The Dove (Prophecy Series)

by Sharon Sala

  The blood continued to spread and the water was no longer churning. It was the longest ten seconds in Tyhen’s life before Yuma’s head suddenly broke the surface of the river, and when he took a huge gulp of fresh air, everyone on the shore took a breath with him. The moment he began trying to swim back to shore, Tyhen pulled away from Montford’s grasp and ran into the water after him, followed by a half-dozen men who helped her pull him out.

  ****

  Yuma believed he would die and it didn’t matter. When he’d seen the croc so close to Tyhen’s head, he reacted without thought. Warrior’s Heart, the knife Cayetano had given him, was in his hand before his feet left the ground, and when he hit the water, he landed belly down on the croc’s back. His only thought was to stay away from the crocodile’s mouth and teeth, and immediately wrapped both arms around the body while trying to get a grip strong enough to use his knife.

  The moment the croc felt the threat, it went into survival mode, thrashing and rolling while trying to unload the enemy on its back.

  Yuma’s first stab with the knife was futile. The hide was like armor, and once the croc pulled him under, he was fighting blind. Their fight had muddied the water to the point that he could not see where to strike. He just knew he could not let go. The first time the blade hit the soft flesh of the underbelly, he heard Adam’s voice.

  Again. Do it again.

  So he did, stabbing and slashing, over and over, until he realized the crocodile was sinking and taking him with it.

  Let go and swim up. Do it now!

  Yuma didn’t know what was up and what was down, so when he pushed off and began to swim, he could only hope it was in the right direction because he was out of air.

  When he broke the surface and took a first desperate breath, he was only seconds from passing out. He kept gasping and blinking, trying to clear his vision and get enough oxygen in his lungs to move. Everything was a blur until he turned toward shore. He recognized Tyhen by her height and dark hair, and the fact that she was running into the water after him. He didn’t remember swimming, only that he felt her hands pulling him toward shore.

  When they finally pulled him to dry land, he was belly down, but the moment they turned him loose, Tyhen rolled him over onto his back.

  “Breathe, Yuma, breathe!” she kept saying.

  He was doing his best, still gasping for air, too exhausted to speak. His eyes were closed and he didn’t know until she took it from him that he was still gripping the knife he’d used for the kill.

  The moment Tyhen saw the deep, bloody scratch down the middle of his chest, she groaned.

  “He’s been hurt,” she said and looked over her shoulder at the gathering crowd. “Someone bring medicine.”

  A healer quickly came forward, holding a small bag with medicines.

  “Let me, little Dove,” the man said and began cleaning the wound. When he was satisfied he’d removed all the debris, he spread an ointment down the length of the cut.

  Tyhen was on her knees at his side, unaware she was crying. She was angry with herself, for the carelessness that had nearly gotten him killed. She might be Windwalker’s daughter, but living in the palace under guard had left her naïve to the jungle’s dangers.

  As soon as the people realized Yuma was going to be all right, they began to disperse.

  Montford touched Tyhen’s shoulder.

  She looked up.

  “Do you have more need of me?” he asked.

  “Not now,” she said.

  He nodded and started to walk away when she called him back. “Montford?”

  He turned.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He smiled and nodded.

  They had weathered their first danger on the first day of the journey and everyone was still breathing. Today she would ask for nothing more.

  Then she felt Yuma’s hand on her arm and her focus shifted. His eyes were open and he was looking at her.

  “You saved my life,” Tyhen said softly.

  He wiped a shaky hand across his face. “When I saw that crocodile surface only feet away from your head, you took a year off of mine.”

  She laid a hand on his chest, taking heart that she could still feel the blood coursing through his body.

  “I am not wise in the ways I should be. I have been too sheltered.”

  “This trip will make you tough and wise. If I live long enough,” he added and managed a weak grin.

  She rocked back on her heels. “You are making a joke? I was afraid that you would die because of me and you are making a joke?”

  He heard the anger in her voice. “Is this then one of those times when you want me to cry with you?”

  She frowned. “No, but—”

  “Then will you laugh with me, instead?” he countered.

  She stood, towering over him with her hands on her hips, her dark eyes glaring. “You make me crazy.”

  Yuma slid his knife back into the scabbard then held out his hand. “Help me up.”

  “I should let you lie where I dropped you,” she muttered.

  “But you won’t because you love me and because it would appear to those around us that you do not appreciate your life enough to thank me for saving it.”

  Stunned into momentary silence, she sighed then thrust out her hand. When he clasped it, she pulled him up.

  Now that he was standing before her with the blood still seeping from the wound upon his chest, she turned her back to the people around them and closed her eyes.

  Yuma saw the tears seeping out from beneath her dark lashes and said nothing, but when she reached blindly for his hand, he took it and lifted it to his lips.

  Tyhen felt the kiss, and at the same time felt the rapid race of his heartbeat. She’d scared him, too.

  “I am so sorry,” she said softly.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You know how that hurts my heart.”

