The Last Sundancer

by Quinney, Karah

  “I expect nothing of Tamol and Farren, they are not of our band, and they broke from us long ago.” Denoa looked at the faces of the men that had hunted at her son’s side and no doubt fought alongside him as well. “But you, I expected more from you, the men of my band. You have turned your backs on my son and yet that is not your greatest shame. Your greatest shame is that you have turned your backs on the last hope of our people. You have pushed us even closer to death. When you look at the faces of your women and children, remember your failure. When you divide the meat from the buffalo hunt that was led by Kaichen, Tamol and Farren, remember the choice that you have made. You have betrayed your own band with your actions.” Denoa trembled with barely contained fury.

  Urri’s face blanched at her dire pronunciation and Denoa remembered that she had once been known for the allure of her voice. Did he take her words to be a warning born of prophecy? Good.

  Denoa had no claim upon power and yet she believed that some greater force watched over the world. She felt no compassion for those of her band that walked without honor.

  Shale would have never tolerated weak men that made excuses for their behavior, he said that such a man was not fit to live. Denoa had always thought that his judgment on such matters was harsh, but no more.

  “We brought back as much meat as we were able to carry. This will see us through the cold season and our band will survive.” Urri spoke proudly as if their efforts had not been in vain, despite Denoa’s contempt.

  “Yes. You have been successful on your hunt. You are fearless hunters. But what of the time after the long cold has gone and the ground grows soft once more? What will we feed our children then, when the time of long cold comes to an end and our lands begin to flood? You have food enough for three moons, perhaps four. But what of our future? Have you simply tossed it aside?” Denoa’s voice shook with barely suppressed fury.

  “What do you want from us Denoa? You ask for much without a guarantee for anything.” Urri’s words caused a murmur to rise up from their band.

  Denoa did not have to look to see that her band was now divided. She was their Beloved Woman, she was the bringer of peace for her band and she always had been.

  Some believed in her son and the blessing that he could bestow upon their people and some did not. But Urri was eager to show their band that he was indeed brave and fearless.

  “What do I want?” Denoa’s voice was full of scathing fury as she repeated Urri’s question. “I want our people to replace fear with hope. I want our band to fight for their survival together, instead of standing forever apart. I was wrong to ask you to place your hope in one man. You should place your hope in the strength of your own hands and the bond of blood that makes us one band.”

  Denoa stared into the faces of those around her. She saw that they were undecided and she closed her eyes as she tried to contain her hurt and anger. There was no outlet for it; shouting to the heavens would not bring back her son and his wife. Amara.

  Denoa lifted her head and glanced around.

  There was no sign of the young woman that had gone out with Kaichen and the others. Shame filled her, because Kaichen had not trusted her to keep his wife safe.

  She told herself that her son feared the raiders that were a constant threat. But in truth, she could not be certain.

  She had not been able to protect Siada and it was clear to her that Kaichen still blamed her for the loss of his brother. Of course he would not leave a woman he treasured with his mother. Casting aside the guilt that was her constant companion, Denoa found the strength to speak.

  “Where is Cloud Bringing Woman?” Denoa’s voice was a dire murmur as she watched the men around her.

  She looked into each one of their faces and let them see her contempt. They were a band without a leader and though they had survived until now she felt the lack of a capable leader now more than ever. Shale should have been at her side.

  Aching loneliness filled her heart as she thought of her husband. He would want her to be strong. But from what source could she draw her strength? Denoa felt tired to her very bones and the intense agony of loss only increased when one of the men responded in answer to her question.

  “The time of flooding has come. We returned to the place where the woman waited and found it empty. There was sign of a wash of water upon the rocks where she was hidden. She must have been washed away.”

  Denoa could not speak. Her grief was as real and horrible as anything she had ever endured.

  But along with it she was assaulted with an overwhelming sense of rage coupled with hopelessness. She had failed Kaichen.

  His woman had most likely suffered a death by drowning and their enemies now held her son.

  What was more, there was not one man present that Denoa felt that she could lean upon for strength or aid. Denoa turned and walked away.

  She made it past the prying eyes of her band before her footsteps faltered and the first tears began to fall. Anger, grief and fear were bound together inside of her. What hope did one woman have of turning those of her band this way or that?

  Her grief for her son was so strong that it came up into her nostrils and burned through her heart. She could not contain the pain inside of her any longer. It was time to admit the truth.

  All was lost.

  There was no more fight left in her and there was no place left to turn.

  Shale. Denoa whispered her husband’s name upon the wind as she allowed her tears to flow freely. “I need you now more than ever.”

  But there was no one to hear the desperate plea carried upon the breeze. No one at all.

  “Why did I waste my time?” Tamol asked himself as he knelt beside one of the ridges overlooking Denoa’s band.

  He watched as the hunters entered their small village and spoke to Denoa. Even from this distance he could make out the gentle curves of her body and the sheen of her long, coal black hair. Tamol felt his body respond to the allure of her feminine grace and form.

