"Let me show you how I feel. Do you think you are pregnant yet?"
His question caught her by surprise. "Would that please you?"
"Yes. Come here and let's see about starting that family."
* * * *
The morning star was visible when the shout woke them. Melodi and Darien rushed to the clearing and stopped short at the sight before them. One of the sentries, Quiet Beaver, stood by the central fire pit. In his arms was the body of the old shaman, dead. What shocked Melodi and Darien more than the death of the old man was the mutilated form of the bald eagle he held in his death grip.
Darien reached the young brave at the same time as Fleet of Foot.
"Where did you find him?" Fleet of Foot demanded as he helped lay the body of his friend on the ground.
"By the fire of the traitor," Quiet Beaver said. His voice quivered with venom though his face showed no emotion. "He cradled this once mighty eagle in his arms as he lay bleeding to death. I couldn't save him, I was too late. But, I saw the path the traitor and his murdering band took."
"You will show us. First we must send our friend's spirit to the other world where he will sit and watch over us." Fleet of Foot's voice was filled with sadness, his shoulders bowed at this loss. Melodi saw for the first time her father's mortality as he grieved in silence.
Darien stepped forward and gently removed the eagle from the shaman's claw-like grasp. "I must honor the spirit of this old friend as you care for your shaman. After that, I will join you in the hunt."
"We must have a spiritual guide for our people," Fleet of Foot said to him. "Will you be that guide, Walks With The Wind? Without one, we may inadvertently dishonor our land and our gods. Stay with us, we need you now."
A single tear fell onto Darien's cheek as he shook his head. He had no answer. His heart was heavy even as the eagle's weight seemed insignificant. He had no doubt that Young Buck had killed the bird. The feathered arrow shank that stuck out from the bird's chest pointed to the Iroquois brave like an accusing finger. Darien would exact his revenge then return to where he belonged with Melodi. His prayers rose to the sky in hopes that Grandfather Larkfeather's spirit had escaped before the arrow struck.
"I will return," he informed the sad group, and turned to walk away. After a moment he heard Melodi following him. He blessed her company. Hers was the only face he could stand right now.
He walked for what seemed like hours though the sun had moved less than a hand's width across the sky when he came to a stop. Why here? It didn't really matter. His one desire was to honor his guide and mentor then finish his work with Young Buck. They were in the glade where he and Little Raccoon had first felt the presence of Young Buck.
Near the boulder in the middle of the clearing, Darien set the eagle's body gently down. He found a sharp pointed stick and began to dig. Melodi knew the burial customs of these people, but a fragment of Walks With The Wind's memory served better than scholarship in this instance. He knew his instincts were correct when he finished digging.
"Red ocher is sacred to many ancient people," Melodi said. Her hands were the color of blood from the red clay she'd used to draw lines and patterns over the eagle's broken body. "We have nothing of his to bury with him."
Darien placed the body in the deep hole and added a small sack from around his neck. "This talisman was given to me by the shaman of my tribe when I began this vision quest." His voice took on a ceremonial singsong tone as he spoke. "I have nothing to offer the spirit of the eagle except my honor and a small gift."
He took his reed flute from his waist pouch. The melody he played was haunting and unknown to Melodi or to Little Raccoon. Tears flowed down the sharp planes of Darien's face as he made the simple instrument cry and moan his grief. In the end, as the song flew toward the sky on a lighter, airier flow of notes, his tears dried. The last note ended on the faint scream of an eagle fading into the distance.
In silence they shared the task of covering the grave, first with dirt then mounding rocks over it to prevent predators from digging up the body. As they rose, Darien felt a fire burn in his gut. Revenge raged through him like an unquenched thirst. He trembled with the intensity of his emotions. Melodi's touch steadied him; her words fell like cold water on his head.
"He would not condone what you're thinking. That would make you as bad as Young Buck." Her gentle voice, though touched with sadness, was colored with strength.
