Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3

by Green, M. Terry

  Livvy frantically searched the ground near her feet. There! She picked up a rock. It wasn’t exactly what she was looking for but it’d have to do.

  The kachina laughed, a high-pitched sound that was ear piercing. He held his stomach and doubled over. As he stood, he pointed at his own mouth and then snapped his jaws several times. His meaning was clear enough: Go ahead, try me.

  Livvy only tossed the rock lightly in her hand and gave him the ‘come and get it’ gesture and smiled.

  This time his bellow made the branches on the trees quiver. He ignored the pine needles that drifted down around him. His whip shook as though it were electrified. Then he lowered his head and charged.

  Livvy surged forward. With every ounce of speed she could muster, she ran directly at the tree. Before the kachina could even turn, they had blasted by one another. If this didn’t work, he’d only need a few steps and she’d be within reach of the whip. Even as the kachina tried to spin toward her, his momentum carried him to the edge of the circle. In the instant the line went taut, Livvy swung the rock. Though not as sharp as she would have liked, its edge still managed to slice through the rope–or most of it. She hadn’t realized how thick it was. But as the kachina’s weight slammed full force at the end, the remaining fibers snapped with a twang. Whether the bulging eyes looked surprised, Livvy couldn’t tell, but she watched as the kachina sailed backward, off the ledge, and out of view.

  Livvy quickly dropped the rock and pulled up her sleeve. The red line had moved up the inside of her arm and was nearly to her shoulder. She lowered the fabric and looked back upslope.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “GODS, LEON, I don’t understand this!”

  Leon had never seen Dale so upset.

  Although Leon had run for the emergency kit in the car, the bleeding had stopped by the time he’d gotten back. Dale had put on the dressing as a precaution.

  “This shouldn’t be happening,” Dale said, his voice thick and strained.

  Dale had noticed the blood first, seeping into her blouse, just visible behind her arm, on the ribs. They’d moved her as little as possible. Dale had unfastened the bottom buttons on her blouse to lift it up and Leon had unpacked the bandages. They’d worked together quickly. Leon was re-buttoning her blouse as Dale sat next to her and took in a long shuddering breath.

  Leon knew as well as Dale that what happened in the Multiverse, should stay in the Multiverse. Nothing crossed back into the real world. Nothing.

  But apparently that was different with Olivia.

  It was like Dale to be worried about a patient. Leon knew that but there was something more to it. He watched as Dale measured her pulse for what must have been the tenth time.

  Dale had been dreaming of her for weeks, little snippets at first, but then longer visions. He’d been prone to fits of prescience over the years but nothing he could ever control or depend on.

  Leon watched as Dale’s hands lingered too long on her wrist. “Is she okay?” he asked.

  Dale shook his head and reached for the ice. “I don’t know,” he said, never even looking at Leon.

  Dale paused and set the ice down. “I should get my goggles and go to her,” he said, standing up.

  “I thought Grandmother said no,” Leon said, careful to use Dale’s own words.

  Dale hesitated.

  “She did,” he admitted. He turned red and tired eyes to Leon. “She did. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

  Dale was so shaken. They’d had their ups and downs, been through a few things too, but this was new.

  “I know,” said Leon, the sorrow in his voice very real.

  Dale wavered, looked at his bag on the floor.

  “It’s not easy to sit and watch,” Leon said quietly. “Believe me. I know.”

  Dale gazed up at him, waiting–his pained expression more than Leon could take.

  “Tell you what,” said Leon. “I’ll give you some pointers because, when it comes to sitting around doing nothing, you’re with the expert.”

  Dale had to laugh, even though it was strained, and then he sat back down on the bed.

  Leon should have used more humor right then. His sense of timing told him that. But he also knew Dale wouldn’t hear him. And he wasn’t feeling particularly funny.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  AFTER ONLY A dozen paces, Livvy walked out of the layer of mist and into the sun above the tree line. Behind and below her, the clouds spread out like a blanket of cotton. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the rising sun and realized where she was. The snow-capped peaks that stretched up in front of her ringed an enormous turquoise lake.

  The pure water.

  She was about to start for it when she realized she wasn’t alone. Tawa was sitting on a gray outcropping of rock at the edge of the lake, to the left.

  “Tawa!” she yelled and waved.

  It didn’t surprise her that he would be here. The Sun Kachina was up above the clouds and apparently at the end of the trail.

  Rather than run, Livvy trudged through the snow breathing hard. Her ribs still burned and, at the thought, she glanced behind her, down to the cloud level, to make sure the kachina with the whip wasn’t following. The only thing to see were her footsteps in the snow and a small smattering of blood against the stark white.

  She looked back up to Tawa, who hadn’t moved.

  He had some questions to answer–particularly about the tablet. But first she had to get to the water.

  Livvy stopped.

  What had appeared to be another rock outcropping in the snow had opened its eyes and turned them toward her. She shielded her eyes again from the glare. It wasn’t a rock at all. It was a kachina, down on one knee, and perfectly still–except for the eyes.

