People of the Nightland(125)
Ashes nodded soberly, watching him with her now-possessive eyes.
“But why should you—”
He waved Dipper’s protest away. “There is no second-guessing Power, or the Dance of the One.”
The growing sounds of the crowd indicated some sort of disturbance. He tucked the Wolf Bundle tightly against his left side, feeling the warmth, the rhythm that beat to the time of his heart.
“Make way!” Fish Hawk ordered. “The next person who tries to spit on her will get a taste of my club!”
Dipper’s head turned as silhouetted forms blocked the entrance.
“I’ve brought her, Silvertip. Just as you ordered. But I’ll say again, I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Thank you, War Chief.” Silvertip sat up, feeling weak, but somehow rejuvenated. “Come closer, Keresa.”
The woman walked hesitantly, squinting in the darkness. Fish Hawk stood close behind her, his war club half-raised to strike at any false move the warrior woman might make.
“You!” Dipper gasped, starting to rise.
Silvertip tightened his grip on her hand. “Mother! No!” He forced Power into his voice. “You will sit, and listen!”
Dipper blinked, nodded, and sank back to the floor.
Keresa stopped just beyond the bedding, her surprised eyes recognizing him. “How are you feeling?”
He smiled at her courage. “Very tired.”
“Why did you send for me?” She stood tall, head back, her matted long hair falling around her shoulders. He could see the resolve coursing through her like a glowing light.
“I wished to thank you.”
A slight frown marred her forehead. “Do not expect an apology.”
“You need not apologize for serving the needs of Power, Deputy. You could not have played your part better.”
“You wanted to be killed?”
“There is no greater gift than the one you gave me. Come, sit.” He released Dipper’s hand. “Mother, if you would make room for my guest?”
Reluctantly, Dipper scuttled off to the side, her eyes burning with threat as she watched the Nightland woman seat herself.
“You’re saying … what? That Power planned this all?”
Silvertip looked into Keresa’s controlled features. “You served my purpose well.”
“Your purpose?” Keresa asked cautiously.
“I had to die to be reborn. The proof of the lesson lies all around us. The cycle of life and death and life is the heartbeat of Power. Yet, distracted by our physical needs, we see, but do not understand.”
“I don’t—”
“I first heard your name in a Dream, Keresa. One that I did not understand.You are the Wind, Mother of Legends. Kakala is the Fire, and Windwolf is the Water. Together, you act upon the earth.”
He watched her eyes narrow the way they would if she were listening to mindless babble. “I see.”
Silvertip smiled. “Why is it that you, Mother of Legends, who have so much trouble believing in anything, cannot even believe in yourself?”
He could see the confusion in her eyes. “Mother of Legends?”
“Believe in yourself, Keresa. Step out, and place that first step on the trail to your destiny. Stretch your arms wide, and gather the winds.”
She peered closely, trying to see his eyes, wondering, no doubt if the pupils were the same size.
“I am quite well, thank you.” He reached out, taking her hand. At the touch, she stiffened, expression shocked.
When he released her, she might have been frozen, stunned. Her eyes had lost focus, as though her vision was swimming.
When she finally blinked and steadied herself, he said, “I asked you here to thank you for helping me to find the One. As a warrior, it will be counter to everything you believe, but to surrender yourself is to achieve victory.”
“You’re right. I … I don’t understand.”
“You will wish to see Windwolf when I am finished with him.” He looked up. “Fish Hawk, would you escort Keresa to the war chief’s chamber? And when you pass through the crowd tell them they are making way for the Wind.”
“Of course, Silvertip.”
Keresa had trouble standing, as though her legs wobbled beneath her.
Windwolf peered up in the gathering gloom. The trail was a mass of humanity. If Karigi attacked now, they would kill themselves trying to get down the steep hill.
“Make way for the war chief!” Fish Hawk shouted. “Make way for Windwolf!”
“Windwolf!” The awe, the sudden silence, unnerved him. He climbed carefully through the press, people squeezing aside to make room. Some reached out, touching him, as though he were something precious.
When he could take no more, he turned on them. “What are you doing? By Wolf Dreamer’s breath, get back to your camps! Go! Now. Or so help me, I’ll have warriors clear this whole trail!”