Chapter Fourteen

Red Flower cursed as pain from the owl’s razor-sharp talons ripped through the thick pelt of fur along her spine. How foolish of her to forget that while in the form of the squirrel, she was just as vulnerable as that animal to its predators.

She struggled to free herself. Sharp talons dug deeper. The slap of a tree branch against her face as the owl glided through the forest added further insult. Resisting the urge to struggle and scream, she forced herself to relax her body, the body of the squirrel, and thought hard and fast as she was carried higher into the canopy of the forest. The ground below fell away.

She cursed her predicament. She was cautious, overly so, sly and clever. She prided herself in her ability to sneak and spy and gain useful information or objects. But after seeing those twin amulets, the legendary dragon claws and a scales, and the dragon eye the old woman had, it had been all she could do to remain silent and still and not give her presence away.

Zirgis would be pleased. As would their master. He’d reward her well. If she survived her act of carelessness.

Clearing her mind of everything but the need to regain her freedom, Red Flower reached out with her mind, let herself see the owl, feel the great bird. As though the owl felt her mind probing his, he tipped his head down, and for a moment, she found herself staring into round, golden eyes.

Immediately, she tried to take command and make the owl return her safely to the earth below. She did not ask permission to merge her mind with his. Nor would she wait to see if the owl willingly freed her once he realized she was a SpiritWalker, not a squirrel.

Only the weak sought free will, and Red Flower was not weak. What good was it to be powerful, to be chosen by the gods, if one had to rely on the will of those beings that were inferior? So sure of her own command of power, the strength of her will over those weaker than her, it came as a cold shock when her mind encountered…nothing. There was no energy to tap into, no mind to seize and control.

The mind of the owl was a dark void.

Her heart nearly stopped when she realized this was no ordinary owl. If it had been, she’d have been able to take over the bird’s mind with her own.

Thinking fast, Red Flower kept her fear at bay. Fear made one act stupidly, foolishly. As did becoming too excited to think. This owl, with its talons digging painfully into her back, had to be another SpiritWalker, one who’d sensed her presence as she’d scampered from the concealing cover of brush out into the open to run for the tree.

But how? She shook off the questions of who and how. It didn’t matter. Regaining her freedom and living to deliver her astounding news was all that was important at that moment.

She scanned the forest below and the air above her. She needed an eagle. A mind merge with an eagle could free her from the owl. The moment she began scanning the skies, the owl, without warning, went into a steep dive. The blur of greenery rushed past as the brown earth-tones grew larger.

Red Flower screamed, the sound of her petrified squeal whipped away by the wind. Unexpectedly, the owl flared its wings, lifting its body. Her dangling legs had torn through the top leaves of the trees during the dive and once more scraped against branches as the owl once again took to the skies.

Her heart in her throat, she calmed her breathing. She needed to shift shape, become larger so the owl would be forced to drop her. Trouble was, she was so high in the air. She did not relish falling to her death.

Spotting an eagle soaring high above the lake, she reached out with her mind. Help me. Free me—

Her cry for help ended in a strangled squeal as the night bird went into another swooping dive, dropping like a boulder, shooting through the forest, then soaring over the lake. Fear paralyzed her as her tail dipped down into the water.

A flash of silver below was her only warning before a large opened-mouthed fish broke through the surface of the water and clamped onto her tail. Another scream tore from her throat, this one filled with rage rather than pain. How dare this bird, or SpiritWalker, do this to her. She was a powerful woman. No one treated her in this manner.

She twitched her tail angrily. The fish fell back into the lake. At the same time, the owl flapped its great wings, ready to soar again.

Seizing her chance to escape, Red Flower chanted in her mind. She willed the pain aside so she could concentrate wholly on visualizing herself back in her own body. She felt the change, willed it, embraced it. A force, like a punch to the gut, knocked the air from her lungs. Her body went numb, as though it no longer existed. She chanted. Prickles of awareness pierced the numbness and traveled along her bones and through muscle and flesh.

One moment, she a weak, helpless squirrel, the next, she was Red Flower, head woman of her tribe. And was dropping like a rock from the heavens as the owl had no choice but to release her.

She hit the surface of the lake nearly flat on her back. The impact shoved the air from her lungs, and the water as she went under buried her curse. She cried out, feeling as though she’d landed on a bed of rocks.

