Walker’s eyes continued to search the crowd till he saw Gray Wolf near the center of the fourth row. He sat ramrod straight with his head slightly thrown back and his arms folded firmly across his chest. He spoke to no one. A spear lay across his lap.
A hush fell over the people. In a wavelike motion, heads turned around. Walker felt hundreds of eyes fall on him then sweep past him toward the entrance.
Lone Eagle stood in the narrow entryway. He wore a knee-length white kilt. A brilliant blue, beaded figure of an eagle with its wings outspread covered the front of it. Lone Eagle’s gray, shoulder-length hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. His thin shoulders and chest were bare. Pain and fatigue had dug deep furrows in his pale, sunken face.
White Badger stood at Lone Eagle’s side. Walker realized that without White Badger’s help, Lone Eagle would not have been able to walk up the steep path to the meeting place. He also saw that the strenuous climb had taken a heavy toll on his sick father.
Thunder rolled overhead, filling the canyon with echoes.
The cold fingers of worry tightened around Walker’s heart. “Father,” he whispered, moving to Lone Eagle’s side. He slipped his hand under his father’s arm and felt Lone Eagle lean against him. White Badger moved back a step, letting Lone Eagle and Walker stand side by side.
“My son,” Lone Eagle said in a low voice, “we will take only a few steps together. Then you must walk alone.”
Walker felt all eyes on him as he helped his father to the platform in the center of the meeting place. His heart hammered against his chest. The scant twenty feet to the platform became an emotionally brutal journey that seemed endless.
Walker felt his father’s full weight on his arm even before they reached the steps of the platform. At the platform, White Badger moved up from where he had been following to take Lone Eagle’s other arm. Walker was grateful for his friend’s help in getting his father up the three flat, stone steps.
Reaching the top of the platform, Lone Eagle stopped to catch his breath. His body trembled, and sweat beaded his pale forehead. He smiled and nodded at White Badger. White Badger’s eyes filled with tears. His face was pulled tight as he stepped back, returning the nod as if he had just received an intense, unspoken message.
Turning to look at Walker, Lone Eagle gripped his arm. “My son, time is short,” he whispered. His love-filled eyes searched Walker’s face as if to memorize its every line and angle. “If only there were more time for us . . .” Tears veiled his dark eyes just as the clouds had curtained the canyon. Lone Eagle squeezed Walker’s arm tightly, then pulled his body up as tall as he could. Letting go of Walker, he took slow, unsteady steps to the center edge of the platform. Walker followed, stopping a few feet behind him.
“My people,” Lone Eagle started. The strength of his voice surprised Walker. “It is good to see each of you after being gone for so many days.” His eyes looked down into his people’s anxious faces. “I went to the sacred mountain seeking answers to the many problems confronting us: hunger, thirst, sickness, and death. While I prayed at the holy shrines on the sacred mountain, the answer to my prayers came.” Lone Eagle swayed a bit but regained his balance.
“Many harvests ago, Masau’u, the god of death, relentlessly stalked our hearths. He stole loved ones from each of you.” Heads nodded in agreement. “Masau’u was quick to take my wife, Summer’s Song. At that time my small son left our canyon to escape death. Now Masau’u has again entered our village, stealing many loved ones from us. At this very moment, he is wrapping his cold fingers around me.” Gasps washed over the crowd. Lone Eagle raised his thin arm, his entire body shaking. Silence filled the meeting place. “In answer to my prayers, my son,” Lone Eagle turned, reaching his unsteady arm toward Walker, “has returned to take his rightful place as your leader and chief.”
Walker moved to his father’s side. Blinding lightning raced across the sky, leaving the air filled with tense static.
Spear in hand, Gray Wolf jumped to his feet. His eyes glared at Walker. “There is no proof that this boy is your son,” Gray Wolf shouted with a determined voice.
The air vibrated with crackling thunder.
Lone Eagle’s voice followed the thunder. “He wears the eagle pendant that I created with these hands and wore around my own neck for many years before he was born. When he left, I sent the pendant with him that all might know him when he returned.”
