by Vella Munn
“Loka.”
Before the word was fully out of her mouth, Loka catapulted himself at Fenton. At the same instant, a blast split the air. She saw Loka continue to lunge, hoped against hope that Fenton had missed. Then, all too soon, the strength went out of the warrior’s body. He sank to his knees, head still uplifted, attention still concentrated on the man who’d just shot him.
“Loka! No!”
She reached him but for a split second couldn’t make herself touch him. If he’d been killed—
He hadn’t. As she watched, he slowly gathered his legs under him. He managed to stand, blood running from the wound in his side. Thinking of nothing except the need to stop the flow, she started to cover the wound with her hand. He stumbled, and she offered him her body for support. He held on to her for no longer than it took him to draw in a deep breath, then pushed free and again started toward Fenton. It was then she realized he still held his knife. She grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach. Afraid she would hurt him more if she wrestled him for it, she turned her attention toward Fenton.
The flashlight now dangled from Fenton’s fingers, its beam illuminating some brush off to the right. The pistol was still aimed at Loka.
“No, damn it! You’ve shot him! Damn you, damn you.” She sounded hysterical but didn’t care. For a moment she fought a terrible battle with herself. Loka needed her; she couldn’t think of anything except him. But if she didn’t first disarm Fenton—
“Put it down,” she ordered, approaching Fenton. He was trying to split his attention between her and Loka. Despite the dark, she knew he was on the brink of losing self-control, irrationally terrified of a wounded man. A warrior with a deadly knife.
A sense of movement behind her forced her to glance back at Loka. His eyes looked wild and determined, an animal intent on only one thing—self-preservation. She would feel the same emotion, but instead of running as she would have done, Loka was walking toward his enemy.
“Stop!” Fenton bellowed. His gun stopped shaking, became deadly again. “I mean it. Stop!”
Not thinking, she flung herself at Fenton. At the same time, she made a fist of her hand and used it to hammer the weapon aside. Fenton immediately tried to raise it again. She clamped her fingers around his wrist and squeezed with all her strength. Gasping, he tried to shove her away, but she refused to let go. Locked in battle with him, she discovered she was stronger than him. Either that or Fenton was in shock over what had happened and unable to concentrate. Taking advantage of whatever was going on inside him, she grabbed the barrel with her other hand and tried to yank it out of his hand. She knew the gun might discharge, hitting her this time, but her world had narrowed down to nothing except the need to protect Loka.
For several seconds Fenton fought her. Then, suddenly, he released his grip. Off-balance, she had to struggle to keep from falling. She held the gun in her hand.
Feeling its weight, she whirled to face Loka. She couldn’t see him.
“Loka! Loka! Where are you?”
“Gone.” Fenton sounded hysterical. “Gone. I didn’t mean—please believe me, I didn’t mean—he came at me. He was going to kill me. I had to stop him.”
Shutting her mind to Fenton’s babbling, she hurried to where Loka had last stood. She strained to see if drops of blood indicated where he’d gone, but the night protected him and the moon wasn’t bright enough.
Gone.
“Why?” she demanded of Fenton when it really didn’t matter. “I knew he’d come to you. I watched, waited. I knew it.”
She should have been aware of that possibility. If she’d been capable of thinking beyond heartache today, she would have realized Fenton wouldn’t blindly buy her contention that his imagination had gotten out of control. Now it was too late.
“You shot him.” Her legs were taking her back to Fenton because Loka belonged to the night. Because she didn’t know how to find him.
“I had to. He was going to stab me.”
“Shot him.” Her throat felt raw. Her eyes were on fire. Her heart felt as if it had been torn open. Loka. Hurt. Gone. “You shot him.”
A sound, new and yet already a part of her, pulled her back around. Eagle, his size hiding her view of the moon, swooped down out of the sky. He hovered just about the ground, his great wings moving in a furious rhythm that stirred dirt and small rocks and leaves into a whirlpool of activity. Fenton babbled something. She didn’t care. Eagle had come. “Find him!” she sobbed. “Please, find him. Take care of him.”
Instead of heeding her desperate plea, Eagle continued his attack on the ground where Loka had fallen. Landing and bringing his claws into play, he raked through rocks and roots. Fenton, his voice laden with disbelief, demanded an explanation, but she ignored him. “Find him. Eagle, please!”
As quickly as he had appeared, Eagle soared upward. For a moment he was silhouetted against the sky. Then he disappeared. Silence briefly settled over the land to be broken a few seconds later by the whisper of approaching footsteps. She turned, terrified that more people meant added danger to Loka. Through blurred vision, she recognized Black Schonchin.
Hours later, Tory slipped out of her cabin. She guessed it would be morning in two or three hours, not that the time mattered. Black, his eyes locked on her, had been the first to arrive. From what little he’d said, she realized he’d seen Eagle. Why he was there she didn’t know, and before either of them could say anything more, others had started arriving, drawn by the sound of gunfire.
Fenton was gone, fired.
Drawing refreshing air deep into her lungs, she tried to recreate what had happened. When park personnel demanded an explanation for why Fenton had discharged his gun, he’d told them about Loka—about being attacked by a ghost or spirit or madman or something and having shot in self-defense. Her thoughts locked on Loka, she’d been unable to think of anything that would discredit Fenton, but in the end she hadn’t had to.
