The Elder didn’t care that he was now imprisoned, blamed for Cole’s murder even though he had never even laid eyes on the boy. After all, if Whisper failed, everyone in the Land of the Living would be a prisoner to the Raven-Eater.
The Raven-Eater’s war had been a long time coming. The Elder’s spies in the Land of the Dead had kept him well informed, though the one thing they couldn’t tell him was why the Guardian of the Dead waited so long. He was a powerful man, much of his magic strengthened by the fear of his people, and his army was waiting in the Barren Plains. Some said he was gathering the greatest collection of souls the dead had ever known, a brigade of assassins and rapists, serial killers and psychopaths. Other soldiers were forced into serving, the men, women, and children the Raven-Eater blamed for his family’s death so many years ago.
Others claimed the Raven-Eater was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, when the living world was at its peak, when all the tribal Elders who may have the power to stop him were dead. Smoke Speaker was one of the last, along with only a handful of others across the globe, who could have ever banded together to strip his powers and destroy him forever. It was too late for the Elders, and so Whisper was their last chance. As Smoke Speaker truly believed, she was born into a world she was destined to change. This was her destiny, to save the Land of the Living from eternal darkness.
And so he could face the rest of his time behind the depressingly grim bars, if it meant giving Whisper more time to succeed.
Chapter 28
Ian paced the dungeon floor, occasionally shaking the door or window bars in a desperate escape attempt. Whisper, still recovering from Smoke Speaker’s incredible message, rested in the corner, bathed in purple light. Their time was limited, and it was up to her to figure out what to do next.
“Are you gonna help or what?” Ian asked angrily, kicking the thick wooden door. He’d already tried picking the lock, to no avail. “You’re supposed to have all the answers, aren’t you? Or maybe all you have is secrets.”
Bothered by his accusation, Whisper rose and stalked over to her traveling companion. She was tired of his complaints, of his distrust, of his outright hatred of her beliefs. “My answers have kept you alive, Mr. Daivya, and my secrets—”
“Alive?” he repeated with a shout. “Alive? When the hell was I alive here in the wonderful Land of the Dead? You’re goddamn Elder murdered me!”
“You made the choice to die, Mr. Daivya,” Whisper replied coolly, her dark eyes flashing.
“No, I did not make that choice. I chose to save my son,” Ian corrected.
“And in choosing your son, you chose death.”
“Which neither of you told me. Yet another secret.”
“You know nothing,” Whisper spat out, the bruise around her temple darkening her face even more than it already was. “Your words mean nothing. I have brought you here to save your son, and yet you regard me with disdain. I do not owe you any truth.”
“Oh, you owe me the truth, woman.” No longer fearing her wrath, Ian grabbed the young Cherokee apprentice by the arm and slammed her against the wall. “What is going on?!”
“Shall I come back another time?”
Ian released Whisper and spun around in a fit of fury. A woman in her early twenties stood in the doorway, beautifully decorated with gems, colorful feathers, and ornately sewn clothing. “What do you want?”
“My name is Gentle Heart,” she said softly, taking a step into the room. Ian considered shoving past her until he saw the shadow of a guard just outside the door.
Whisper’s anger evaporated into awe and compassion. She knew this woman, recognized her face. Smoke Speaker spoke of her often, drew her often, dreamed of her often. This woman was one reason why she was in the Land of the Dead, and despite being pressed for time, she couldn’t take her eyes off of her.
As if in a trance, Whisper pushed herself off the wall and walked closer, each step slower than the last. The Elder’s drawings were so accurate, yet none could capture her incredible beauty, her innocence, that light behind her eyes that shone despite being trapped in the Fire Tower for so many years. But this woman, this beauty before her, was not always called Gentle Heart.
“You went by another name once,” Whisper replied as she unclasped the bone necklace around her throat. Gentle Heart smiled and merely shook her head. “You lived in the forest, with your father, a powerful shaman.”
“Young woman, I—”
“Until one day you were taken,” Whisper interrupted, continuing her story, never taking her eyes off the Raven-Eater’s wife. “The Raven-Eater made you his bride, made you forget who you truly are.” She stopped in front of Gentle Heart. “He made you forget your true name….Blue Feather.”
