One Hundred Years: Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The Serpent that now wears his Crown

Now...
December 20th, 2120

"I hate the snow." one of the children said as the Redwing tribe continued its trek.

Redwing-lives-forever smiled sadly, "We aren't used to snow anymore. It was more common when I was your age. I remember when Cooper and Pike decided to test themselves in the mountains against the winter. That was a moment that would change everything."

Ten years earlier...
February 1st, 2110

Pike and Coop crouched like stones as the snow fell around them. Snow still fell in the high mountains and the boys were wrapped in furs to guard against the uncommon cold. Snow Snow rarely fell elsewhere and so the high mountains were a test of endurance that most young warriors sought at least once. Pike was seventeen now and Cooper was ten. Pike was  warrior and only puberty stood in Cooper's way of being a warrior as well.

The brothers were hunting a white-tailed deer, an ancient buck with a massive sweeping rack of antlers that many young warriors had tried to bring down over the years.  The old buck was called the Old Man by the Redwing tribe and nobody had brought it down for nearly ten years. Each year the Old Man reappeared during the rut season in the autumn. And every autumn young warriors would head out to try and bring in the Old Man. Tribe members argued over whether the Old Man should be hunted any more. The argument was that the Old Man had lived so long and so well that he should left alone. Other members argued that hunting the Old Man did a service to the deer population, because if a hunter could kill the Old Man then young bucks would be able to breed and strengthen the genetic diversity of the local deer population.

Cooper and Pike were interested in the challenge of hunting such an old and clever quarry as the Old Man. So the brothers crouched, high in the coast mountains as the snow fell around them and the cold crept into their joints, watching as several does fed in the clearing ahead of them.

Cooper looked at Pike and quickly signed to his brother. He kept his hands behind their deer blind so the movement wouldn't spook the deer.

I haven't seen anything to indicate that bucks are around right now.

Pike signed back him.

Not today, but you've seen the tracks. you know he grazes here.

Cooper gave a slow subtle nod so as not to stand out from the landscape.

The snow is getting to me.

Pike nodded slowly.

The elders say we used to get snow at lower elevations every winter.

Cooper was about to answer when something caught his attention. He froze and moved his eyes without moving his head- scanning everything in front of him and only then slowly turning his head to scan the surrounding area.

It was the does, both does had their tails up in alarm and were looking to north.

Cooper was no longer looking at Pike. So Pike whispered to Cooper instead of signing.

“Can you see what they're looking at Coop?”

“No. and I don't hear anything that sounds like a predator. That doesn't mean there isn't one, of course.”

“They aren't acting like there's a predator.”

Cooper studied the does, they had begun to trot to the south, tails up. They weren't bounding away, as they would if they thought there were wolves or a mountain lion. Something had the does worried, but they didn't need to out run whatever it was that was worrying them. At least they didn't need to outrun it yet.

“It's got to be a change in the weather,” Cooper said carefully, “No reason to run away from any weather short of a avalanche or a tornado, but best to seek shelter if bad weather is coming.”

Pike nodded, “Any idea what kind of weather?”

Cooper listened, eyes closed and paid attention to the colors the sound made. The mountains were very quiet. He could here the dark indigo crunch of the does trotting away, and a light almost invisible green whistling from high altitude winds, but little else.

“Nothing immediate, but if the animals are moving its probably big,” Cooper said.

“A snow storm you think?” Pike asked.

“Maybe, I've never seen one. What do you think it will be like?” Cooper answered.

"Probably colder than this. Probably a lot a wind. Probably really loud," Pike said.

Cooper winced at the thought, if things got too loud he would have trouble seeing. That could be a problem in dangerous weather like a snow storm.

"We should try and find shelter, maybe try to get off the mountain," Cooper said after a moment's silence.

Pike considered and then nodded, "The Old Man is too smart to be out and about if a big storm is coming."

***

Twenty minutes later the brothers were heading down the mountain, when Cooper stopped walking and cocked his head from the left to the right. 

Pike looked at his half brother, "What is it?"

"I can see waves of really dark orange coming from the ground."

"Your synesthesia? What do orange waves mean?"

"A really deep bass sound, and its coming from the ground- beneath our feet, and all the way up the mountain."

Pike was silent for a second, "The ground is rumbling?"

"Yeah..."

"I remember reading about avalanches in Elder Wong's library. If snow builds up too much it can break loose and all coming rolling down and its like a tidal wave only made of snow."

"You think this rumbling is one of those avalanches?"

"I can't think what else it could be. Can you?"

Cooper focused on the orange waves rumbling around the edge of his vision. It was getting brighter- meaning louder- although he still couldn't consciously hear the sounds.

"Either way its getting louder, and probably closer, so we should move."

Pike's head snapped up, " I can hear it! And feel it! Run!"

Cooper could feel it too, the rumbling was now shaking his feet and the sound had quickly come out of nowhere to dominate the landscape. He looked up the mountain and saw a wall of snow hurtling down towards them.

"No time!" He yelled at Pike. Cooper cast around wildly and then spotted a large stand of trees directly behind Pike some thirty feet away. They were huge old trees, at least a century old and look well rooted.

"There! Run for the trees, they might shelter us!"

The brothers ran. The looming wall of snow continued to hurtle towards them at an unbelievable speed. Trees and boulders were caught by the avalanche and uprooted or launched ahead of the snow from its weight and momentum.

Pike reached into his backpack as they ran and drew out of length of hemp rope. The brothers hit the stand of trees moments ahead of the avalanche. They dove into the center of the stand and Pike looped the rope around a large tree and thrust the loose end at Cooper.

"Tie it off!" Pike yelled over the roar of the snow, as he tied the end he held around his waist and then gripped firmly with both hands.

Cooper could hardly see, the orange waves were now covering his entire field of vision and in addition Cooper could see overlaying spikes of green and indigo every time a tree cracked in half or a boulder split open against another stone. He worked by feel, wrapping the rope around his waist and had an overhand knot just finished as the wall of snow and ice thundered into the trees!

There was a rainbow of creaks and cracks from the trees and they bent and two smaller trees on the outside broke away. Freezing snow tore through the spaces in the stand of trees and ripped at the brothers. They couldn't see each other, couldn't feel their hands to tell if they were still holding on the rope, couldn't hear anything except the roar of the avalanche.

And then silence.

The mountain was still again. The stand of trees still stood, minus only two smaller trees who had given way. But the trees were now buried in hard packed snow almost fifteen feet deep.

Nothing moved on the mountain.

* * * 

Cooper came to consciousness slowly, drawn back by the bright green lines of somebody scraping at the ice.

"Can anyone hear me down there?" Cooper thought he recognized the voice, but wasn't certain.

"He opened his mouth and managed to croak a weak reply, "Here..."

"I saw two of you go under the avalanche, can you see the other one?"

Cooper tried to look around and found he couldn't even turn his head.

"Can't see anything..." He managed hoarsely.

"Well hang in there warrior. That was an impressive display, and I'm not letting anyone with that kind of mettle die without a fight."

The scraping continued above Cooper for several minutes until the ceiling of snow opened above him.  Cooper could see the man above him, and recognized him.