“Anyone could have stolen the pendant. It proves nothing!” Gray Wolf stated, looking at the people around him trying to gain support.
Lightning flashed out of the rainless clouds. Thunder bounced off the cliffs.
Staring down at Gray Wolf, Lone Eagle proclaimed, “But no one can steal a birthmark.”
Whispering filled the air. Walker saw heads nodding in agreement.
Lone Eagle waited till all eyes were on him again. “My son was born with a dark red, half-moon shape on his left ankle.”
Like thunder, Gray Wolf’s high voice instantly responded, “We have no proof of what you say.”
“I was there when the child was born!” Singing Woman’s strong voice declared. She struggled to her feet, turning so that all could see and hear her. “Being his aunt, I helped Lone Eagle’s son and only child into this world. I was the first to hold him in my arms. My eyes saw clearly then and I saw the mark that Lone Eagle speaks of on the baby’s ankle. I knew that it was the mark of one who would walk with many following. Fulfilling my rightful duty as the infant’s aunt, I named him Walker. In my heart, I can still see that mark.” Pointing in the direction of the platform, Singing Woman stated, “Look and you will find that mark on the young man that stands before you!”
Walker reached down and lifted up the leg of his left leather legging. Somehow the red, moon-shaped birthmark seemed darker and more distinct than he had ever seen it before. The people in the first rows nodded their heads, confirming what they saw. “It’s there.”
“The half-moon mark is there.”
“Singing Woman is right.” The words spread through the crowd with lightning speed.
Lone Eagle raised his hand for quiet but began to lose his balance. Walker slipped his arm under Lone Eagle’s to support him. He felt his father’s hand clutch his arm.
Lightning brightened the darkened sky for an instant. Silence fell over the gathering.
When Lone Eagle spoke, it was with firm authority. “A father knows his own son, his own blood. I tell you that this is my son, Walker.” Lone Eagle held up Walker’s arm. “Now in front of you all, I make him your rightful leader and chief.”
“No!” screamed Gray Wolf, over the sound of thunder. “No!” his bitter words echoed long after the thunder died. “He may be Lone Eagle’s son, but remember that he vanished with a man that came to our village from out of the thin air. Everyone knows that man was two-hearted—a witch!” Gray Wolf raised his spear, shouting, “Since then this boy has lived and walked among witches, becoming two-hearted himself! He is the one that has brought death into our canyon!”
Whispers, fear, and lightning filled the air. The whispers grew louder and were accompanied by thunder.
Walker felt his father’s full weight against his arm. He wrapped his arms around him. “You must sit down, Father,” Walker said. Almost carrying Lone Eagle’s weathered body, Walker helped him to the back of the platform. He eased his father down, so he could sit with his back against one end of the stone shrine.
“You must always walk strong, my son; walk with Taawa,” Lone Eagle whispered. His deathly white face was etched with both love and worry.
Walker’s throat tightened. He squeezed Lone Eagle’s hand. “Yes, like my father before me.”
Gray Wolf’s screeching voice filled the air, “I will not be led by a witch!”
Walker turned his head in time to see Gray Wolf’s spear soaring through the air toward them.
25
Walker threw himself across his father’s chest as a shield. In the same instant,
he heard the sickening thud of the spear’s deadly stone projectile striking the shrine just inches above his head.
“Father, are you all right?” Walker whispered, pulling himself up. Lone Eagle’s eyes were closed. His face was ashen and without expression.
“Witch!” Gray Wolf’s shriek filled Walker’s ears. He jerked his head around to see Gray Wolf bounding toward the platform, a stone knife clutched in his hand.
Rising quickly, Walker grasped the spear’s wooden shaft and pulled. The shaft broke free, leaving its stone spearhead wedged deep in the shrine’s mortar. Holding the shaft in front of him, Walker swung around to block Gray Wolf’s knife.
“I will kill you,” screamed Gray Wolf, thrusting his entire body toward Walker.
Again Walker used the wooden shaft to block Gray Wolfs knife. This time, he snapped one end of the shaft hard against Gray Wolfs wrist. The knife flew out of Gray Wolfs hand.
