Spirit and the Skull

by J. M. Hayes

Bear Man shook his head at them and put a hand over his mouth. He cupped his ears and pointed ahead.

  “I’m our best tracker.” I only swallowed a couple of mosquitoes. “Gather the men while I go have a look.”

  Bear Man shook his head again. “Only if I go with you. The Mother made me responsible for you.”

  Too tired to argue, I helped him gather the men around Stone before the two of us faded into the fog. Three of us, I soon noticed, because Down hadn’t obeyed me and waited with the men either.

  Less than a bow shot from where we lost sight of our force, we topped a small rise and found a rocky, well-used path down to a riverbed. We heard the water before we saw it. White water, rushing down a steep decline from the mountains of ice. We were close to the glacier, though we could hardly see anything for the fog. Just above the river’s chilled water, however, a cold breeze swept away the worst of the fog and most of the mosquitoes. That cold clear air revealed, far closer than I would have imagined, a village. The place was crowded with people, many of whom I recognized since they were the missing members of our band.

  I signaled to Down and Bear Man and dropped behind the lip of the rise. “Enemies.”

  The village wasn’t occupied by The People, except for the ones they’d stolen from us. The place belonged to another tribe. One with whom we’d sometimes fought and sometimes traded in the days before the migration began. Their tents had a different shape. Their clothes, a different look. Men and women let their hair grow long and braided and greased it. Woven into their braids were feathers and leaves and the occasional flower.

  Our women and children seemed to be unharmed. They were being fed by Enemy women. And looked over by Enemy men. One large and very decorated fellow had taken a seat beside Blue Flower. He fed her from his own hands. I guessed she was about to become a headman’s woman again.

  Down poked me in the ribs and whispered, “Look.” I followed her gaze and saw them—Walks Like Ox, Seven Fingers, and Crooked Nose.

  “It didn’t take them long to find a new home,” I said, “or take their revenge on us.” They didn’t look as satisfied as they might, though. Probably because Down had been missing from the village. She was the one Walks Like Ox wanted for himself. He and his friends would have happily settled for Blue Flower, or some of the other pretty young women. But their new allies weren’t sharing the bounty of this raid.

  “Shall I go break a few heads and bring your women back?” Bear Man asked.

  It was a big village. “You’d have to break a lot of heads,” I said.

  “You could come help.”

  “All of us could help and I’m still not sure we can manage it. And some of our people will die.”

  Killing Enemies and killing People weren’t the same thing. Still, even with surprise, there were so many Enemies that I believed we’d lose several of our men. We might even fail to recapture most of the women and children. “We need a better plan.”

  “Then you’re in luck,” Down said, “because I have one.”

  ***

  Down wormed her way through the brush, crawling down the slope toward the camp below. We’d spread our men behind the lip of the river’s bank. Their bows were strung. Their arrows handy. Spears lay nearby if needed.

  I didn’t like this plan. Willow had advised Down to keep a low profile until the men accepted her again. Instead, she’d taken the lead. Down would rescue our women and children and all would be forgiven. Or fail, and find everything blamed on her that had gone wrong since she broke The People’s laws with me. In the end, I helped her persuade Stone and Bull Hump and Takes Risks to let her take this on because it might work. No one had a better idea.

  The key was for her to enter their camp unseen. Once there, The Enemies wouldn’t recognize her. The face of a strange young woman would cause no special concern. She must be one of the new captives, someone they hadn’t noticed before. She could mix with our own women and children easily. Explain her plan. Get them to help her spread the word.

  Down crawled to the place I’d pointed out. The Enemy’s camp lay on an island across a narrow branch of the river. Down planned to cross to it behind one of their biggest tents. Just as she was ready to jump up and wade the stream, two Enemies, a man and a woman, slipped around the side of the tent to argue in private. They spoke a different language, not that we could hear them over the rush of the water, but I thought, from the way the woman shook her finger under the man’s nose, that she objected to his plan to add one of our women to their family. They were very focused on each other, but if Down tried to wade the stream while they were there, they’d see her. A stranger sneaking into their camp wouldn’t be the same as noticing her already among the other captives. We couldn’t wait much longer. Some of the courtships were escalating fast. As soon as they started being consummated, our men would give vent to their rage. They’d rush down that slope, launching arrows and spears and angry shouts. The bloodletting would follow.

