Broken Promise

by Theresa Scott

  "He only eats a little of it, too," mused Betafor.

  Claw lapsed into silence.

  "Perhaps we should talk to the shaman," said Betafor.

  "Perhaps," acknowledged Claw. "It would be better than watching Falcon sit and do nothing."

  They went to the shaman's cave and found him

  sorting herbs into leather sacks beside his fire.

  "We are concerned about Falcon," said Betafor. "We want to help him."

  The shaman set aside the herbs and nodded. "I have stopped by his cave several times. I see that he just sits."

  "Yes," agreed Betafor.

  "Is someone feeding him?" asked Rapt.

  "Yes," she answered.

  "Does someone light the fire so he can stay warm?" asked Rapt.

  "Yes," said Claw.

  The shaman was silent. "Where is his wife?" he asked at last. "I thought she carried his babe."

  "He sent her away," said Claw. "He does not want her anymore."

  "What does Tula do?"

  "Nothing. She does not help him. Nor does Marmot. They do not like him. Horn helps him sometimes."

  "What do his friends say?"

  Claw shrugged. "He does not have any except Horn and myself and Betafor. He has driven his other friends away. Ever since his child died ..."

  "Ah, yes," murmured Rapt softly, "his child ..." He was silent a long time. "I think'' he said at last, then fell into a reverie.

  Betafor and Claw waited expectantly. After some time, the shaman spoke again. "I think," he continued slowly, "that his soul has gone away."

  "Hmmm, gone away. That is very bad," said Betafor.

  "Can you bring it back?" asked Claw.

  "I must think about it," answered Rapt. "It is not an easy thing to do, to bring back a wandering soul."

  "We must do something," said Betafor. "Otherwise he will die."

  "I will give you a deer if you help Falcon," said Claw.

  The shaman's bright eyes snapped. "It is a most difficult thing when a soul as strong as Falcon's wants to go away. It takes much work to bring it back."

  "Two deer," said Claw.

  "It will take some time," warned the shaman. "His spirit may have wandered far, far away."

  There was a silence. Betafor nudged her husband.

  "Three deer," said Claw.

  "He still has some friends, I see," remarked the shaman.

  Betafor and Claw nodded. The shaman regarded them, his wrinkled face pensive. More time passed.

  "Four deer," said Claw.

  The shaman chuckled. "I will do it," he said, getting heavily to his feet, "for three deer." He left the cave.

  What does the old man want? wondered Falcon. If he were not so filled with despair, he would tell the shaman to leave the cave. As it was, it took too much effort. Not worth it. Nothing was.

  The chanting would have annoyed Falcon if he had let it. As it was, he just ignored the old man and his smoking herbs and his foolish songs as he sat beside the fire.

  The smoke from the herbs irritated Falcon's eyes. "Go away," he croaked at last.

  "Ah," said the shaman. "You have come back."

  "I did not go anywhere," said Falcon. "I have been sitting here."

  "Your soul, man. I talk about your soul."

  "I do not have one."

  "Everyone has a soul. The Great Spirit gave you one."

  "Well, since there is no Great Spirit, how can He give me a soul? Tell me that, old man with your stinking herbs," said Falcon, beginning to grow angry.

  The shaman shrugged. "Sometimes the soul falls asleep," he muttered. "Perhaps that is what happened to yours. It did not go wandering; it fell asleep."

  Falcon scoffed. "I am wide-awake now. Get out of my cave."

  The shaman rose. "It does not go well for a man who denies his own soul, a gift from the Great Spirit."

  "There is no Great Spirit! I have no soul! Now get out of my cave!" Anger was washing over Falcon now and it felt good. He felt alive. He cast off the robe he had wrapped himself in to keep off the cave's coolness. His legs trembled with weakness as he got to his feet.

  The shaman tottered ahead of him toward the cave entrance. Falcon followed him and bellowed, "You could not help my son. You cannot help me!"

  The shaman whirled. "That is what this is about. It is your son, is it not?"

