The Raven's Trail (Book 1)

by Liz D. Marx

  Could she ever come to understand why he did the unthinkable? Would she come to trust him again after he’d finished with his confession?

  “Foolishly, the elders of my tribe were still adamant we were untouchable. ‘We are the greatest warriors in the world, with power and magic. We are protected by Dai-mo himself!’ the Chenesi told us.” Mason huffed loudly, then shook his head. How blind they had been.

  “One cold night in Gada-wano―our winter,” he added after seeing Chloe’s questioning frown, “the Cherokees were invited to a ‘peaceful’ meeting with some representatives of the U.S. government. A good number of their tribe leaders travelled all the way to New Echota to see what the white people had to say. We all knew what the meeting was about―the U.S. government and the Cherokees had been waltzing around a treaty for years. They were offering the tribe money for their land, and in return, the entire Cherokee Nation was expected to cede their territory.

  “We had seen it before, first with the Choctaws and the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek, then with all the others―the Chickasaw, the Creeks and the Seminoles. The Cherokee were the last ones remaining. We, the Tula, hadn’t been offered anything similar mainly because, despite all their efforts, the U.S. Army had not found our location. They knew of our existence but could not enforce our removal if they didn’t know where to find us, right? But I was certain that if the Cherokees signed the treaty, the land would be completely free to be explored by the white settlers and, sooner or later, we were going to be found out.”

  Mason took another deep breath and tried to tame the anger and frustration that threatened to erupt. “It was inevitable, you see? The white people were much more advanced than us and they were offering a lot of gold to the Cherokees, plus the guarantee of the same size land in the west!”

  “The Treaty of New Echota, December of 1835,” Chloe whispered, as if reciting a lesson learned a long time ago.

  Mason had expected her to recognize this part of his story. It had been widely chronicled, after all. Every school kid had to memorize the empty dates and faceless names in history classes. Even movies had been made about the dreadful treaty. But not about his tribe’s story―no, the Tulas had never made it to any school book.

  “Yes,” Mason confirmed. “Twelve Cherokee representatives signed the treaty― making us completely vulnerable. No matter how strong we were in battle, we were no match for the U.S. Army’s weapons. The elders should have known that! They should have seen it coming!”

  “But you were still hidden deep in the forest. Surely the tribe would have managed to escape,” Chloe weighed up.

  “I remember pulling the Cherokee leader aside and offering him our unconditional protection, but he dismissed me as if I were nothing but a fly bugging him.”

  “You were there?” Chloe asked, wide-eyed.

  Mason forced himself to breathe; his heart was thumping like a thousand drums in his chest. “Yes, I was, despite explicit orders from my father not to attend the meeting. He was blinded by his own arrogance.”

  Mason paused, then let out a tired sigh that had been clogging his chest. “Or maybe it was me who couldn’t see how much suffering my actions would cause. I don’t know. In hindsight everything seems so clear, doesn’t it?”

  “Mason,” Chloe whispered, wariness permeated her frowned expression, “what did you do?”

  “I tried to protect my people the best I could. I was the Uwetsi of my tribe, Chloe; I had a responsibility toward my people.” Mason saw it all as if it had been yesterday.

  The week had been particularly cold; the mountains were coated in snow. A cool wind blew heavily from the south. In his culture, it was not a good omen.

  Mason―or better, Uwetsi Kaye, as his tribesmen used to call him―had been accompanied by two of his most faithful friends, but neither of them knew his real intentions.

  New Echota was a small village, neither European nor Indian. Mason remembered feeling a small sense of sadness for the great Cherokee nation that had tried to make it their new and improved capital, but had failed miserably.

  Mason and his friends set up camp by the Oostanaula River, far from the other tents and visitors who had come to witness history in the making, yet close enough to carry out what he needed to do. He had waited three long days for the right moment, but when he saw Nunnehidihi crossing the main street by himself, Mason felt compelled to give it one last try.

