by Liz Fichera
In my delirium, faces and voices flashed in front of me—Chenoa, Sinopa, Gaho, Ituha, but best of all Honovi. Each one told me to keep walking, that I was close, so close. But it was Honovi who told me, “Just one more step, Aiyana. One more, then another. You’re strong. You can do it.” His face was clear, so clear to me. He was standing in front of me, motioning me forward with his hand, smiling.
And then, somehow, I finally reached the edge of the smooth clearing that separated the Apache village from the forest. My feet felt it before I saw it. My eyes clouded. My lips were cracked and I couldn’t swallow. The smell of my own sweat, blood, and even death preceded me.
From the top of the cliff, the Apache guards bellowed my name. “Aiyana!” My name echoed in the village below like it belonged there. “Aiyana!” they yelled again. I craned my neck to see the shadows of their faces, but the weight of the doe kept my head wedged downwards.
I walked another step, and then another, till my legs could move no more. My head began to spin when I crashed forward on my knees. My arms fell to my sides, and the weight of the doe smothered me in sweat and blood.
Everything went completely black.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Soft lips and warm breath brushed against my ear. “Aiyana?” someone whispered. Then lips swept against my cheek, coaxing me awake.
“Yes?” I mumbled, struggling against blurriness that covered my eyes. Was this the World Beyond, the one Yuma always described in his stories? Was I being summoned by Hunab Ku?
“Aiyana, please wake up.”
My eyes widened and then blinked abruptly. It wasn’t just any voice whispering next to my ear. The voice belonged to Honovi.
“Honovi?” I lifted my head, only to feel a blast of white light slice across my forehead. It was sharp, like a knife. Diego’s knife? Whatever it was, my head throbbed.
Honovi’s face lowered closer to mine. Our noses almost touched. Through the slits in my eyes, I watched him smile. “Yes, it’s me.”
“Where are we?” I said, lifting myself up again. “Are we home?” Honovi slipped his arm behind my back, supporting my shoulders. I winced from the pressure to my back. It was as if someone had placed a knife in the middle of it.
“You don’t remember?”
I blinked, hard, and cleared away the blurriness. “Yes, I remember. I remember carrying a doe up a mountain, that’s what I remember,” I said, reliving the burn across my shoulders, the numbness in my legs.
“You’re a crazy girl, Aiyana,” Honovi said, but I heard admiration in his voice just as much as frustration. “You should never have done that. It was foolish—”
“It was the only way!” I said, pausing to swallow. “I’d do it again if I had to.” And didn’t he know that he would have been killed if I had failed? Surely someone must have told him. Diego would have reveled in sharing the news.
He sighed then smirked. “Yes, I suppose you would.”
“You would have done the same,” I added.
Honovi had pulled me closer in his arms. His mouth found my ear again, and my skin tingled underneath his lips. “I love you, Aiyana.” His voice was urgent. “I can’t lose you.”
My eyes turned cloudy again. “I love you, too.” The words flowed so easily so freely off my tongue, that I wondered why I hadn’t said sooner what I’d always known somewhere deep inside. It had always been Honovi. Always.
Over Honovi’s shoulder, Doli stood at the door. She stood stiffly, peering anxiously through a fold in the flap.
“Doli!” I said, sitting straighter. And that’s when I realized where I was. I was back in Manaba’s house, resting atop his sleeping mats, warming myself next to his fire. My heartbeat quickened as my senses became clearer. I grabbed Honovi’s shoulders. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“I had to see you, Aiyana,” he said. His eyes widened in the soft firelight and I saw my reflection. His hair hung past his shoulders, longer than ever. A wide deerskin sash wrapped around his forehead. He looked Apache. The bronze color had returned to his face but he was wearing deerskins that I didn’t recognize. They were Apache warrior skins, like the kind worn by the men who guarded the healer’s house. “We must leave this village,” he said. “Together.”
Yes, leave. That was my plan, too, although I hadn’t worked out all of the details.