It was Maxwell Winters: leader of the Winter Wolves.

Maxwell smiled down at Cooper.

"Well young warrior let's get you out and start to work on your comrade. You're lucky my son and I were hunting the Old Man today, or you would have been finished."

Cooper was too numb to respond as Maxwell and the boy with him, who looked younger than Cooper, pulled Cooper up. About halfway out of the snow, Cooper abruptly caught on something.

Maxwell looked past Cooper and saw the rope wrapped around Cooper's waist.

"Is that hooked to your comrade?"

"Yes."

"Smart move." Maxwell cut the rope with a flick of his bowie knife and re sheathed it in an easy motion.

Then the older man heaved Cooper the rest of the way out and turned to his son, "Dolf, get in there and start digging. Pass the snow up to me and we'll tunnel to the other one."

Dolf nodded and jumped into the hole.

Cooper lay on the snow, he had begun to shiver violently, and the sound of his own shivering was obscuring his vision badly.

Maxwell looked over and said, "Hang in there. I saw an old school still standing in a ghost town nearby. We can camp there and heat you up. You'll make it, you're a warrior. If not, well the winter proves who is worthy."

And with that Maxwell turned back to helping his son Dolf unearth Pike.

And then Cooper closed his eyes and passed out.

* * *

Cooper awoke indoors to a fire crackling. Pike was already awake and warming himself by the fire. The old school swayed in the wind and creaked as snow built up on the flat roof. The brothers stared across the fire at the Warlord of the Winter Wolves and his son. The boys took their gloves off to warm their hands against the heat of the fire. Maxwell Winters eyed the wrapping on Pike's hands.

“Why are your hands wrapped?”

“I'm a boxer.”

“No you aren't. I recognise you. You're Pike Vershevin. Your mother was Lana wasn't she?”

“No.”

“You're lying. I remember her face and you look just like her. Who is this?”

"My friend Coop. Why do you care?"

"Who are you bound to Pike?"

"Nobody." Pike said sharply.

"Does your friend know what's under those bandages?"

"Shut up!" Pike was yelling now.

Maxwell stood up and yelled back at the young man, carefully separating each word as he yelled, "I want to know who my eldest son is bound to!"

"You're not my father!"

With that Maxwell straightened up and stepped straight over the fire and grabbed Pike's wrist. In one fluid motion Maxwell slipped his bowie knife from its sheath and slid it under Pike's bandages. Pike struggled, but he was still too numb from the hypothermia to resist well. He did manage to cut himself on the knife a little, but Maxwell deftly sliced through the bandages on Pike's right hand, exposing the snowflake brand on Pike's palm.

Of course Cooper had seen the brand. He didn't know how Pike had got it, but he knew it happened on Pike's first vision quest. Everyone had secrets, and Cooper hadn't pressed his brother on it; but he knew that snowflakes on the palms were a Winter Wolf sign and it had always scared Cooper that his brother bore them.

"You are my son! Now who are you bound to?"

"You're not my father!"

"Nobody else took your mother that night boy! Your options for a father are limited!"

"You're not my father." Pike sounded deflated now, as though all the air had gone out of him.

"Then who raised you before your mother fled? I gave you food and hearth and care until you were seven winters old. You are my blood and my legacy, as are Dolf and Hawk, whatever your mother did with Hawk."

Maxwell turned then and looked at Cooper. He scanned the boy's face as though something had suddenly occurred to him.

"Who are you?"

Cooper could barely think to respond at this point, his mind whirling as it tried to process what he had heard, "Cooper."
"You were at the meeting of the Great Alliance a few years ago, weren't you? With Redwing-lives-forever, isn't that right."
Cooper nodded. Seeing no point in denying it.

"Who is your father, boy?"

Scared now, Cooper gathered his anger and focused before he answered, "My father is dead. Your people killed both my parents."

Maxwell looked at Pike and then back at Cooper and then shook his head.

"You're lying too."

"I can see the resemblance between you and Pike, and Dolf. So you're Cooper are you? Well you're my lost son Hawk as well- so I guess you're Cooper Hawk now."

Cooper tried to wrap his head around this and failed.

Maxwell chuckled, "Such a charming family reunion. My eldest son is bound to another of my clan and I don't know who. My second eldest doesn't even know his parents. And on top of that, you're both members of my most hated foe. What am I to do?"

Neither boy spoke, Pike was wrapping the shredded bandages around the cut on his arm, and Cooper was looking straight into the fire.

"Such cowardice does not become my sons. Face the truth you two. You are what you are! If you wish I will tell you what Redwing was obviously afraid to reveal. Do you want to know your childhood? Cooper, do you want to know your mother's name? Did you know she's still alive? She's mother to Dolf as well. Pike is your half brother, but Dolf is your full brother. Would you like to know the truth?"

In the silence, the fire crackled away. Finally Cooper looked up at Maxwell and nodded.

"If I am a monster I should at least know what kind of monster." He said quietly.

Maxwell smiled, "There is nothing wrong with being a monster, boy. Monsters tend to live longer. Now let's see. where to begin? Ahhh, I know..."

Read Chapter 10 Here

One Hundred Years: Chapter 8

Chapter 8

A Cultural Interlude

Religion of the tribes of the Great Alliance
From "A History of the 21st Century", by Zithembe Nkosi
Published by ZuluHeart Press, copyright 2120

The Great Alliance is a largely heterogeneous group with regards to religion and politics. The tribes are held together by a few agreements, which are in fact very similar to the basic functions of the Democratic Republic of Oregon whom they dislike.  The functions of the Great Alliance are as follows: allow the various tribes to explain disputes amongst a larger group to socially enforce the laws of the Great Alliance and to act of a forum to raise support or alarms quickly in the event of large threats to all Alliance members.

The basic laws of the Great Alliance are simple. Do not try to be a king or god. Do not expand into the territory of another tribe. Do not conquer (although raiding to prove strength and reaffirm boundaries is allowed, and even encouraged to help the young warriors compete and stay ready). Control one's population. Follow the Seven Generation Law (do nothing that will negatively affect the environment even seven generations into the future).

The laws of the Great Alliance were drafted by the earliest member tribes and communes, and as such have a largely new age/pseudo-Native American feel with a heavy ecological focus. The makers of the law did not trust large groups, civilization, leaders or hierarchy in general, and sought to create a system of rules that was largely enforced by individual members and did not require the creation of separate organizations such as the police or the military.

Historians are uncertain whether these ideas sprang from the most common religion of the Great Alliance or whether the religion of the Great Alliance sprang from these laws. The rest of the Pacific Northwest tends to be aligned with the Unified Church of Healing, which is am amalgamation of the many immigrant religions of the region, from Shinto to Hindu, from Christianity to Buddhism, from New Age to Sikhism. The religion of the Pacific Northwest is a melting pot, but the ingredients are largely recognisable. The religion of the Great Alliance is less easily de-constructed.

The official religion of the Great Alliance is a naturalistic religion. Called the Way of the Seven Siblings, or simply 'the Way' or even 'the Seven', the religion of the Alliance believes in a naturalistic world with no ghosts, spirits, gods, magic or miracles. Many of the individual members of the Great Alliance do believe in such things, but do so from either personal experience or on the basis of personal spiritual convictions.

