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The Broken Land(43)

By:W.Michael Gear


Koracoo swirled the tea in her cup, perhaps a little too violently. The purple liquid sloshed out onto her hand. She wiped it on her red leather legging. “I think the entire matter is best left alone.”

Sky Messenger seemed to be frowning at the blue smoke rising toward the smoke hole in the roof. He blinked, then lowered his gaze to the fire. “Bahna is right, Mother.”

“How do you know that? Have you seen it in a Dr—”

“No, but Bahna has.”

Her gaze flicked to the old man. Bahna said, “I am told that your son’s life must be a life of flames, consuming itself as it illuminates the darkness. He understands that.”

“He may, but I do not. What are you saying?”

Bahna placed a gnarled hand upon Sky Messenger’s shoulder. “He must return to the place it happened. The man is waiting. He’s been waiting for Sky Messenger for many summers.”

Koracoo set her cup down hard. “It’s a long way, and though the fighting should decrease as winter deepens, it will still be extremely dangerous. I don’t see the point, at this time, in undertaking such a journey.”

“The point?” Bahna asked with a gentle smile. His wrinkles rearranged into kind lines. “The point is forgiveness, Speaker. A man who hates has no eyes. He is a prisoner of darkness.”

Sky Messenger stiffened. His head turned slowly, and he looked at Bahna with glowing eyes. He seemed to be holding his breath. Listening for more.

Bahna didn’t seem to notice. He continued, “All of Sky Messenger’s life, he’s been hiding from a memory. He may not know it, but he’s been afraid for so long, he doesn’t know how to stop. He lives in a prison. Every day he repairs the chinking, adds new logs, seals himself in. He must stop, or he’ll never be able to truly see the ghosts of grief and desperation that haunt this land.”

Sky Messenger said, “You mean I’m protecting myself from a dead man?”

“He’s not dead, Grandson. Just as you breathe soul into every arrow you create, a man can breathe soul into a memory. You have given him life. And he is just as much a prisoner as you are.” Bahna leaned toward Sky Messenger. “You must set him free.”

A strange almost euphoric expression tensed Sky Messenger’s face, as though at last he understood. “Set him free,” he repeated softly.

Bahna reached out and touched Sky Messenger’s chest with a gnarled hand. “Forgiveness is not born through an act of will, or thought, but in the tears of a single human being. Your tears.”

Sky Messenger appeared to be contemplating the words, struggling with the ramifications, but he said, “I will need the council’s approval, Mother. Can you see to that?”

She gazed into his tormented eyes. He was her son, and she knew him well. While he had accepted the necessity of undertaking this journey, he didn’t relish the idea. But she could also tell that he longed to get out of the village. “I will arrange it.”

Bahna said, “Good.” He reached over to draw a thick cedar splinter from the woodpile by the hearth, then handed it to Sky Messenger.

Sky Messenger turned it over in the light, examining the deep red wood. “What is this?”

“A stiletto to puncture your heart. Some wounds never Heal, but their blood gives life to the world. Remember that.”

Sky Messenger stared at the splinter for a long time before he tugged open the laces of the red Power bundle on his belt and gently tucked the splinter inside. Afterward, he petted the bundle, as though soothing its pain.

“What about his new wife-to-be?” Koracoo asked. “If Sky Messenger must leave on this journey immediately—”

“I am told he must take her with him.”

Simultaneously, Koracoo and Sky Messenger blurted, “What!”

Sky Messenger threw up his hands. “No, no. I am not taking Taya with me. It’s too dangerous. She’s barely more than a child. I will be madly paddling down the river, moving like lightning. Then, when I reach the Dawnland country, I will have to stow my canoe and run overland as fast as my legs can carry me, praying the entire time that I’m not discovered by Dawnland warriors, or Flint warriors in Dawnland country. I’m willing to risk my own life, but not hers.”

Koracoo added, “He’s right, Bahna. Taya has never traveled beyond the boundaries of Standing Stone country. She knows nothing of the war trail. Perhaps—”

“She must go with him.” Bahna stared at Sky Messenger, but his old eyes seemed to be focused on the far distances, seeing something heartrending. “Grandson,” he said gently. “The Spirits of your ancestors tell me she must be there. She is part of the Dream.”