“Please! Don’t hurt me!” Goibniu flung up a hand. For a long moment the girl did not move. She carefully knelt next to him and reached a tentative finger to trace his brow. Goibniu flinched at the cool touch.
“I did not believe Samuel.” She breathed. Her eyes brimmed over with wonder, not fear. Goibniu felt tears on his own cheeks as well. She would not hurt him. He lay back on the smooth boards, letting his mind be carried away in the waves of pain while the girl ran for Samuel.
Healing wounds itched. Goibniu snaked his fingers under the edge of a bandage and scratched. The girl, Hannah, would scold him for it when she changed his bandages later, but just now Goibniu didn’t care. He picked up his walking stick and continued the trek to the stream. He was still not well enough to walk so far, but thanks were long overdue.
Waterman sensed his approach and coalesced midstream. Goibniu lowered himself to sit on a rock before he spoke.
“You saved me from Fox. Thank you.”
Waterman gave a slow nod. “Fox is impulsive. I am sorry she hurt you. I am sorry my spines hurt you. I am glad you are healing.”
Goibniu studied his feet, then looked over at Waterman. “I hurt you, too.”
Waterman lifted his hands out of the water and turned the palms toward Goibniu. The flesh was peeling to reveal healthy new skin underneath. “I too am healing.”
The walking stick scraped along the ground as Goibniu’s hands fiddled with it. He studied the strange yellow face. The bulgy eyes had friendly crinkles at the corners. Goibniu’s face was just beginning to smile in response, when he sensed another spirit hurrying near. It was Fox bounding toward them at top speed. She skidded to a halt across the stream from Goibniu.
“What does it want?” Fox growled.
Waterman half turned to Fox. “He came to give thanks. This is . . .”
“Goibniu,” the Fae supplied.
Fox crouched low, ready to spring. “And when it rebuilds the wheel? What will you do then?”
Waterman did not answer. Fox shifted in satisfaction as the moment stretched.
“I have a plan about that.” Goibniu offered tentatively. The plan was half of the reason he had come. He’d thought long and hard about the problem of the wheel. He needed his mill and Waterman needed the stream. The two spirits turned to him. Fox still crouched with teeth bared, but Waterman was interested. Goibniu knew he could not expect more. “When I traveled here, I rode on a steamboat. It had a machine that used fire and water to run machines. It would only need a few buckets from your stream and it ran better than the wheel.”
Waterman dipped lower in the water to taste it. “And the men will build this?”
Goibniu looked toward the mill where Samuel was working. Samuel had been bewildered by Goibniu’s shift from make-it-work-now to let’s-take-longer-to-build-it-right. Slowly though, Samuel began to see that Goibniu was right. The steam-powered mill would be better over the long haul.
Looking back to the spirits, Goibniu simply answered “Yes.”
Waterman smiled.
Fox sat up from her crouch and flicked her ears. “It still doesn’t belong here, Waterman.” She trotted away.
Goibniu shifted on his rock. He was suddenly fatigued and dreading the walk back to the house. A splash from Waterman drew his attention.
Waterman met Goibniu’s eyes intently. “You arrived here like a pebble flung into a calm pond. When a pebble hits water, it causes ripples. The ripples bounce off each other and the water is no longer calm. But then the pebble rests on the bottom and the ripples get smaller and smaller.”
Goibniu was pinned by the intense stare. He tried to make sense of the words.
Waterman continued “Fox is right. You do not belong here.” Then Waterman smiled, his eyes crinkling. “You are just beginning to belong.”
Waterman dissolved back into the water and Goibniu was left sitting next to a burbling stream. Goibniu smiled, his fatigue gone. He looked down the stream toward the mill. It was farther than the house, but if he walked down there he could see the construction of the steam engine. Then perhaps Samuel would give him a ride back to the house. Goibniu leaned on his stick and hummed as he hobbled. This was a good place. He was going to be happy here.
