The Shaman: Book Two in the Dan Stone Assassin Series

by David Nees

  You want me to go out there and die? Maybe die faster for you? What was the bird’s purpose? Dan didn’t have the energy to think it through. He started forward. Immediately the bird stopped dive-bombing him. It flew ahead and perched on a rock as Dan stumbled forward, now aided by the subtle push of gravity. He had no more strength to climb but he could give in to gravity. As Dan got closer, the bird again flew forward and stopped as if waiting for him. By now Dan had no doubt it wanted him to go forward, but he had no idea why.

  By that afternoon Dan’s legs gave out. He collapsed to the ground. The bird, after a few moments, flew back and began to dive bomb him with its screeching. Dan didn’t respond. He looked up. The bird was standing ten feet away from him watching. Suddenly Dan saw a large four footed animal approach. It was a coyote. The raven didn’t fly away. Even in Dan’s depleted state, he thought that was odd.

  The coyote stopped also about ten feet from Dan and sat down. Its large jaws were open, panting in the heat. It almost looked like it was grinning at him. Maybe I should shoot it and drink its blood. The coyote stirred as if reading Dan’s thoughts. It got up and walked around to Dan’s rear. Then it approached. Dan felt a nip at his leg. He pulled his legs up to get away from those powerful jaws. Is it going to eat me alive? The thought gave him a surge of energy. Not eaten alive. He kicked out and got to his hands and knees. The coyote again moved forward. Dan lashed out his foot again. The animal easily dodged it and nipped his leg again. He didn’t break the skin but Dan could feel the teeth through his pants. He lurched to his feet, bringing a rock up with him. Turning, he flung it at the coyote but missed. Now it sat back on its haunches, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, panting, almost smiling. The raven now flew up and gave a call. Dan turned. The bird flew ahead and then stopped and looked back.

  Was it leading again? Why?

  Still he was now on his feet and the part of him that didn’t want to quit, that wanted to die trying, told him to go forward. Whatever had just taken place, he was at least on his feet again. He lurched onward. The raven kept flying forward and then alighted on the ground as if to wait. When Dan looked back the coyote was following but not threatening.

  An hour later Dan was off the slope and facing the flat pan. He caught his foot and fell forward. There was no strength to rise. The coyote again began to nip at his legs, but Dan could not pull himself up.

  “Why the hell should I get up for you?” he said in a hoarse voice. A stupid question, especially to put to an animal. But the coyote persisted, aided by the raven. Finally Dan got to his hands and knees and began to crawl.

  He crawled for a half hour. Then a dry wash appeared in front of him. It was about eight feet deep with steep sides. He noticed it as the raven flew up ahead of him and disappeared out of sight. A moment later it came up, out of the wash into the air in front of Dan.

  I go down in there, I’m not coming out. The bird seemed to want Dan to go forward. Dan resisted, seeing the wash and the cliffs on either side, easily scrambled up by a healthy person, but in his state, impassable.

  “No,” he said as loudly as he could. Whatever insanity was going on he would not go down there.

  The raven squawked loudly and flew at him. The coyote now nipped at his rear end. Dan felt the sharpness of the teeth that now bit into him. Instinctively he went forward on his hands and knees. One last nip caused Dan to lurch forward and he slipped over the lip of the ravine. He flung his hands out in vain to stop himself. It was too late. He had no strength left. He rolled over three times and lay on the dirt.

  The coyote scrambled down after him and started growling at him, threatening him. Meanwhile the raven hopped and flew forward, away from the threatening animal, encouraging him to follow.

  Dan crawled forward. Each time he stopped the coyote attacked him, nipping at him, but not injuring him. After ten minutes Dan collapsed. His face lay against the dirt. For a moment he didn’t move. Then he sensed a hint of moisture; it could have been a hallucination. There seemed to be some moisture in the ground. He took his hand and dug his fingers through the dry top surface and below it he felt a cool moist texture. He looked up. The gully bent around to the left, heading into the rocks above from where he had just crawled. The raven hopped and flew forward.