  He did not begrudge Shale the joyous union that had been his for such a short time. He was certain that his wits were no longer strong as he stared at Denoa. She thought that she was alone.

  He knew this to be true, because Denoa never allowed anyone to see her cry. The urge to wipe away her tears surprised him. When had he become a man moved by a weeping woman? He had grown old and addled.

  He was not a man given to weakness. He could barely make out the words that she uttered, but he knew that she spoke of Shale. His friend. The one that had become closer than a brother.

  Shale was gone forever. The thought no longer brought about shattering pain. Time had dulled the pain until it was only a dull ache, soothed by half-forgotten memories.

  Tamol watched Denoa far longer than he should have. He began to question his purpose as he knew it. He was a leader of men. Farren still claimed friendship with him, despite all odds. Had he truly grown old?

  He had seen more than forty-five seasons and since that time, he had ceased counting. He was no longer a young man, but one weathered by the passage of time. The inner voice that had always served him well had somehow turned against him.

  Perhaps it was the stories of Shale’s youth that bothered him. The words had been given to him by Denoa, long ago and yet they remained with him still.

  Shale’s voice came to Tamol in the silence of his mind and he whipped his head around. “Do you remember the snake and the squirrel?”

  “I remember.” Tamol spoke aloud as his mind cast him back to a time when Shale was a young boy watching a snake battle a ground squirrel. From the onset of the story, Tamol had been certain that the snake would win the fight. Yet, Denoa said that Shale had held his silence, just as he always did even as he continued with the story.

  “The squirrel is the weakest of the pair; the snake holds the power of poison. The squirrel will not live to see another sunrise.” One of Shale’s brothers spoke boldly as the boys watched the animals circle one another.

  �
�The snake seeks to escape, but the squirrel will not let him past. Why is that?” Kaichen questioned as the snake slithered forward on his belly, lacking the feet necessary to outrun the squirrel.

  “The snake attacks the squirrel; it does not seek to escape.” The youngest of Shale’s brothers was certain of his words. He could see the snake clearly and each time it slithered forward the snake raised his head high, ready to strike. “The squirrel does not know that the snake has poison in his fangs.”

  “Are you certain?” Kaichen asked, even as the snake lashed out with a ferocious bite, capturing the squirrel’s entire head in its mouth.

  All three boys remained silent as the squirrel forced its way free and then bit the snake with teeth and tore at it with sharp claws. The snake parried and fought, striking again, but the squirrel continued to fight. Both animals were formidable, but which was the stronger of the two?

  The squirrel fought and bit, only to repeat the process though the snake struck out several times. Finally, the squirrel clawed at the snake striking a fatal blow.

  “I do not understand. The snake’s venom will still kill the squirrel. Why did it fight so hard, only to die?” One of Shale’s brothers peered at the snake as the squirrel scurried away.

  Shale was silent, watchful and alert. He did not approach the snake, nor did he object when his brothers began to remove the snake’s skin.

  The story ended without an answer to the question. Knowing his friend, as he had, he was certain that Shale held the answer to himself. As a man fully grown and with seasons of experience hunting upon the land, Tamol knew the answer to the question.

  The squirrel fought for survival, not only for himself, but for its offspring. There had to have been a nest nearby that the squirrel was desperate to protect and in the end though the squirrel had surely died, perhaps one or more of its young had survived.

  Shale had seen the wisdom of fighting with everything in him against enemies that were stronger and more powerful even in his boyhood.

  From a distance, Tamol watched Denoa’s face as she stared across the canyon floor. The inner fire that normally lit her dark eyes was gone.

  Tamol told himself that he did not care. He would walk away. His wounded leg plagued him as he struggled to stand without being seen. He had taken the time to wash and clean the wound after one of his men removed the arrowhead that had entered his thigh. A strip of hide kept the wound from bleeding and further weakening him.

  They had no healer in his band. Tamol knew the dangers of an injury that did not heal properly, festering wounds often brought death soon after. The thought of meeting his end in such a way did not bring him shame.

  It was the thought of leaving Kaichen to face a band of merciless raiders that brought guilt and shame to ride upon his shoulders. He told himself that he was not like Shale and he could never live up to his legacy.

  A cold shiver of dread touched his soul and for a moment, he thought that he sensed a presence behind him. He turned with his spear raised in expectation but there was nothing there.

  “We each have a choice. Life is a series of choices, some leading down one path and the others leading down another. Which path will you choose, brother of my heart? Do you even see the wrong from the right?”

  Shale’s voice caused Tamol to stumble. It was then that Tamol knew for a certainty that he was plagued by memories of times long past.

  He forced his footsteps away. He was a leader of men who respected the strength of his hand. He was no longer a warrior, as he had been for a time in the days of his youth. The men of his band were not warriors, they were harvesters of the land and they looked to him for direction. Other than his responsibility to the people that he led, he did not owe a debt to anyone.

  Nevertheless, as he put one step before the other he realized that the fatigue that had overtaken his heart threatened to consume his very soul.

