Alpha Rising (21 page)

As suddenly as it began, the roaring assault
stopped with startling stillness.

“
It’s almost scary,” Star
whispered. “Is it safe to go out?”

Bach opened the flap enough to look around.
“Dead quiet. Nobody’s out yet, but it’s still light. Let’s go.”

They were about thirty feet out when an
enormous native carrying a heavy spear against his shoulder
appeared seemingly from nowhere. His open-armholed, buckskin tunic
was fastened with a wide, turquoise-studded belt holding what
looked like tools and weapons. A silver metal ornament in the shape
of a flying bird adorned the center of his beaded headband. The man
positioned himself in front of Bach and Star, glaring from eyes so
black they appeared to have no pupils. He blocked their path with
his crosswise spear. “You!” he shouted. “Violated sacred family
threshold. Entered home unwelcomed!”

Bach felt the need to talk with his hands.
He motioned to the sky. “The sandstorm.” He held his hand waist
high. “Children gave us shelter. We meant no harm. Your possessions
are safe.” He showed his open palms. “We didn’t touch
anything.”

The native jabbed his spear over Bach’s head
and growled, “I cast off violation.” He moved behind the two and
pushed them forward with the shaft of his spear.

“
Where are you taking us?”
Star asked.

“
You … wear shaman’s mark
of trespass.”

“
Shaman’s mark of
trespass?” Bach bristled. “We didn’t touch anything. Let us
go.”

The huge warrior followed from behind with a
stride so heavy the ground seemed to vibrate beneath his feet.
They’d passed a dozen totems when the native halted them beside a
pole so huge it took a full backward head tilt to see the top. He
jammed his spear into the ground, did a series of ritualistic foot
movements, then took the weapon and pointed it back and forth at
the two while crying out in yelps.

The call summoned a towering shaman from a
nearby tepee. He sauntered forward with three torch-toting minions
following behind. His authority clearly reflected in his attire: an
elaborate white-feathered headdress trailing down his back, and an
assortment of white furs padding portions of his burly, tanned
body. Bright blue and red feathers hung from woven bands below his
knees, and two painted white lines on his face intersected on his
nose. The shaman stopped in front of the captives. His eyes moved
from their heads to their feet. Several hard stomps of his right
foot brought the three assistants scurrying to the forefront.

The assistants, barefooted with buckskins
wrapped around their lower bodies, prodded the hostages toward a
distant, blackened trench under a framework that looked like a
shortened goalpost. Off to one side, smoke poured from a furnace
made of rocks.

Bach stopped, dug his feet into the ground,
and stiffened his arm in front of Star. “Don’t hurt her. Let her
go.”

One of the underlings pulled a club from his
waistband, shook it at Bach in a threatening manner and pushed him
toward the goalpost. The three natives then worked together to
shackle their captives to the crossbar before engaging in a
hopping, prancing ritual.

Bach squirmed against the restraints holding
him in the blackened trench, but he couldn’t break free. He looked
at Star and saw her wrists reddened from struggling to escape the
bindings. His eyes darted from the charred bricks below their feet
to the torches wielded by the captors, and his mind toyed with the
words, “Wear the shaman’s curse.” Heart pounding like a drumbeat,
he whispered to Star through heavy breaths, “Sway them with
something in their language. Call them off.”

“
I’ll try….”

The shaman, angry at his captives’ break of
silence, let out a yelp and lumbered toward the goalpost, black
eyes flashing. He confronted Bach face to face and pressed so close
to him their chests touched. His mouth opened wide, and
foul-smelling saliva sprayed across Bach’s face and head when the
native shouted, “My curse will possess you for violating a sacred
trust.”

Shuddering from the repulsive stench, Bach
contorted his upper lip to seal off his nostrils and turned his
head. He answered in a pinched voice, “We sought refuge from the
sandstorm.”