THE AGE OF PIONEERS
Once the foothold on the New World was firmly established, there was only one way to expand—West. The rich land was opened to wave after wave of pioneers, who brought with them the technology, religion, and warfare of the Old World. Native populations could only withdraw before their advance. It was a time when old collided with new on a wild landscape that challenged any to survive.
A Small Sacrifice
Kristen Bonn
The Earth quivered under my hands, straining away from my sure and steady touch. Never before had I placed such a demand on her. Hill after hill folded under my hands, and when the land had been stretched to her limits, I anchored the mass with a narrow, plaited sinew.
I had worked since before the dawn. Now, in the heat of the day, my arms ached from the unaccustomed exertion. Another rivulet caressed the curve of my ribs before melding into my sweat-soaked tunic.
I pulled the final Earth-cord from my belt and knotted it through the last bone anchor. The cord was pulled so tightly I could hear a low thrum as a breeze scampered by my feet. I whispered a prayer of hope and gratitude as I sat back on my heels.
Tendrils of hair clung to my cheeks. I made a half-hearted swipe at them with the back of my wrist. The most strenuous task was done, though, I thought as I surveyed the rope work strung around me. Now there was only one thing left to do to save my people. I needed to return to camp and let the Elders know the circle was finished. We would be ready to move to our new, permanent home.
I shoved that thought aside as I staggered to my feet. Right now what I needed was water. Exhaustion propelled me to my horse and I pressed my face into her neck, inhaling the thick scent of sun-warmed horse, dust, and grass. The thought of water was the only thing that gave me the strength to mount up. As I rode home, I could see the darkening sky in the west and realized the breeze that had tickled my feet had been cool. Not a good sign.
Umpahtah met me as I rode into camp and helped me dismount. I was grateful he let me steady myself against him for a moment.
“It’s done?”
I nodded my head against his chest.
“Your grandmother has been asking for you.” He pushed a water skin into my hands. “Go be with her. I’ll let the Elders know it is time.”
As I approached the shelter, I saw her lying on the buffalo skin. I knew she was an old woman. People had started calling her Bird-Woman, more for her appearance than any affinity with feathered creatures, but her spirit was indomitable and lent her frail body the weight and presence of a much younger woman.
Now, though, she looked as if a strong gust would pick her up and carry her over the Soul Bridge. Reluctant to disturb her, I sat outside. I took a deep pull from my water skin and watched her sleep. Her breathing was erratic, as if her spirit was struggling to leave for the next world. She shouldn’t be so close to dying. It was my fault that she laid here at all.
Just yesterday, I’d sat here under the same cottonwood tree.
I was avoiding the Elders’ summons. That was about to come to an end, though, I thought to myself as I watched Umpahtah walk up the rise to meet me. I felt a twinge of irritation. I wasn’t a child who needed to be escorted to camp. I just didn’t want to go right then. And isn’t that a childish thing to think? asked the voice in my head.
“When did you become the Elder’s runner?” Guilt gave the words more bite than I intended.
Umpahtah shrugged and sat next to me. “They didn’t send me. I just thought you’d like to know what is happening.” He leaned back against the trunk.
Far enough away from camp to keep most people away, this hill had become my refuge. To the south, I could see our camp and the nearby river, a silver snake undulating in the grass under the prairie ski
es. Flanking the camp were the great mountains; snow-capped white rising to meet brilliant blue. Here, more than any other place, we were sustained by Mother Earth as we followed the Great Cycle.
“You saw Firewind return?”
“I did.” I plucked a tall blade of grass and started peeling it into strings. “Why?”
Umpahtah regarded me for a moment, then looked back toward camp. “His brother was killed by the White Man’s warriors.”
My hands stilled. “Red Deer was everything to him.”
“That’s why he is demanding the Elders ride against the settlement immediately. Not that they will agree to that.” He drew up a knee and laced his fingers around it. “He also says he knows why you and your grandmother can’t fold the land anymore.”
“What?” I jumped to my feet, gesturing at the scene before us. “Folding is what brought us to this valley again.”