Gentle Heart frowned, staring at the necklace Whisper held out.
“What is this?”
“This belongs to you,” Whisper answered, placing the necklace in her hands, relishing the touch with reverence, then crossing her arms when Gentle Heart lifted a hand to her throat.
“I only have room for one.”
Whisper eyed the necklace, curious about the black hair braided around thin bones. White feathers trailed from blue beads, painted with images of crows. The necklace was beautiful, and she wanted it.
“Is that your hair?”
Gentle Heart chuckled. “Oh no, this was made for me by my husband. His hair shows that I belong to him.”
Whisper already knew that, but she needed to hear the words to know for sure. “My gift comes from your father…from Elder Smoke Speaker.”
Ian couldn’t conceal the rage that instantly spread across his face. So, Whisper wasn’t here for his son. She suckered him into dying so she could save Smoke Speaker’s daughter. And if he found out she killed his son to get him here, he would tear her apart with his bare hands.
“You lying bitch,” he muttered, pleased that she heard him. “So this is what you’ve been hiding. Did you murder Cole too?”
Whisper turned on her heel while Gentle Heart stared down at the necklace. “Your son died because of forces I could not control. Perhaps you know one of them...Perhaps you can tell me why he died.”
He didn’t know what answer she was looking for, but ultimately it didn’t matter. “Why the hell do you even need me?”
“Only a child protected by the Raven-Eater can strip him of his powers.” Whisper all but spit out the words. “I did not kill your son, but I need his help, your help, to kill the Raven-Eater.”
“The Raven-Eater,” Gentle Heart said suddenly, looking up from the bones. “He wishes to speak with you.”
“Why?”
Gentle Heart turned towards Ian. “It seems many of his guards have disappeared, and since they know better than to take captives alive, he assumes you have something to do with this matter.”
Gentle Heart led the way, followed by Ian, Whisper, and finally, two remaining guards armed with spears, bows, and arrows. As she walked, Gentle Heart fingered the necklace, her mind going over the captive’s words. Blue Feather, Smoke Speaker, the names sounded so familiar. And the jewelry, she could swear she remembered the feel of the cool bones against her throat. Who was this stranger, bringing her a necklace and telling stories of a past life, of her husband taking her from the living world? Was it possible she was speaking the truth?
Second in line, Ian struggled to keep his fury in control. He now fully believed that Whisper had something to do with Cole’s death, and she certainly was to blame for his own. She had lied to him from the very first word, and now she expected…what? For him to believe anything else she said? He had never despised anyone as much as this woman. All he could actually expect from her were tall tales, far-fetched stories, and a mouthful of deceit.
Whisper kept her eyes on Gentle Heart, nearly smiling at the vision. Smoke Speaker loved this woman dearly, and prayed to Creator for her safety every night. Together, they had planned her freedom, but first, she would have to recover her memo
ries. Whisper was more concerned with that than with the horror she was about to face, though her nerves were slowly beginning to twist into a knot in her gut. She knew that if they faced the Raven-Eater now, it would be the end for them. They would never find the boy, Blue Feather would never be free, and the living world would be taken over by death and despair. She had to do something.
Dropping down, Whisper spun around and swept a leg across those of the two guards. They crashed to the floor, cursing, but before they could fight back Whisper grabbed a knife from one of their belts, leapt on top of them, and plunged the blade into their hearts one after the other.
Whisper was covered with blood before Ian even turned around. He was a bit sad to admit he wasn’t surprised how easy it was for her to kill, or even how fast. But, he also had to admit, the girl knew how to get the job done.
Without hesitating, Whisper rose and knocked Gentle Heart to the floor, then wrapped a hand around her throat. “Where is the boy?”
Gentle Heart struggled against Whisper’s grip, but the woman was too strong. Fear filled her eyes. “What boy?”