"I know." The urge to fight and kill seeped out of his clenched fists. "Somehow Young Buck must be held accountable."
"We should leave it to Fleet of Foot and the elders. They are the ones most damaged by these events."
"You think we should just stand back -- forget it? I can't do that. He kidnapped you, probably hurt you more than you've let on. He killed his own uncle and spiritual leader of your village. He killed the only clear and good-hearted spirit I have ever known. How can you detach yourself?" Darien let his hurt and anger flow into his words, though he knew she was right. Without Grandfather's spirit, how would they finish what they'd been sent back here to do?
"Let us --"
Wild war whoops interrupted Melodi. The sounds came from the direction of the village. Young Buck had taken advantage of the villagers' mourning to attack.
Darien grabbed Melodi by the hand and ran in the direction of the noise. As they got closer, he slowed to a crouching walk. The flame of violence glowed in him, but Melodi's presence gave him pause. He wouldn't put her at risk again.
They arrived at the edge of the village clearing in time to see Fleet of Foot lead a counter attack. Darien realized that Fleet of Foot had foreseen this eventuality and prepared for it. Little Raccoon's people fought well and with discipline. They formed a wedge between the attacking Iroquois and the older women and children. Everyone who was able held a flint tipped lance. Dancing Feet now put his restless nature to good use by whipping rocks from his sling in rapid, deadly fashion.
By the time Darien realized there was little he could do to help, the entire population of the village had melted into the forest on the opposite side of the clearing. Stones and short lances continued to fly from that direction, providing an effective reason for the attackers to keep from following.
The numbers of the attacking party were decimated. Darien counted seven bloodied bodies, all wearing Iroquois war paint, sprawled in varying degrees of injury over the ground. Only Young Buck and two others appeared unharmed. From their hiding place, Darien saw the fever of insanity touch Young Buck's face as he gave the order.
"Burn everything!"
Chapter Twenty-four
Melodi put her hand over her mouth to keep her cries of horror from being heard. They watched as the flames licked at the wigwams until the blaze threatened their hiding place. It was time to go.
"They're safe," she whispered. "Darien do you see what has happened?"
"Yeah, they just burned down your village and drove your people into the forest."
"No, not that. Don't you understand? This was part of my dreaming, my looks into the past that were brought about by the tune."
"Are you saying that you knew this would happen?"
"In a way, but in my visions, there was no warning. Everyone died. I watched them capture my sister, Darien. They took my father's scalp and then found us."
The truth dawned. "You mean we came in time?" His voice filled with wonder. "This was the moment in time we came to change? Instead of the mass murder of these people, we prevented it?"
"Yes, yes. And Darien, Grandfather sacrificed himself to save us. Otherwise we would have been in the village during the attack. Young Buck would have singled out the two of us."
"It makes sense. Now what do we do? I thought we'd be returned once we fulfilled our mission, but we're still here."
"I don't know. But it might be a good idea to get further away from here.
"You're right. Is there a place known as a gathering ground?" Darien asked as they moved out of earshot of the marauders
.
"Yes, they will head for a secluded beach across the lake. If we take a canoe, we'll get there first."
"A canoe?"
"Yes, come. I know where one is hidden for just such an emergency."
They emerged several hundred yards down the shore from the smoking village. The pall of burning matched the pewter sky that heralded a storm moving over the outlying hills. They saw signs of flame and smoke closer to the water. The village canoes must have been set ablaze as well.
Melodi began pulling loose bushes and stones until she unearthed a small, deerhide canoe. It was just big enough to hold the two of them. Carved cedar paddles came next.
"Shouldn't we wait for the cover of darkness?" Melodi had to raise her voice to be heard above the rising wind.
"No, this will ride so close to the water that they would have to be looking at just the right spot to see us. We'll blend in with the waves. They're too busy right now to be looking for us."
