People of the Thunder(49)

Trader rocked back in surprise. “Power sent us?”

“So it would seem.” Old White arched a quizzical brow.

Then Two Petals spoke in Trade Tongue. “I can see them dying on the Chahta squares. When they do, blood shall run from so many bodies. The future of hundreds now pulses in their veins.”

Trader shot a glance at Old White, but the old man’s eyes had taken on a hard gleam. He asked White Bear, “Will you Trade for the captives?”

“They are not his to Trade,” Great Cougar insisted. “They belong to me. I captured them. By hanging them in the squares, we will call Power to our side in the coming struggle. Their blood will give heart to my warriors—a foretaste, if you will, of things to come.”

Two Petals and the Albaamo woman both threw their heads back and laughed in unison.



Lotus Root willed herself to walk out from her hiding place in the trees. The Chikosi masqueraders had long since vanished, but it wouldn’t be long before others arrived, come to collect the bodies.

She placed her feet carefully, ensuring that she left no tracks for keen-eyed warriors to find. She winced at the sight of the hacked and mutilated bodies, pausing only long enough to spit on Fast Legs’ dismembered corpse.

“Odd, isn’t it?” she told the man’s scalped head where it lay rolled on its side. The skull was caved in. “This is the fate you wished for me.”

No answer came from the parted lips, no reaction from the death-grayed eyes.

She picked her way over to the place where the warrior had buried the sack. Easing the leaves aside, she pulled the tamped dirt back, found a corner of the sack, and pulled. The bag was oddly heavy, and she could see that blood and grease had stained its sides.

Shooting a frightened glance over her shoulder, she tightened her grip on the sack and climbed the steep-sided ravine. Topping out onto the flat she ran south as fast as she could, keeping to the deep leaf mat, trying not to disturb the cushioned footing with her smooth-soled moccasins.

Only when she had crossed the flat and reached the cover of a deadfall did she bother to stop, catch her breath, and stare at the sack. Opening it, she looked inside. At first she thought it was some kind of animal skins. And then the realization hit her: Scalps! The Chikosi had buried a sack full of human scalps!





Eleven


The evening was beautiful, the air still warm. In the southwest, the sun sent rays of light through puffy clouds, burning the edges yellow, gold, and red to contrast with the deeper purple of the cloud bodies. A few brave insects flitted here and there, wings shining in the light.

Old White followed the trail up from the canoe landing, assured that all was well there. He passed through the trees and into the fields. The people he encountered nodded pleasantly, calling greetings. They carried jars to be filled with water at the river, and some had packs on their backs.

Women were preparing the evening meals, cooking over outside fires. The smell of woodsmoke lay heavy on the air. Children laughed and played. For the moment, life was good.

He reflected on that as he approached Feathered Snake Town and glanced up at the sky. What were the purposes of Breath Giver when he Created the world? All of this could vanish come spring. Where people now lived, loved, played, and worked could become a battleground if Flying Hawk massed his warriors and sent them here.

In the old stories, all the Mos’kogee people had been one, a large nation that migrated eastward from across the Father Water. Driven by the availability of new land, they had come and conquered, or driven off, the local peoples. While crossing such vast territory, his people had split, some staying, others moving on, until Chahta, Sky Hand, Ockmulgee, Tuscaloosa, Coosa, and so many other nations had grown from the original stock.

The Chahta are our cousins. These people, the ones he now saw—but for a chance of the past—could be his relatives. But if things went badly, blood would be spilled in a terrible war. He knew his Sky Hand people. They trained constantly for war. It was fed into them along with their mothers’ milk. Among all the peoples he had visited, only the Azteca had a more proficient military: They marched in massed armies of thousands, each a trained warrior, capable of taking commands in battle.

Sky Hand warriors only traveled in hundreds, but what they lacked in mass and organization, they made up for with a fierce spirit. They would cut a swath through the Chahta lands. In the end, however, the Chahta would call on the Pearl River villages to the west. Where the Sky Hand filled the Black Warrior River basin, the Chahta sprawled over a large territory. If something finally united them, like a war of retribution against the Sky Hand, they would pose a worthy adversary.