'The Way' centers around the exploits of a group of seven explicitly mythical siblings, understood to be archetypal representations of the seven essential roles within a functioning society. The siblings are (from oldest to youngest): Munin, Jatar, Sargas, Martegas, Gygas, Rusinas, Kurnos.

Munin is the eldest, she is represented by a raven and her role is to question authority and to play the role of journalist and fool and trickster. Munin's job is to keep individuals from accumulating too much power, or using authority for corrupt purposes. Her name is almost certainly based upon one of the two ravens of Odin from Norse mythology.

Jatar is the next eldest, she is represented by a serpent and her role is to learn about the world and then to teach it to the next generation. She is researcher and teacher in a single package. Some researchers feel her name is based upon the masculineArabic name Jafar or 'a stream'. Other researchers think that the name derives from the Finnish female devil Ajatar.

Sargas is the eldest brother and he is represented by an owl and his role is to mediate disputes and make certain restitution is made. The practices of Sargas are based heavily of Native American concepts of restorative justice. Sargas is the name of a star in the constellation Scorpio.

Martegas is the second brother and represented by the rabbit. Martegas is the history keeper and the storyteller and traditional Master of Ceremonies. His name is likely based on Mateguas- a rabbit spirit of the Northeastern Native American mythology.

Gygas is the third brother. He is represented by the wolf and his role is the warrior. His name is the name of one of the hundred handed who fought for Zeus and assured that God's victory inGreek mythology.

Rusinas is the youngest sister. She is represented by a stalk of corn and is thus the only sibling not symbolized by an animal. She represents nurturing and healing, as well as their own agricultural practises. Rusinas name is believed by researchers to be based on a Roman harvest goddess name Rusina.

Kurnos is the youngest brother and youngest sibling. He is depicted initially as being represented by a mountain lion, and then later by a locust. His role was initially that of leadership through initiative and daring action, but he succumbed to greed and tried to possess the locust spirit and corrupted the power of that spirit, thus becoming the False King.

The False King is the 'Shaitan' or devil figure of the Great Alliance. Seen not as an individual but as a cultural virus. The False King was described to archaeologist Lwazi Silongo this way: "The False King is the idea that people can expand without limit and without consequence. The False King is the idea that you must follow his one way to be right, and if you do not you may be conquered or exterminated. The False King offers everyone a choice, feast with me and die tomorrow or fight against me and die today."

In one of the earliest stories about Kurnos after he has become the False King, Kurnos murders Rusinas and waters his fields with her blood and uses her body as fertilizer in an echo of the Christian story of Cain and Abel. The other siblings cast Kurnos out of the tribe and he leaves. Kurnos then infects other tribes with the ideology of the False King and returns and conquers his old tribe and forces the siblings into hiding.

Kurnos spreads his power across the land devouring or assimilating all in his path until there is nothing left but the five remaining siblings who are still in hiding. In the end of this story, modern people discover the five surviving siblings who reveal the principles by which people may live in harmony with the rest of the world.

This creation story should make it clear to the modern African reader why the DRO has had such a difficult time making peace with the Great Alliance. the ideology of the Great Alliance in fact sees civilization and much of the resulting progress as evil and in fact equates it with their own devil figure.

One Hundred Years: Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The Bitter End

Now...
December 20th, 2120

"But who was Cooper's real father then" One of the children asked.

Redwing-lives-forever shook his head and adjusted his red and black ceremonial blanket as they walked.

"All in good time. Every part of a story has its own time for telling. Tell me children- do any of you know why the Winter Wolves are not allowed to speak at meetings of the Great Alliance?"

The children were silent as they walked and considered Redwing's question. There was snow this winter, which was especially rare on the west coast. And the only sound was the shuffing and splorching of moccasins in wet cold snow.

"Didn’t you say that they were talking for the False King?"

Redwing nodded quietly, "And what did I say proved that they were speaking for the false king?"

The children were silent again, save for the sound of wet moccasins as the children and their guardians moved through the forest heading for safety. Finally, after several minutes Pike's daughter Sparrow spoke up.

"They want to get really big and they're hurting other tribes and townees to do it. Right?"

"Yes, that is one of the charges that I leveled against the Winter Wolves- that they were expanding without regard to limitation and that they were devouring other tribes in order to expand. The natural world is a world of limits, and anything that seeks to expand without limit is a danger to all life. Anything that seeks to expand like this is a cancer, the false king incarnate. What other charges did I level against the Winter Wolves?"

The children whispered amongst themselves this time, trying to come to a consensus.

"They raid with guns and not raiding staves."

"They try to kill everyone in a tribe, instead of raiding and making peace."

"They're mean!"

Redwing smiled at the last comment and intervened," Being mean is not a crime against the Great Alliance. If it was, the Black Rider Tribe to the north would have been thrown out of the Alliance long ago. The laws of the Great Alliance are simple, but not always easy to follow. To live in the Great Alliance, a tribe must keep themselves in check. They must not expand like a plague. They must not conquer, although they may seek retribution. They must stay light upon the mother earth. For some people this is hard, the lure of the false king and his bargain are too great for many people to resist. And what does he promise?"

Lamont Freeman's daughter Joy answered, "He promises power for you today, at the cost of everyone's tomorrow."

"Very good Joy. He offers all the bounty of the earth now, but in order to have it now, there is nothing left to bloom tomorrow. If you to understand the rest of Cooper's story and how his story relates to my own story and how they both explain the war between us and the Winter Wolves- then you need to hear the story of the meeting of the Great Alliance where the Winter Wolves were forbidden to speak."

* * *

Fifteen years earlier...

June 21st, 2105

 

The council of the Great Alliance met in a open air amphitheater, carved out a hillside with great slabs of rock dragged in to help stop erosion from reclaiming the land. The Seating areas had canopies built above them and then covered in moss to help hide the amphitheater from aircraft. It was raining lightly as the tribes began to gather.

Redwing-lives-forever walked beside Fergus Wong and Cooper Redwing. Trailing a little behind them were Koko Freeman and Alice Wellington, who were officially here as representatives of the Redwing Tribe and unofficially here as guards for the two elders. Redwing leaned on his walking stick- heavier than needed, but he was playing the part of an old man. Redwing was nearing his hundredth year, but was still strong for his age and more agile than most suspected. Fergus Wong was not much younger, and it showed in his weathered face and wild hair that reminded his contemporaries of Albert Einstein. Fergus also leaned on a walking stick- made from a steel pipe and painted black. Fergus had been a fierce warrior once, and although he needed the cane to walk, his arms were still strong enough to make the cane a deterrent against harm. Fergus dressed in the standard Redwing garb, brigandine armor with no sleeves, the loose leather pants with knee high moccasins wrapped with a leather thong. All of Fergus' clothes were dyed black however, which made him stand out against the red-brown of the rest of the Redwing tribe members. Both Redwing and Fergus also wore ceremonial blankets befitting their status as elders. Redwing's blanket was decorated in northwest traditional red, white and black Native American style. Two bright Red wings spread across Redwings shoulders, wrapped in black and white. Fergus Wore a black blanket with a single white Chinese ideogram on his back "Thunder".