  He approached the great Cherokee leader and asked him for a private conversation. Nunnehidihi didn’t want to hear it. “My name is Major John Ridge now, boy, and I don’t have time for nonsense.”

  Despite feeling his blood boil, Mason didn’t give up.

  He grabbed the Cherokee leader by the elbow, which was covered in a very European style jacket, and blocked his path. “If you sign this treaty, the gods will punish you greatly. But if you don’t sign it and leave with me at once, the great Tula warriors will protect your nation for as long as we both shall live.”

  Mason recalled how proud he had felt for standing up to such a powerful leader, making him stop and listen. His sense of triumph didn’t last long, though.

  Pulling his arm free, the Cherokee chief bellowed, “It’s too late, boy! Don’t you realize that? The treaty is being transcribed as we speak. It’s much too late for all of us; the fate of the great tribes has been sealed by white hands.”

  Numbed by the shocking truth, Mason watched Major John Ridge disappear into the crowded streets of New Echota. He had seen the imminence of the end a long time ago. Nonetheless, it was never easy to hear it screamed loud and clear. At that moment, Mason knew his mission had to be carried out. He knew deep in his noo-hi that there was no other way.

  Spinning on his heels, he stomped towards the small wooden chalet where all the U.S. officials were. Then he climbed the small front steps and knocked on the door. A tall white man cracked it open.

  “What do you want?” he barked.

  “I am Uwetsi Kaye, the prince of the great tribe of Tula, Guardians of Mantaka,” Mason recalled stating proudly. He had been such a fool, so naïve.

  The white man narrowed his eyes. “Tula, you say?”

  “Yes,” Mason carried on using the best of the foreign language he had painfully learned over the years. “I need to speak with your chief. I would like to offer him a truce.”

  “Why, what a coincidence! I am the very chief you speak of, my man.”

  The white man put his arms around Mason and guided him down the steps, away from the official’s house. Mason remembered gagging from the man’s putrid breath and being slightly appalled by how unkempt the leader of the U.S. government looked.

  His navy-blue coat had seen better days; his battered black hat hid oily light-colored hair that Mason could swear had never seen water, and there were patches of food throughout his trousers and facial hair. What a strange dress code this chief held.

  Despite his nagging suspicion, Mason shook hands with the greasy-looking man and struck a deal to sell the vast Tula territory for the same amount given to the Cherokees. He was careful to ensure that the Valley of Vapors was not part of their bargain and his new ally guaranteed that “only over his dead body would any white man step on such sacred grounds”. Never had Mason thought that the man had been a mere captain in the army, not the leader of the treaty commission.

  Mason then returned to his tribe full of pride and barely containing himself.

  He told his father and fellow tribesmen how he had saved them all from alienation. But instead of being pleased, his father had been furious and sentenced him to the worst punishment any tribesman could suffer.

  “After I was banned, I was hurt, I felt betrayed and misunderstood,” Mason told Chloe. His head felt heavy with guilt. He had dreaded this moment. He had done everything to avoid this particular memory for the past two centuries.

  “My heart bled for revenge, my mind was blind by anger. I went straight back to the U.S. captain and did the unthinkable. I sold my tribe’s location fo
r a mere two hundred dollars.”

  Chloe gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her shocked expression cut Mason’s heart in half.

  “In those times, it was a lot of money. The captain promised me he was just going there to negotiate, but in truth I didn’t really care. I was so consumed by hatred; I wanted my father to die.” He carried on despite not being able to look at the woman he had come to love in such short time.

  “The next evening, I rode to the hills to watch their encounter. I needed to witness my father’s fall. But what I saw was a massacre. The blue battalion descended on my tribe, burned our homes, raped our women and slaughtered anyone and anything that crossed their path. In less than a few hours, the great Tula nation was vanquished, wiped out in such a way they didn’t even make it to the history books.”

  Mason could no longer contain his grief, and let fat tears run down his cheeks. “And because of that, the gods had cursed me to roam the Earth for eternity. I have been living with my shame ever since, Chloe. I can’t be killed. I tried it myself at the very evening of the massacre, but discovered it was impossible. I am truly cursed.”