Umpahtah held up his hands to placate me. “Peace, Cricket. I know you can still fold the land, but the whole tribe knows it’s taken a greater toll on you both lately.”
I looked down at the twisted blade of grass in my hands. It was true. The land had a different weight to it as we followed the Great Cycle deeper south. But that didn’t mean we’d lost our ability.
I dropped the grass and dusted off my hands. Looked like I needed to meet with the Elders after all.
“Come on, I’ll fold us back to save time.” I started to kneel on the ground.
He pulled out a braid of sinew and hair. “Don’t you need your Earth-cord?”
“Where did you get that?”
Umpahtah flushed under my glare. “I picked one out of your tent before I came, in case you needed to hurry back.”
I snatched the cord from his hand and coiled it into my pouch. “I only need Earth-cords when I anchor the land for the tribe to travel. I can walk across the folds on my own.”
His crestfallen look made me snort. “I won’t make you walk the whole way back by yourself. If you hold my hand, you can walk the folds, too.”
I knelt back to the ground. This was a simple fold. Camp was close and I could see exactly where I wanted to go. Breathing a prayer of gratitude for Mother Earth’s willingness, I released the power in my hands and felt for the anchor I had set in camp. There. The land softened in response, ready to be gathered up.
I pulled.
I screamed.
Pain lanced through my breast. The ground cried out, unable to form to my hand. The anchor slipped from my grasp and I fell to the earth.
Umpahtah was next to me in an instant. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” My voice sounded far away to my ears. “Something in camp blocked the land from folding.”
He placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Can you bring us just outside camp? Or do you need me to help you back?”
I blinked away a haze of tears. “Let me try again. There is a stand of poplar trees near camp that I should be able to use as an anchor.” Power flowed back into my hands and I reached for the roots, tugging gently at first, wary of a painful repeat. I pulled the land with great care, feeling the folds push up in front of me.
“Give me your hand,” I told him. “It will feel like you are walking on river rapids, but you cannot fall. I’ll release the earth once we get there.”
He stepped onto the folds, flashing me a grin as he found his balance. It was different when we moved the whole tribe. The Earth-cords helped the land lie flat, creating a pathway so people, supplies, and animals could move smoothly across the folds.
The Elders gathered at the edge of camp. There, surrounding the camp, were great lengths of some kind of metal. They lay on the ground, heavy and inert, as big as a warrior’s arm. I pressed my hand to one of them, half expecting another painful jolt. Instead, I was filled with a sense of otherness, of wrongness. This metal did not belong to the Earth. I had felt iron before—its brittle, unyielding surface—but this was different. Something had been added to the iron, creating a substance that would not flex and flow with Mother Earth.
“Cricket.” I looked up at my grandmother. “Walk with me.”
I wiped my hand on my tunic and followed.
It was Firewind who had brought the metal into camp. The White Man had great lengths of it, stretching across the land. Huge smoke-belching creations ran along these tracks, moving people and supplies.
“Our survival depends on following Mother Earth’s bounty. We can’t fold past it, Cricket.” Grandmother looked through me, perhaps seeing the land as it used to be. “Before we are cut off, the Elders have decided we must retreat.”
An icy pit formed in my stomach. “What do you mean, retreat? As we have moved, the White Man has followed. Where would we go that we could be safe?”
“We mean to tie off this valley, Cricket.” She took my hands in hers. “You and I will create a ring surrounding this valley while the tribe waits outside. Once the ring is stable, the tribe can move back onto the land. Then we will sever the cords that keep us tied to this world.”
“This is madness talking! Not travel the Great Cycle?” I tried to pull my hands free, but her grip was strong. “Grandmother, we could all be killed trying to retreat this way.” I decided to try a different tactic. “What did Firewind say about this decision?”
“Child, what do you think he said?” She expelled a long breath and released my hands. “He called the Elders cowards, not fit to follow in their forefather’s footsteps.”
“What did they say?”