  Chapter 20

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  D an gathered up what little energy he had left. If he had been in a rational state, he would have questioned more of what was going on. Now he just responded to what he saw. The bird and the coyote wanted him to go forward. He had come upon a hint of moisture. He would go forward, maybe there would be more. Maybe he would not die. Dan began to crawl.

  When he got around the turn he could smell it: water. Ten minutes of crawling later and he could hear it. Ten more minutes brought him to a small pool, fed by a flow coming out of the rocks above. The pool was small and clear. It disappeared underground after a few meters. It had the smell of life. Dan breathed great gasping breaths as he crawled to the pool. The air was filled with moisture which soothed his throat. Reaching the pool he dropped his head into the cool water and started sucking it in. He had never experienced such a sweet taste. It was the taste of life, of living. Not dying.

  He would not die here in the desert. The thought slammed into his brain. Suddenly a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled his face out of the pool. Dan rolled over and looked up.

  An apparition looked down, lost in the glare of the sun. Dan moved his head. Was it a demon? Now he saw a face as it blocked the sun; the sun’s rays were bursting out around the visage like a medieval icon of a saint. It was a man; an Indian. He had long black hair coming out from an old, floppy brimmed hat. His face was dark brown, deeply lined, and appeared tough as tanned leather. It was an ancient face as if belonging to a different time. He was medium height and his body evidenced what was once a powerful build, now diminished with age. He wore a white shirt over leather breeches. His eyes shone with a fierce light. One was deep black and the other one was a deep red. They burned into Dan as the man stared at him.

  “Too much and you get sick.” The man spoke with a strange accent, but Dan could understand the Spanish.

  “Who are you?”

  The man stared at him. “Later. Come now.” He reached to help Dan on his feet.

  “One more,” Dan mumbled and turned over to the pool. He pulled in a deep draught and then turned back. The stranger helped him to his feet and half carried, half dragged him forward. To one side of the spring, there was a hut, framed with sticks and covered with tarps, built up against the rock wall. The canyon was deeper here and the spring well hidden. Dan’s head spun and he passed out as he was pulled into the hut.

  When Dan awoke he lay on a pallet of blankets. There was a soothing salve on his face. He felt thirsty but his throat was not dry and choked as before. From the low light and long shadows outside, he guessed the sun was low in the sky. He stared at the roof of the hut. It had a hole to vent smoke from a central fire pit. He rolled over and on the other side of the hut was a wooden pole with a “T” top. On it perched the raven. Lying next to the pole was the coyote looking very relaxed, not like it was going to attack him. Its jaw hung open, the large teeth gleaming in the low light, the tongue lolling at the side of the mouth. It appeared to Dan to be grinning at him. Next to the raven’s pole a bed was laid out on the ground. To the rear were shelves with wooden and clay bowls and pots holding various items which Dan assumed were for cooking.

  Dan rolled back and stared at the ceiling. I should move, he thought, but he had no strength. And where would he go? He wondered where the man had gone. Was this all just a hallucination? No, he was lying in a hut; somebody made the hut; somebody lives here. And, it seemed to Dan as he started to think more clearly, these animals live here as well.

  I’m missing something. Dan tried to think, He was missing some clarifying clue. There was something that tied this together in some weird way. What was it? He forced his mind to run thro
ugh the events of the day. He was near his end. He couldn’t go on, but he thought he should die trying rather than give up in the rocks above the desert pan. Then there was the raven and the coyote. It had not been his imagination. He had not been delirious. They had forced him forward. Even when he had to crawl, they wouldn’t let him rest. Why? And what was the connection that seemed missing in his mind?

  Dan rolled back over to his right and looked across to the raven and coyote. They both looked back at him. The raven turned its head and then he saw it; the one red eye. Ravens have black eyes. This one had one black and one red. That was somehow significant. Dan’s mind wrestled with the thought and then the image of the Indian came back to him, almost blinding, framed by the sun. The man had one red eye and one black eye.