  Down saw the couple but realized the need for haste. She slithered into the stream on her belly. I knew how painful that must be. The water was fresh ice melt, stealing her body heat in moments. She’d have to hurry across because the cold would begin weakening her immediately. She hardly disturbed the surface, keeping her body under water. Only her head remained exposed as her hands floated from rock to rock. She slipped once, but caught herself against the next rock downstream. She had to get out of the water very soon. Another slip could send her tumbling into the main current at the end of the island and The Enemy’s camp. The water became much deeper there, and the flow far stronger. Watching her terrified me. Would I lose a second woman to the grasp of an icy river?

  But luck, or the spirits, were with us. The young man shouted something at his woman and spun on his heel, worried that the captive woman he wanted might be claimed by someone else while they argued. His woman stood stunned for a moment before rushing after him. When she disappeared, Down stood. Even from where I waited, I could see how badly she trembled from the icy flow. She clawed out of the stream and disappeared into The Enemy camp. Would they wonder why she was wet? Or only admire soaked leathers clinging to the supple curves of her young body.

  I worried until she found Scowl and Gentle Breeze. They wrapped Down in dry skins. Using emphatic gestures, she spoke and pointed.

  Our time had run out. The large man who’d been feeding Blue Flower had grown impatient. He ordered two young men to help him. They held Blue Flower while the big one tore her leathers open and began shedding his leggings.

  Stone rose to his feet, roaring. His arrow missed the big man, but struck one of those holding Blue Flower. The rest of us rose, too, launching more arrows. We had plenty of targets. Down ran toward the big man. She shouted, telling our women and children to run to us. While she ran, she aimed her drinking bladder at the Enemy Chief and squirted him. We’d filled the bladder with caribou blood instead of water. She screamed out The Enemy’s word for “Menstrual blood!” Some of them tossed away polluted weapons. Others tore off fouled garments. Down bloodied the chief’s sex. It immediately drooped.

  Blue Flower broke free of the only man who still held her, joining the mass of women and children running in our direction. Down raced deeper into The Enemy camp, spraying caribou blood everywhere.

  “Enough,” I howled. “Come back.”

  She couldn’t hear me, but she turned to see me gesturing, a proud smile on her face. Her grin twisted as an Enemy arrow slammed into her breast.

  I threw myself down the slope like an enraged bull, looking for the man who’d shot her. Down staggered, but grabbed the feathered shaft with both hands and ripped it free. Her torso and belly were covered with blood. Caribou? Hers? I didn’t know. I fired two arrows at Enemies as I sped toward Down. To my surprise, Enemy warriors fled from me. Because Bear Man was right behind. He terrified most of the Enemies, and swung his club, laying out everyone fooli
sh enough to challenge us.

  I tore Down’s vest open and examined her wound. The stone point had been sharp. The edges of the wound weren’t ragged and the arrowhead had hardly penetrated. It must have struck a rib.

  “I’ll be scarred,” she said. “Will you still want me?”

  I had to laugh. “I’d lie with you here and now if we weren’t too busy. Is there much pain?”

  “Enough.” Her smile was half grimace. “But get me out of here someplace private and you can make me forget all about it.”

  I started to pick her up, to carry her from The Enemy camp to the relative safety of the ridge. She stopped me.

  “No. I want them to see that their arrows can’t even hurt The People’s women.”

