People of the Fire(179)

The voice mocked in Heavy Beaver's mind, "I am the Wolf Bundle. Feel my Power!''

Horrible things spiraled down out of the night sky, reaching for Heavy Beaver.

Tanager never let her eyes wander. Fear pumped bright with her blood. So she'd condemned herself to death? Here they could rush her, take her alive, rape her, make a slave of her.

"Never again," she promised under her breath. What kind of lunatic followed another? Her place was fighting with her people against the invaders. Still, she'd vowed a dart would drink Heavy Beaver's blood before her own ceased to pump.

The two men advanced carefully, nervously. She caught their movement as Heavy Beaver's voice rolled out in some terrible threat. A prickling ran up her arm. At least White Calf's soul hadn't deserted her.

She watched, poised on balanced feet. They planned to cast at the same time. A dart apiece for the berdache and Fire Dancer. She'd have to be fast—fast like she'd never been before.

Not even a Dreamer can guard against a dart in the back.

The war chant burst from her lips as she moved into the Dance. Not even Cougar had her swiftness. The enemy charged and cast. She planted a foot, slapping aside the first dart, spinning and batting the second from its mark. The Dance filled her as she whirled, nocking her own deadly missile. She whipped her arm forward, sending it to its mark, driving it deep into the man's chest even as he nocked a second dart. She shifted, batting a third dart from the air, body surging in the trance of the Dance and Power.

She thrilled, bracing for that brief instant, casting with all the muscle of her whip-thin body, knowing the cast had good. Then she turned on nimble feet, covering the Dreamer where he Danced his own Power. She grinned at the shocked enemy, who stood unmoving, as if planted in the ground.

Yes, she'd been meant for this. None of the other warriors so much as quivered. Through wide eyes, they watched, gaudy in their paint, courage thin as water as they stared at the two dying warriors who whimpered and moaned on the ground, one bleeding at the mouth, the other staring horrified at the dart shaft that stuck from the hollow under his ribs.

Tanager whooped as fire rained down from above.

Two Smokes heard the snapping rattle of darts. Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught sight of Throws Stones and Fire At Night where they lay, watched by the circle of faces.

He sighed, lifting the Wolf Bundle high, ecstatic at the Power that ran through it. He lifted it, drifting, a wonderful floating sensation filling him.

“I CURSE YOU!" Heavy Beaver shrieked, glazed eyes on his dying warriors.

"You Curse no one." Fire Dancer Sang, stepping to the bonfire. “Your Power is illusion. Heavy Beaver. Learn with me. Dream with me."

And he Danced, Singing with a Power that swayed souls.

"I am Fire Dancer, come to Dream the new way. Feel the Spirals, feel the One, changing now, becoming whole!"

Heavy Beaver gaped, mouth open, disbelief large in his eyes. He swatted at something in the air, crying out, as if things reached for him.

"No! Leave me alone! I Curse you, Wolf Bundle. I Curse you!"

Fire Dancer stepped around the fat man, a detached light in his eyes, fixing Heavy Beaver in his stare like a snake did a bird. Behind him, flames crackled up in the juniper as hot sparks fell red and glowing from the ink-shot sky.

"Feel the Power, Heavy Beaver, feel the Wolf Bundle. That's what possesses you now. Take the coals. Dance with them. Dance the One."

"No! Leave me alone!" Tears squeezed from clamped eyes, running jaggedly down his contorting face.

'Feel the Power!" Fire Dancer Sang. He whirled before the People. "Dance! Dance with me! Dance the Spirals! A new way has come. A new way!"

Heavy Beaver shrieked, voice twisted with terror. He slashed at the air with futile fists, beating away things only he could see. Screaming, he lurched to his feet, fleeing toward the edge of camp, dashing into the burning juniper, heedless of the flames.

One by one, more people began to move their feet, learning the Song from Fire Dancer, following the Dance.

Where he stood in the center, Two Smokes held the Wolf Bundle high, tears falling from his cheeks as his soul drifted with the One. The Blessed, Blessed One.

Heavy Beaver crashed madly through the brittle juniper. He tripped and fell, stumbling over a twisted sagebrush. Whimpering, he thrashed at the darting things swooping about him. He covered his head, feeling the earth seething beneath him. Or was it only the datura?

Crying, he looked up. Around him the trees burned, fire leaping orange and yellow, searing, crackling, and roaring as entire junipers and giant sage exploded in waves of flame. Blinding tongues of light leapt for the night-black sky, illuminating the cloudlike masses of tumbling smoke in an eerie reddish tint that receded into charcoal smudges of ruby and maroon as they rolled higher and higher into the flame-streaked sky.