Spirit and the Skull

by J. M. Hayes

  The circle muttered again as the opposing trios glared at each other.

  I looked at Crooked Nose. “Have you ever seen this arrow before?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked the circle.

  “It’s not my arrow,” Ox repeated.

  “No,” I said. “Walks Like Ox is right. The arrow belonged to the one killed by the mammoth. When I buried him with the things he’ll need in the spirit world, I noticed his arrows. They’re like the ones we’ve seen here—undecorated, well made, and fletched with ptarmigan feathers.”

  The band went so quiet you could hear the mosquitoes hum. Every face turned to me.

  “The man we buried couldn’t have shot Bull Hump. He left his bow and arrows behind when he took the short spear. But he made his arrows in the company of the other young men without women. He made them with Walks Like Ox and Seven Fingers and Crooked Nose. And slept beside them, where Walks Like Ox and his friends could have stolen some so the one we buried might be blamed for what they did.”

  “Are you sure, Raven?” It was one of the old men, Claw, named for a deformed hand. I remembered how the council debated whether to raise him or leave him for the wolves when he was born and I was a boy.

  I reached inside my robe and pulled out another arrow. “I took this from the one we lost to the mammoth before I covered him with rocks. I knew then whose arrow struck Bull Hump. These three knew whose arrow struck Bull Hump, too. If they didn’t shoot it, why not tell us who made it?”

  “I challenge them,” Bull Hump shouted. “I’ll kill all three with my bare hands.”

  “No,” I said. “Which of them deserves to die? Surely not all three. Only one arrow was shot. We don’t know who shot it. Only that these three are guilty of lying to us, perhaps to save a friend. Or it’s possible the arrow found in Walks Like Ox’s bedding was planted by someone else. That person could be the guilty party.”

  “But that’s not likely.” Takes Risks nicely summarized the case I’d built against the three.

  The boys glared at him.

  “Then what?” Stone said.

  “Banish them,” I said. “Send word to nearby bands so they’ll have to find somewhere far away from us to live.”

  The band grumbled, but they all seemed to agree. All but Bull Hump, who still wanted blood vengeance.

  “Later,” I said, “if we discover someone else was guilty, we can invite these three to return.”

  That convinced the women. Bull Hump argued a bit more, but I’d won because I had the women’s approval. No innocent would die. The punishment wasn’t extreme. When Stone agreed, we were done.

  I caught Down’s eye. She nodded. I’d found a way to save her from Ox and she knew it.

  Interlude

  I persuaded Stone to let Ox and his friends take robes packed full of generous shares of meat from the mammoth kill—all each of them could carry. That way, if they found a band to take them in, they wouldn’t come empty-handed. Or they could travel far, far away from us before having to feed themselves.

  Ox was too angry to speak to me. But Seven Fingers and Crooked Nose had turned more frightened than angry. They suddenly seemed like little boys again. They were being forced out into a world away from most of the people they’d always known. They might not find a band to welcome them. They might have to make their own way. Try to build their own band by stealing women, then running far enough to be sure they wouldn’t encounter us again, or the fathers and husbands of the women they stole. Three men, barely old enough to have developed the skills life in this harsh land required. They might not survive.

  “Why did you do this to us?” Seven Fingers asked me.

  “I saved your lives, at least for now,” I told him, feeling more than a little guilty. I’d done it because Ox wasn’t the kind of man who would tolerate his woman knowing more than he did. If Stone gave Down to that great dull brute, our band wouldn’t develop a skilled healer or an accomplished Spirit Woman.

  “You save us by driving us away?” Crooked Nose said.

  “Bull Hump is sure Walks Like Ox tried to kill him,” I said. “Or maybe all three of you, together. And Stone and Takes Risks believe you and the one we just buried may have conspired to replace them. If you stayed, you’d have to accept challenges to fight those three to the death. Would that give you a better chance?”

  “But we didn’t do anything.”