Fergus looked to his left and then coughed towards Redwing, "They're here."

Redwing didn't look, "I know. I can smell the milk from here."

Fergus continued, "I see Maxwell and his entourage. I think he brought every bodyguard he has. Even his 'wife' is here. He looks like he's spoiling for a fight."

"He won't be allowed to bring any more than five members into the council though, so it hardly matters. Everyone brings a show a force to these meetings in order to back up their words." Redwing answered.

"So why didn't we?"

Redwing smiled, "We have something stronger than arms. If we came here with military force and tried to make the argument we are about to make, it would have far less credibility than if two old men and a small child made the argument, protected by only two bodyguards and the good will of their neighbors."

As the two old men spoke another old man was approaching from a different camp. He was dressed in loose leather breeches and wool poncho decorated in brown and green leaf patterns. His head was shaved and his skin was a permanently tanned shade of nut brown.

"Redwing! Fergus! It's great to see you. And who is this?"

Redwing smiled, "Vincent Wilder, it is good to see you too. This is Cooper Redwing; he's an orphan the tribe took in."

Vincent looked at Redwing silently for a moment. Redwing met his gaze calmly. Finally, Vincent nodded...

"It's good to meet you Cooper." He said.

"It's good to meet you too, sir." Cooper said looking up at the man.

"He must be an orphan, no Redwing is that polite to their elders. Show respect for Munin before your elders. Isn't that what you say?"

Redwing chuckled, "When you question your elders, you respect the community and defend it from pride. Yes, that is our way."

"Does that work?"

"It seems to."

Wilder paused and looked over to the Winter Wolves. He pressed his palms together and flexed his fingers, his eyes looking into the distance.

"Redwing, I do not know if you have the support you need. You are making a gamble. I have found no other tribe willing to call the Winter Wolves as conquerors."

"Surely your tribe- The Free Mountain Communes..."

"None of the communes have been attacked old friend. None of my people have first hand accounts they can bring forward. We will support your claims, but on the basis of your reputation alone. And I do not think that will be enough to remove the Winter Wolves from the Alliance."

"Then what about the Caribou Hills tribe? They were attacked. Our scouts were there. We lost five warriors helping the first village evacuate. Surely they will stand forward."

"Old friend, they claim that they were never attacked."

Redwing was quiet. Fergus looked at the ground avoiding Redwing's searching gaze. Cooper had never seen his Uncle look as old as in this moment. But the moment passed, and Redwing's face set into a look of resolve.

"That means the Caribou Hills Tribe was conquered. The Wolves are playing a careful game. They are not admitting to their conquests. This way they can claim legitimacy and still expand. It is a bold move and not a foolish one. What about the Jerome Clan? They also are near neighbors to the Winter Wolves, and what about the Clear Wind Ranch, they are close as well."

"The Clear Wind Ranch claims to have seen no hostility. I spoke with Anne Jerome and the Jerome Clan delegation. She says her clan has seen a lot of movement of supplies and people in Clear Wind Ranch territory, but said that raids have died down well below the level one expects of a neighboring tribe. They are suspicious but they have no proof."

"This weakens our position significantly. I was expecting the support of Caribou Hills Tribe. We will have to take a different tactic then. We shall aim to weaken their influence and try to force an accounting by the Alliance. But we will work with what we have. Take your seats so this can begin."

Cooper found the ceremony long and boring, as each delegation was introduced and named. It was more than an hour before members were allowed to speak. However when members were allowed to make claims, Redwing stood immediately. Several other delegates had been moving to stand as well, but all sat when Redwing pushed up from his seat.

"The Council of the Great Alliance recognizes founding elder Redwing-lives-forever."

"Thank you Speaker. I am here for a dark purpose, and for this I apologize. You all know me. You know I do not speak lightly. So I hope you will listen now as I charge the Winter Wolves with being taken by the False King." Redwing said solemnly. The people in the council burst into shouts and murmurs as Redwing spoke. Redwing continued speaking. "They are engaged in an attempt to eradicate the Redwing tribe. They attempted to conquer the Caribou Hills tribe- my warriors died defending a Caribou Village several months ago. I fear that the Caribous Hills tribe has been conquered. The Winter Wolves are further engaged in trade with the cities of the DRO, and while this is not illegal, it does not speak to the spirit of the Alliance Laws."

One of the young warriors on the Caribou Delegation stood up and stepped forward.

"The Council of the Great Alliance recognizes delegate Byron Jacks."

"This is an outrage! We are not conquered. The Winter Wolves have not even made attacks against us. This is baseless! I respect the founding elder, as all of us do, but he is nearly a century old. I doubt his memory and I doubt his judgment. Our tribe prospers and has nothing to complain about. If the Redwing tribe has lost warriors, it was not at our village."

Alice Wellington shot out of her seat and stormed forward, "You bastard! You city coward! My husband died in your village so your children and elders could escape! I watched him die, and couldn't help him because it would have left your people undefended as they fled! You defile the lives we gave, and the lives of your own that died. You disrespect the Alliance and Law of the Alliance and your own ancestors with your words."

"Alice Wellington, you speak out of turn. The Council has not recognized you yet."

Anne Jerome stood up and walked forward. She was tall and willowy with eyes like iron fillings.

"The Council of the Great Alliance recognizes delegate Anne Jerome. “

“My clan has seen disturbing signs,” Anne said, “Supplies moving in greater number than I have ever seen in peace time. Normal raiding has disappeared, like a dangerous calm. Neighboring tribes seem odd. The Caribou Hills delegation is composed of one respected elder who won’t meet my gaze and four strange thugs who I have never seen before. I do not like this, and I do not intend to wait for the day when I wake up to find snowflakes on my palms to realize that I have lost my freedom and my clan to the False King.”

A wave of murmurs ran through the crowd. And as they subsided, Anne continued speaking.

“I have no proof that is conclusive. But all tribes not yet silenced must see what I see. We did not form the Great Alliance to allow its ideal to be compromised by red tape and bureaucracy. These are the ways of the False King. The Winter Wolves and their pawns reveal their corruption by hiding behind them.”

Abigail Driskell, an elder for the Clear Wind Ranch stood up.

"The Council of the Great Alliance recognizes delegate Abigail Driskell. Anne Jerome please be seated."

Anne nodded and sat down. Abigail was shaped like an over ripe apple- round but no longer firm. Her hair was wrapped up into a grey bird’s nest and she wore an overly friendly smile.

“The Jerome Clan is correct to warn against too much bureaucracy. Anne Jerome is right to say that this can be used as a dangerous tool of the False King. But, let us not forget either that the laws of the Great Alliance are also here to protect us from each other. My Ranch does not require new members to marry into the Jerome Clan in order to join. This works for the Jerome Clan, but it bothers me. My Ranch does not send children into the warrior pits in order to be adults, as the Winter Wolves do. I think this throw back to Sparta is horrible, but it seems to work for them. I do not like the secrecy of the Redwing tribe regarding the location of their village. It strikes me as dishonest, but they have been honest in all their dealings with us so I do not complain.”

