I was glad that Raki had left at dawn to wait for me beyond the Caverns of Darkness; for if he had been there to watch me enter the canoe that might take me to the other side of the water, the sight of him would have drained away the last of that pride which would not let me refuse the ordeal. Even Na-ka-chek had tried to persuade me not to attempt it, telling me that the other Chiefs had proposed it only because they thought both T’cha and I would refuse and so lose our chance of joining the Feathered Council.
T’cha was surrounded by people of his own tribe; his voice was loud and arrogant, but I knew the sweat on his forehead was born of fear. I stood with Dorrok and Gorgi, while Tekeeni held the prow of my canoe. I saw his lips moving, and knew he was telling it to guard me. People from every tribe had collected to see us start; even the Chiefs were there. I knew very few would be with Raki, for most of them believed that we should never be seen again after we entered the tunnel that led into the cliff.
“I know there is a way through,” said Dorrok again. “I once spoke to a man who gained his Scarlet through this ordeal, though if I had known this was going to happen, I should have listened more carefully to what he said…it was seven years ago, but I think I have remembered all the essentials. You will go through underground caverns where the water spreads into lakes, so you have a chance to choose your way if you keep out of the main stream. There are places where the roof nearly touches the water; lie flat in the bottom of the canoe and guard your head with the paddle. Above all things do not let your torch go out, for without light you can only let yourself be swept along by the current. You will get through, Piyanah, because the others who failed believed in demons. Remember there are no demons…and you are not afraid of bats or echoes…echoes cannot hurt you even if they sound like an enemy. When you see bright water ahead and come into the open, keep dose to the south bank where there is a clear run down the rapid. The rapid is easy; you and Raki have often gone down more difficult ones as a game. Remember the bright water is beyond the cave of the whirlpool. …”
Until I heard the desperate conviction in his voice I had not realized he expected me to be killed. Did he think I ought to give him a last message to Raki? I could not think of one, for I had to conceal the fear that was growing stronger every moment, conceal it even from myself.
Lots were drawn to decide whether T’cha or I was to go first: it fell to him. He pulled off his tunic, and wearing only a breech-dout, got into his canoe. As it slid away from the bank, his tribe shouted encouragement…the shout being taken up by a few of the rest of the crowd which thronged on both sides of the river.
I watched his canoe gradually gathering speed; it looked as though it was sure to crash against the low entrance to the tunnel. He paddled across the current to the centre of the river and I saw he was making for a point where the entrance was a little higher than the rest. He ducked his head: a sigh went up from the crowd as the canoe swept out of sight.
“You see, it is easier than it looks,” said Dorrok. “There is plenty of clearance, though from here it looks as though even a floating log would scrape against the roof. Hold the torch high as soon as you are in the tunnel…even if the light is dim, it will help you to know when to duck.”
I walked down to where Tekeeni was holding the canoe. He looked up and said, “Everything is ready. I have put a knife, a rope, a spare torch and one that is smouldering and some strips of bandage in case you cut yourself on a sharp rock…loss of blood will weaken you, so tie it tightly if you have the chance.”
“I hope you have put a double handful of courage in as well,” I said, and managed a laugh which I think sounded convincing.
I turned to Dorrok. “Tell the tribe to prepare a feast tonight, to celebrate our victory over the Yellow Skins…and I shall be there to share it with you.” But under my breath I added, “I shall be there, even though you cannot see me.”
Would the spirit of Piyanah be welcome at the feast? Or would even the Braves be afraid of her, and shiver when she walked past them?
“The Great Hunters are with you,” said Tekeeni in a low voice.
“Tell Raki…” I said, as I pulled off my tunic, and then, “No, I will tell him myself…this evening.”
I felt the current draw the canoe away from Tekeeni. A great shout went up from the Tribe of Two Trees and it was joined by the voices of hundreds and tens of hundreds. Strength flowed into me with the sound…tens of hundreds of squaws had died of hunger, of childbearing, in sickness and in loneliness, died without acclamation. Their courage had never been acknowledged, but because Piyanah took a canoe into the darkness the Thirty Tribes would remember the bravery of squaws.
