep into the water. The undertow tried to take hold of him, but he defied it with raw strength and determination, and fighting to the surface with all the power of his physique, he surfaced, immediately reaching out to find a grip on something solid, be that a shoreline or a rock.

  Within moments, he’d knocked up against a round rock, but it was too slippery to cling to, and he washed on by it.

  The next obstacle was again a rock, but it was too big and too sharp to grasp on to. Looking ahead, he saw a flat surface within his range—if he could but steer himself toward it. Perhaps he could push himself up onto it.

  He kicked his legs, his arms stretching forward, and he fought and pushed his way stubbornly toward it. At last, his effort paid off and he grabbed hold of the rock’s surface.

  The rapids defied him, as if their power was trying to sweep him back into their watery grave, but he withstood their force. Utilizing every muscle fiber in his arms, he pulled himself up onto the rock’s wet surface, until at last it was done. Lying down full face, he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, and then he struggled to his feet. There was no time to rest. Not only did he have to find Marisa, he must avoid the enemy, who would even now be searching for them.

  Looking back over the raging water, he examined its surface for a sign of her. Nothing. He jumped to another rock situated farther along the water’s path, his eyes scanning, exploring over the water’s surface.

  What was that? Was it something coral? Could it be her dress? There it was again. Was it the auburn color of her tresses?

  A closer look revealed Ahweyoh’s body, as it twisted and plunged along with the current. He’d found her.

  Never taking his eyes off her, he sprinted over the rocks, jumping from one to another, testing his speed against the impending death of the rapids. If he could outdistance the current and land on one of the rocks that lay farther out, into the force of the water, he could reach out for her as she swept by him.

  Mustering all his strength, he shot forward, flying toward another rock. He landed, slipped, righted himself, got his foothold, and turning back, he leaned down into the rapids. A fraction of a second later and he would have missed her. As it was, he had no more than spread out his arms into the water than it tossed her toward him. Stretching, he grabbed hold of her with both hands and kept hold of her, despite the force of the water pounding against him, urging him to let go.

  “Ahweyoh! Grab hold of me.”

  But there was no response from her.

  With one gigantic pull, he hauled her up onto the rock, quickly turning her over to check for a pulse rate or evidence of her breathing. He could find none.

  He turned her over and pummeled on her back to rid her of any water in her lungs. But she still wasn’t breathing. Desperately, he turned her over, cleared her mouth of any particles and blew into it. He waited, then repeated the entire procedure, blowing life-giving breath into her.

  It took longer than he liked to consider, but at last, and all at once, she coughed up water, and struggling upward, she drew air into her lungs. He sat back, watching as she labored to find her breath. But finally, the worst was over. Her chest began to rise and fall rhythmically and easily.

  Only then did he sit back on his heels; only then did he realize that tears were streaking down his face.

  She is alive. She is alive.

  He pulled her into his arms, and with his lips, he paid tribute to her. He kissed her everywhere, from the top of her head, down to her forehead, to her eyes, her nose, her cheeks.

  “You’re alive!”

  She laughed. Better yet, she was able to speak. “Yes. I seem to be.”

  “Come.” He picked her up in his arms and carried her away from the rapids and onto the solidity of the rocky shoreline. Seemingly content to let him do the work, she wound her arms around his shoulders, and he thought he might never feel anything quite so wonderful as her body against his.

  He set her beneath a large maple tree. There was no grass here, only rock, mud and sand, but after their disaster in the water, it seemed as pristine as a sanctuary.

  �
��I think I died a little,” he said, as he knelt in front of her, “when you let go of my hand.”

  “I think I died a little too. Did you find Sarah?”

  He shook his head.

  “Please, will you go and find her?”

  He nodded. “But we are not safe here. You are not safe here. Even now the enemy looks for us. The enemy has only to go to a place where the crossing is easier and backtrack to find us.”

  “But surely they’ll think we died. And it could have been true. We almost did.”

  He shook his head. “They will look for our bodies, and when they do not find them, they will come after us. Be assured, I have killed their friends, and they will not rest until they find me and exact their revenge.”

  “Then I’ll come with you. I must find Sarah.”

  “And can you walk?”

  “I will make myself do so.”

  “No,” he said after a moment. “It will be faster if I search for her while you stay here and catch your breath. I will return.”

  On this point she didn’t argue, and he thought that this all by itself was quite telling. She simply nodded. “Please find her.”

  He agreed, and proffering her a knife, he instructed, “Use it if you have to.”

  “I will,” she said, and with one final look at her, he rose and sprinted away, following the direction of the rapids. With any luck, he would find Sarah.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sun was a low, pinkish-orange orb in the sky, announcing its departure from the day in glorious streaks of multicolored sunlight. Shafts of light, streaming from the clouds, beamed down to the earth, looking as though heaven itself smiled kindly upon the land. And what a magnificent land it was. The birch trees were yellow, the maples red, and the oaks announced their descent into a long, winter sleep with oranges and golds. The hills were alive with autumn color, while the air was filled with the rich, musky scent of falling leaves.

  Into this world of beauty came the delicate and pale figure of a woman, looking as though she had been plopped down on a large, flat rock. To a casual eye, it might have appeared like she was engaged in nothing as untoward as taking in the sun. However, closer inspection would have shown she had only recently been washed to shore.