The council was silent at this point. And Abigail continued.

“We all have laws and traditions that frighten or disgust the other members of the alliance. That is why there are such strict rules regarding the accusations that Redwing has made. I do not dispute the Redwing tribe's accusations. They have seen them they say. That is what we ask of them. For the motion to carry some other member must also have seen this behavior. This is because there are many ways to live in line with alliance law, and many of them would horrify those who choose not to live be them. We must be certain or we cease to be an alliance and become a nation under the rule of the council and on the road to becoming the servants of the False King- one and all.”

Vikram Patara stood up. He was the Captain of the River Gypsies and built like a short nutmeg colored bowling ball. He was missing the first two fingers of his right hand and was bald with chalk white mutton chops style mustache.

"The Council of the Great Alliance recognizes delegate Vikram Patara. Abigail Driskell please be seated."

Abigail sat down and Vikram began speaking in a booming heavily accented baritone, “My people travel the rivers, all river are our home. We trade wherever the water reach. We see many thing and many thing that we see, we see unknown to those who do them. We keep the Hindi language of my great grandfather. So we may speak without the ear of the stranger understanding. We are outsider in everything and this is our strength.”

“We trade with the Redwing. They are honest, we will speak to that. We trade to the Winter Wolf people. They are harsh, and we do not know if they are honest, but we do not speak against them. But we do speak against the Caribou Hills people. We see strange things as well. Like the Jerome, we see things moving more than normal. And like the Jerome we see new people on the Caribou delegation. But unlike the Jerome, we know the new people. They are from the Winter Wolf people.”

The council burst into conversation as delegation began to speak to each other and yell out of turn. Vikram held up his hands.

“This prove none of what Jerome accuse or Redwing accuse. This is suspicious, but people get married and we all know that will small town we must send young people to other tribes to keep us from breeding too close for genetic comfort. So I say this is suspicious, but I do not say this is proof.”

Vikram turned and sat back down as the volume level rose in the amphitheater. Maxwell Winters rose from his chair and the crowd of delegates went silent. Maxwell was of average height and slim with a narrow face and dark hair. He wore a musketeer mustache and goatee with his hair greased back in a ponytail.

"The Council of the Great Alliance recognizes delegate Maxwell Winters."

Maxwell nodded and addressed the council, “We are not a sociable clan. We do not apologize for this. Life is hard and the strong alone are worthy of our time. But we do not follow the False King. The elder Redwing and my family have… history together. I do not think he is unbiased in this. Nobody would call me unbiased were we reversed in this situation. Both sides have inflicted wounds that fester. We raid them and they raid us. This is allowed under alliance law. We do not seek conquest. Quite frankly few of our neighbors would meet the standards to which we hold all Winter Wolf adults. Expansion is of no interest to us. Strength and the ability to survive is of interest to us. I do not think that elder Redwing is senile, as the Caribou Hills representative suggests. I think he is angry and biased by our long rivalry. I do not think that it is appropriate for either of our groups to draw the entire alliance into our feud. That is all I wish to say. “

As the crowd began to murmur again, Vincent Wilder stood up.

"The Council of the Great Alliance recognizes delegate Vincent Wilder."

Vincent Wilder looked around slowly, as though gathering the attention of the delegates. Then he spoke. “I am Vincent Wilder of the Free Mountain Communes. I will put all thought of neutrality aside now. I am not neutral in this. The Free Mountain Communes were home to Redwing-lives-forever and his father: Jack Yellowcrow. This was before there was a Redwing tribe. It is because of the actions of Redwing that The Free Mountain Communes still exist at all. Our parent group, the Hidden Waters Eco-Village has been absorbed by the DRO, out of this were born the Free Mountain Commune and the Redwing Tribe. We are still in their debt.”

Vincent paused and looked around at the groups assembled and then he pointed to one group who had been silent.

“The Black Riders are feared even amongst the tribes of the Great Alliance, but they had their numbers bolstered by Redwing Warriors when the RNT armies swept in from the North.”

Vincent pointed out another group, “The Nova Roma Gypsy clan has been accused of serving the False King before, by a rival clan who coveted the Nova Roma trade agreements. It was the Redwing tribe who insisted upon a multi-tribe investigation so nobody could claim bias in the final product, and it was this investigation that revealed the other clans ties to the Demon City of Seattle.”

“I could go on, Elder Redwing is older than the Alliance itself and virtually every tribe, clan and commune here owes his tribe something. Yes, they are secretive. Yes, they are private. Yes, they are strange. But even the Winter Wolves benefit from the hard work of the elders of that tribe. I have known Redwing for almost my entire life, and in that time the only thing I have ever known him to be dishonest about is his hair color.”

The assembled delegations laughed, and Vincent continued, “But beside the henna Redwing purchases from the free ports, I know no reason not to believe his words. As Abigail has pointed out, the limits of Alliance law are there to protect the independence of each tribe, clan and so on. Nobody else has seen what the Redwing tribe has seen. So be it. The Winter Wolves cannot be banned from the Alliance without additional support. But let us follow the wisdom of Alliance history. Let us form an investigative unit, made up of many delegations, and look into the claims made today. The Redwing tribe alone brings eyewitness accounts, but the River Gypsies and the Jerome Clan both bring evidence that is worrying. It may be nothing. As Vikram says, these things are suspicious by may have reasonable explanations. So let us seek those reasonable explanations. It is within the power of the council to do this. Let us see and end to this.”

Maxwell stood back up, “We will not allow such an attack upon our independence. Any investigative delegation will be turned away.”

Redwing stood back up, “This speaks volumes fellow delegates. If the Winter Wolves will not allow an investigation, then I motion that they be denied the right to speak at council meetings until such time as they agree to allow the law of the alliance to function.”

Maxwell gritted his teeth and glared at Redwing as tribe after tribe rose to support Redwing’s motion. 

One Hundred Years: Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A Cold Wind Blows

It was dark inside Cooper's brain- because Cooper was certain that was where he was at the moment. He could see the light of brain impulses at the edge of his vision. He could see the cerebellum in the dim illumination provides by the brain impulses. He could hear the blood pumping into the skull and feel the rhythm of his body all around him. He did not know what peyote was, but he had chewed on it. Mister Poe had given him some of it and when Cooper had chewed it, he wound up in his brain.

It was dark.

Cooper wasn't claustrophobic and it wasn't the enclosed space, but something was making him feel uneasy. Was he supposed to be inside his head?

"This doesn't seem right. How can I be in my head. I'd have to kind of inside out to do that."

His voice sounded odd and kind of swallowed up by the sounds of blood pumping. Dark red pulses thrumming at the bottom of his vision, caused by his synesthesia, or maybe not if Mister Poe was right. Cooper was not certain that he believed old Mister Poe when the Ghost Dealer told Cooper that the colors he saw were signs of possession by spirits. The Redwing tribe was not terribly superstitious- especially not compared to other tribes.