“Where is he!” Whisper tightened her hold until Gentle Heart relented and pointed to a door just down the torch-lit hallway. The young apprentice glanced at the closed door, then slammed a hand into Gentle Heart’s head, rendering her unconscious. Before rising, she snatched the hair-braided necklace from her throat and secured it at her waist. “Let us get your son,” she said to Ian, who had already forgiven Whisper long enough to see how the hell she was going to make up for her lies.
Whisper and Ian wasted no time running down the hall and shoving open the heavy door. When they stepped inside the room, brightly lit with white-flame candles, they saw a child who resembled the boy once known as Cole Daivya.
Cole, who had been playing War with tiny figures made of dried mud, looked up and eyed his intruders suspiciously. They looked familiar, and he felt a strange tugging inside his body for the dirty, bloody man, but he wanted them out nonetheless. “Who are you?”
“Cole,” Ian whispered, taking a step forward. His son looked so different, so…regal, in a white-feathered headdress circling blonde hair that had grown incredibly long in the past month, a buckskin tunic ornately stitched with animal patterns and Cherokee symbols, and expertly crafted moccasins tipped with beaded tassels. His face had three small circles painted at both temples, and his wrists were decorated with hair-braided bracelets.
“Cole, it’s me…It’s—” Ian froze when Cole’s small hand moved instinctively to a large dagger at the edge of the table. “Cole, what are you doing?”
“My name is Fighting…Fox,” the boy said slowly, unsure of his reply. “You aren’t supposed to be in here.”
Ian shook his head, confused. “What….what?” He turned around to face Whisper, who was standing back with her arms crossed, waiting. “What’s going on?”
“Make him remember you,” Whisper said softly, keeping her eyes on the boy. She didn’t trust the grip he had on that blade. “His mind is not completely gone. But he has been protected by the Raven-Eater.”
“How do you know?” Whisper merely pointed to her arm, then to Cole’s. Ian followed her finger to see the three lines burned into his skin. They were still red and inflamed, and the sight caused his blood to boil. Someone had seared his son’s flesh with a mark that represented hatred and darkness. “I’ll kill whoever did that to you.”
“Make him remember.”
“I’m working on it!” Ian yelled, then lowered himself to his knees. “Cole, you know me. I’m your father, Ian Daivya. Your name is Cole Daivya. Remember?”
“My name is Fighting Fox.”
“No, you’re Cole Daivya. You love dinosaurs and science and learning about dogs. We went on a camping trip, and you fell in the water.”
“I don’t like camping,” the child answered, his face haughty. “And I don’t like the water. So I’d never fall in.”
Ian felt his heart flutter at his son’s disbelieving words. “Cole, you have to remember. We were camping, and we went to the park. You thought you saw a ghost earlier in the day, and so maybe you went to find him.”
“Ghosts aren’t real.”
“You were tricked, Cole.” Ian took a step closer, holding up his hands when the boy lifted the dagger again. “ The…the Raven-Eater kidnapped you.” He felt foolish saying the words, but they had to be stated.
Cole stared at Ian through narrowed eyes. “My name is…Fighting Fox. The Raven-Eater is my father. Why would he kidnap me?”
“Because he’s a bad man.”
“You’re a bad man!” Cole took a swipe at them with the dagger, forcing the strangers back three steps. A growl came from the corner, making the two intruders immediately aware of the large black dog that had just risen to its feet. “Go away!”
Ian sighed and glanced up at Whisper, careful to watch the dog from the corner of his eye. “What do I do? How do I even know this is really Cole, and not just another one of your tricks?”
“He bears the mark of the half-breed,” Whisper answered. “He is your son.”
“What mark? Those three lines? Anyone could have that.”
With a snarl, Whisper marched forward. The dog lunged, but she merely grabbed the beast by the fur and all but threw it against the wall. It fell to the floor with a whimper and stayed there, licking its wounds. When Cole raised his dagger and threatened to use it, she merely lifted a booted foot and kicked him hard in the wrist. Cole dropped the weapon with a cry, bringing Ian instantly to his feet.
“Hey!” he yelled as Whisper yanked Cole around by his shirt and grabbed for his collar. The boy shouted in protest, trying to kick the woman he believed to be an attacker. “I’m gonna—”
Then he froze. Whisper had lowered Cole’s shirt just enough to reveal the brown mark in the center of his shoulder blades, a jagged circle with five dots in the center, and a slight V shape at the base. “That’s impossible.”
