Children of the Dawn

by Patricia Rowe

  “No, no, no,” he wept, his face buried in her wet hair.

  Jud put his arm around Kai El’s shoulders.

  “Let’s go home, brother.”

  Kai El picked up the body of his woman and did as he was told. His dreams were dead, his life over. He felt as dead as the woman he carried in his arms. He barely heard the cry that went up when he walked into Teahra Village.

  “Bring her to my hut,” Tenka said. “She must be prepared to meet the spirits.”

  He didn’t want to give her up, but Tenka took his arm and led him to the Moonkeeper’s hut.

  The wailing outside sounded like the moaning of spirits. Kai El placed Gaia on the furs of Tenka’s bed. He knelt beside her and laid his head on her breast. Silent tears ran from his eyes.

  He felt Tenka’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Kai El, I need to be alone with her now. Do you want to keep her pledge band?”

  “No. She’d want to take it with her to the otherworld.”

  He kissed Gaia’s hand and laid it across her breast. He gazed for the last time at her beautiful face. His heart broke. The pieces fell out on the floor of the Moonkeeper’s hut, and he left them lying there.

  Shocked, confused, in unbearable pain, Kai El wanted to be alone. But it was the way of his people to comfort one another, and he wasn’t strong enough to resist their efforts. They surrounded him, wept with him, talked to him.

  “Gaia died to save the others. She’s the bravest woman we have ever known. She will never be forgotten.”

  “It isn’t how or when you die,” they said. “It is how you lived your life.”

  But Kai El could only stare into the nightfire, thinking, If I had run faster…

  They covered him, and stayed with him, and finally he slept.

  He awoke to keening from the ceremonial ground.

  It’s true. She is dead. Raw pain shredded him, choked him, crushed him. He wanted to run to her, hold her one more time.

  No. He couldn’t bear to see his beloved lying on blackened stone, wrapped in white leather, waiting to be burned.

  Jud tried to stop him from leaving Teahra Village. He failed.

  “Good-bye, my spirit brother,” Kai El said. “I don’t know when you’ll see me again. If ever.”

  He went to the home in the cliffs that he’d made for Gaia. He packed food, skins, furs, and weapons, and started out across the prairie in the direction Where Day Ends.

  CHAPTER 52

  WHEN THE SAVAGES ATTACKED THE WOMEN’S WASHING place, Tahna fled without looking back. She slipped on the riverbottom, but didn’t fall; scrambled over rocks and through bushes, running for home.

  “Tahna! Help!”

  Gaia’s scream stopped Tahna’s blind dash. She turned, and froze. Her sister and friends had been caught. Two men were forcing them down the trail.

  As Tahna stared in horror, Gaia’s captor punched her. He turned and glared at Tahna, as if he might come after her, then shoved the stumbling women ahead of him.

  Overwhelmed with panic, she thought, Ican’t fight two men! I’m lucky I got away! She told her legs to run, run, run for home, but her feet were stuck to the ground. She stood there watching until they were out of sight, then control of her body returned, and she ran screaming to the village.

  Teahra warriors went after the stolen women. Tahna wanted to go with them, but she couldn’t. She had to take care of her mother.

  Tsilka went berserk.

  “My baby!” she screeched. “My Tsagaia!”

  “The warriors will find her, Mother. They’ll bring her back.”

  Tahna tried to sound calm, but her insides quivered like a clutch of frog eggs. Her eyes were ready to spout tears. Her throat felt squeezed; it was hard to breathe… Like when the Breath Ogre gets Gala, she thought.

  Oh please let them find her! Tahna prayed to Sahalie. Please bring my sister back!

  Howling, “My baby! My baby!” her mother, who had not been out of her bed in moons, leapt up and threw on a robe.

  “Mother, stop!”

  Tahna tried to hold her. Tsilka pushed her away and dashed out of the hut. Running to a group of women who were consoling each other, she broke in yelling.

  “It’s the Masat! I know where they live! Give me a spear!”

  Tahna ran behind her, grabbed her arm, tried to pull her away.