  "No!" screamed Falcon. "It is not my son!"

  "You are correct," said the shaman. "He is dead. It is you."

  "No! It is not me!"

  "Tula then?"

  "No!"

  Falcon prowled up to the shaman. "Listen to me, old man," he growled, jerking the shaman by the front of his vest. "You poisoned my wife's thoughts. You said my son was important. That he would be a great teacher!" Falcon glared into the shaman's black eyes. ''Well, you were wrong, you lying old man! My son is dead!" And he howled his anguish and pain at the cave roof.

  The shaman shrugged out of his grasp and straightened his vest but he did not step away. When Falcon's howl had echoed through the cave until all was silent once more, the shaman said, "I did not lie. It was revealed to me that he was a healer."

  "You old fool! How can a boy whose eyes are dazed, whose body is so sick he cannot walk, whose mind wanders at will, be a healer?"

  The shaman shrugged. "I do not know," he admitted.

  "Then why," raged Falcon, "did you tell my wife such foolishness?" He wanted to throttle the old man where he stood. All the problems of his first marriage, all the foolish hopes, the unreality of it, could be laid on this man's skinny shoulders.

  "Because it was the truth."

  "Bah! There is no reasoning with you!" cried Falcon. "Leave my cave!"

  The shaman did.

  After he had gone, Falcon marched up and down beside the flickering fire, muttering to himself. Finally, the excitement and energy of his rage-filled encounter with the old man spent itself and he slumped down beside the fire. And this time, when the despair came, it was a yawning dark hole that swallowed him up.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  When Falcon awoke, the old man was sitting beside the fire, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Falcon gave him a kick in the leg. "Get out of here, old man. Let me be!"

  The shaman opened his eyes. "I see you are back."

  "We disagree, you old liar. I did not go anywhere. Do not play your games with me."

  "Falcon? Rapt? Are you there?"

  "Who goes?" asked Falcon, blinking against the light of the cave's entrance.

  "It is I, Claw's wife," said Betafor, edging into the darkness. She walked up to them. "I came to see how you are faring."

  "I would fare better if this old man were out of here. Who pays you?" he addressed the shaman. "Not me, I can tell you."

  The old man shrugged. "Your friends."

  Falcon spat. "I have none. Leave."

  The shaman got slowly to his feet, nodded at Betafor, and left the cave.

  They watched him go. "You are very rude to that old man. He tries to help you."

  Falcon sighed. "I suppose it is you who pays him?"

  She did not deny it, but sat down heavily on the robe beside the fire. Finally she said, "Yes, Claw and I and Horn pay him. We want to help you. Are there any other friends you have?"

  Falcon grunted. "No."

  They sat quietly for a while. "Is it you that brings the food?" asked Falcon.

  "Yes."

  "Oh."

  There was another long silence broken only by the snapping of the fire. "Do youdo you ever wonder about Star?" asked Betafor.

  Falcon glanced at her. "All the time."

  "Why do you not go to her then?"

  He laughed bitterly. "Why should I? What woman would want the man who casts her aside when she is pregnant?"

  "You regret it?" asked Betafor with a hopeful note in her voice.

  "No." He sighed heavily. "I did it for her. And the babe."

  She was silent for a long time. "That does not make sense, Falcon.
"

  He glared at her. "Do not ask me to tell you any more, old woman."

  "I see that you will not."

  "No. I will not."

  There was another long silence. At last Betafor said, "I do not know why you did what you did. You must have your reasons. But I think that Star is a good woman. She would not hurt you."

  He gave a guttural laugh. "She is like Tula."

  "Oh? How so? Tell me, for I did not notice the likeness before this."

  He sighed. "After her long labor and the delivery of her sickly child, she will turn against me and blame me. And," he said hoarsely, "she will be correct to do so. She will hate me."

  "Ah, just like Tula."

  "Just so."

  There was a long silence. Falcon spoke up. "And I, I will not be able to help her."

  "Mmmm. And so you got rid of her before this could happen?" asked Betafor.