I blinked slowly. Over his shoulder, the yellow antelope skin hung against the wall. It was a wedding dress. My stomach sunk.
It was my wedding dress.
Doli rushed from the flap to my side and said something I didn’t understand. Her hands fidgeted in front of her as she spoke, although I did understand one very important word. It sucked the air out of the house: Manaba.
Manaba was coming.
“You must leave!” I said to Honovi. I shook his shoulders. “He’ll kill you!”
Very calmly, Honovi wrapped his hands around my wrists, holding me still. “I’m not leaving here without you.”
“Yes, I know. I mean, I don’t know,” I stammered, making little sense. “First you must leave! Now!”
My eyes darted from Honovi to the door. Olathe rushed inside, the sunlight blinding us, but only till the flap swept shut. Her eyes were as wide as Doli’s, frightened and anxious. Doli stood alongside her, covering her mouth with both hands, as she looked from Honovi and me to the flap across the door. Her entire body trembled. I could only imagine what would happen to them—to all of us—if Manaba found Honovi inside his house with his arms around me.
Speaking in Apache, Olathe grabbed Honovi by the elbow. She began to drag him to the rear of the house, even though the door was on the other side. For such a small woman, she had the strength of ten Apache warriors.
Honovi allowed himself to be dragged, but reluctantly. He only released my wrists, then my hands, until he absolutely had to. His eyes darkened as they locked onto mine. “I’ll come for you, Aiyana. Be ready.”
“When?” I said.
“Do not marry, Manaba. Promise me,” he said. “I’ll come for you before then. Stay here. Be ready.”
I nodded, without really understanding his plan. “When?” I said again, anxiously.
But he’d already slipped through a hidden flap in the back of the house, a small entrance that I’d never seen before. Honovi crawled out on his hands and knees, just as Manaba burst through the door flap like an unwelcome wind across a quiet desert.
Everyone stopped breathing as we squinted against the sunlight.
As Manaba strode into the center of the house, Doli thrust something against his chest and partially covered his face just as the bottom of Honovi’s feet slipped through the rear flap. Olathe blocked the rest with her body.
Doli spoke to Manaba in a shrill voice. Even I knew Doli’s tone was forced but she proceeded to show him a new shirt that she’d sewn together from deerskins. It was a ceremonial shirt, a wedding shirt. The stitching along the arms and chest was too elaborate and intricate for anything else. Even I could see that.
Manaba’s black eyes pulled back. He looked at Doli like she was crazy. He brushed her hand away, gruffly.
Then he said something to me and smiled. I nodded numbly. I guessed he was happy that I was finally awake.
And how long had I slept? One moon’s rise? A handful?
The warmth I felt from Honovi disappeared when I saw who followed behind Manaba. My stomach twisted into a knot.
Diego.
With his chin raised and his chest puffed out, Diego strutted into the house as if he were the Apache tribal leader.
I leaned back against the sleeping mat and closed my eyes but Manaba strode across the room. He stood over me, breathing loudly, till my eyes opened. Then he knelt down on one knee and brushed the back of his rough hand against my cheek. His fingers were cold from being outside.
He said something that I didn’t understand. Diego obliged by translating.
“Feeling better?” Diego said. The smile across his face did not match his concern.
I cleared my throat, nodded once. Tentatively.
“Good,” Diego said. “After two days of sleep, you should be.”
I stayed silent, wondering if it wouldn’t be better to feign more exhaustion but Diego continued.
“The wedding ceremony will be held at sunset,” he said. “Manaba will wait no longer. You’ve proved your worthiness to him and his people. And he requires more sons. The doe you hunted is already being prepared for the ceremonial feast.”
I didn’t answer, although I squirmed underneath Manaba’s hand. His fingers traced my eyebrows, as if he was trying to coax my eyes to widen. Then he reached for a cup of water in the bowl beside me. It was an oddly gentle gesture, especially for him. He lifted the clay cup to my lips. I drank the cool water hungrily, only then realizing how great was my thirst.