  Taking courage, he crouched down and took her small hands in his. “That is, I thought I was, until you found me. I believe you’re the reincarnation of my old friend Adsila, and you’ve come back to save me from this hell. I was desperate before I met you, Chloe. Life had lost its meaning to me, but you changed everything. You brought hope back to my existence. This stone is definitely from my old tribe, it must carry the power to lift my curse.”

  Chloe’s gaze met his and, for a moment, Mason thought he had finally been understood. It would probably take her a few moments to digest it all, but she knew the history; she knew there was no easy way out of wars.

  “You,” she uttered with a trembling chin. “You betrayed us.”

  She then yanked her hands away from his touch and stood up, towering over him. “Merciful gods! So many people died, slaughtered, so many children! How could you?” she shouted in rage.

  “Chloe, I was naive, I didn’t know―”

  “No!” she put her hand up, silencing him. “You did know; you were arrogant and that drove you to do the most unthinkable of all betrayals! You don’t deserve to be saved, Kaye.” She shook her head. “I can’t… I can’t forgive you. We were your family!”

  Mason’s chest hurt, as if invisible hands were ripping out his heart through his ribs. She hadn’t understood him; she wouldn’t forgive him.

  “Chloe, please, listen to me.” Mason stood up and held her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “The captain promised me he would not hurt anyone. Yes, I made a terrible mistake in believing him, and I have lived with the guilt all these years, but you must understand, you of all people know the true facts of that damned treaty and how the native tribes had no choice but to give in to the white men’s pressure.”

  Chloe planted both hands on his chest and pushed him away, her glare burning with fury and disgust. “You are the true murderer of our tribe!”

  Mason didn’t try to stop her when she turned away and ran out of the cave. He had no reply, no energy―just numbness.

  A horrible sense of déjà vu besieged him―those were the exact words Adsila had thrown at him just before she died.

  He sunk back on his heels and sat on the floor. She was right―he deserved her hatred. If he hadn’t been so vain and arrogant, his tribe would have lived to see another day.

  While the despair of hearing her righteously accuse him of murdering his own people clogged his throat, confusion nagged at him.

  The hurt in Chloe’s gaze had been as palpable as his, as if he had betrayed her, not a tribe she had read about in the diaries of a dead Spanish conquistador. He truly believed she was Adsila reincarnated―the coincidences had been one too many to be ignored―but until now, Chloe hadn’t shown any signs of being aware of that.

  Mason hadn’t planned on moving so soon, his heart bled too much, but out of nowhere an overwhelming sense of danger engulfed his mind.

  At once, he jumped to his feet, ready to deflect the imminent attack, but saw no one.

  The cave was empty, and yet the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and goose bumps washed over his skin―the unmistakable signs of warning. When his noo-hi cried out from the depths of his core, he knew.

  Chloe.

  Chloe needed him, he was certain of it. How he knew that, he had no idea, but he did, as if her soul was tied to his.

  Without wasting any second longer, Mason ran in the direction that Chloe had fled to, through the inner chambers of the cave. He followed the light to the end of a long corridor, dread engulfing his soul.

  He darted out of the cave ready for battle. He didn’t have any weapons but his black raven was already at full capacity.

  “Don’t even think about it, Indian,” a redhead woman barked. She stood not even ten feet outside the cave’s entrance.

  Chloe was on her knees, her hands tied up behind her back, her mouth covered with a silver tape.

  Mason heaved in desperation. No, this cannot be happening.

  He had brought death to his loved one once again.

  He scanned the area for a way out. The forest was thick in these parts of the valley―the tall pine trees had given way to sassafras and giant canes. If only he could distract the handful of armed men who were backing the redhead, Chloe might have a chance to run. But it would be tricky.

  One of the armed men, a tall guy with dirty-blond hair and mean eyes, had a tight hold on her and, as if on cue, he pointed a .44 gun at her head.