  “Mother, come back!”

  Tsilka slapped her.

  “No! They took my baby! I’m going after them! Give me a spear!”

  The Moonkeeper Tenka came, seized the crazed woman by the shoulders, and shook her violently.

  “Tsilka! Go back to your hut and wait. You’re too weak even to be standing here.”

  As if remembering that it was true, Tsilka slumped. Tahna caught her under an arm and helped her back to the hut.

  And they waited.

  Tahna knew the moment her twin died. Deep inside, part of her tore loose and was wrenched out with agonizing pain, leaving a gaping hole, all bloody and raw; as if an invisible hand plunged through her chest and ripped out her heart. She cried out and fainted.

  Tahna felt crazy for a time. She was not alone. Shock and fear ran wild in the village. To think that such a thing could happen! Warriors guarded the village by day and night. Even so, people did not feel safe.

  Tahna blamed herself for Gaia’s death. She should not have panicked, should not have left her sister. She should have gone after the savages herself, not run to the village for help.

  Horrible memories stuck in her mind. She couldn’t think of anything else. The savages bursting from the bushes, leaping for the screaming women. Fleeing in terror. Gaia’s cry for help. Looking back, seeing her twin being kicked and stumbling down the river trail. Over and over, Tahna remembered how she’d stood there stupefied, how she could not move. If she had moved sooner, would Gaia still be alive?

  People said it wasn’t her fault. The Moonkeeper Tenka had a talk with her. Even Tscilka, who was drowning in a mother’s grief, did not blame her. But Tahna could not stop blaming herself; her guilt was a crushing weight.

  She had wild thoughts, like, Isn’t it nice that half of you can experience death without the other half dying?

  And, Now I’m not even half a person,

  Sometimes she thought sorrow would kill her. She would drown in tears or die from pain. Tahna missed Gaia, wanted so much to be with her again.

  Spending most of her time in the hut, brooding and grieving, near her mother but not with her, Tahna barely noticed as crisp gold autumn changed to cold gray winter.

  The first snowflakes drifted through still air. Ignoring her mother’s angry, then pitiful, protests at being left alone, Tkhna went to a sheltered place against the cliffs. Watching the snow waft down, she thought peacefully of nothing, until darkness made her go home.

  In the morning, the snow was still falling. It was ankle-deep, and light as powdered herbs. Tahna made a fire and took care of her mother’s needs.

  Dressed in warm furs, she fluffed through the snow toward the sheltered sitting place, swept off a rock, put a fur down, and sat gazing at the village. The skin around her eyes felt stretched, as if other eyes watched through them.

  All the colors were gone under white, except for dark splashes here and there—people, bits of sheltered ground, edges of rock slabs. The huts were smooth white mounds with smoke coming from their tops.

  With puffs following them, little ones ran among the huts through the fresh snow; sliding, making sharp turns, diving face first, shrieking and laughing. They used the pebble-pouch in a different way—one throwing it, the others going after it. Their fur boots were caked, their skin red from cold, but they were having too much fun to notice. People came out to watch them play for a while, then went back inside snow-heaped huts to get warm.

  Phoomf!

  The roofskins of Chaka’s hut gave way, dumping snow on his family. They were frightened, but not hurt. Women helped his mate get the snow out of her hut. Men helped him
restring the roofskins. They swept snow from other roofs.

  Tahna watched everything, but she felt separated from it… as if she were watching it from another time, or another place, or… she couldn’t explain it.

  The snow fell and fell. In the afternoon, when it was up to their knees, the last of the little ones had had enough, and went in their huts.

  Only Tahna was left in the white silence. The air was still and very cold, but something that didn’t want to leave kept her warm. It was very bright, as if the sun were out. The sky was almost as white as the snow. The flowing river was shiny white… everything so still…

  Gaia appeared before Tahna.

  She gave off golden light… pulsing, shimmering light so bright that the white world around her paled to gray. Her face beamed joy and peace. Black hair flowed over her shoulders. Golden leather draped her tall body. Her bare feet floated above the snow. She held out her arms in love.