  What rabbit hole have I dropped into?

  He propped himself up and called out, “Hola. Anyone here?”

  The two animals stirred but didn’t move from where they were. There was no answer.

  Shortly he heard a soft footstep outside. The entrance went dark as the man blocked the light. He stooped and came into the hut. He had two rabbits, skinned and cleaned in one hand and some greens bunched in the other hand. They looked like pieces of cactus and other desert plants. The coyote and the raven looked attentively at the man. Saliva dripped from the coyote’s mouth. He spoke to them in a language Dan did not understand and the coyote lunged for the door with the raven flying out just behind him.

  Dan watched as the man laid the rabbits on a board. He started a fire in the central pit, poured water from a pitcher into a pot and set the pot over the fire. Next he chopped up the greens and the cut the rabbit carcasses into small pieces. He left them on the board, waiting for the water to boil. Dan now noticed his hat had many feathers bristling out from the band.

  “Who are you?” Dan asked in Spanish.

  The man ignored him.

  “How long have I been out?” Dan asked.

  “One night, one day,” came the reply. The man turned to him. His face was leathery. A fierce scowl was etched into his mouth. His eyes riveted him. They seemed to burn through him, seeing everything in his mind. “You spoke much. You spoke to your wife, Rita.”

  Dan felt a surge of adrenalin go through him. “What did I say?”

  The man turned back to preparing the meat and greens. “Many things. You wanted forgiveness. She does not blame you. She told you ‘don’t give up, never quit’.”

  “You heard her speak? Are you a medium? You can talk to the dead?”

  The man shook his head. “I do not consult the dead. But she spoke loudly. She has a strong spirit.”

  “She’s dead.” Dan almost choked on the words. “How can she speak? Are you playing with me? Who are you and why am I here?”

  “There is much to tell you, but first you must drink and eat. You must get strong and we don’t have much time.”

  He reached over to Dan and handed him a cup. It was filled with an aromatic liquid. “Drink.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Water and juice from the cactus. Soothe throat and mouth. You drink many cups.”

  Dan took the cup and drank. He was in the man’s hands. This old Indian had rescued him, somehow, from dying. Dan had no reason to worry about the concoction he offered.

  The water boiled and the meat and pieces of cactus were put in the pot. Some flour and salt was sprinkled into the pot as well and the man placed a lid on it.

  He turned back to Dan, “You have many questions. I will try to answer.”

  Dan’s mind swirled. The questions came so fast he didn’t know where to begin. Why had he saved him? How did he find him? How did the raven and coyote come into this? What was their relationship? What did he want? He stopped himself and tried to focus.

  The man stared at him. “Your mind is still confused. You asked me ‘who am I’? Your first question. I am a shaman as my father and grandfather, for seven generations. I saw you. I knew you were coming, that you would fall out of the sky, like a comet. I found you after you fell to earth.”

  “That’s impossible!” Dan exclaimed, interrupting the shaman.

  The shaman stared at him with his glowing eyes, one red, one black. “But you are here.”

  Dan had no answer. “The raven I saw…when I was hiking south, was that the same bird as this one? Your bird?”

  “Not my bird, my friend. Sí, same bird. That is how I found you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘how I found you’?”

  “You ask foolish questions. It is a white man’s trait. You try to make everything fit your mind, even when it does not. There are more important questions.”

  Dan sat up now. “Maybe, but I need to understand how this all fits together. Help me out.”

  “I am Tlayolotl. In your language, ‘Heart of the Earth’. I knew you were coming…someone was coming—falling out of the sky—to strike the darkness. Raven and I set out to find you. And we did.”

  “But how—”

  The shaman held up his hand. His face grew sharp and his eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the hut. “Listen, not speak. Your questions are like dust devils that swirl around in confusion and blow away to nothing.”