Cooper didn't really believe in ghosts, but he maybe believed in spirits- although he did not really understand the difference, but there seemed to be one. Aunt Koko would laugh to hear him think things like this. She would laugh about him wondering about the aurora borealis as well, whether it was a piece of the sun or a dancing spirit or the mark of dragons in flight.

"She would probably laugh about me thinking I was in my head as well."

Cooper looked around again at the inside of his head.

"this can't be my head. I'm touching my head- so I can't be inside it. It's still attached to me. This means that I'm imagining this, but this is really real looking."

In the darkness ahead, Cooper saw something moving. Cooper walked in the direction of the movement, his feet sinking into the soft warm skin beneath his feet. He had the sense that walking towards movement in a dark and unfamiliar place was a very bad idea, but wasn't certain what else to do under the circumstances. He hadn't been trapped in his own head before, so he was on unfamiliar ground literally and figuratively.

As he closed distance with the movement he began to make out some shape and color. It was mostly black with a tiny bit of red and an even smaller stripe of yellow. There was also something reflective on the shape. The shape itself was small, about the size of his head- maybe smaller. It was moving in a way that Cooper now recognised as the movements of an animal, a bird in fact. Cooper was training to be a warrior scout and he was familiar with the movements of different animals so that he could spot them and notice their mood and especially the extent to which they were calm and nervous. He was also familiar with the movements of animals as they compared to the movements of humans. This was a blackbird- a red-winged blackbird from the swatches of color. It was perching on a protruding lump of flesh that Cooper decided was a nerve ending. His uncle was named after this bird: Redwing-Lives-Forever. As a result of this connection, Cooper felt confident that the bird was not a bad omen or a threat.

The blackbird cocked its head to look Cooper in the eye and then its beak opened.

"I see that nobody can knock on your skull and claim that nobody is home. But I wonder about your reasons for having your windows so tightly shut." The Blackbird spoke with a rich red voice that rolled around Cooper like smoke from a pipe.

Cooper froze. He had to be imagining this, birds didn't talk- except in the stories. Was he in a story? Was he dreaming? Cooper considered this option carefully, this certainly could be a dream- it had all the markings of a dream. The scenery was unbelievable and Cooper could not remember how he arrived. Things were happening that did not happen in the waking world.

"Peyote," Cooper said, "I was talking to Mister Poe and he told me to chew something called peyote. That's right! What is peyote?" Cooper looked at the blackbird for guidance.

"Peyote is a type of cactus that, when dried, causes hallucinations and draws the user inward. Quite literally in your case."

Cooper considered this carefully, studying the colors left by the blackbirds explanation.

"So I'm on drugs and none of this is real?"

"No, you are on drugs and your mind is constructing this based on the drug's interaction with your mind. It is real, although it is not necessarily physical."

"So I'm creating this dream out of drugged cactus biscuits, and you're just me talking to myself ?"

"If you like. But keep in mind that peyote tends to force introspection and in your case there are many things you wish to pretend that you do not know."

"What does that mean?"

"Its means that not everything that your mind creates from the mescaline will be as helpful and benign as I am."

As it finished speaking the red smoke that coiled off it continued to coil and the blackbird itself dissolved into the coils of red until there was nothing left. Cooper stared in horror, his colors had never done anything like that before. And even though he was fairly sure that the blackbird was telling the truth about the whole experience being a dream caused by drugs, the sight of his colors affecting something physical. Cooper had come to think of the colors as something akin to a sixth sense- even if they were something he saw with his eyes. It was like seeing two worlds at once, but seeing those two world overlaying each other was one thing and seeing them interact was another thing altogether. Cooper almost cried out in alarm at the sight of it.

The setting shifted before his eyes, there was a deep red rumble rising up from the bottom of his vision with the harsh blue tones of high pitched sound punching across his vision. And then the colors ran into the world around Cooper like dye leeching into water. The world before him swam like wet paint as sound and sight intermingled and then sorted themselves out again.

The world before Cooper was now an old building that looked like a city hall or a library. It was almost entirely grey stone with huge glass windows. The build looked old, and had probably been built in the twentieth century. The windows had been replaced with stain glass windows, probably because transporting large plate glass was difficult and expensive and only a few places still made such luxury items. The windows depicted scenes of war and violence- always between people in blue, depicted in large heroic forms, and people in red, depicted as small and always in retreat. Cooper looked around. He seemed to be in the town square, but it was an odd town square- empty of people and hustle and bustle that typified such community centers.

There was a blue, high pitched whistle to Cooper's left. The sound had been like a winter wind or the whistle of an arrow, both had a similar look to Cooper. He turned before the sound had faded from his vision, just in time to see something white or light blue passing behind two buildings. The blue whistle of another arrow passed on his right and Cooper turned to catch the same flash of white or blue disappearing behind another building. Then he heard and saw more whistling, to his left and his right, in front and behind him, things moving like a cold blast of winter air- too fast for Cooper to see clearly. He saw white, maybe blue, fur.

Cooper had heard his Uncle Redwing's stories, he was fairly sure that these were wendigo, spirits of winter, cannibal spirits, fast and hungry and almost impossible to see. And whether or not this was all happening in Cooper's head, Cooper was terrified at the thought of meeting one wendigo- let alone a dozen. There were at least a dozen, darting from building to building, with their whistling bursts of blue speed. Then strange blue green spines began to sprout from the ground as the wendigo began to speak, to call to Cooper in whispers.

"The orphan should come home."

"The orphan should eat his people and grow strong."

"The orphan is one of us."

"The orphan is a spirit of cold."

"The orphan will kill when hungry."

"The orphan is one of the wendigo."

"Wait for the cold of December, wait for the solstice and then the orphan will know its own nature."

The wendigo began to close in, flashing blue from building to building as the closed a net around Cooper. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't talk. He was too scared to do anything.Cooper was trapped in a net of blue and he could see no way out.

"The orphan should come home."

"The orphan should know its place."

"The orphan should show his fangs."

"The orphan is hungry."

The wendigo were so close that Cooper should have been able to see them, but somehow he couldn't. When they moved he could see the trails that the sound of their passage left, but he couldn't see them. They were all around him, less than ten feet away and their taunting whispers were bubbling green and blue around him.

"The orphan will remember."

"The orphan will eat fish and fowl."

"The orphan is hungry."

"No!" Cooper cried out in desperation, "The orphan is not hungry! The orphan has a home and the orphan will not eat his people!"

Cooper ran, barreling straight through the wall of green and the net of blue and charged headlong down the streets of the deserted town. There were guard towers and walls everywhere. Cooper had been mistaken when he described the area as a town, it was a fort. Cooper ran down streets and alleys with a speed borne of fear, but the blue whistles that marked the wendigo were always around him.

"The orphan knows what it knows."

"The orphan can't run from its own truth."

"The orphan can't outrun its past."

"The orphan can't outrun who it is."

"The orphan knows where it belongs."

Cooper rounded a corner and came skidding to a stop. He was looking at a dead end alleyway. He looked around desperately as the blue streaks of wind closed in on him. To his left was a door, slightly ajar- although Cooper was certain that the door had not been there when he first looked down the alley. He yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind him. The door had a dead bolt. Cooper slammed it into place as the blue hit the door like crossbow bolts- leaving sharp holes punched in the oak door- but the door held.