  The skin of this one was a deep bronze color and, though he knelt, Livvy could see he was built like a weightlifter. In fact, she could see nearly all of his muscles since he was only wearing a loincloth. His hair was black and long but the bangs were cut straight across the forehead. Two large, yellow feathers were tied into his hair on the sides of his head, where the ears would have been. Yellow dabs of paint sparsely dotted his body. He’d have been an attractive man if it hadn’t been for the feline whiskers that protruded from around his mouth and the black inverted ‘V’ painted over the top of his nose that ran down over his cheeks. In each of his enormous hands he held a yucca whip. Livvy took half a step back.

  He averted and then closed his eyes.

  Livvy stepped forward again.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her.

  She took another step forward.

  He slowly stood.

  Although she took a step back, and then another, he didn’t seem to care.

  “It is not yet time for us to return,” he said in a booming voice. “Leave.” He pointed with one of the yucca whips downslope.

  Livvy looked at Tawa who had also stood. She asked him, “Is that what you want? For me to leave?”

  Typical Tawa, he just stood there.

  “Really? Because my spirit helper led me here and it hasn’t been a particularly pleasant trip.”

  The clouds that ringed them below rumbled in agreement and, even in the brilliant sunlight, she could see bursts of light within them.

  In response, the spotted kachina began swinging the yucca whips. He circled them, simultaneously, like a martial artist with twin weapons. It was almost like a dance.

  Livvy sighed and stretched out a shaky hand to the clouds below.

  “Lightning,” she called.

  The lightning strike emerged with a brilliant purple glow and immediately connected with her hand. The bright flash was accompanied with a deep crack of thunder from below. The energy of the bolt raced through her body and connected to the ground. Her skin tingled with the vibration as the snow around her boots melted.

  “You have come to Elden Mesa uninvited,” said the muscular kachina, in his booming and sonorous voice. “It is not yet time for the s
un to return.”

  He continued to move toward her.

  “You must leave,” he said as the whips whirled faster.

  “I’m not here because I want to be,” she yelled.

  He was looming larger and Livvy could hear the whips now. She raised a hand toward him. It was shaking badly and, for the first time, she realized, so were her legs. She was losing her battle in the real world.

  “Tawa must not leave and I will not permit you to approach,” the kachina said. “For your own good, for the good of the Hopi, and for the good of the world.”

  For my own good, Livvy thought. She looked at the quaking hand pointed at him. For my own good? Then his other words sank in. For the good of the Hopi and the world. She looked at Tawa standing behind him. Coco’s voice sounded in her head.

  Here, even you will play by our rules.

  The steadily approaching kachina was only a few dozen paces away. At this distance, she couldn’t help but land a strike squarely in his broad chest.

  Maybe it won’t kill him.

  She flashed on the battle with Tiamat, the dragon-like god of Sumer, and the gaping hole in her dead body. There was no half measure with lightning.

  “Tawa!” she yelled. “Tawa, stop him! I’m not here to hurt anybody!”

  Tawa stood stock still and stared at her.

  “I am Toho and I do not fear you, Lightning Shaman,” said the advancing kachina. “I will do what I must.”

  Livvy wrenched her gaze from Tawa.

  With his long reach and the length of his whips, Toho would be able to reach her in seconds.

  “Please don’t come any closer,” Livvy pleaded. She pointed at his chest. “I don’t want to kill you.”

  “And yet one of us will die.”

  Suddenly, Coco’s parting words came back to her.

  It’s only in death that we’re reborn.

  Oh no, thought, Livvy. Not like this.

  Toho’s whips whirled through the air so fast they looked like solid disks. Anything in their path would be shredded. She stared into his bright and unblinking eyes and at the whiskers surrounding his mouth. There was no malice there and yet he was right.

  Livvy looked at the lightning she channeled–the spirit helper of her first vision quest. It twisted on the palm of her hand, as if it was alive, but it wasn’t. It was pure energy–able to restore life or take it, as she deemed fit, according to the choices that she made. Choices that she had to live with.

  She looked back to Toho, sighting down her trembling arm as he approached. Looming larger with each step, he was vital and alive, in his rightful place, and fulfilling his purpose.

  And me?

  I’m the intruder here, an outsider. I just want to survive. But at what cost?

  Slowly, hesitantly, she lowered her arm. Then, she lowered the other. The lightning seemed to freeze for a moment, then snaked back into the clouds below. Exhausted, she sank to one knee.

  Toho spun the whips lower and stepped forward.

  The disks of whirling yucca were an emerald green at the center but the edges were a radiant white. The muscles of Toho’s arms and shoulders rippled back and forth, under his dark, shining skin. The feathers at the sides of his head jumped in the wind the whips created. He was so close now that Livvy could see the color of his whiskers: a mix of white and black.

  If she could have mustered the will, she would have shielded her face. Instead, she closed her eyes. She had made her choice. It suddenly grew dark as a shadow passed over her face.

  Here it comes.

  There was a loud thump next to her.

  Startled, she opened her eyes.

  Crouched next to her was an enormous, white, mountain lion. Its brilliant fur undulated in the sunlight as the muscles of its shoulders bunched together. Livvy couldn’t help but lean away from it as it stared at her, but then it took a seat. Livvy gazed into its blazing green eyes, level with hers, until it eventually turned to face Toho. Though she felt like she could have stared at the animal forever, she returned her attention to Toho as well.