  "What man would not? What man would choose to watch his child die and his wife leave him? What man would choose to go through that again?"

  Betafor stared at the flames thoughtfully. "No man," she said at last. "No man."

  A glimmer of hope entered Falcon's breast. "So you see why I did it."

  "I do."

  For the first time in a long time, Falcon relaxed. "You see then that the shaman is wrong. My soul is not wandering or asleep. I am doing what I should do. I am trying to stop another tragedy."

  "You are trying to stop the pain to yourself, too," said Betafor.

  Falcon glanced at her sharply, but her bland face was watching the fire.

  "I am trying to protect Star," he said.

  "And the babe, too."

  Guilt stirred in him. "I cannot help the babe. I have been through a sickly son's death once. I cannot bear it again."

  "No. Let Star bear it this time."

  When he gazed at Betafor, she was still watching the flames. "That does not sound so good," he said slowly. "You make it sound as if I am thinking only of myself."

  Betafor glanced at him. "Are you?"

  "No."

  "Well then, what is the worry?"

  "None," he answered hastily. "None at all."

  She nodded.

  The only sound was the hissing of wood burning low.

  "I have been trying," said Betafor, "to think how alike Tula and Star are. I fail."

  "What do you mean? Of course they are alike. They are both women."

  He caught Betafor's amused glance. "I understand you are a woman, too, but you are different."

  "I suppose," said Betafor.

  "Tula blamed me," he said bitterly. "She thought I hated my son. Wanted him dead. But I loved him. I did everything I could to help him survive."

  "Yes."

  The simple statement reverberated inside Falcon. At last someone believed him. "She left me before she could even know the truth."

  "And you think Star would do the same?"

  "Yes."

  Betafor was silent.

  She is a smart old woman, thought Falcon. I will ask her. "Do you think Star would have left me?"

  Betafor glanced up at him. "What I think does not matter. Whether she would or not, I do not know."

  Falcon's heart sank. "That is no answer, Betafor."

  "It is the only honest answer I can give you."

  Falcon stared at the fire, feeling the grim despair creeping up on him again. For a short time, he had felt hope, felt there was a way out of the yawning blackness. But he had been wrong. As he had been so many times before.

  "But I do know this," added Betafor slowly. "You will never know until you ask her about this."

  He laughed bitterly. "You sound like Star. She always wanted to talk."

  Betafor met his eyes and smiled for the first time. A little while later, she rose to her feet. "I go now," she said. "I can bring you back some stew, if you wish."

  It seemed he spent so much of his time staring at the flames. "That is good," he said. "I am hungry."

  After she had brought the stew and left, he thought about her words. Would Star tell him any different? If he asked her, would she be honest and tell him that she would leave him when their babe was born sickly? Was there a chance that she would tell him she would not leave him?

  What is it I truly want? he wondered. Do I want to know how she would behave after the babe is born? Or do I want to be assured that she loves me? He froze at the thought. Love? Is that what I truly want?

  Strange how hope suddenly stirred within him again.

  Chapter Fifty

  "Where are you going?" asked Betafor one evening as Falcon tottered out of the cave. She peered at him in the deepening twilight.

  She held a stone bowl filled with deer stew, his evening meal that she had been about to give him.

  He took the bowl from her, slurped down the hot stew, and wiped impatiently at the juice dripping down his chin. "I go."

  "I know that," said Betafor, taking the bowl from his hands. "But where?"

  "Canyon of the Doves."

  "That is a long way."

  Even in the dark he could see her concern for him. He wanted to push her away and run off. People caring for him were just a burden. Why did she bother? Nothing mattered.

  He took a few more tottering steps, using his spear for a cane. His strength was not what it had been. Sitting around a cave weakens a man, he thought. Then he thought, what does it matter? He had no one to hunt for. Not even himself. It did not matter if he lived or died.

  "Why are you going to the Canyon of the Doves?"

  He glared at her. "You ask too many questions."

  She sighed and nodded. "I do."