The shaman stepped back and
glanced toward the furnace where large andirons held two branding
irons. Their circular end pieces, divided by two lines—one
vertical, one horizontal—had stoked to a fiery orange-red.
Can it be?
Bach
wondered.
A symbol right there in my
sight? No, it can’t be a symbol of hope. That one looks dangerous
and they called it a mark of trespass.
He
looked at the shaman and nodded toward the fire. “I see your
crossed circle….”

The shaman cut him off. “The four segments
represent war, famine, pestilence, and death, which I now eliminate
from your spirit.”

As fingers of flame rose from the popping,
crackling furnace, Bach grew desperate. Bathed in perspiration,
face flushed, he asked, “Do you worship the Creator?”

The shaman had yet to answer when a moving
shadow darkened the ground, casting a pall on the ritual. The
warriors’ built-up energy waned as they looked to the sky. The
eagle-like bird’s twenty-foot wingspan shadowed the arena, and its
flight stirred the dusty clay. In a sudden move, the bird dove
straight at the shaman, forcing him to the ground. Splayed on his
back like a string puppet, the leader waited for the bird to
retreat, then staggered to his feet and poked his spear toward the
sky. “Wisdom has signaled her disapproval. Curse and mark of
trespass revoked.” He summoned the minions and nodded toward Bach
and Star. “Release them.”

The captives were freed, and Star started to
thank the shaman, but Bach slid his arm around her waist and pushed
her forward. “Shhh … get going.” As the two race-walked toward the
tepees Bach noticed the bird in the distant sky. “Wisdom,” he
whispered, “thank you for your wisdom.” He glanced back at the
shaman. “I’d be a little worried if he were a chosen one.”

“
Just a little,” she said,
grimacing.

*****

Bach and Star walked among the tepees as the
village natives hustled to repair their sandstorm-damaged
dwellings. After searching for several hours without finding a
symbol they decided to skirt the camp’s outer rim. There, by luck,
they met up with the same four children. The little girl in the
orange dress ran to them, threw her dust-caked arms around Star’s
legs, and looked up with huge dark eyes. Star stroked the girl’s
long black hair and talked to her in the native tongue. The child
shook her head. “She doesn’t know anyone with our symbol,” Star
said to Bach.

He sighed. “If we have to explore inside the
tepees, it’s gonna take some doing.”

The girl pointed to the sky where Wisdom
approached on a direct path over their heads. The bird circled
once, then swooped low, forcing Bach, Star, and the children to the
ground. They followed her flight with their eyes—west, returning,
west again, then returning to land a few feet away. One golden eye
focused on the six as if communicating, then the bird lifted off
with a rush of wind, leaving behind an imprint in the sand that
looked like the symbol.

Star gathered the four kids together. They
spoke, then hugged, and the children ran off, returning minutes
later with two unsaddled horses. The Alphamates mounted up and
followed Wisdom’s westward flight across the dust bowl of gullies
and sagebrush-covered mesas. A second village slowly became visible
under a violet haze that deepened to magenta as it fanned across
the sky.

As Bach and Star neared, two native men in
loincloths and headdresses approached on stallions. The scouts
spoke with Star in their native tongue, then escorted the visitors
to the village and left them in a communal area.

In this village, Bach noticed that the
tepees’ doors opened to the east to welcome the daystar’s first
light. And one ornately decorated hut, twice the size of the others
and bordered on three sides by a ten-foot high clay wall, seemed a
shelter for a high authority.

The Alphamates strolled among the people and
decorated tepees as the daystar’s light began to fade. “Sure hope
Wisdom knew what she was doing when she led us here,” Bach said,
“But this village seems much like the first … lots of symbolism …
not the one we need.”

“
Maybe it’s small, hard to
see. Did the Creator say the person would have it on
them?”

“
He said they’d have the
symbol but wouldn’t know it.”

“
I’ll pay more attention to
each person.”