  “All right.” I kept myself between her and more arrows. Bear Man followed, huge enough to cover both of us. The Enemies who hadn’t fallen shouted insults, but they weren’t following. Walks Like Ox and his friends were cowering and helping each other pull both sides’ arrows from their flesh. I thought they’d be wise to run for it, if they could. They weren’t likely to be as popular with The Enemy as when they’d delivered unguarded women and children.

  We joined our reunited band. Down was the only member who’d been wounded. A minor wound, but it worried me. In the old times, when we fought The Enemy regularly, they were known to dip arrow points in their own feces to poison those they wounded. Down would have a scar. That was nothing. But if the tip had been poisoned…?

  I did what I could to clean her wound, tying a poultice of chewed bark and herbs over the spot to stem the bleeding and reduce her pain. Bear Man did what Stone should have done, getting the band organized and marching back across the tundra to put distance between ourselves and The Enemies before they could sort themselves out.

  The journey back was exhausting. But The Enemy didn’t follow.

  ***

  Our camp lay just as we’d left it when we went after The Enemy raiders. Except for a little meat missing from our cache. A fox ran out of camp, his jaws filled and our tied dogs voicing their outrage. Our tents were mussed from The Enemies’ struggle with our reluctant women and children. But no one else had raided us while we were gone.

  I directed our men to loose the living dogs and carry the dead ones downstream. We found a place and piled rocks on them. I blessed them, purified those who helped me, and we went back to camp.

  Our tents and tools and blankets were still there. Our beds remained, welcoming us. And we were all so exhausted we welcomed them as well.

  Gentle Breeze refused to let me put Down in one of those beds. Not before she examined the wound and replaced my poultice with one of her own.

  “Did you see the arrow?” Gentle Breeze asked me. “Was it tainted?”

  “I pulled it out myself,” Down murmured, “before Raven got to me. How would I know what was done to it? I tossed it away and ran for my life.”

  Gentle Breeze huffed a little, though she clearly felt as proud of Down as I.

  “We’ll keep a close eye on the wound, then. You know what to look for, Raven.”

  I did. When Gentle Breeze finally left us alone I didn’t bother with taking Down back to the Women’s tent. I didn’t really believe her bleeding endangered us, but if it did, everyone already shared in that danger. I’d perform a purifying ceremony for the band tomorrow, after we slept. Most of the band was already sleeping. I pulled Down’s bedding over beside mine, rearranged skins and robes and grasses so we had a comfortable place for both of us, then let myself lie beside her. I’d begun to drift off when Down’s hand found me and she whispered in my ear. We stayed awake and active a little longer than the others in our tent.

  Ice Eyes

  Bone

  The cold flames that normally flared along the hut’s roof were dark. Thin, perfectly round, and straight branches the color of dirty snow hung up there in a way I couldn’t fathom. This time, light glowed from a strange cone-shaped thing that stood on the flat wooden surface by my side. I couldn’t figure that out, either. Not that I ever understood much in this alien place.

  I glared at Ice Eyes. “Why have you brought me here again?”

  Ice Eyes raised his head. He had trouble focusing on me. He sat against the wall across the hut from me, on an artificial seat. Like everything else, what he sat on had been crafted with a level of skill I couldn’t imagine. Too perfect. Too even. Actually, I was beginning to find this continuous state of flawlessness boring.

  “You’re back,” his voice said inside my mind. That made sense, I suppose, since I had no ears to hear. “I was beginning to think I imagined you.”

  “A dream imagines me—a fleshless skull that speaks?” I laughed to myself.

  He joined me with a crooked grin.

  “What am I, then, oh dream? The spirit that once inhabited this skull? That somehow haunts it still?”

  “Damned if I know.” He picked up another too perfect item from the floor beside him and lifted it in my direction. “Here’s to you, ghost, or whatever you are.”

  He put the thing to his mouth and swallowed. It must have been a container.

  “I’d offer you some of this but you’ve nothing to taste it with. And you probably aren’t familiar with this kind of drink, anyway. Besides, you can’t be real. I expect you’re a product of my imagination. Or proof I’ve finally lost my mind.”