  He had stopped whirling the whips and now lowered them. As though he was seeing something within her, he peered into her eyes for several seconds and then nodded. Without a word or another gesture, Toho simply turned and strode back toward the ridge where Tawa stood waiting.

  What just happened?

  Had she died? Or had the commitment to it been enough?

  In the distance, Tawa pointed at the water.

  She struggled to get up. The mountain lion quickly stood and leaned into her, propping her up. As she looked down to where her hand had landed, amidst the thick, white fur, it finally dawned on Livvy who this was.

  She had a new spirit helper.

  But there was no time to think about it. Livvy stood, focusing on the sparkling lake. She willed her shaky legs to move, and nearly tripped, but finally landed on her knees in the soggy black sand. Her arms and legs were trembling uncontrollably now and, rather than try to scoop up some water, Livvy leaned down to it. Her hands splashed in and then she collapsed on her elbows. The shallow water was ice cold and clear as glass and, as she took her first drink and then her second, she realized it had a taste. It was sweet.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THE EYE MOVEMENTS had stopped and Dale held his breath as Olivia’s eyes slowly opened.

  That had been close.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down into her eyes. They were clear and focused and, when she looked at him, he saw recognition as well. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Welcome back,” he said quietly.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, then cleared her throat.

  On the other side of the bed, Leon opened a bottle of water with a cracking sound that caused them both to look over. Olivia gradually sat up as Leon handed her the bottle. He’d already opened the little package of electrolyte tablets. Olivia apparently recognized them and, as Dale put a hand on her back for support, Leon poured them into her other hand.

  She took the pills and drained the entire bottle of water.

  “It’ll take more than that,” Dale said, but she was already lying back down. “Or some rest would be good too.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes. “I can do that,” she whispered.

  Then her eyes fluttered open for a second and turned to him. “Thank you,” she said and then was asleep–eyes closed, face relaxed, and breathing regularly.

  Dale felt his stomach unclench and the tension release from his back.

  That had been too close.

  “It’s getting dark,” Leon whispered.

  Dale nodded but didn’t get up. Maybe he’d stay, keep watch, just in case. He didn’t feel tired at all. In fact, he felt great. He turned to Leon to suggest he go home but saw a strange look on his face as he turned away–something resigned.

  Dale stood up. “You’re right,” he said quietly. He glanced down at Olivia one last time. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  THOUGH THE SUN had yet to set, the temperature was falling fast.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” Marvin muttered.

  He took off his gloves and shoved them into his coat pockets. They were too bulky to allow him a good grip. He started his climb up the ladder.

  For centuries, other Sun-watchers had done this same thing, on this same evening, on top of this same house. Marvin couldn’t remember if there was a story of any of them falling.

  Wouldn’t want to be the first.

  Besides, Emma depended on him. As he climbed, he thought of her awful cough. It’d been months now. Why couldn’t the doctors do something about it? It was a question he’d asked a million times even though he already knew the answer.

  He clung to the ladder until the last possible moment and then stepped onto the flat roof. He took out his gloves and put them back on–still warm inside–and glanced back at the ladder. Getting down would be fun too. It’d be dark by then.

  Marvin cros
sed to the south edge of the roof and took out his welding glass.

  Looking into the sun wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do, not even at sunset, but the timing had to be right–and by timing, of course, he meant place.

  To the southwest, hovering just above the horizon, the sun was still a complete, if slightly flattened, orb. Now that he was here, Marvin was a little relieved at the sight. Much of the day had been overcast and the San Francisco Peaks had been hidden. Suddenly, though, the jet stream had apparently decided to cooperate and the line of sight had cleared.

  Marvin peered through the #14 glass, glancing away as needed. A blind Sun-watcher wouldn’t be any good to anybody.

  The bottom of the brilliant ball slowly touched the horizon.

  “Yep,” he said. “Looking good.”

  Eight days ago, the sun had set on Elden Mesa, an eastern spur of the Peaks. Their snow-capped tips were eye-level from this viewpoint. At this time of day, though, you couldn’t see the snow. The entire range was thrown into the same black silhouette as the rest of the horizon. Only three days ago, the sun had barely managed to touch the Lühavwü Chochomo, the V-shaped notch in the outline of the mountains. This evening, it was descending directly into it. Tawa was entering the tawatki, the sun house. Once he was home, it would only be eleven days until he stopped his southerly movement and reversed his direction on the horizon.

  It was almost like looking into the very village of the kachinas. Soon, they would leave that place and come back to the mesas to be with their people–very soon, according to what he was seeing.

  Marvin watched intently as the sky at the horizon turned orange, gradating quickly to light blue, and a deepening violet overhead. The intensity of the sun made the notch a dark blur in front of the glowing half-ball. As it sank, he took a deep breath. It’d be gone from view soon but there was no doubt. In eleven days, the winter solstice would arrive, the Soyal festival would be in full-swing, and the kachinas would return. As the sun disappeared into his house, the horizon transitioned from orange to a burnt red that flickered along the tips of the mountains. It was time for the smoke assembly.