Gray Wolf grabbed the spear shaft and began pushing Walker backward. His hate-filled eyes glared inches from Walker’s. Thick, wet spittle sprayed from his twisted mouth as he growled, “I will not be cheated again!”
Using every ounce of strength he had, Walker pushed against the shaft and Gray Wolf, desperately trying to keep his footing. Gray Wolf forced him back a step, then another, toward the rock shrine. Just a few inches in front of the shrine, one of Walker’s heels slipped into the sacred sipápu hole. His knees buckled, throwing his back and arms upward. With the sudden shift, Gray Wolf lost his footing. His body fell down toward Walker. Walker brought up his elbow, smashing it into Gray Wolf’s diaphragm. A lungful of foul air burst out of Gray Wolf’s mouth. His body began to crumple forward. As hard as he could, Walker brought his fist up to meet Gray Wolf’s chin.
Gray Wolf’s head jerked back. Walker’s other fist pounded into his stomach, bringing Gray Wolf’s body forward. Walker dodged to one side. Gray Wolf landed stomach-first across the stone shrine.
Out of the corner of his eye, Walker saw White Badger and Son of Great Bear leaping up onto the platform. Before he could move, they had their spears poised inches from Gray Wolf, who lay stunned on the shrine. Their eyes questioned Walker.
Lightning zoomed across the sky like a long snake’s tongue, licking at the clouds.
Trying to catch his breath, Walker shook his head. “Get him off the shrine and watch him.” He moved to where his father lay lifelessly at the base of the shrine. Kneeling down, he lifted his father’s hand and held it, looking at his father’s peaceful face. Tears clouded his vision, and grief tore at his heart. Only hours after finding his father, death had stolen him away forever. No! This can’t happen. I need you, Father. How can I lead these people without you? Walker’s mind screamed in anger. How could he go on? A tear fell on Lone Eagle’s still lips. Stifling the sob building inside his chest, Walker gently touched his father’s lips, wiping away the tear.
“You must always walk strong, my son; walk with Taawa.” Lone Eagle’s last words filled Walker’s mind. A deep aching rose in his throat, making breathing difficult. He swallowed hard, but the ache remained. Would it or the pain in his heart ever leave? He doubted it, but Lone Eagle’s memory would always remain in his heart, too. As after Náat’s death, Walker realized that he had no choice but to go on—go on to face what lay ahead, and with Taawa’s help he would. Tears ran down his face. Walker stroked his father’s cheek in farewell. “I will do what must be done, Father,” he whispered.
Placing his father’s hand on his stilled chest, Walker rose. Taking a long, deep breath, then letting it out, Walker faced his people.
Thunder roared through the air. Walker waited till its echo had died.
“Masau’u has claimed my father,” Walker said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. He could feel his people’s sorrow in the still, thick air. Walker saw tears on many of the faces before him. Great Owl’s head was bent downward, his eyes pressed closed, his lips pulled tight. With her hands covering her face, Singing Woman’s shoulders shook with sobs. Walker fought to maintain his control. “Lone Eagle did not fear death himself, but for you, his people, he feared. His greatest wish was that all of you might live. In order for us to escape Masau’u, we must stand and fight him together as one people.”
He paused just long enough for the people to grasp what he was saying. “Gray Wolf has accused me of being a witch,” Walker stated, looking down at his enemy who stood between White Badger and Son of Great Bear at the base of the platform. Gray Wolf’s face burned with hatred. Only White Badger’s and Son of Great Bear’s spears pointed toward him kept him in place.
Letting his eyes move over the people, Walker continued, “I will ask no one to follow me who truly believes that I am two hearted. I will lead our people in unity and harmony, because only through unity and harmony can we survive all that lies before us. Those who wish to follow Gray Wolf may. It is your decision.”
Walker paused, watching the people sitting before him. They began talking to each other. He saw Gray Wolf’s face fill with a hostile smugness, as he stood with his arms defiantly folded across his chest. The hair on Walker’s scalp tightened. Had he made the right decision in letting Gray Wolf live another minute?
Loud thunder quieted the talking.