I paddled across the current as T’cha had done, and reached mid-stream in time to choose the place where I would enter the face of the cliff. I made sure that the torch was smouldering, and that a second paddle was securely fastened to the side of the canoe, for if the one I held was wrested from me I should be helpless unless I had another to steer by.
The water was roaring, as though it were angry at being made to enter the narrow gateway ahead. I saw two small whirlpools and shot between them, knowing that had either caught me I should have been smashed against the rocks which guarded the entrance. The tunnel seemed to open like the mouth of a huge black fish; I ducked, holding the paddle over my head. My fingers were grazed by the rock above me, but lightly, so I knew they could only just have touched it.
The canoe suddenly swung round and nearly capsized. I had to risk hitting my head and kneel upright before I could bear with sufficient strength on the paddle to steady the canoe. When it was going smoothly forward I grasped the torch in my left hand and whirled it above my head. For a terrible moment I thought it had gone out; then I saw a few faint sparks, and a thin plume of flame streamed against the dark.
The roof was much higher than I expected, and walls of rock rose sheer out of the water…they seemed to be dry, for there was no gleam of moisture. The water was unbroken and it was easy to keep a level course. I began to feel more confident; then I saw the walls were drawing closer together as the canoe began to gather speed. I knew there must be a rapid ahead of me. The river was rushing towards the cleft like water gushing from the narrow neck of a jar. I could not hold the torch and go on paddling: if there were rocks among the rapid I should never see them in time…it would be impossible to steer at such a speed even in broad daylight…I must hold up the torch until the last moment to see as much as I can. …I must tense every muscle to keep the canoe from turning over…in this black water no swimmer would have a chance.
The canoe lept forward. I flung down the torch and strained against the paddle to keep the canoe pointing with the current…if the prow swung round, even very little, it must surely be swamped. The roar of water was louder than a thousand demons…it would be easy to believe in demons in this darkness, if there was time to think of anything except the press of danger.
The water buffeted the canoe until the breath was nearly driven out of my body. I gasped, and got a mouthful of spray that nearly choked me. I waited to feel the canoe twist beyond my control as it was clutched in a vortex. Just as the strain on my arms became unendurable the canoe began to slacken speed, and remembering what Dorrok had told me, I managed to drive it out of the main flow of the current. I expected at any moment to feel it jar against the rock wall. There was no jar, and in several strong strokes I came into still water, or water where the current was almost imperceptible.
I realized that I must have entered the first of the underground caverns where the river formed a lake. The torch still smouldered, and after I had blown on it the flame flared up. The lake was large, more than three times wider than the river in the open country, and widening as I drifted further on. Here the walls did not rise sheer, and at their feet was a narrow beach of sand sloping up to coarse gravel. I decided to stay there and rest before going on; now that the immediate danger was past my arms and legs felt suddenly weak and demanded time to recover from the strain of the roaring waters.
I used the rope which Tekeeni had given me to make the canoe fast to a spike of rock that jutted from the main face. After a few moments’ rest I decided to climb along the shelf so as to find out the nature of the next obstacle I had to pass. It was an easy climb, though between the stretches of gravel there were outcrops of rock. The torch showed that in winter the water-level was much higher, for there were marks of erosion above my head.
For the first time I had a chance to think of demons; to think how terribly alone I was in this echoing darkness; far underground with only a torch for a companion. A terrible sound wailed through the caverns.
“It is only a bat!” I said aloud, and heard myself answer, “No bat makes a sound like that.”
The echoes answered, “No bat makes a sound like that…like that…”
“You are only an echo,” I shouted.
“Only an echo…only an echo,” the cavern agreed.
“I am not afraid!”
But the shout I had tried to make arrogant, answered, “Not afraid? Not afraid?”
Then there was silence among the sound of rushing water. I thought I heard Narrok’s drum in the distance; and realized it was only my own heart.
Again came the terrible wailing cry. “It must be a bird,” I thought desperately, “or the wind blowing through a fissure in the rock. It can’t be a demon, because Mother and Barakeechi would never let a demon attack me here, alone in the dark.”
Again the wail echoed and re-echoed.
“Even if you are a demon,” I shouted back, “I am not frightened of you. You sound unhappy and in pain. Are you in pain, you miserable demon?” The mocking echoes mimicked my voice, and I shouted even louder, “Are you in pain?”
