The Broken Land(72)

Shago-niyoh moves across the meadow, heading toward a small clearing surrounded by scrub bladdernut trees. I may not remember critical moments of that night … but I recall that clearing. That’s where we were held. Warriors guarded us while the old woman plied her Trade, buying and selling children from the victorious warriors. Atotarho was here that night … . Amid the deep morning shadows, Shago-niyoh’s black cape is almost invisible.

I brush at the charcoal. Large sherds from a big pot, probably a stew pot, thrust up through the dark gray soil. I reach for the largest sherd and tug it from the ground. A handful of earth comes up with it, filled with charred bones. One chunk appears to be from a human skull. My hand shakes when I try to touch it. I pull back. Every time I reach for it, my fingers go numb.

“Here, let me help you, I can get it out. Maybe if we pull out that big potsherd first, it will dislodge the bone, and we can leave.” Taya kneels beside me and reaches for the sherd.

“Don’t touch it!” I order. “The stew was poisoned. I’m sure it’s all right now, but just … don’t.”

I don’t want her tainted by what happened that night.

She jerks her hand back. “Poisoned? Who poisoned the stew? Why? Was this the evil witch’s stew pot?”

In a voice almost too faint to hear, I say, “Yes.”

I steady myself, pull the sherd out, and set it to the side. Then I return to digging through the old charcoal and debris. More charred bone emerges from the upturned dirt, including a palm-sized blackened fragment of human skull.

I swallow hard.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I feel my eyes go enormous and shiny. Old rage, aged to horrific perfection, washes around inside me. “The next day, we returned here. I remember everything. The smell of death permeated the air. When we found his body, Father hacked it to pieces with his war ax. Everyone helped scatter the bloody pieces. Then …” I look at the pile of bone fragments. “Then Father cut off the man’s head and forced me to carry it to this fire. He made me throw it in and watch it burn.”

Violently, I wipe my hands on my cape.

“Why did your father do that? It sounds cruel. You were just a boy.”

A low, bizarre laugh shakes me. Tears press against the inside of my skull, just as they did that day. “Father was not cruel. He did exactly the right thing. For that single instant I had power over this piece of filth.”

I can’t help it. I ball my fists and viciously slam them into the bone fragments, over and over, making small agonized sounds as I pulverize them. I see his smile … . I have to kill him. “You deserve to wander the earth forever. You deserve it!” I slam my fist into the skull fragment hard enough to send splinters flying in all directions.

“Who does?” Taya cries. “Is that the war chief’s skull?”

I can’t stop to answer. I have to keep killing him. I continue beating the bones. When my hands are torn and bloody, I jerk a rock from the ground, and pound the bones to dust. The sharp crack! crack! CRACK! rings through the meadow.

Taya backs away. Her expression tells me everything. My actions have terrified her. She knows for certain now that I am indeed a madman. Despite the danger, she’s seriously considering running home alone.

The rock in my fist hovers in midair, suspended over the battered splinters. She’ll never make it. I rise, draw my arm back, and hurl the rock as far as I can. The breeze blows loose black hair over my eyes. I’m surprised when strands stick to my cheeks as though they are wet.

“Sky Messenger, you’re scaring me!”

I wipe my face on my sleeve. My eyes ache, but it is more than just the cries I’ve kept locked inside me all these summers. I suddenly understand.

“Blessed gods,” I murmur. “This is not about the way out. The long summers of war made me forget a very important lesson.”

“What lesson?” Taya fearfully glances over her shoulder and clenches her jaw. She’s shaking.

As though the words are engraved on my soul, I say, “Our people have an amnesia of the heart. We’ve forgotten that we were once one people.”

“We? Who is we?”

“All of us. All of the peoples south of Skanodario Lake.”

The words seem to stun her. “Don’t ever say that again. I refuse to believe that any part of me could come from Flint or Mountain blood. They are evil beasts who deserve to be destroyed. When I am clan matron, I will be brave enough to—”

“To what?” My voice comes out savage. “Kill more people? Burn more villages? Only the bravest dare to try to end the violence, Taya. You want to be brave? Make that your goal.”