  If Denoa had given herself any time to think then she would not have left the safety and protection of her band. She was a fool to set off on her own under the fullness of the moon when it was possible that even now raiders were riding toward her village. She could be killed.

  Even with strong men to fight for them, her band could be slaughtered before she returned. Women and children that she loved could cease to exist in this world of men. Denoa knew these things and yet she walked ever onward.

  Urri had given her the marks upon the land which would identify the place where they had left Kaichen’s woman, Amara. She had only to make it there, search the area fully and satisfy the guilt plaguing her every waking moment.

  A sound from behind her caused Denoa to clench her small hunting knife. The blade was sharp enough to cut through a thick hide with little effort from her. Her husband had seen to it that she was given her own knife to carry and she had never thought to set it aside since the day that he first placed it in her hands.

  Denoa looked for high ground but she saw only the flat land of the plains. She whirled around and held her torch high, hoping to blind her enemy by fire.

  Laughter caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. A figure slid out of the darkness and limped toward her.

  “Tamol.” Denoa was surprised to see the man that had once called her husband a friend and brother.

  The flickering firelight caused her to think that a flash of pain flared in Tamol’s dark eyes. She shook her head to clear it. Tamol did not feel regret or shame over all that had passed between them.

  “What are you doing out here by yourself? Has it escaped your notice that you are alone and unprotected?” Tamol had followed Denoa from the moment that she set foot outside of the safety of her village.

  He could not say why he lingered instead of returning to his band. They waited for him and he needed rest. He was furious to see that Denoa cared nothing for her life.

  “I am not your concern.” Denoa’s words were harshly spoken as she turned to walk away. She did not fear Tamol.

  Yet she had underestimated Tamol. He circled her and she brushed past him with ease. His large hand flashed out as he easily captured her wrists within his grasp.

  “Ah, so you will not let me past? Will you try to force me to bend to your will, Tamol?” Denoa blinked furiously as she tried to gather her thoughts. Tamol’s superior strength was evident in the chiseled features of his face and the lean muscle that bunched and eased beneath her palm. Why had she touched him?

  “Release me.” Denoa felt her resolve weaken as her torchlight flickered and smoked. Soon the fire would die out completely and they would be cast into darkness. The reminder caused Denoa to pull away from Tamol’s searing touch.

  “You have always hated me because I am not him.” Tamol would not speak Shale’s name. He would not call upon the dead. But Denoa knew exactly who he referred to and why.

  “Do you wish to hear me say that you are wrong? I will not say it, because you are right. Why do you live, when he has faded to dust? He rests sheltered by sand and rock, joined with the bones of his ancestors. He is buried in a secret place with the things that he held sacred. He has turned to dust while you breathe and walk and sleep.” Denoa had never realized the depth of anger and fury that she felt for Tamol and Farren until now.

  “I am nothing to you.” Tamol did not know why he wanted to hear the words from Denoa’s lips. He told himself that he should have gotten over his infatuation with the woman long ago. But he could not expunge her from his soul no matter how he tried.

  It was in that moment that he freely admitted to himself that he would have stood at her side in an instant but she had given her pledge to Shale and never looked back. As she stared at him with cold eyes that saw every weakness and flaw, he realized that she would never turn to him.

  Not even the feelings of love that rushed over him like cold waters would draw her to his side. Denoa’s heart belonged to Shale and it always would. Even in death Shale still held her heart. Despair fell over Tamol, like the yawning maw of a great beast, consuming all. />
  As time slowed to a crawl he saw himself through Denoa’s dark, knowing eyes. He would never be the man that she had given her heart to.

  Of the three sons of Sakyma only Shale stood against their father and fought for the freedom of people that were too weak to fight for themselves. Denoa had chosen Shale as her mate, long ago and for all time. She made her choice clear now with her silence.

  “Where do you journey?” The words were forced from Tamol’s throat as he waited for Denoa to respond.

  “My son is in danger. I am but one woman and I cannot hope to free him from the man that has taken him away. But I will seek out his wife and offer her the safety of our band.” Denoa did not know why she bothered to explain herself to Tamol.

  “The raiders have plagued your people and ours. We avoided their attempts to raid our band, by taking to the high places that are easy to defend. But you have no natural defenses in your canyon. Your people draw strength from the red rocks just as ours do, but your village lies exposed. The raiders will come against you like a horde of insects and take what is there for the offering.” Tamol issued his warning with a voice that was full of dire certainty.

  Denoa felt cold fear wash over her. “You let them take my son.”

  Tamol did not deny Denoa’s words but he was surprised by the depth of shame he felt as he held Denoa’s condemning gaze.

  Without another word Denoa turned and walked away. There was nothing left to say and talking only delayed her journey.

  When she heard the gentle fall of his footsteps she felt certain that he would try to stop her. When he silently fell into step beside her she let her pent up breath fall away from her lips freely.

  Tamol set her torch to burn upon a pile of dried grass that she had not noticed before. She did not question him as he lifted the torch high and led her forward. His footsteps were longer than hers, though he limped slightly.

  If he helped her, she would see to his wound, but nothing more.