There was a yellow puff of air as somebody gasped behind him. Cooper turned and looked to see a woman crouched behind him. She was faceless, terrifying and beautiful at the same time, with a line for a mouth and two black almond shaped holes for eyes.

She was chained to the stone floor by a huge collar around her neck and dressed in a blue robe, though her features were a sunshine yellow.

She was crying.

Blue and red mixed as the wendigo beat an irregular beat against the oak door. Cooper walked cautiously up to the strange yellow woman.

"Who are you?" He asked carefully.

"I am a memory, not fully remembered by you because you were too young. I am your mother." Her voice was forest green leaves dancing on the wind.

The voices of the wendigo began to seep through the oak door and hung at the edges of Cooper's vision like a toxic vapor.

"Hunger."

"Outsider."

"Freak."

"Killer."

"Monster."

"Orphan."

"Orphan."

Cooper shook his head and looked at the woman before him.

"What else do I remember about you?" He asked.

"I am sad all of the time. I am afraid all of the time."

"Why are you afraid? Why are you sad?"

The pounding on the door was hitting every color in the spectrum now, with waves of color hitting like the beginnings of a great storm and knives of color shooting past Cooper's vision like birds of prey.

"I am sad because everything I love is being taken from me. I cannot hold anything I value, everything is stolen from me."

"Did that include me?"

"I valued you so very much."

"Why are you afraid?"

The door broke in, splinters flying everywhere, blue blasts of cold wind swarmed around him. The wendigos moved so fast that could not see them even as they were directly in front of him. Instead they were a whirlwind of blue that engulfed him.

"Why are you afraid!?" Cooper called as the frigid tornado pulled him into the air.

"I am afraid of the people I love!"

"But you love me!"

The tornado drew him up and engulfed him in bright loud blue and indigo sound so loud he couldn't see or hear anything. Finally everything when white and then stone quiet, and in the quiet Cooper heard his mother's voice, in deadly quiet yellow butterflies that moved across the middle of his vision.

"I do love you."

Cooper closed his eyes.

"But you're afraid of me. Everyone is afraid of me. What is there to fear?"

* * *

Cooper opened his eyes. He was laying on his back in middle of the village. He distinctly remembered being standing when the whole drama had begun.

"Why am I on the ground?"

"You fell, I caught you." Pike said from his left.

"I'm not afraid of you Coop." Malika said from his right.

"What?" Cooper said in alarm.

"You were really quiet, then you fell over and Pike caught you, and then you started asking what we were afraid of and saying that we were afraid of you. I'm not scared of you. You'd never hurt me. I know that Coop." Malika looked at Cooper earnestly, eyes wide with concern.

"You did not free yourself from the spirit haunting you, young hawk." Mister Poe said, suddenly looming above Cooper. "I suspect that you want this spirit."

Booker Freeman looked at Mister Poe, "You can keep your hands Poe," Booker said.

Charon the wolfhound walked up to Cooper and sniffed him over, then gave a mournful howl that started deep orange and ranged up to green at the end. Then the big dog looked back at Cooper and licked the boy's face thee times and sat down beside Cooper like a watch dog. Cooper was quiet for a moment, then finally he spoke again.

"I think the spirit was my mother, or the memory of my mother. I don't remember much of her and it wasn't clear, but I think it was my mother."

Pike looked at Cooper sharply, "What do you remember?"

Cooper thought carefully, "Her voice. I remember her voice and what it looked like. I remember that she was scared and sad. I remember that she lived somewhere with stained glass windows of some war. I remember that there was a lot of stone buildings. I can't remember what she looked like."

"What about our father- do you remember anything about our father?" Pike asked.

"No, I only met my mother in the... dream? Is that the right word for what I did? You gave me drugs right? It was in my head wasn't it? Just my own memories?"

Mister Poe looked at Cooper, and then around at the village. It seemed every tribe member in the village was gathered around Cooper.

"Peyote opens a gateway in your soul to the spirit world. It may have only needed your memories to show you what you needed to see, but you may have actually been talking to your mother just now."

Aunt Koko interjected loudly into the conversation, "Don't fill the boy's head with nonsense. Cooper, peyote works because it contains mescaline that creates hallucinations. Everything you experienced was created by your mind and was something you already knew on some level. You may have been remembering your mother, but you were not in contact with her."

"But Aunt Koko, I was a baby when we had to come here. How could I remember anything when I was that little."

"How indeed?" Poe said with a smile.

"The brain is an impressive organ, it doesn't need hoodoo or mumbo jumbo to explain the things it can do." Koko said firmly.

"And the spirit world does not need the world of the flesh to believe in it in order for it to exist. It does not matter if you believe in the gods, because the gods certainly believe in you."

Cooper was quiet as Poe and Aunt Koko stared at each other, neither pleased with the other's continued presence.

"If it was real," Cooper said slowly ,"then something is hunting me."

Koko and Uncle Redwing turned sharply to look at Cooper, while Poe simply looked at Uncle Redwing with a cold smile.

"What do you mean sweetie?" Koko said carefully.

"When I was in my head, I was hunted by wendigo who said I was an orphan who should come back. They said that I was hungry. It was scary."


The crowd of tribes folk broke into a mass of jumbled muttering. Uncle Redwing and Mister Poe just stared at each other. Pike looked at Cooper and finally whispered to him, "Coop, don't tell them anything more. Keep it to yourself. We'll deal with this together later."

"Why won't they tell me what's going on?" Cooper whispered back.

Pike said something, but Cooper couldn't hear it, instead the whispers of the wendigo massed around him for a moment again.

"They fear you. They fear your destiny, your heritage, your lineage, who you must become, will become."

"They fear your hunger, for you will devour them. The prey should never raise the predator as their own."

One Hundred Years: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition!"

Lana Vershevin stood at the head of a growing crowd of angry Redwing tribe members and stared daggers at Mister Poe- the ghost dealer. Lana was a Freeman by birth and a Vershevin by marriage. She was lighter skinned than most of the Freeman's, showing more of her mother's European heritage. She kept her hair cut in a short neat haircut. Lana liked to keep things under control- especially herself.

Behind Lana were the several members of the  Freeman family including Koko and Layla, who was Malika's mother. Also behind Lana was Elder Fergus Wong, Sonya Jenkins, who ran the mill now that her father had passed on, and Edie Finch who was the senior bowyer of the village having learned from her mother an taken up the mantle easily.

Behind Mister Poe was Cooper Redwing- Lana's nephew- and Malika Freeman and Pike Vershevin -Lana's son. Pike and Malika were shaking and calling to Cooper, who was standing motionless behind Mister Poe.

Poe had a bright red bruise on his otherwise translucently pale face, courtesy of the slap Lana had given him when Mister Poe had told Lana that he had given Cooper the traditional hallucinogenic herb peyote to chew on.

Five minutes had passed since Cooper had chewed the peyote and gone eerily silent. In that time Lana had not been silent once as she screamed accusations, threats and insults at the Ghost Dealer. This was what had caused the crowd to gather behind Lana, and this was the reason that even the normally unflappable Poe was now looking a little defensive, having raised his arms in front of his body in the 'calm down' way that parents do when children aren't using their inside voices.