“Nothing, Mr. Daivya, is impossible.”
“But….how?”
“In death, the truth is revealed.”
While the two exchanged words, Cole shifted his attention to the strange woman holding his shirt. She looked so familiar, but…why? Where did he know her from? Did she work for the Raven-Eater? Was she a friend of Gentle Heart? And why was she fighting with the strange man who looked just like him?
“You’re the lady from the river,” he said suddenly, tilting his head to the side. “When I was playing…you…you were the lady by the water.”
Silently, Whisper released the boy and stepped back. She had known this moment would come, was waiting for it. She could only pray it didn’t slow them down.
“What do you mean, Cole?” Ian asked, upset by the grimace his son made at his true name. “When were you on the river?”
Cole shrugged. “I don’t remember. But I remember her.” He gestured to Whisper, who again had crossed her arms. A haughty, though slightly nervous, expression had crossed her face. “Remember? I…I couldn’t breathe, and you….you watched me.”
“And the truth is revealed,” Ian snarled, advancing on Whisper. “You wanted him to drown, didn’t you? You stood on the shore and let him die, because you needed him to get me here! Didn’t you!” Whisper didn’t move as he approached, but instead only glared at him through those stoic black eyes. Her self-righteousness only fueled his rage. “All along! All along you were the reason behind his death! This is all your fault!”
In a blind fit of fury, Ian slammed his fist into Whisper’s jaw.
The moment his hand connected with flesh he felt guilty. It was the first time he had ever struck a woman, but his anger didn’t allow him to care as Whisper tumbled to the ground. She clutched her chin, staying down long enough to give Ian the time he needed to rear back again. “Is that what that word means on your back?” he shouted, lifting a foot to her ribs and knocking her down when she tried to rise. She grunted quietly, spitting blood. “Huh? Does it mean m
urderer!”
Then Whisper did something he never would have suspected.
She began to laugh.
As she rolled onto her hands and knees, blood dripping from her mouth, Whisper laughed, gasping in pain when her ribs refused to allow deep breaths. The very idea of his words, his arrogance, his presumptions, it was too much. Ian Daivya was the most ignorant man she had ever known, and refused to learn from his mistakes. There was nothing else to do with that but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Ian demanded to know. “Does it have something to do with that word? What does it mean?”
“Why…why did your son die?” Whisper asked between chuckling breaths, wiping a string of blood off her chin.
“What does that have to do with anything? I am so tired of you asking me that! You know why he died! You were there!” Frustrated and irate, Ian pounced on Whisper, grabbing her by the throat much like the witch had done. His fingers matched the bruises left by those of the gnarled, possessed woman, the first person he had ever murdered. “Did you kill my son? Answer me!”
Whisper grinned, her teeth red. “No,” she replied truthfully, and for some reason, he believed her. “But I did not save him.”
His grip tightened. “Why not?”
“I need you both.”
“You’re not getting a damn thing from either of us. I’m gonna kill you right here and now.”
“So you are a murderer, Mr. Daivya.”
“I’ll make an exception for you.”
“Dad! Stop!”
Shocked, Ian released Whisper and spun around to face his son. Cole had removed his headdress and was standing just behind him, clutching his hands together. “Cole?”
The boy pressed his lips together, slightly confused. Whether by the shock of his father’s rage or the power of Whisper’s memory, he remembered his past life. Indecision tore at him as he struggled to decipher the truth behind his two lives. Was he a little boy who loved to read about dinosaurs, or was he the son of a great leader, training to take over a new kingdom? Both seemed like such real possibilities.
“Cole? Do you know who I am?”
The boy pressed his lips together, remembering the camping trip. His mother, not Gentle Heart, grabbing him from the rock. His grandmother sneaking him candy before breakfast. The ghost on the other side of the river. Was that real, or was the Fire Tower his home? “I…there was a ghost…and he…he tricked me. The lady…she said…she said she would help you save me.”
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