Manaba smiled over me as I drank the water.
Then Diego asked the question I’d been expecting. “Where’s my pouch, Aiyana?”
Manaba continued to watch me drink, oblivious to Diego’s question. Behind him, Doli and Olathe bustled about the house, arranging baskets, tending to the fire, folding and refolding sleeping mats and bearskins, their watchful gazes never too far. Unlike Manaba, they watched Diego warily. If only they could understand his words. He was a man they should trust least of all.
“Aiyana?” Diego said carefully, calmly, a concerned older brother to his younger sister.
My voice cracked from the dryness that still coated my throat. I dragged my hand across my lips. “It’s safe,” I said to Diego. “Hidden.”
“When will you tell me?” His tight smile couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice.
“Leave me your horse and you’ll have your stones.”
Diego chuckled behind his hand. “Leave without seeing you properly married? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I didn’t believe him.
***
Manaba and Diego left, leaving Olathe, Doli and me to prepare for the wedding ceremony. After they insisted on bathing and feeding me like I was a child, we began to dress.
The excited hum of Apache voices and the smells from the fire pit wafted inside the house through every crack. The other women in the village had already begun to prepare the deer meat and stews for the wedding feast. The women sang while their children laughed and played, squealing from the excitement of yet another day of celebration. Surely they felt blessed.
Olathe and Doli hummed, too, when they weren’t quietly murmuring to each other like worried sisters do.
They worked on either side of me as the three of us stood next to the fire. While I stood anxious and stiff, Doli brushed my hair and Olathe scrubbed my face, neck, and arms with a cool, wet deerskin. They were careful not to tug my necklace. Instead, they examined the remaining shells and blue stone curiously. I watched them numbly as they talked as if I understood every word.
Finally, I had to speak. “I can’t marry Manaba. You both know that, don’t you?” I said, knowing they didn’t understand. “I don’t love him. I’m not even sure if I can have sons. Or daughters. Who can know these things?”
Still, they studied me as I spoke. A part of me knew that they understood my fears by the familiar way their eyes paused to flicker at each other.
“It’s Honovi that I love. It’s always been him,” I added. It felt both strange and invigorating to make such an announcement. And yet what would it matter if the wedding ceremony proceeded?
As they continued to work and murmur quietly to each other, I talked.
“Honovi and I must leave here. Today. It’s our only chance. You must realize that,” I said. “But before I leave, I want you both to know how grateful I am for your kindness.” My voice caught on the last word.
Doli stopped brushing my hair; Olathe tossed the wet deerskin to the ground. She reached her hand to my cheek to brush away a stray tear. Olathe tilted her head with a knowing smile while Doli’s eyes welled with tears. Abruptly, I gathered them both in my arms.
“I love you like sisters,” I said, pulling them closer. “You’re as dear to me as Chenoa.” My voice cracked again at the mention of my sister’s name. We hugged each other, close.
Outside, the drummers pounded a steady beat.
Thump, thump, thump.
The drumbeats drowned out everything else, the women’s voices, the children’s laughter. My arms dropped to my sides. I looked from Olathe to Doli with new fear.
The ceremony was about to begin.
My eyes numbly watched the door while Olathe moved across the room and reached for the antelope skin hanging on the wall. Together, she and Doli slipped the dress over my arms. It slid over my skin like water. Olathe cinched the matching belt around my waist. A perfect fit. Then they helped me step inside a new pair of deerskin sandals. The skins were thicker than my old ones and reached up to my knees. Doli tied the laces.
They stepped back and shook their heads, pleased.
I blushed, even though I had no right. The wedding ceremony wasn’t mine; it was a farce. It belonged to someone else. I had as much right belonging to Manaba as he to me.
Doli stepped closer and kissed my cheek. Olathe brushed her cool fingers across my forehead, gently lifting a few stray locks.
Then, without a word, the sisters looked at each other and nodded. They walked toward the door, lifted the flap, and left. Just like that.
I was alone.