The two were taken by surprise when a heavy
drumbeat in the distance resonated through the village and the door
flap on the lavishly decorated tepee parted. A man emerged wearing
a tunic of animal furs, held by a belt of red stones. Black
feathers ran from his headdress down his back. He carried a club
with a smoking pot hanging from the end as he walked to a large
elevated throne constructed from rocks. About fifty male tribesmen
gathered before him as the village women returned to the tepees.
The chief waved his arm toward the crowd and swung the smoke pot
back and forth. The drumbeat ceased and the clan began a rhythmic
dirge while their leader sat on the throne and lit a long-stemmed
pipe using embers from the pot. He smoked his fill then passed the
pipe into the crowd.

Star and Bach blended in with a row of totem
poles and watched the pipe-passing ritual with interest. After all
the men had smoked and bowed to their leader, a gong clanged three
times and they retreated to their tents.

The Alphamates moved on without finding a
symbol. As they walked among the tepees, Star whispered, “I haven’t
seen any children at this village. The little girl in the first
village told me that she and her twin sister, and her twin
brothers, were the only children there, and others were
missing.”

“
Missing? Was she teasing
you?”

“
I don’t think so. I’ll
look into it when we get back to Dura.”

A rustling sound at the Alphmates’ backs
caused both to turn around. A golden-skinned man stepped from a
tent with his mate—a young beauty with dark, kohl-adorned eyes and
braided, waist-length hair. Alongside the couple’s tent was a
wooden platform with a T-shaped perch. The man rapped on the perch
with a long flute carved to look like a bird, then scanned the
horizon’s darkening sky. He yodeled, then blew into the flute. The
long notes rippled through the crisp evening air.

Wisdom approached from the distance.

The woman stepped inside the tepee and
returned with two clay bowls. She bowed her head in what looked
like prayer then raised the bowls upward and watched until the bird
flew to the perch. When she set the bowls on the platform, Wisdom
ate and drank as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

Bach leaned close to Star, and said,
“They’re the only ones out. Let’s talk to them.” They approached
the tepee, but before they got there, the natives ducked inside.
“I’ll catch them,” he said.

“
What if we make another
mistake and get into trouble?”

“
It’s getting dark. We have
to keep trying.” He moved alongside the open door flap and called
into the tent softly, “Uh … uh … hello?” Noises came from
inside.

Star moved to his side. “I’ll try in their
native language.” She uttered several words and the man came
out.

“
I speak the common
language,” he said.

“
Forgive us,” Bach said,
stepping back. “Darkness is near.” He grasped Star’s eternity
circle pendant in his hand and displayed it with the cross pendant
aligned over the top. “We’ve traveled far in search of something
that looks like the two of these placed together … a crossed
circle.”

The native stared at the icon.

Bach pointed to the bird eating on the
platform. “Wisdom led us.”

Without words, the man turned back to his
tepee.

Bach huffed in frustration.

The native stepped from his tepee with his
mate and pulled down the door flap to reveal the crossed-circle
symbol painted in gold. At the same time, Wisdom’s mighty wings
stirred the air in ascent. The native bowed and waved toward the
departing bird. “She’s been gone,” he said. “She returned tonight
for a reason. We know the Creator’s spirit moved her, but know
nothing more.”

Star spoke up. “We’re carrying out the
Creator’s plan.” She introduced herself and Bach and explained the
mission.

The man nodded. “My name is Urich. My mate
is Rain. We’ve felt in our souls something important to come. We
are ready.” He motioned for Bach to follow him to a corral. “The
beasts you’re riding must be returned to their rightful owners. We
will ride singly to the first village, deposit their animals, then
double-up.” Urich selected two stallions, one black, one white.

The four approached the first village in
silence. Urich and Rain pulled alongside Star and Bach and signaled
for them to dismount. As the horses sauntered toward their village,
Star mounted up behind Urich, and Bach behind Rain.

Leaving the village, they were no longer
under the restriction of silence. Rain leaned back enough for Bach
to hear. “Our symbol represents the four stages of life: birth,
discovery, knowledge, and authority. Urich and I have entered the
third stage,” her full lips turned up with a smile as she
continued, “when knowledge is adequate for the next generation and
the pre-selected mate becomes one’s life’s partner.”

“
Your mate is
pre-selected?”

“
To the future benefit of
our tribe,” she replied.