  “I might have said the same about you,” I told him. “Or maybe you’re hallucinating because you’ve drunk too much wine.”

  Ice Eyes looked at me, surprised and suddenly more alert. “You know about wine?”

  “Of course. Though we don’t have any now. The berries are just beginning to ripen and we haven’t had time to stop and ferment any.”

  “Wine! In your time? Don’t I wish I had proof of that. It’d make my career. Next, you’ll be telling me you had bows and arrows.”

  “Yes, we do have bows and arrows. I shot Enemies, who tried to steal our women and children, with them today. My today, anyway. And my woman was shot. I’m worried about her wound.”

  He jumped to his feet and stumbled toward me. “War, wine, bows, tell me more. Tell me about your tools. Tell me how you live. Who makes decisions? Do you live with your father’s people or your mother’s? Do you have a god? Gods? Tell me everything.”

  “No.” I stopped him dead in his tracks. “I need information, too. I need to make sure my woman’s wound heals, if I get back to her again. Tell me how I got here. Where you found me. Are you a witch, planting these dreams in my mind? Or am I really dead as I talk to you here? And why should I believe anything you say?”

  “If I try to answer your questions will you answer mine?”

  I agreed, not sure I’d follow through. But I was desperate. Might Ice Eyes know how to keep Down safe? Did he know how I’d die? If I knew that, could I prevent it from happening? All those things, of course, mattered only if this were real. And surely it couldn’t be.

  He put a hand on his chin and looked thoughtful. I might have done the same if I’d had access to a hand.

  “Well, for your woman who’s wounded…I don’t suppose you know about…”

  Apparently I didn’t. The word meant nothing to me and I told him so.

  “I’m not a specialist in healing,” he said, “but I know we grind grass seeds and bake the powder as one of our foods. When that food gets old, there’s a thing that grows on it—a mold. You could use that to…”

  “A healing mold?” I said. “We find various kinds on plants and berries.”

  “You know about such things then? That’s even more remarkable than the wine.”

  “I know about molds. As does a woman in our band. If she has some or I can collect it, you’re right. It could help heal my woman if her wound goes bad. I’ll try that, when I go back again.”

  A chill raced down my non-existent spine
as it occurred to me that I should have said “…if I go back again.”

  “Good,” he said. “…should solve your first problem.” Again, the word meant nothing, but the vision of the mold he knew was similar to ours. I’d treat Down with some if I could.

  “Or,” he continued, “if you can find some wine, pour it over the wound. The…should help cleanse it.” Another word I didn’t understand. It was the wrong time of year, but maybe one of the nearby bands still had wine. Or Willow. If anyone had wine, she would.

  “And the bark of willow trees,” he said. “I’m sure you know about that.”

  “I already treated her with willow bark. We have lots of that.”

  “Good,” he said. “Your woman should be fine with all those treatments, unless the wound is too serious.”

  I assured him it wasn’t.

  “Now,” he said, “let me tell you what little I know about how you came to be here. I am an…,” he said. Still another meaningless word. I told him so.

  He nodded. “When you camp in a place that’s been used by others before you, have you noticed that old tools sometimes lie beneath the surface?”

  “Of course. Broken ones that have been discarded, along with old bones, cracked for their marrow. Sometimes we even find worn out skins. And, once we dug a storage pit and found a grave. We had to close it and move and purify ourselves after that mistake.”

  “We have specialists who dig things up to learn about the people who were here before us. Some of us think that learning more about people like yours, who lived in ages before we came along, may help us understand ourselves. That’s why my woman and I were invited here and how I found you.”

  Every hair on my body would have stood up as I considered what he’d said. “Are you telling me you found me…my skull…that you robbed my grave?”

  “No, no,” he said. “You were in a shrine. Just your skull, a few tools, this figurine, and…Say? Where’s the figurine?”

  “It was taken,” I said. “I’ll tell you who has it. But first, tell me about the shrine.”