Frantically, my eyes darted around the room. I didn’t know how long I’d have. A moment? A hundred heartbeats?
Outside, the drumbeats grew louder, faster. Frenzied.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
My heartbeat quickened.
Frantic, I scanned Olathe’s baskets, my eyes searching for my quiver. I’d need a weapon, surely. The bow was missing, but I’d easily found the quiver. It leaned against the biggest basket as if on purpose, waiting for me to find it. Stuffed inside I found Diego’s knife. Smiling, I slipped the knife inside my belt.
Then, my eyes swept the room again as I spun in a circle. I had to leave. But leaving through the front entrance was impossible. It was across from the fire pit. The entire village would see me.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
My heart raced in unison with the drumbeats and just as loud. There was only one escape.
Before dropping to my knees, I ripped the knot from the back of my neck that held Gaho’s necklace. I brought the necklace to my lips and kissed the blue stone. Then, quickly, I laid the necklace on Doli’s sleeping mat.
Ignoring the growing lump in my throat, I returned to the hidden door, pulled back the animal skin, and crawled out into the sunlight like a rabbit from its hole.
As soon as I was free, I squinted into the brightness and breathed the thin mountain air as if reborn.
Barely standing, I began to run. I had to reach Honovi while we still had the chance.
***
The entire village had assembled around the fire pit, waiting for the wedding ceremony to begin. The drumbeats, along with the smells from the fire, filled the air. The drums had become so loud that they silenced everyone’s voices.
With the distraction of the ceremony, running unnoticed through the village was, mercifully, not that difficult. I didn’t see a single Apache all the way to the healer’s house. Even the guard at the entrance was missing.
I opened the front door and whispered, “Honovi?”
Inside, the room was dark and it was icy cold. The fire no longer burned. There wasn’t even an ember.
“Honovi?” I said again, squinting into the darkness.
No answer.
The room smelled sharp and medicinal, like too much burnt sage and creosote.
I spun around and ran outside, bursting open the flap with clenched fists.
And I kept running.
I ran to the far end of the village where the Apache kept their handful of horses, including Diego’s two.
As I ran, my eyes scanned the village for Hono
vi. In his new deerskins and headband, he could have easily blended with any of the Apache.
But where could he be? Where did he go?
I stopped to catch my breath and leaned against one of the houses. The animal skins and dried grasses that filled the house’s frame scratched my hands and arms as I circled around it. The house was empty, fortunately, like most of the others and once again I was thankful that it didn’t have any windows. Still, I hugged it close as I walked around it backwards, looking everywhere for Honovi.
“Aiyana!”
I froze.
A warm hand grabbed my wrist, hard.
I turned.
“Honovi! Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Honovi’s eyes blazed. “Where’ve I been? I told you to wait for me. And be ready.”
The blaze in my eyes equaled his. I started to breathe hard again. “And I am,” I said defiantly. “Ready!”
Honovi’s lips pressed together. His nostrils flared. “Come on,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
His hand slipped from my wrist and then down to my hand. He threaded his fingers through mine and I stopped breathing. At that frightening moment I knew anything was possible.
“Run,” he exhaled under his breath.
We ran toward the horses, both knowing that we would never get too far on foot. The Apache warriors would follow us, certainly.
In the center of the village, the drums stopped just as we reached a handful of horses grazing on a small patch of grass. I immediately recognized Diego’s horse. It was taller and rounder than the others and had the silkiest coat. It raised its head suspiciously and whinnied when we approached.
“Shh,” I said to it, as I reached for its long head while Honovi reached for the cord that tied it to a tree. “Shh, horse. We won’t hurt you.” Diego’s small deerskin side pouch was already mounted. My eyes widened with the realization of what was inside. The map.
The horse looked at us warily with its round, black eyes but whinnied softly when I began to stroke the soft spot along its snout like I saw Diego do many times before. “It’ll be okay,” I said. “Everything will be okay,” I added, more to calm our anxiety than Diego’s horse.