  “You didn’t tell us you knew whose arrows they were,” I said. At least that was true. And someone had murdered the man who was strangled. They might have done that.

  “It’s a terrible thing that one of our own killed a member of the band. And now this assault on Bull Hump. The band might not survive if you stayed and accepted challenges. And it won’t let you stay without accepting them. Stay and our band could shatter into factions. You three are young and strong. If you’re careful, you should live a long time. Maybe you’ll be able to come back to us some day.”

  Ox snarled, and Crooked Nose simply turned away. But Seven Fingers seemed to consider what I’d said. “Help my mother remember me. And ask the spirits to protect us.”

  “I already asked them,” I said. I didn’t mention his mother because she’d been among those who spoke in favor of banishment.

  “Damn the spirits,” Ox said, but the other two shushed him, shouldered their packs, and headed downstream. The wolves feeding on the mammoth’s remains parted around them. I watched until the pack went back to their feast and the three disappeared in the forest of willows.

  ***

  I climbed above the ledge where the mammoth’s carcass lay that afternoon, searching for evidence to prove I might have actually seen someone up there, just before Hair on Fire died and Bull Hump took an arrow. The wolves had come and gone across the grass, leaving me plenty of tracks, but none of them human. I don’t think I’d have noticed the place where someone had crouched behind a bush except some of its berries were ripening and I had a weakness for sweets. Even then, I didn’t notice the crushed vegetation until another of Fire’s arrows caught my eye.

  So, the arrow that struck Bull Hump had been shot from here. When I looked down at the spot where we’d killed the mammoth, I felt sure this was the place I’d caught a glimpse of someone. From here, the arrow that struck Bull Hump would have passed near Stone—near enough that it might have been aimed at him. I searched for signs of who’d been here and found nothing. One thing was clear. None of the boys I’d helped banish from the band could have shot it. All three had been in the line beside us.

  We never visit the graves of our dead, but that’s what I did next. I was taught that spirits of the dead hold a deep resentment for the living. They envy us, and want company on their journey to the sky camps where they must wait to be born to The People again. The spirit of a dead person, especially one like Hair on Fire, so recently and savagely slain, was supposed to be especially dangerous. But I didn’t believe it.

  I wasn’t surprised at finding the rocks Down and I stacked over him strewn down the slope. Wolves and a bear had been at him. I’d thought our witch might have come to gather corpse poison. Or cannibalize him. Or to steal Down’s pubic hair. Maybe someone had done all those things, but the body had been torn to pieces by animals. An arm was missing, gnawed off, but not by a human. What remained of Fire lay down-slope of the rock shelter.

  The tools I’d buried with him were scattered but still near the grave. I couldn’t find any trace of Down’s hair. It could easily have blown away as soon as the grave was opened. Or been devoured by whatever chewed away his groin.

  The only footprints I found were large and clawed. The grizzly and wolves. No human prints, except the ones I left while I was there.

  I dragged him and his tools back up to the hole in the rock. After I purified what was left of Hair on Fire again, I replaced the rocks. Then I wen
t back down to the river and washed and purified myself.

  As I sat on a rock above the stream, in a spot where the breeze kept most of the mosquitoes from me while I dried, I considered what I’d found and what it meant. I’d managed to persuade myself that Ox and his friends had probably killed Tall Pine. Or that they’d plotted to take over our band, led by Fire, who also could have killed Tall Pine. That’s how I’d excused myself for planting the arrow in Ox’s bedding. That was how the spirits would have acted if they wanted us to right a wrong. They’d let the mammoth slay Fire and encourage me to persuade the band to rid ourselves of the other three, eliminating our murderers. Now, I had to face facts. The spirits hadn’t interfered in our lives. Not to help us, anyway. The person who shot Bull Hump had done so while Ox and his friends and Fire were all down near the mammoth. That meant Tall Pine’s murderer was probably still in our midst.