This time the answer was louder…there was a word in it instead of only a wail. … “Pain…pain.”
Demons cannot speak in a human voice! Suddenly I realized what made that noise…it was a human voice distorted by echoes…T’cha the arrogant, calling to a squaw to help him!
Twice I had to wait for an answering sound before I could be sure of the direction. To my relief I saw that the river flowed into the further cavern through a much wider opening where the water was not very turbulent. It was too wide to cross, so now that I knew T’dm must be on the far side of the lake I shouted to him that I had to go back to fetch my canoe but would soon be with him. There was no answer. I shouted again, but the echoes of my own voice dying into silence were the only response.
It was easier going back the way I had come for I knew the way over each jutting rock. As I had hoped, there was calm water again beyond the main current, but the lake extended so far beyond the narrow circle of torch-light that I never discovered its full extent. I secured the canoe as near to the entrance to the second cavern as I dared, so that I could search every part of the sloping shelf of gravel, which was wider here than it had been on the other side of the cavern.
I began to think that T’cha must have been swept away by the water since I last heard him. Once I had wanted to kill him, yet now I found myself hoping fervently that he was still alive. …
He was lying half out of the water, and though unconscious he was still breathing. There was a thin trickle of blood down the side of his face, but this only came from a cut above the right eye. I felt his head and found there was no swelling on it nor any sign of a wound. I ran my hands down his arms and over his ribs. It was only when I took him by the shoulders to drag him further up the bank that I saw his legs. They had been crushed above the knees: splinters of bone were sticking through the flesh. I had seen men injured before, and Dorrok had taught me how to sew up long gashes in flesh with steady hands: but now I doubled over and vomited.
I had wanted T’cha to be alive; and now he was terrible because he was not dead. They might be able to cut off his legs. Perhaps Yellow Skins are kind to their Half-brothers…and he is the son of their Chief. If he were an animal I should kill him to set him free of his body; but he is a wounded man, and must be succoured.
He moaned; a terrible moan, of pain that is beyond the limit of courage. I forced myself to examine his legs more closely. There was no chance of his being able to use either of them again; they were pulped above the knees. If I had not seen them myself I should never have believed that rock and water could have crushed with so savage a grip.
I could not leave him here to die alone. …If I could take him back to his own people they would have nothing to offer him except pity; pity he would never be able to accept. He had sworn to make a mockery of an arrogant squaw who dared to demand a voice in the Feathered Council. If I rescued him, the mockery he would suffer even as a cripple would be more cruel than hornets. …
“We are all the children of the Great Hunters,” I said aloud. “Their laws belong to both men and animals. I must have the courage to show T’cha the same compassion that I would give to a wounded deer. …I must send him to the other side of the water.
I must ask someone to look after him. … “Barakeechi! Barakeechi! Because of our friendship, take this man and teach him the Laws of the West, for he is a Yellow Skin and may have no friends of his own in your country.”
T’cha stirred. I thought he was going to open his eyes before I brought the pointed stone crashing down on his temple.
He sighed and his body twitched. Then he was free; free of the legs that could no longer torture him. The legs were only dead meat, and he could walk in freedom.
It was only then I realized that as I had asked the Great Hunters to take him in my name they would expect me to offer his body the proper funerary rituals. He was a brave who had died through an ordeal; he had earned the right of the cleansing fire and the protection of the Death Canoe. His body was still my responsibility even though it was dead, and my canoe must carry us both.
The ledge was wide enough for me to drag the canoe out of the water. He was heavy, but I managed to lift him into it and there was room for me to kneel across his body.
The canoe rode lower in the water, which added to the danger, but not sufficiently for me to be able to leave him. His head was in the stem; the eyes were shut but the jaw sagged open against the chest.
I could feel the pulped flesh of his legs against my knees. They were still warm, and slimy with clotting blood. I had gone beyond fear into a desperate endurance. I knew that it was already decided whether I was to escape from these terrible caverns or to die with the man I had killed. If I died, Mother would be surprised to see me enter the Land beyond the Sunset in the company of a Yellow Skin.