“Firewind is free to stay with the tribe if he chooses. However, if he chooses to seek vengeance for his brother, he will need to leave.”
“He will leave, you know.”
Grandmother shrugged. “The Elders expected he would sooner or later anyway. Come, Cricket, I need help readying the Earth-cords.”
I stood fast. “What if I want to go with Firewind? What if I don’t want to be trapped here?” My heart beat like a captured bird at the daring of my words.
Her shoulders slumped. “You must do as you see fit, Granddaughter.” She entered her tent without a backward glance.
This would be an overwhelming task without my help. She didn’t have the strength and stamina to create this circle. Perhaps I could get Firewind to talk to her again, convince her to stop.
Crossing camp, I found him outside his tent, securing the last of his belongings. Every movement was anger. Maybe he wouldn’t be willing to help. Still, I had to try to save her.
“Firewind, I need you to convince my grandmother that there is some other way.”
“The Elders made it very clear, Cricket. I no longer belong to this tribe.” He tightened the strap on his pack so fiercely I thought it would break.
“Please, Firewind. I am scared for her.”
He rounded on me, but bit back his retort. Instead he gave me an unfathomable look and pushed past me, headed toward her tent.
Grandmother had laid her Earth-cords out and was checking them for damage. A pang of guilt went through me when I saw them. Her cords were so old; the sinews were brittle and fraying. They had only a few trips left before they were completely worn. How could she think she could do this? Her cords wouldn’t hold.
When she saw Firewind approach, she straightened. Disapproval pulled at her mouth.
“Your granddaughter seems to believe that I can make you change your mind.” He looked at me and shook his head. “This is crazy, Cricket. She is the one who cast me out.”
Grandmother’s voice carried quietly over his outburst. “You were offered the choice, Firewind. No one cast you out.”
“You lie!” All motion around us died away. “Ever since you decided I was not good enough to be chief and marry Cricket, you have sought out any way to remove me from the tribe.”
Chief? When had Firewind ever said anything to me about wanting the responsibility of leadership?
“A wise man understands when the risks are too great, Firewind. You ask the Elders to sacrifice the entire tr
ibe for your own personal gain.” She turned back to inspect her cords.
“My personal gain.” Firewind reminded me of the cougar he had once cornered on a ledge. Trapped and snarling, she had paced back and forth a long time before finally launching herself into the battle to her death. “You think this is about my personal gain?” He continued to advance toward my grandmother. My step back from him became my biggest mistake.
“You have denied my leadership. You have denied me my rightful bride. You have denied me my brother’s vengeance. You even think to deny me my home and tribe.” He sprang, and she crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. “There is no gain in this for me, old woman.”
Stunned, I looked into his eyes. In them I saw only madness. Into the stillness he whispered, “Make your escape now, Cricket, before she takes everything away from you, too.” And then he was gone, mounting up on the run.
The camp burst into life again. Umpahtah was at Grandmother’s side, checking her injuries. “Her ribs are broken, Cricket. We’ll have to carry her to shelter.”
“Cricket.” Her voice was thin with pain.
Umpahtah laid a hand on her arm. “It’s all right, Grandmother. She will follow us to the shelter. Don’t talk now.” He eased her onto a makeshift travois and helped carry her away.
Shock numbed my mind. The man I thought I could count on was gone. The camp was in shambles, both from his outburst and from the travel preparations. My grandmother had been attacked and lay injured, and possibly dying. How had it gone so wrong?
Her Earth-cords lay in a tangled heap at my feet. I crouched down to pick one up. So old. So tired.
Could I anchor myself to one place? When I closed my eyes, I could see this valley, spreading itself wide from the mountains. Fish and wildlife were plentiful here, as well as many of the herbs and berries we depended on. Perhaps Mother Earth could sustain us here and we would no longer need to follow the Great Cycle.
I gathered Grandmother’s Earth-cords then. They could not be used for this task. But my cords—young, strong, unblemished by years of travel—could create our new home.
Ages of Wonder Page 18