  He turned to stir the pot and then refocused on Dan. “I told you I do not speak with the dead. Some shamans do, I do not. I have great power and can heal or strike one dead. But I do not. I am a Watcher. I have been called to this.”

  “What is a ‘Watcher’?”

  Again, the man held up his hand. “I see things. I see darkness and light, the forces of good and evil.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will. I had dreams. They kept coming back for many weeks. I didn’t know what they meant but I could not ignore them. The dreams were of someone coming, from the north, a gringo. To fight the darkness that has been growing, strike a blow. So Raven and I went to look. We went to look for this darkness and then we looked for you. And we found you. We tested you. You gave us water, so we knew your heart was right.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Do not be foolish with your questions. I was there, with Raven. That is how I know.”

  Dan held himself in check as more questions surged into his mind. The Indian, or shaman, was one hundred percent right about the water. He thought he had heard the bird call “agua” and decided (why had he thought of it?) to cut the plastic water bottle, make a cup out of the bottom and give it to the bird.

  The shaman continued, his eyes never leaving Dan. “Then we waited for you. We knew you would come back north after you completed your task. But you were in danger. We could see, Raven and I. Bad men had taken over your escape plan.

  “The bird…that was you?”

  “Raven and me. We attacked.”

  “That attack saved my life. How did you—”

  “We watched. We could see what was happening.”

  “Could you see I would get stuck in the desert?”

  “We don’t see the future. One can only guess at it. We see what is happening.”

  “So you and the bird and the coyote came to keep me from dying back there?”

  “Raven and Coyote came by themselves. I was not there but they knew what to do.”

  “They wouldn’t let me rest, not let me quit. You sent them?”

  The shaman nodded.

  “I thought of shooting the coyote…for his blood. But I had no strength.”

  The man’s face flickered dark and dangerous. “You would not have been able to hit Coyote. He is the trickster. He can deceive men.”

  “This all seems unreal. It doesn’t seem possible.”

  “To the white man’s mind. But you are here.”

  Dan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His head still felt light, either from what he had been through or what he had just listened to. He lay back on his pallet. The shaman watched him carefully. He told him to take off his left boot. When Dan did so, he went over to him and examined Dan’s swollen ankle. He pu
t his hands on it, around it, massaging and squeezing, as if to feel the insides.

  He grunted. “It is not broken. I will wrap it to heal quick.”

  Tlayolotl went to the back of the hut and dug around in the assembled stores. He took a bowl and went out to the spring. He returned with water and mixed in powders until there was a paste-like consistency. Then he rubbed the paste over Dan’s ankle. Dan could feel the mixture sinking into his skin.

  “What’s in this?”

  “Healing. From plants. It will take away your swelling and give you strength there.”

  “What herbs did you use? I can really feel them going into my ankle.”

  Tlayolotl did not answer him. After coating his ankle, he wrapped it in a cloth and tied it tight. “That is good for tonight. Tomorrow you will be able to walk.”

  The shaman turned back to the pot and stirred it. The smell awakened a fresh hunger in Dan. His thirst had been slaked and now he felt the pangs of not eating for days. Tlayolotl ladled some of the stew into a wooden bowl and offered it to Dan.

  “It is hot.”

  Dan blew on it and forced himself to be patient. He did not want to burn his mouth on top of the cracked, sore lips he had from the dehydration. They ate in silence. Dan savored the stew, enjoying the chunks of meat and the broth, almost sweet with the cactus greens boiled in it.

  Night fell as they ate. Tlayolotl lit some candles. The coyote and raven returned and took up their positions.

  Chapter 21

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  D an tried a new tack with the shaman. “Okay, somehow you knew I was coming, you saved me twice and now I’m here. You have a strange connection to the bird and coyote. Somehow you see things that are physically far away. That is hard to believe, but that seems to be what happened.”

  He leaned forward towards Tlayolotl. “Tell me why you have done this? Done what seems impossible.”