  He relented a little. "I must stand on the walls. Like my father before me."

  His words made little sense but he cared nothing for her understanding. He did not want to talk to her. Whenever he did, he said too much. "Farewell," he said and started forward.

  "Farewell," she called after him softly.

  It was better this way. Leaving in the dark. None of the Jaguar People would see him or follow him.

  It took him three days to find the Canyon of the Doves. And that was because he was so weak from sitting around the cave, thought Falcon viciously. He had forgotten to bring food with him, but he had not felt hungry after the first day. He drank water from creeks he crossed.

  As dawn approached, he sat up. He'd had a restless sleep this past night. He had dreamed of Star and she had called him. "Go away," he had answered. "Leave me alone." And so he awoke, feeling mean and alone and full of despair.

  Above him was the slope of one side of the canyon. "I will climb it," he said aloud. "I must do this thing."

  He did not know why he had come to the canyon. Only that he must. Once he had tried to end his life. But he could not do it in the churning white water of the river, and so now he would see if his life held anything more for him.

  He felt drawn to the slopes of the steep canyon where his father had taken him when he was but a youth. His father had shown him the land and said that the animals and everything he saw were for Falcon's use. And his father had further promised that one day Falcon would stand there and show all he surveyed to his own son.

  What a lie, thought Falcon angrily. Everything is a lie. My father's promise was a lie. Tula's love was a lie. My son's life was a lie. Everything. Star is a lie, tooshe and her ''love!" He gave a snort of disgust, yet he rose from the bedrobes and started the ascent.

  It took him the whole day to climb to the top. The gravel slopes were difficult to scale in his weakened state and he slid so many times his feet and legs were bleeding. But he cared nothing for that.

  He finally reached the top, puffing, and sat down. Below him, back the way he had come, was a gravel slope. On the other side of him, the wall dropped sheer into the canyon. Night was approaching and he could see very little of the country. "I will see what tomorrow brings," he thought. "I am too tired now."

  He thought about lying down to sleep but it was a precari
ous position he held and in his sleep, he might roll down the slope. So he sat and nodded, finally falling asleep with his head slumped on his knees.

  What awoke him he did not know, but suddenly he was awake, with the kind of alertness that comes when a hunter hears something.

  He glanced around but all was quiet. The moon shone full. Below him in the canyon he could see a yawning blackness. On the slope, he could see the gravel. What woke me? he wondered.

  He got to his feet, the better to survey. He clutched his spear. It was very unlikely a wildcat would scale the canyon's side. Yet he had heard something... .

  Only silence greeted his straining ears. As he stood there, he felt suddenly as if he stood at the top of the world. Alone.

  As he stood there, he felt surrounded by the soft darkness and his fear at being awakened receded. It was only he and the darkness and the moon and his memories.

  He held his spear defiantly. "I am here," he said. "I am alive." He shook the spear. "Do you hear me, Great Spirit, if you even exist? This is my life and I will do what I want!"

  There was no answer. He became bolder.

  "If you exist, I tell you that you are a destroyer, Great Spirit!" he cried. "You have destroyed my life! And I blame you for it all! You gave me a son who was crippled, a wife who was faithless! You gave me a second wife who would be equally faithless! What is the matter with you? Why do you torture me so? Have you nothing better to do at your camp behind the sun than throw evil upon us?"

  There was no answer.

  "I am angry at you, Great Spirit! I am angry at you beyond anything I can do or say! Life is all lies! It is not good! Fathers lie to their sons! Women leave their husbands! Sons die! What kind of a world have you created? I do not want to be part of it! Do you hear? I do not want it!"

  Again, silence.

  Rage reared up in Falcon, a mixture of grief and sorrow and pain at all he had suffered in his life. He gave a huge, tearing scream. When the scream died out, silence reigned again.

  "I am angry at you! I am angry at Tula! I hate her! I am angry at my son! How dare he die when I wanted him to live! I hate Rapt! I hate everyone in the Jaguar camp! They are all fools! I hate everyone!"