Lana was certainly not using her inside voice.

"You fed my boy a hallucinogenic drug! What were you thinking?" Lana had yelled this before, but seemed to derive some benefit from repeating it, because this was the third time she had repeated this phrase.

Mister Poe faced her with the expression that one uses when dealing with small but potentially rabid terrier- a combination of irritation, caution, frustration and amusement.

"The boy was possessed, he needed to confront the ghost that was travelling with him. And as sensitive as the boy is, he could not do that without help. So I..."

"So you drugged him up and sent him a trip! Because that will cure whatever crazy hoodoo you think he has!" Lana interrupted, her voice rising several octaves as she spoke.

"Child, before the fall peyote was studied and found not to have any long term negative side effects."

"You don't believe anything from before the fall unless it serves your own ideas. Why should I take any of that seriously?"

The crowd behind Lana began to murmur in support, and as Poe looked at the growing crowd of people behind Lana, he even spotted Redwing-Lives-Forever standing and quietly watching. This had become a circus event and he was the clown- not the ring master as he normally preferred.

Poe Looked back at Cooper. The eight year old had not moved. His eyes looked into the distance in and unfocused way, and his arms hung limply by his sides. His mouth was closed and he would occasionally chew on the peyote again. Malika was waving her hand in front of Cooper's eyes, looking for a response. Pike was trying to muss up Cooper's hair and was calling his name.

"The boy is deep into the trance and has entered the spirit world. Whether you object or not, he should be treated with more care and respect than this mob is currently managing to muster."

"He's eight years old! You shouldn't have fed him that stuff. I don't think you can lecture on care and respect after drugging and eight year old boy!"

Lana stepped closer and looked up at Poe so that she wouldn't be yelling into his chest. The Ghost Dealer looked straight down at her and then carefully took a single step back.

Lana stepped closer again.

"I have two boys! My son and my nephew! They are all I was left with, and you don't get to go around endangering them because you think you know better!"

Redwing-Lives-Forever moved slowly through the crowd to where Lana and Poe were facing each other. People stepped aside for Redwing without a word, and the elder moved with the slow deliberate grace of somebody who has lived long enough to feel rushed by nothing.

Lana and Poe noticed the crowd quieting behind them and looked back to see Redwing step out of the crowd.

"Honoured elder." Poe said, with a slight bow.

"Elder Redwing, he's poisoned my son!" Lana said, desperation creeping into her voice.

Poe moved to speak, and Redwing held up a hand.

"Lana, he has drugged your nephew. He has not poisoned him." Redwing then directed his gaze up at the much taller Mister Poe, "I do not think administering hallucinogens to a child is wise. But Poe is correct, to the best of my knowledge, peyote has never been shown to have long term side effects. Still this is my nephew, and this is Lana's nephew as well. His parents are not here. And thus, you should have consulted us who are his closest family before you did this."

The crowd was silent as Poe considered this.

"This needed to be done honoured elder. The Lady Vershevin would never have given approval- no matter the need. I do not know if you would have given approval. This needed to be done. I have consulted the bones. I have listened to the winds. Both have brought me here. This boy has trials ahead of him. Somebody must prepare him for those trials- none of you have had the courage to do so. So I did. You will thank me later."

The crowd murmured at Poe's speech, a ripple of fear and anger.

Redwing spoke again.

"Young man, this is not your tribe and not your people. I appreciate your efforts and your work on our behalf, but do not presume too much."

Poe stiffened, he looked around at the crowd assembled and then pointed a skeletal finger at elder Fergus Wong.

"Fergus! I remember you when we were in the prime of our youth. I was a journeyman away from my teacher for the first time. And you were a young warrior, traumatized by the horrors of conflict with the Winter Wolves. The Wolves had taken and raped your pregnant wife, and then slit her throat and left her for you to find. This broke you Fergus! It would break any man. The Wolves had bound the ghosts of both your wife and unborn daughter onto your soul. None of your tribesmen could heal you or free the spirits. Do you remember what happened?"

The eyes of the crowd turned to look at Fergus Wong. The elder looked at the ground.

"You fed me a tea, took me through a meditation and made me relive their deaths," Fergus choked back tears as he spoke, "You let me say good bye. You helped me move on."

The crowd was deathly silent as Poe continued to speak.

"You Layla Freeman! Three years ago your twin was injured in a battle against the Winter Wolves. He was left crippled, and your little sister was haunted by spirits that would not let her forget that her weapon had dealt one of the blows. Who banished those spirits?"

Layla looked directly at Poe, "You didn't banish any spirits, but you did help her deal with her guilt."

Poe continued.

"You who accuse me, Lana Vershevin! You say these boys are all that you have. Why do you have them in the first place? You were taken from this place, from your tribe and everything you knew. When you were pregnant with Pike, who delivered him into this world? When Cooper's mother was pregnant with him, who brought Cooper into this world in the first place? Think Lana, none of those idiots who passed for midwives or doctors there had a clue how to deal with any complications of birth. Would you have either of the those boys if I had not sought you out?"

Lana's head dropped and she started crying.

"You claim that I presume too much, but I say that this whole tribe presumes too much with regards to that boy." He pointed back at the still quiet Cooper.

"You know the path that will inevitably open before him. You know his heritage, who his parents were, and you have not warned him. Every day he faces this wall of silence and knows that something is wrong. His destiny is already calling him, and if he does not know his history how can you be sure he will make the right choice?"

"He's eight years old!" Layla Freeman said accusingly, "We are simply waiting until he is old enough to understand."

"You can wait, do you think his father will wait much longer? Or do you think that he doesn't know yet? I would not depend upon that hope, if I were you."

Lana had dropped to her knees and was crying into her hands by this point. Pike had run to his mother and was trying to comfort her. Malika was still talking quietly to Cooper in the hopes of waking him.

Redwing looked at Poe quietly, "Very well young man, you make a number of good points. I would consider it a personal favor if you would give Cooper's father incorrect advice regarding his son's location."

"I have done that already honoured elder, but I do not know whether or not he believed me."

Booker Freeman stepped forward. Booker was Lana's brother. Older by a whole generation than his sister, Booker looked terrifying even though he was over sixty years old. At six foot three, Booker was one of the few people who Poe did not tower over. Booker kept his head shaved, both for practical purposes and to show off the tribal scars that ran from the top of his skull down his neck and onto his back. He had another scar, this one not intentional, that arced like a crescent moon under his right eye and across his broad nose. Booker was what warriors dreamed of being when they became elders. Booker wore only the pants and knee high moccasins of the tribe- he didn't bother with a shirt. He weighted almost 250 pounds, and very little of that was fat- even now that he was an elder.

"Mister Poe. My family does not generally believe in your witchcraft. You are a capable surgeon, but your eccentricities make you dangerous. You are dangerous to yourself. If my sister's nephew does not recover, I will have my son Lamont crush your hands on his anvil as payment for your crime."

Booker then stepped past the Ghost Dealer and stood beside Cooper, with a hand gently resting on the boy's shoulder.