There’d been no proof that Fenton had shot anyone. That’s what Eagle had been doing, stirring up dust and debris so not a single drop of Loka’s blood remained.
Fighting exhaustion, she trained her flashlight on the ground beyond where Eagle had done his work, but if Loka had left behind signs of where he’d gone, she couldn’t find them. She wished she could feel relieved because Fenton had been fired for discharging an unregistered gun on park property. Maybe she would later, but now all that mattered was that Loka was out there, wounded and alone.
Except for Eagle.
Standing, she scanned her surroundings. There’d been so many people here, all of them talking at once. Now that they were gone the silence seemed out of place. When she realized Fenton had broken a law and that his job was in jeopardy, she’d actually considered saying he’d tried to harm her to add weight to the charges against him, but in the end she’d only insisted she had no idea what had brought him here tonight.
It was a lie—if not a bold-faced fabrication, a deliberate evasion. She had lied when the park director asked if she’d seen the eagle Fenton kept talking about. No, she’d said, sounding vague. No bird had appeared. She certainly would have remembered if it had. Black hadn’t said anything. Instead, the old Modoc had only regarded her with quiet eyes.
Spirit Mountain. Would Loka go there? The thought of him where so many of his people had gone during their vision quests filled her with a short-lived sense of peace. There was somewhere else he could go where he’d be assured of more privacy. How could she possibly find the small opening that led to Wa’hash? If he died in there—
Sick at the thought, she moved toward where she’d left her car. What she’d do once she got there she had no idea, maybe nothing except wait for morning. That and pray. When she made out the silent figure staring at her, she stopped. Waited.
Walking slowly, Black put an end to the distance that had separated them. Although, admittedly, she’d given it little thought, she’d simply assumed that the Modoc had left with the others. Looking at him now, sh
e again asked herself what had brought him here earlier, and why he hadn’t said anything about Eagle.
“He isn’t here,” Black said. “If he was, I would know it.”
With all her heart, she wanted to trust him, to confide in him, but until she understood more she would keep what she knew to herself.
“You’re going to try to find him, aren’t you?”
“Him?”
“The man I saw yesterday.”
Black wasn’t calling Loka an illusion. His tone left no doubt that he believed in the existence of what—who—he’d glimpsed. It was possible he’d followed Fenton out here earlier tonight and had seen everything. “What are you doing here? Nothing happened. You said so yourself.”
“Because the others don’t need to know.”
“Know what?” she asked because the time of evasion was over.
“That he exists.”
He exists. The words sounded so calm. Filled with conviction. Too tired and worried to play any more games, she took in the first hint of daylight on the horizon.
“I want you to hear me out, Tory,” Black said. “From the time I was old enough to care about such things, I heard my parents talk about an underground place where our people’s heritage remains. As a boy, my friends and I tried to find it. I’ve studied the maps of the caves around here, explored. I’m not the only Modoc to have done so. It’s not something we tell outsiders—non-Indians—about.”
“I see.”
“You’re not sure how much you should say, are you? It’s all right,” he continued when she said nothing. “Actually, your silence tells me a great deal. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
“It?”
“Wa’hash.”
There was a warmth to his voice when he said the word, a caress even. Maybe it was the sleepless night and unrelenting worry for Loka that broke down the final barriers, and maybe it was simply the way that one word sounded coming from the lips of a Modoc. “It’s wonderful,” she managed. “Incredible. Like looking at the entire history of the Modoc people. There are things—mystical things…”
“Like Eagle?”
“Y-yes.”
“And Wolf. I heard him tonight.”
“Did you?”
“Don’t be afraid of being honest with me, Tory,” Black whispered. “I’d never betray him.”
Never betray.
“Fenton—if he’d had his way, he would have put him on display. Exploited him. He—”
“I’m not Fenton. I’m Modoc—I don’t want you to ever forget that. No matter what you tell me, I won’t betray your confidence.”
Dawn had found Black’s features. She studied him. He returned her steady gaze. “I believe you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Loka.” Loka!
“Ah. And you love him, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer; she couldn’t speak.
“It’s in your eyes, Tory. I saw it yesterday when I told you that I’d seen him. That’s why I stayed here today. Tried to keep an eye on you. And when I saw Fenton sneak off toward your place, I knew he had the same suspicions. I didn’t know what I should do. Loka knows who I am—I’m convinced that’s why he revealed himself to me yesterday. And yet he chose not to do more than that. I thought—well, I’m not sure what I was thinking, except that I felt like a man on the brink of an incredible discovery, one that maybe I’d never know more about than I already did. And then I heard Wolf and followed my instinct to you.”
“And to Loka. You saw?”
“Everything.” He pointed in the direction of Spirit Mountain. “That’s where he headed.”
Knowing where to start looking for Loka drove all other thoughts from her mind. She’d already filled her backpack with her first-aid kit; nothing kept her from taking off. Nothing except for Black.
“Listen to your instincts, Tory. Them and your heart. They’ll take you to him.”