  Tahna held her breath. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

  Gaia spoke in her mind.

  “We were one before we were born. Now we are one again.”

  Tahna felt the empty place inside her filling. The vision of her twin faded.

  The last wisp of Gaia spoke.

  “You are whole, Tahna. At last, you are whole.”

  And Tahna knew that she was.

  People missed Gaia’s shy sweetness, but they hadn’t known her well, because she wanted it that way. More than grief, they felt wonder at what she had done to save the others, and a great love that they’d never known during her life. Three young women were still with their families because of her sacrifice.

  The memory of Gaia’s brief, heroic life was on its way to becoming tribal legend.

  Kai El—who had left after Gaia died, and had not been seen since—was another matter. The tribe had come to need him more than it realized. It was true that he’d spent too much time by himself, but what could they expect from the son of Tor? The Moonkeeper Tenka had relied on Kai El to help make decisions and settle arguments. He had his father’s hunting skills, and more of his mother’s wisdom than he knew. He could tell when herds would move, when weather would change, and many other things the tribe missed now that he was gone.

  That Kai El was gone by choice angered and hurt them. They thought the son of Tor and Ashan cared more for them than that. Men argued about when and where to hunt. Sometimes they didn’t hunt at all, but sat in their huts glowering, making their mates bring them this and that. A fistfight between two men threatened to spread to others. The Moon-keeper’s words didn’t stop them. She had to throw her body between them. Not since Elia died had men of Teahra Village struck each other.

  Cold weather sickness swept through the village. Bodies ached, heads throbbed, tempers flared.

  The overwhelmed Moonkeeper came to see Tahna.

  “I need your help,” Tenka said. “Ashan was teaching you medicine. I should have continued after she died, but I could never find the time. Now I must. There is more than I can do alone. I want you to move to the Moonkeeper’s hut. I’ll take you with me when I go to see people, so you, and they, will get used to it.”

  Tahna stood with her mouth open. Would she someday be a Moonkeeper after all?

  “Well, do you want to?”

  “Yes! I do!”

  Closing her ears to her mother’s ranting, Tahna moved her things to the Moonkeeper’s hut. She felt guilty… it was so good to get away from Tsilka.

  Since Gaia’s death, Tsilka had been lost in a world that existed only in her mind. Half of what she said made no sense. Sometimes she awoke screaming. Sometimes she hud- died against the hut wall with the eyes of doomed prey. She refused to go out, even for body needs.

  Tahna went to see her twice a day. She fed and washed her, but there was nothing more she could do for her mother.

  People allowed Tahna to work on their bodies, since they knew that Ashan had taught her medicine. Her hands were sure, her medicine was good, and they felt better when she left. But when it came to settling disputes, they said she was just a girl, and wouldn’t listen to her.

  Gaia’s spirit did not appear to Tahna again, but she never forgot her words. They were so true. Her body, her mind, her entire being knew it. When her twin died, Tahna became the whole person she’d always dreamed of being. Complete, full, nothing missing. Gaia was what had been missing… Gaia, the other half, split away at birth… now they were reunited, one creature again.

  Tahna became more than she had ever been. She knew it was because of what Gaia—who lived inside her now—gave to her. Unselfishness. Love. A way of looking at things that made them seem promising rather than hopeless, beautiful rather than ugly. Tahna worked hard, was patient with stupidity and anger. People saw that there was more to her than they’d thought, and began asking for her.

  As her helper strengthened, the Moonkeeper slacked, but who could blame her? Poor Tenka was exhausted.

  It was a hard winter for the people of Teahra Village, with deep snow, fear of attack, and uneasy peace among themselves.

  Tahna often thought of Kai El.

  Curse you for leaving when we need you most. Just like your worthless father, Tor.

  CHAPTER 53

  BITTER, UGLY, AND ALONE, TSILKA HAD TOO MUCH time for thinking, and nothing good to think about. Only bad memories remained. Pain, humiliation, loneliness, and loss… life had poisoned Tsilka with enough for ten women.

  Alone, alone, alone.