  I waved away a few mosquitoes and tried to find a spot where the wind would rid me of the rest. All our men had been down by the mammoth. I was sure of it. That left only women and children. And one particular woman came to mind—brave and clever enough to have done both acts. She’d have had easy access to Fire’s arrows since she was coupling with him. I didn’t like the idea, but Down had benefited the most from recent events. Tall Pine was dead. She wouldn’t be his woman and he wouldn’t bother her anymore. If Fire had killed the mammoth and she’d killed or wounded her father or Bull Hump, Fire might have been able to take over leadership of the band almost immediately. If he took Down for his woman it would lend a sense of continuity to the transition. Stone might have even gone along with the idea as a way of retaining at least some power. But I had a hard time imagining Down acting so coldly. I could see her killing Tall Pine in self-defense, but she’d have told us. The band knew Tall Pine. Other women would have spoken up. It wouldn’t have been murder. Everyone would know it was self-defense.

  I could think of several other candidates for Tall Pine’s murderer. But the only good ones were men. Could Down have shot the arrow and someone else have killed Tall Pine? Sure. Why not?

  On top of that, we had a witch in our midst. The witch seemed connected to Tall Pine’s murder, if Down hadn’t done it. Even if Down had killed once and tried to kill again, I couldn’t believe she was the witch. She was too young to have learned the evil craft. Unless we had two witches and the other had been teaching Down for years.

  Gentle Breeze had been teaching Down to heal. She was wise enough to master witchcraft and Down to learn it, but witches seldom doubled as healers. Witches lived to hurt, not to heal. And I knew Gentle Breeze and Down too well to believe it of them. I couldn’t imagine anyone else in the band who was intelligent enough to master the dark art. My only candidates for killer and weaver of magics would have had to deceive me every day I’d spent in the band with them. If they were that skilled, I doubted I could outwit and catch them anyway.

  Dry at last, I shook my head in frustration as I shrugged back into my leathers. Stone and his friends probably thought I’d just caught the murderer, and they knew nothing about the witch. For the moment, they should be satisfied with me. But I was going to be in real trouble with them if the murderer struck again or if the witch left another doll. Unless I got lucky and the witch and murderer made me the next victim.

  Flesh

  Twelve days later, we’d managed only six days of normal travel. I felt frustrated enough to scream. In fact, I had screamed a few times. Not that it did any good.

  All the meat we carried burdened us. There were five fewer men—two dead, three banished—to carry it. Stone and Takes Risks were watching their backs instead of hurrying the band. And Bull Hump’s neck still hurt so much that he couldn’t be bothered carrying his share.

  We camped on another stone outcrop that night. It was colder there. No matter how slow, we’d come much closer to the ice. Closer, too, to the pass I believed led between the mountains and through the glaciers. There were signs that other bands had recently camped on the spot. The smell of smoke on the wind told us more were nearby. Our band had lost five, but we’d added the young couple whose child I’d tried to save. Not the child. The child had died. But the man and his woman joined us willingly enough. Their own band was too far ahead. Alone, they might catch up. But they could just as easily encounter predators or unfriendly strangers. They were safer with us and they knew it. Just as we were safer adding them.

  As the tents were pitched and the women began preparing dinner, I noticed an extra tent being raised down-slope on our back trail. A Women’s tent. I found Gentle Breeze and asked.

  “Down,” she said. “The child becomes a woman.”

  “Good. You told her what to do? The things she must avoid?”

  “I told her, though she’s known all this for some time.”

  I understood why Down knew, but gave no sign of it. “Is anyone with her?” The women often shared their cycles. The Earth Mother linked them to trickster moon, who usually eased their burden by not requiring them to face it alone.

  “No. Down is a handful of days earlier than most of the women will be. Perhaps you, because you aren’t so concerned about such things, can keep an eye on the Women’s tent. We don’t know this country. I don’t like thinking about a young girl alone out there. Walks Like Ox wanted her. He and the other boys may have followed us. Or some other band may need women to bear them children.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” I promised.