“Before you decide whether you will follow Gray Wolf or me,” Walker said, “you must know that I will lead you out of this canyon.” He saw surprised confusion sweep over the faces of his people.
Walker went on, “This canyon can no longer support us. Our water supply can not quench our thirst and now it brings death. Our stomachs growl with hunger because the rains do not fall on our fields. When the snows come, we will freeze because there is not enough wood to keep our homes warm. Masau’u has claimed this canyon as his own. If we stay here, we shall all die.”
Walker’s eyes rested on Flute Maiden. “If we are to live, we must leave the canyon as soon as possible. Tomorrow!” Her eyes told him that she would be by his side.
The people began talking to each other in worried voices. Some shook their heads. Others stared at Walker in disbelief.
“Our people have always lived here. It is our home. There is no place for us to live but here!” someone cried.
“No,” Walker said loudly, raising his hands, gaining the crowd’s attention. “There is a place for us, all of us, to go.” His eyes moved from one face to another. He spoke with his eyes as well as his heart. “Northeast beyond the Sacred Mountain there are great, flat-topped mesas. It was there that Náat took me. It is there that we shall go to live.”
“To the witches!” shouted Gray Wolf.
“To our brothers!” countered Walker, before confusion could start. He felt all eyes on him. “They are the same brothers that our ancestors lived with in the underground world before great Taawa created this world.” Walker pointed down toward the small hole in front of the shrine. “Their forefathers and our forefathers climbed out of the sipápu together, into this the fourth world.” He knew that everyone present had been told and retold this creation story of how all the people of the earth had entered this world from just such a small hole. Each person here accepted the story’s truthfulness. He could see this in their faces as he continued. “Once they had emerged into this world, each clan went in different directions seeking homes. Our ancestors came here. Our brothers built their homes around the mesas in the northeast.”
“Why should they let us live with them now? Why not kill us?” Gray Wolf demanded.
“They are the Hopi, the People of Peace. It is not their way to shed the blood of others. They are our brothers, and they will welcome us. There we will be able to live in peace and harmony without hunger and death stealing our loved ones away.”
“It is a trick, I tell you. You will die if you follow him. All of you will die!” Gray Wolf’s voice snarled. “I will stay here and be your chief. You must stay with me!” he screamed uncontrollably, shaking his fists toward the people.
Lightning lashed out of the clouds, followe
d by long, rolling thunder.
Walker looked down at his people. He knew that not all of them would follow him and that those who remained would die. Each person had to decide alone who to follow. Who, of all these people he had grown to love, would leave with him? Which ones would trust him enough to give up everything they had to go to an unknown place? Could Great Owl, Singing Woman, and the other old ones survive the long journey to the mesas? Could the very young?
Walker’s knees started to feel weak as doubt began to cloud his mind. He could not guarantee that each person who followed him would survive the long journey. His heart beat against his chest. Could he handle such great responsibility? Who was he after all? He was just a fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t belong anywhere. What right did he have to ask these people to risk their lives to follow him? What kind of fool would even try to lead them the ninety treacherous miles across the barren desert without adequate food and water? The images of graves stretching from here to the mesas flashed through Walker’s mind, leaving his body trembling.
Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just left right now. No one would stop him. White Badger or even Gray Wolf could be chief. Walker’s mind began to swirl in dark shadows. Yes! Leave—leave all the overwhelming responsibilities and death behind. He would get Tag and they could walk time! Of course! Walk time back to pizza, jets, computers, and . . .
Lightning shot out of the sky, striking the stone wall near its entrance. Ear-shattering thunder shook the ground, vibrating through Walker’s body.
Náat’s voice seemed to echo in the deafening thunder, “Take your people home . . . Take your people home.”
26
Thunder rolled off the rim of the canyon and came echoing back within the limestone walls below. The rainless clouds still shrouded the canyon, giving it an eerie darkness. Walker moved up the narrow path with brisk steps. Tag followed, throwing quick glances over his shoulder.
Walker reached the foot of the cliff and looked up. The climb up to the cave was even higher and more sheer than he remembered. “Do you think you can make it?”
Walker of Time Page 16