  Mason’s blood boiled. His noo-hi flew up high, screeching out his protests. He had to do something. He would not let them take Chloe.

  But in his haste, he didn’t realize that a sixth man was behind him and just waiting for the right moment to knock him out.

  Something hard whacked him on the back of his head and the world spun around as Mason desperately tried to cling to consciousness.

  The last thing he heard before blacking out was Chloe’s muffled cries.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chloe’s arms were going numb. She had been sitting on the moss-covered ground for a while. They had tied up her legs and wrists, preventing her from running away. Mason was still unconscious on the floor beside her. His hair was plastered onto his face, dark patches of dried blood covering his temple and neck.

  Oh, dear Dai-mo, please don’t let that cut be fatal.

  But at that thought, another one, much more comforting, came to mind―Mason couldn’t be killed. He was Kaye, and that meant he was probably nearing his 200th birthday.

  Chloe shook her head. How crazy did that sound?

  Her life had become a paranormal horror novel. What was even crazier was her reaction to the news. She hadn’t been overly shocked about him being immortal; what had really tipped her over was his betrayal. Now, after cooling down, her response after his confession seemed a bit over the top, but how could she have not reacted that way?

  She had seen it all in the strange vision, had felt the pain on her own skin. It had been a true massacre, and Kaye had been partially responsible for it. But Chloe had also seen inside his heart. He truly regretted his actions and carried the weight of his mistake until this very day.

  What a horrible curse he had endured―to live through eternity with those memories, with the knowledge that you had caused the death of your family and vanquished your bloodline. That must have been hell on Earth. She understood him now, but she didn’t know if she could forgive him.

  Chloe sighed in anguish. Nonetheless, she didn’t want him to die here, even if that wasn’t physically possible. She had to find a way out of this mess.

  Her eyes roamed to the beautiful rainbows above her. The magical Mantaka that had been the source of so much happiness was now almost silent. The birds and butterflies that had adorned the cave mere hours ago were nowhere to be found now. Only the constant movements of the several waterfalls cascading ont
o the pool broke the dread that permeated the air.

  The redheaded woman walked into the cave dragging Johnny, the teenager from the Caddo Cultural Center, with her. He looked miserable and was avoiding Chloe’s gaze.

  Oh dear, what had he done?

  Chloe narrowed her eyes. There was a haze that encircled his entire body. It was strange, but she had seen that strange phenomenon, when she and Mason were sitting by the large southern oak tree and the raven-looking spectrum brought them food.

  “Tie him up next to the blondie there,” the redhead said to one of the three armed men guarding the cave. He stood up promptly and placed a heavy hand on the kid’s shoulder.

  At that moment, Johnny lifted his gaze and saw Mason lying on the floor.

  Something shifted inside him, Chloe couldn’t tell what, but Johnny’s aura went from frail to enraged. With an impossible strength, the kid twisted the hit man’s arm and bit him on the shoulder. Blood gushed out and the large man was reduced to a crying baby. Before the others could react, Johnny ran out of the cave, dodging the nasty woman’s grip with an amazing somersault.

  “Get him, now!” the redhead shouted at the other two men, who picked up their guns and sprinted after the kid. After a few seconds, Chloe heard guns being fired.

  No! Oh, dear Dai-mo, he’s just a kid!

  She tried to cry out but the silver tape over her mouth only allowed for a miserable whine.

  “What the hell just happened, Pamela?” A low male voice reverberated on the beautiful marble-like walls. “Even a child can outsmart you now?”

  Chloe’s jaw dropped, despite the tight silver tape.

  William Crawford, her charming boss from The Smithsonian, stood by the cave’s exit. His towering figure was very imposing and none of his usual charisma could be found. His hard jaw was tight as the Pamela woman explained the situation.

  Chloe was completely lost. What the hell was going on?

  But her incredulity morphed quickly into fear as soon as William’s gaze landed on her. “Well, my dear Chloe. I knew you would not disappoint me.”