  “But only an eye, Raven,” Gentle Breeze warned me. “You’re too old for her, and while Stone might give her to you now, he’ll regret it later. You’d be in his way. And in Stone’s way is not a place you want to be, old man.”

  I smiled. “Are you jealous, old woman?”

  She spat at my feet, but I looked back and caught her smile as I walked away.

  ***

  I’d known for years that Down was special, very smart and brave. Maybe too brave for her own good, as in her relationship with Hair on Fire. Once she’d gone exploring in the willows near one of our countless new camps. She’d come upon a dire wolf, surprised him at his kill. Knowing she couldn’t outrun him, she’d screamed and thrown stones and even charged him. He must have eaten well, already. Or The Earth Mother favored Down and whispered in the big wolf’s ear. The dire wolf growled at the girl, turned, and trotted off into the willows, abandoning his kill to a child then entering her twelfth summer.

  Now she interested me because I’d been without a woman for far too long. Except for occasional lessons in technique. Or gifts from old friends, over very quickly so our absence from camp might not be noticed. Lately, especially since I’d learned about Fire and watched her with his corpse, I’d imagined how it might feel to lie with the Down who had become a woman. Until Gentle Breeze told me so, it hadn’t occurred to me that it might actually be possible. That I, for the moment at least, might be a logical mate for Stone’s daughter. The girl who might be Tall Pine’s killer? Who may have shot Bull Hump? Maybe even a would-be witch?

  Once the idea that Stone might let me have his daughter was in my head, I couldn’t get it out, but I hesitated to raise the possibility with Stone. If he said no, it would be all but impossible to persuade him to change his mind. And I wasn’t sure how Down would feel about it. I wanted her, but not at the cost of her resentment. Fire still held a special place in her heart. He might stay there for a long time. But I also dared to dream she might see the advantages of becoming my woman. And I hoped the idea of lying with someone as old and scarred as me wouldn’t repel her. Or, worse, make her laugh at such an absurd notion.

  I went to Stone that evening. I told him the pass through the mountains and ice needed scouting. Because the course narrowed just ahead of us and we could smell the smoke of other bands, we’d soon find ourselves adjacent to them. We could see their smoke rising—too near in some cases. Too near for people we knew nothing about. I’d take the next few days
to look them over. Make contact if it seemed wise. Perhaps we could trade mammoth meat for other foods and necessities, or make alliances to form one great band for the journey through the pass.

  Stone agreed. He always felt relieved when I was away from camp. I wasn’t a challenge to him physically, but my relationship with the spirits frightened him. He didn’t know how to manage someone who might be able to call on the help of invisible friends.

  “Keep moving,” I told him. “If there’s danger ahead, I’ll come back to warn you.”

  Stone agreed, still I decided to return every day to make sure he wasn’t using my scout as an excuse to sit and rest.

  As soon as we finished the evening meal, I wrapped some mammoth steaks in willow leaves, rolled them with supplies inside my robe, tied it with a spare bowstring, and hung that with my bow and quiver over my shoulders. I carried my spear in my right hand. Stone wasn’t paying attention, so I took Snow along this time. We’d be less likely to stumble into predators, human or otherwise. The dog and I jogged down an animal trail toward the stream below our camp. People paused to wave or wish me luck before we disappeared among the willows.

  We followed the stream until just below and downwind of the nearest source of smoke. I climbed a rocky ridge to look down on their tents. Snow knew his job, staying silently at my side.

  The camp was very small. Only a few tents, more worn than ours. Half-a-dozen adults, though some might have already retired. They looked gaunt and hungry. This group offered no threat. After our recent losses, Stone might offer them the chance to join a richer band such as ours. Their additional numbers might be worth the cost of sharing our current riches. But I’d warn him, too, because I smelled sickness. I’d approached them from downwind so their dogs wouldn’t smell us. But I saw no dogs. Had they eaten them out of desperation?