  She looked up at him through tears and then quickly wiped them away. “Come sit with me. We will rest a little more before we leave this place.”

  He let her lead him through the crowd, accepting their praise without anything more than a nod or a smile. He hadn’t done it for praise. He’d done it for her.

  Brother. Are you okay?

  Hearing Adam’s voice was almost as good as having the twins with them.

  Yes. Thanks to you, I am okay.

  I only said what you needed to hear. I did not fight that beast. That was you. You are the hero, the Eagle who protects the Dove.

  ****

  Naaki Chava was so silent it already felt dead. Ever since Tyhen and the New Ones’ departure that morning, the people stayed close to their homes. The marketplace had not opened and the few people who’d come out moved through the streets as if they were doing something wrong.

  Singing Bird heard the servants talking, but she paid them no mind. There were things that had to be done. There was food ready to harvest that needed to be gathered. There was maize stored for grinding, and corn drying as well. Both had to be ground for flour, and many tasks to ready for their own exit from the city. She set people at those tasks and then began sorting through the things in the palace kitchen. They didn’t need gold or silver to serve their food and began packing only the necessary things to cook with, leaving everything ornate and ceremonial behind.

  She saw the twins only a short time after their midday meal and asked one question. “Are they well?”

  They nodded, purposefully omitting the fact her daughter had come close to being croc bait the first day.

  “Good. When you dream of the mountain again, you will tell me.”

  That was no question; it was an order, and they quickly nodded again. After that she was gone.

  Cayetano was on his own quest to getting ready. He had copies of the maps the New Ones had given him relating to where they were now, and how far they would travel to reach what had been labeled on the map as South America. He didn’t know the words or what they meant, only that
it was a destination they needed to reach.

  He ordered the cart makers to make new carts so the people would have a way to take what they needed with them and had his warriors repairing any of the weapons that needed care. They were leaving familiar territory, and even though the word had spread that tribes were not to war with each other or take prisoners and turn them into slaves, there was no way to assume that would be honored.

  The New Ones who’d stayed behind were making sure to leave room in their carts for needed building tools as well as the books Singing Bird had made. Some of the people were busy building little cages to take their chickens the traders had introduced in the city. No one wanted to leave them behind. While the sun was still new, they began killing the tapirs they were raising, which moved to the arduous task of smoking all the meat so it would not spoil on their long trek to a new location. It was serious business quitting home, even if the mountain above them was an enemy they could not defeat.

  By the time the sun was setting and the torches were being lit, they’d put a good dent into the big job that lay ahead.

  Cayetano walked into their room just after sunset and found Singing Bird sitting on a bench beneath one of the burning lights. Tiny winged insects were flying around the fire, drawn to the light in spite of the flame.

  She was doing something with leather that he’d never seen her do before and slid onto the bench beside her to watch.

  “What is this you do?” he asked.

  “I am making moccasins. They will protect our feet far better than the sandals.”

  “In the jungle, we have no need of this,” Cayetano said.

  “That is here. Do we know what the land is like where we go? Do we know if there are thorns growing on the ground? Do we know if the rocks are so sharp they’ll cut our feet?”

  “No.”

  “Then I am preparing for the unknown,” she said softly and knelt at his feet to test the size of the ones she was making against the size of his foot. “Good. It will fit.”

  “How do you know to do this?” he asked.

  “Layla Birdsong’s grandmother taught her.”

  He thought about frowning at the mention of the past and then changed his mind and touched the supple feel of the tanned skin instead.

  “This is soft,” he said.

  “But strong, very strong,” she added.

  He smiled then pulled her up from the floor and into his lap. “Do we have food to eat here?”

  She pointed to the table.

  “Do you want to eat now or after we make love?”

  She stood up, untied the shift she was wearing and let it fall around her feet.

  Cayetano grunted, and then picked her up and carried her to their bed.

  ****

  Adam and Evan were at a loss. They felt the absence of Yuma and Tyhen as physically as if they’d been punched.

  “Brother, do you hurt in your chest?” Evan asked.

  “Yes,” Adam said and rubbed it with the flat of his hand as he looked away.

  All of their lives, the only bond they had was to each other, and neither of them had ever lost someone they cared for until now, so feeling emotion was as uncomfortable as a sharp pebble beneath their feet.

  Evan was uneasy. “What do you think is wrong? Do you think we are becoming ill? Do you think that we might die?”

  Adam sighed. “Nothing is wrong. I think we are sad.”

  Evan’s eyes widened. “We don’t do sad.”

  Adam glanced at him and then picked up a banana. “Maybe we never had anyone to feel sad about before.”

  “I don’t like sad,” Evan said.

  Adam sighed. “I don’t either, but I think Yuma and Tyhen feel the same way, so we should not complain.”