He was right, of course. Even so, deep uneasiness gripped her as she took her place in the unsteady craft. The storm sprang upon them with unearthly speed. The wind pushed at the small canoe, at times spinning it in circles on the surface of the lake. They hadn't gone far, fighting wind and waves with each stroke of the paddles, when she chanced to glance back. A white birchbark canoe shone like a beacon on the water behind them.
"We're being followed," she shouted to Darien who sat in front of her. When he didn't respond, she realized that the wind was whipping her words away from him. She tugged on his arm and pointed. His eyes squinted. He paddled harder.
The sky had a greenish glow to it. The wind-ravaged waves took them further from their destination until Melodi heard Darien shout, "We'll never make it from here. Let's concentrate on keeping upright and find our way back to shore."
"What about him?" Melodi pointed to their pursuer.
"Let's worry about not drowning first. Maybe that lake monster will take care of him."
Melodi couldn't help but smile at that as she concentrated her efforts on helping Darien keep the little skin boat turned into the waves.
The sky was so dark now that it seemed they were encased in a bowl of deepening gray. Dove-colored water flecked with faint shoots of white foam was covered by a bowl of ashen sky. Visibility diminished to yards. The only thing visible besides Darien in front of her, was the white canoe racing behind.
Melodi lost all sense of direction as the buffeting wind and waves, now accompanied by driving rain, forced her to focus on this small piece of reality.
When it seemed as if her arms would drop off from fighting the elements she saw jagged rocks ahead.
Before she had a chance to react, Darien flung himself out of the canoe and dragged it onto the rocky shore. She recognized a stunted tree and the shape of the rocks. This was Paradise Island. Loons and ducks nested here. Sometimes young lovers camped here to secure some privacy. It was a long way from the weir on the northern shore, the village rallying point.
"Let's find some shelter." Darien pulled her along the gravel-strewn beach. The wind blew so strong now that it took all of Darien's strength to keep them moving forward.
Again, Melodi glanced back. No hint of the threatening white canoe showed through the gloom, though it was so dark now that she could see a scant distance ahead of her.
"Stop, just stop for a minute. Let me get my bearings," Melodi insisted.
With reluctance, Darien slowed his pace. There was a force on this island. It throbbed beneath his wet moccasins and raced through him until his skin tingled with its power.
Melodi turned in all directions, squinting and peering around, trying to determine their location. He let her. Little Raccoon knew this island better than he did. Any chance of shelter and a modicum of safety rested with her. Content to let her take charge for a moment, Darien rested his guard.
"Darien, look out!"
Melodi's shout reached him a second too late. His shoulder crunched with the impact of Young Buck's war club. An agony of fire shot through him as he fell. Emptiness reached for him, he fought it. Roaring sound swirled around him. It wasn't unconsciousness claiming him. Instead everything began to clarify in slow motion certainty.
He watched as Young Buck reached for Melodi, his war club raised high, stained with Darien's blood. An uncanny scream rent the air. Huge yellow talons emerged from the dense darkness. They grabbed Young Buck, tore at his skin.
A white-feathered head, with gleaming red eyes and a great curved yellow beak, lowered to Darien's level. Melodi stumbled across the gloom, fighting the rising wind as it molded her drenched dress around her body. She reached him, but he couldn't believe, quite, that she moved through the eagle's head to get to him.
He saw her mouth open. She was speaking, but the cacophony coming from the heavens swept her words away.
Hold on to me, he tried to say. He reached for her with his undamaged arm.
She must have known what he wanted. Darien felt her arms wrap around his body and hold him tight. She trembled and gasped as though she wept. He couldn't distinguish her tears from the rain; both burned in hot spatters against his skin.
Hold on Grandson. The familiar voice came from far away.
Just as Darien felt himself lifted on the feathered back of the great eagle, he heard the tune begin in his mind. Her tune, the magical music that bound him together with his mate. It swept through him and touched his soul.
Flying, that's what he was doing now. He closed his eyes and relaxed on the wings of a mythical bird, in the arms of his love, and let the tune sweep him away in a gentle lullaby.