  No more Tor to hate and love.

  No more beautiful Gaia.

  And now Tahna was gone. Her excuse? That stupid Moon-keeper Tenka needed help.

  Tsilka despised the very word “Moonkeeper.” Ashan had ruined most of her life. Now Tenka was ruining the rest by taking Tahna. Tsilka saw her daughter only twice a day. It was like having two drops of water left after your whole lake has been stolen.

  This morning, the girl smiled and chatted as she stoked the fire and heated ground fish with special herbs that her mother liked. While Tsilka ate the tasty mush, Tahna took the sleeping skins outside, shook them, and smoothed them back in place. She laid out a clean dress for her mother, talking in a chirpy voice. Tsilka listened and forgot the words as soon as Tahna said them, because another part of her mind was busy watching the daughter she loved. The girl pretended they had all day together. But her mother knew she was in a hurry to be back with the Moonkeeper.

  Tahna made sure there was enough food and water, and put a stack of wood by the fire.

  “There. That’s enough for today.”

  Those were the words that came before “good-bye.”

  “Don’t go,” Tsilka said, disliking the pleading in her voice, but unable to stop it.

  “Mother, I have work to do. Many others need me today.”

  “I need you, daughter.”

  “You have everything you need. I’ve seen to that.”

  “I need you… to talk to.”

  “If you need to talk, you should get up and visit someone.”

  “I’m not strong enough to walk. You know that.”

  “Then maybe you should think of moving to one of the old people’s huts.”

  It felt like her daughter was choking her.

  “The old people’s huts stink,” Tsilka said.

  “Do you have any idea how this place smells? If you would open the doorskin once in a while and let some air in here—”

  “It’s too cold.”

  “Mother, I have go to now.” Tahna leaned down. “Give me a kiss.”

  Tsilka turned her face away.

  “I don’t feel like kissing you.”

  “Then I will see you later. Good-bye.”

  The air in the hut was thick and smelled bad after Tahna left. TSilka grumbled to herself.

  “We don’t need Moonkeepers. We never did. We should go back to the old ways, the way it was when my father lived. Timshin was chief. He did all that Moonkeepers do, and more. I should have followed him as chief. I wou
ld have, if not for Ashan.”

  Tsilka settled into one of her favorite ways of passing time: imagining ways she should have killed Ashan.

  In her mind, Tsilka saw the enemy again for the first time: Lying on the riverbank… unconscious, defenseless, helpless. It would have been so easy to kill her that night. While Tor was at Teahra Village getting people settled, Tsilka should have gone back to where Tenka was alone with Ashan. Tenka was just a girl then. Tsilka should have hit her in the head with a rock. And then killed Ashan.

  How different life would have been, how good. Tsilka and Tor would have been mates. They would have been chiefs together. Their little ones would have been raised as brother and sisters. Maybe Gaia would still be alive.

  Having tired herself thinking about killing an already-dead woman, Tsilka took a nap. She heard shouting when she awoke.

  “Hummingbirds! It’s spring!”

  She remembered a long-ago time when she looked forward to the arrival of the tiny creatures and their promise of warmer days. First the shimmery green ones came, looking for the early flowers. Fierce brown hummingbirds with shining red throats followed later. They dived at the green birds, trying to keep the flowers for themselves, but soon there were too many flowers to guard. Then the two kinds—alike except for color and temperament—spent the rest of the summer in peace, and flew away with the vultures in autumn.

  “The hummingbirds are here!” people shouted. “Come and see!”

  Tsilka got up and peered outside. A beautiful day invited her to come farther. She put a robe over her dress, draped a deerskin scarf over the scarred part of her face, and took a fur to sit on. Sunshine penetrated all the way to her bones as she sat leaning against the hut. Nearby bushes showed new green leaves and red flowers. She saw green flashes of hummingbirds and heard the buzz of their wings. Black vultures soared in the stark blue sky.

  People went about the work of the day. Tsilka saw them as if from the other side of smoke. They stopped at her hut to visit. Their voices sounded muffled, their questions baffling.