  Evan took the banana from his brother’s hand, peeled it, broke it in half, and gave one piece to Adam. Contemplating sad made him hungry.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Yuma had no idea how far they’d walked their first day, but by the time they reached a place safe enough for such a large group to gather and bed down, people were so tired they weren’t talking. When their little shelters went up, the place looked like a miniature city. Some built fires to cook flat bread on hot rocks while others chose to eat from the food that they’d packed. The New Ones had already organized a guarding system into shifts, and while the majority of the people finally crawled into their tents to sleep, others stood guard around the perimeter. Whether it was a hungry jaguar, or an outlaw tribe out looking for trouble, they would be ready.

  Tyhen watched several people putting up their tents and then pulled theirs out of the pack and set it up by herself. Soon, she had a fire going, too. It wasn’t cold, but the fire kept insects and predators at bay, not to mention the dark. The moon was new, barely a sliver in the sky and shedding next to no light on the world below.

  Hearing jungle sounds around Naaki Chava at night had been common, but they’d always had the protection of the city and their numbers for safety. Now the screams of big cats on the hunt and the death squeals of their prey were unnerving. The only things they still had going for them were their vast numbers and the guards.

  Tyhen stood at the edge of their fire and looked out across the area. She had wondered why the New Ones had purposefully moved her and Yuma to the middle of the encampment, but now she could see why. They had all put themselves at risk to keep her safe. Protect her at all cost or this journey was for nothing.

  She caught movement from the corner of her eye and saw Yuma heading straight toward her. She couldn’t imagine how he had found her when everything looked alike, but she was glad he was back. She didn’t know he’d only been a few tents away and had eyes on her the entire time.

  Upon arrival, he eyed the tent, the fire, and then her.

  She stood a little straighter as if waiting for judgment.

  He smiled at her and she started talking too fast because she was afraid it was all wrong, but hoping she’d done a good job.

  “Yes, I did all this by myself. I’m ignorant of the jungle, but I’m not helpless. Come sit with me by the fire or the mosquitoes will bite.”

  “Shirley Nantay sent you fresh bread,” he said and handed her a piece.

  She took a quick bite, grateful for the warm food as she eyed the cut down the middle of his chest.

  “Does that hurt?” she asked.

  “Not much.”

  Her hands were shaking as she handed him a piece of jerky and a banana, then took another bite of the bread.

  “How about you?” he asked. “How do you feel after a day like today?”

  When she looked up him over the fire, the blaze reflected in her eyes, and for a few seconds he thought of Firewalker and how far he’d come from Tahlequah, Oklahoma.

  “How do I feel? Thankful you are alive and grateful for the hot bread and Johnston Nantay’s jerky,” she said.

  He nodded. Tonight was a night for being grateful for many things, not the least of which was that Tyhen’s head was still on her shoulders.

  He finished his food and began banking the fire as Tyhen packed up what was left and crawled into the little tent.

  Inside, it was barely big enough for two adults to sleep in, but it was animal hide and waterproof, and there was a large sleeping mat that fit perfectly inside the structure so that they would not be lying on the ground.

  He crawled in behind her, using the glow from the embers of their fire to see his way. She was already curled up on her side, watching him.

  “Lay down so that your wound is away from my body,” she said softly. “I will lay behind you.”

  He didn’t argue. There was no way he’d be able to sleep with any friction against his chest at least for a couple of days.

  He did as she asked, and then sighed with satisfaction as she aligned herself with the curve of his body and slid her arm around his waist. He found her hand and clutched it close against his belly.

  “Sleep well, my love. Tomorrow is a new day,” he s
aid.

  Her fingers curled around his wrist. “Yuma?”

  “What?”

  “I will never put you in danger again.”

  “You can’t make that promise. We don’t know what lies ahead of us. All we can do is the best that we know how and that will be enough.”

  She didn’t answer and he didn’t push for one. Exhausted by the events of the day, they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  ****

  It was the third day since their exit from Naaki Chava and there was a distinct attitude shift in everyone with regard to acceptance of their lot, even an eagerness to see what lay ahead. They’d been climbing in altitude since early that morning, anxious to get over this latest mountain that stood in their path, and it was the sudden absence of sound that first alerted Yuma something was wrong. He started to mention it to Tyhen, then saw her motionless by a tree just a few feet ahead of him. Her head was cocked slightly to one side, and he could tell she was listening.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  Her expression was just short of horror.

  “Earthquake, Yuma. There’s going to be an earthquake. We need to get everyone off this mountain.”

  Before she could sound the alarm, a loud boom rocked the jungle so loud that all the birds took to the air, so many it momentarily blotted out the sun. At the same time, Tyhen felt the first earthly shudder beneath her feet.

  Yuma grabbed her hand as people all around them began scrambling.

  “What do we do?” she cried.

  “We should be out in the open, but that’s not going to happen. Grab a tree and hold on.”

  The roar that followed the boom sounded like an avalanche as the ground began to shake. People were screaming; some were crying, but they’d all had the presence of mind to grab for the trees to stabilize their footing.

  Tyhen had a death grip on a tree and Yuma had his arms around her, but when a large limb broke off above them and came crashing down beside them, she lost her hold and was tossed to the ground. Before she could panic, Yuma yanked her up and pinned her up against the tree.