Chapter Twenty-five
She woke in a warm place on a soft surface. Must be in heaven, she thought. The last thing she remembered was wind and rain and the jagged edge of certainty that Darien was dead.
Darien, maybe he was in heaven, too. She opened her eyes and closed them again. The shadow of flames dancing on the walls confused her. Maybe she was in the other place. A hand on her shoulder, gentle but firm, caught her attention. Again, she opened her eyes.
"Father," she exclaimed as Fleet of Foot's face hovered over her. His skin was smoother, nearly unlined -- and didn't he have more gray in his hair?
His words, spoken in English, swept the last of the cobwebs from her mind. "Melodi, you’re all right. Thank God." Joe Larkfeather turned his attention back to the old man who lay near the fire. Darien lay beside him.
She shook her head, trying to reconcile the reality with memory. Clearly she and Darien had returned to their own place in time. At what cost? She trembled at the sight of the unconscious bodies.
"How can I help?" She knelt next to Darien. He was warm and breathing as if asleep. Grandfather's breathing was labored. "See if the phone's working. We've got to get Grandfather to a hospital. I almost lost him once tonight and I'm not sure he’ll make it to morning." Joe's voice was low and strained with emotion.
Melodi used the telephone on a small table next to the piano. Through the windowpanes, she saw the snow swirling in complicated patterns. Pearly light gleamed through the darkness. She couldn't tell if it was sunrise or dusk.
The handpiece of the telephone held a cool, smooth plastic reality. She marveled at the texture for a second, then listened. A dial tone. She punched in nine-one-one and requested an ambulance. Then she called Doc Robertson. He would be out as soon as the snowplow cleared his drive.
By the time Melodi returned to the hearth, Darien was conscious. His gaze took in his surroundings with the same confused look that she must have had. Then his eyes fell on her; welcome recognition flooded his features.
"We made it."
"So it would seem." She held him tight before gesturing toward the Larkfeathers. "I've just called an ambulance. Joe says Grandfather might not make it."
Darien knelt by the old man and held a frail hand in his. At his touch, Grandfather's eyes flickered open. A weak smile played across his mouth. He nodded once.
"Thank you, Walks With The Wi
nd. You and Little Raccoon have restored the balance of my people, my family." His words were little more than a whisper, spoken in the ancient tongue. Darien had to lean close to hear. When he pulled back, Grandfather was gone.
"His spirit will rest in the land of your fathers," Darien comforted Joe on the older, formal language. "He was strong like an eagle, and brave."
Joe shook his head. "I don't understand the words, but the rhythm and syntax are familiar." He closed Grandfather's eyes and folded the arms across the still body. "He was the last strong holy man of our people who truly understood the ancient ways and words passed on by our forefathers."
Melodi covered Grandfather's body with an afghan. Her tears fell freely. The old man had loved her and taught her much. "His legacy will live on, Joe."
The ambulance's siren heralded its approach before the flashing red lights were visible. Darien went to open a door for the stretcher.
"How long, Joe? How long were we gone?" Melodi asked when they were alone.
"Hours only, Mel." Joe stood hesitantly, his indecision uncomfortable. "I must go with the ambulance and call my parents. When I come back will you tell me what happened?"
"Of course, it's your story as much as ours." She took his hand as the paramedics entered the room.
A waiting silence fell over the room once Darien and Melodi were alone. She stood at the entrance; he took up the space by the hearth. Her heart constricted at the symbolic gulf between them. What was he feeling right now? The same uncertainty that filled her? There was only one way to find out.
"Darien --." She took a step towards him.
"Melodi --." He closed the distance and took her into his arms.
The long, satisfying kiss answered all of her questions. They were cuddled together on the couch before she assembled her thoughts for coherent speech again.
"I was afraid that knock you took to the head erased your memories," she confided.
"If you saw what I did, you'd be more worried about my sanity," Darien admitted. "What did you see after Young Buck hit me?"
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