“I wish I could believe you. What if he dies?”
Something of what he was feeling reached her. They shared the same fear, the same desperate hope that Loka was still alive.
“Listen to me.” Stepping up to her, Black placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’re the only one who can possibly reach him. The only one he trusts.”
“Does he? Maybe—maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Her shoulders sagged under the weight of what she’d just said. “Maybe he’s dead.”
“He can’t be!” Black said fiercely. “He’s the last warrior. His people need him.”
The last warrior. Again and again Black’s simple and yet honest words echoed inside her. Keeping her fear firmly under control, she concentrated on her goal. Black had last seen Loka heading toward Spirit Mountain; she had no doubt that was his destination because every time she looked at the solitary peak, she felt a powerful pull drawing her closer. But Loka might not have the strength to make it.
Morning was a gentle thing, pastel colors slowly washing over the night until, slowly, the world came into sharp definition. She felt light-headed and lulled by isolation. If others were about this early, they weren’t in this area of the vast park. She would have known it if they were. There was only her and Loka—maybe.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “Do you see me? Can you hear me?” She fell silent as she made her way around a sharp, deep lava-defined gully. Once she was back on level ground, she tried to scan the land in all directions, but a mass of bushes blocked her view. More than once she was put in mind of what it had been like for the soldiers as they made their way across what for them was alien land while the Modocs lay in wait for them.
Only, Loka wasn’t stalking her. He was, if he was capable, intent on reaching sacred ground.
“Fenton’s gone,” she said more to keep herself alert and in control than anything else. “They fired him. He kept talking about you, you and Eagle. He insisted you’d tried to kill him and he’d only shot in self-defense, but Eagle destroyed the evidence. He sounded crazy. When Black and I lied for you, it only made things worse for him.” She tried to conjure up some sympathy for Fenton but couldn’t. The man had shot Loka.
Maybe killed the last warrior.
She had no idea how long she’d been walking and searching and talking when Eagle came to her. For a long time, the bird floated high overhead, as if learning all he possibly could about her before coming closer. She tried to keep her eyes on him, but the terrain was so uncertain that she had to keep looking at the ground. When Eagle finally caught a downward draft that brought him within twenty feet of the top of her head, she felt as if she’d passed the greatest test of her life.
“Where is he? Please, I can’t let him stay out here alone.”
Eagle’s screech sent a chill down her back. Looking up, she caught sight of the talons that made him such a successful bird of prey. “Do you hate me for what happened to him?” she asked. “I don’t blame you if you do. I should have told him to leave last night. That way, that way…”
She couldn’t lie to either herself or Eagle. If she had it to do all over again, she would still open her arms to Loka. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “So sorry. All I want is for him to live. I’ll leave. That way he’ll never risk his safety again. I promise, once I know he’s all right, I’ll leave.”
Don’t.
Not daring to believe what she’d sensed inside her, she stopped so she could carefully scan her surroundings. Unfortunately, the bushes still grew so close together that she could barely find a path around and through them, let alone know what lay hidden in their midst. Eagle continued to hover over her, his wings fanning her hair and face. I’m here, Loka. I’m here.
I know.
“Loka! Please!”
As if her plea had been meant for him, Eagle screamed and shot forward a good hundred feet before hovering over a scraggly pine that had somehow found a foothold in the rocks. She started running. An exposed root and then a jumble of lava slowed her, but she finally reached the pine. Sha
ding her eyes, she stared at the trunk.
Loka. Motionless.
Chapter 19
Tory didn’t remember running to Loka or kneeling beside him. All that mattered was that she could touch him, speak to him—learn if he was still alive.
“Please,” she whispered over and over again. The word sounded tortured, and yet she couldn’t change it. She gently ran her hands over every inch of him. Although the feel of damp blood along his side made her shudder, she didn’t pull back. “Loka. Loka, please, can you hear me?”
“Tory.”
Hearing her name coming from his lips brought her to the brink of sanity, but she didn’t dare break down. “I’m here. Eagle showed me the way.”
“Blaiwas.”
“Yes. Blaiwas.” She bent over him as if covering his body with hers could heal him. It didn’t seem possible that he could have traveled this far, but she should know not to judge him by ordinary men’s standards. Black had called him the last warrior. How fit, how right that was.
She wanted to look up to see if Eagle—Blaiwas—was still here but couldn’t tear her eyes off Loka. Because he was under a tree and dawn hadn’t yet made its impact here, she couldn’t tell whether he was clear-eyed. His voice sounded weak, but maybe that was only her fear. “I want to help you. Cho-ocks and Kiuka can’t reach you. You have to rely on me. There’s—you know there’s no one else.”
“You came.” His voice held a note of wonder. When he lifted his arm so he could run his fingers over her throat and the swell of her breast, they felt familiar and strong.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I did not know.”
Nothing could have hurt her more. Surely he knew he meant more than anything else in her life. She couldn’t leave here, couldn’t go on living if he died. “You trust me that little?”
“No. You do not understand. I know what lives inside you, Tory.” He pressed his hand flat against her breast to cover her heart. “Maybe I was born knowing that. But…” His hand slipped away to drop limply by his side.