Steadily the canoe kept on through the second cavern. I saw ahead of me the opening into the third, and knew I had come to the Place of the Whirlpool. “It is round as a cooking-pot,” Dorrok had said. “Keep close against the wall and try to reach the opening in the far side. Keep to the side or you will be drawn down into the black water.”
I felt the prow swing to the left and had to fling down the torch so as to paddle with all my strength to keep close to the side. If there were any rocks sticking out from the face, I knew the canoe would be torn open. Twice I felt the canoe touch the wall and fended it off with my left hand. The whirlpool was trying to pull me into its vortex, as I swept round, trying to judge where the opening was that might lead me to safety…if only I knew where it was I could make a supreme effort to break out of the circle of death.
Suddenly I realized that at one place in the wall the darkness was not absolute…was there really a faint greyness? It might be the entrance to a tunnel…if I was wrong and managed to drive the canoe towards it I should smash it against the rock. Now…now…I thrust on the paddle and felt it bend under the strain. The canoe leapt forward… away from the whirlpool.
The tunnel twisted like a snake; the roof was getting lower, but the light was brighter. I had come through the darkness!
Ahead of me I saw a bar of brilliant light, close to the surface of the water. I had to fling myself flat on T’cha’s body: the splintered thigh-bones crunched under my naked breasts. The roof was so low that as we shot into the open I felt a long strip of skin torn from my back.
Again I seemed to hear Dorrok’s voice, “Keep to the south side of the river when you come out of the darkness.”
I seized the paddle and stroked with desperate speed; close ahead was the white water of the rapid. As I came to the crest I saw beyond it people waiting on the bank. They must have seen me, for I heard them shouting above the noise of the rushing water.
Dorrok was right…there was a path between the cruel rocks…deep, green water such as I had often known; rocks that I could see in the clear light of day. Between two plumes of white water I shot forward into calm.
I saw Raki running down the bank towards me. He caught me in his arms…I forgot I was a Scarlet Feather; I was his squaw who had come home to him.
Raki, his arm round my shoulders, led me up the steep bank and past an outcrop of rock which hid us from the others who had waited there with him. I was shuddering, and my teeth chattered as though I were half frozen. He held me close, soothing me as though I were a child trying to wake from a dream of demons.
“I am so sorry, Raki. I wasn’t frightened until I knew I was safe. It’s my body, not me, that is frightened now…don’t be ashamed of me…please don’t be ashamed. The others didn’t see I was crying, did they?”
“They saw a Scarlet Feather who has gone to clean the blood from her wounds before she returns to receive their homage.”
“But I’m not wounded. …”
“There is bright blood on your back, where a long strip of skin has been torn off. Your breasts and thighs are covered with dried blood…are you badly hurt?” His voice was sharp with anxiety. “You couldn’t talk if you were badly hurt, could you?”
I looked down, and realized that I must be a terrible sight to one who loved me. “It is not my blood, it’s T’cha’s. I had to lie on him when the roof of the last tunnel was so low. The blood-clots were like slugs, Raki.” I heard myself laughing and couldn’t stop. “Great purple slugs, that I had to crush with my breasts. …”
“Quiet, Piyanah!”
I didn’t want to laugh at T’cha, but the laughter shook me as though I were a tree in a gale too strong for it to withstand.
Raki picked me up, and I clung to him, trying to stifle against his shoulder the horrible sound I was making. I heard a splash as he stepped into a small pool; and then felt the sting of sharp water as he held me under a little waterfall. I gasped as the water poured over me, and then went limp.
“Lie still, Piyanah.” He rested my head in the crook of his arm and scrubbed me with sand and then with handfuls of leaves until my body was clean.
Then I was lying on warm turf with him beside me: everything was safe and ordinary again. The caverns were no longer part of me; they were only a story to be told at the watch-fires of the future, for I could look at them through the eyes of a new Piyanah.
“Shall I tell them that I killed T’cha?” I said.
“Not until we have asked Na-ka-chek.”
“Where is he?”
“Waiting to give you the Scarlet.”
“Does he know I have won?”
Raki smiled. “He waded into the river to catch the prow of your canoe, but you seemed only to see me. Tekeeni and Gorgi and Dorrok were there too. …”
“But they were on the other side of the caverns. How did they reach here so quickly?”
“Look at the sun. It has travelled a long way since you went into the darkness.”