Dazed by the impact but a strong swimmer, she immediately kicked, twisted her body, and used her arms to regain the surface where she coughed, choked, and gasped. Above her head, the owl swooped low, talons outstretched. She gulped air then ducked beneath the water. The owl’s talons skimmed the surface, closed onto her hair, and ripped the strands from her head.

Resurfacing, Red Flower tried to shout, to curse the owl, but all that came out was a gasping cough. She hurt. From the top of her head to her legs where the branches had scraped her raw. She glared at the owl soaring in a careless circle overhead. It let out a loud, long screech, then folded its wings and shot across the lake to the forest.

Furious to have been caught so off guard, she slapped her palm against the surface of the lake. “Die! You will die!” she screamed out at the retreating owl. She’d find him and show him who was powerful. No one treated her in this manner.

Filled with fury, driven by the thirst of revenge, she lifted her arms and called to her mind the spirit of the eagle. Once again, she did not ask permission. She was SpiritWalker, superior to all, including the spirits of the world. So she took.

She embraced the change.

She sank below the surface. Her arms, held high, blurred, then stretched and pulled back. Her legs shortened, her body shrank, became smaller, lighter, more compact. Then she was on the surface, her wings flapping and slapping at the water.

She ached all over and knew she was bleeding. She needed to return to her tribe with her news and get her wounds tended. But not yet. Thoughts of revenge gave her the strength to lift herself out of the water.

Red Flower took to the air with a shrill screech. Small droplets of blood fell like rain and pinged onto the bright blue surface.

****

Night Warrior watched the eagle circling high above the village. Shrill screeches tore through the air. Frightened children ran for their mothers. The women gathered close. Men, gripping bows and arrows in their hands stood in silence.

All the SpiritWalker men were on alert. Night Warrior knew they also felt the waves of anger and hatred that emanated from the bird. He’d never seen an eagle act in this manner.

Dark Star slid up beside him. “It is not an eagle.” The SpiritWalker warrior held his bow in one hand, and one arrow in his other.

Night Warrior kept his gaze on the bird. “A Shadowed Soul?” He shot the other man a questioning look.

Lips set in a firm line, Dark Star nodded. Air escaped from his flared nostrils. “Reach out with your mind, touch the mind of the eagle. Tell me what you feel?”

Night Warrior wasn’t sure what Kangee’s uncle meant but tipped his head back and concentrated on the bird. His focus narrowed. His mind cleared. He shut out the hum and buzz of his people gathered and watching until the bird was all that he saw, heard, and felt.

Suddenly, as though a part of him joined with the bird, he felt the wind sliding over his wings and ruffling his chest feathers. The sharp click of talons opening and closing and the snapping of the eagle’s beak spoke of barely contained fury.

“The bird is angry.” He didn’t take his eyes off the great bird. “Why?”

When Dark Star didn’t reply, Night Warrior turned his head. Dark Star had his eyes closed. Lines of concentration bracketed his mouth and formed furrows across his forehead. “Deeper,” he said to Night Warrior. “See into the mind, the heart of what flies up above us.”

Unsure what the warrior meant, Night Warrior concentrated again on the eagle circling above. He felt the raw power and cold fury that consumed the bird. He reached out with his mind and caught hold of the anger that shot through the air like bolts of lightning.

Why are you angry? He let his thought travel. He didn’t question what he did or this new awareness. Just acted upon some instinctive drive. He lifted his good arm and held his hand high, as though reaching for the bird. This time it wasn’t his new abilities he sought to use but the old ways his uncle had once taught him.

Slowly, his mind darkened as though a cloak had dropped over him. A trail of red burned through the black. He followed the drops of blood. They were small, but like tiny seeds, they swelled and grew into the size of stones then merged. Formed. Each step he took him into a world somewhere between the dream and waking worlds, the trail of blood grew into a moving stream that suddenly swelled and threatened to crash over his head.

“Who are you? Show yourself?” For a moment, Night Warrior feared he was back with the evil spirit holding Kangee’s mother prisoner, but then he heard a woman’s low, hateful laugh.

“You have what I want. Give it to me, and you shall live.”

Night Warrior lifted a brow. He kept hold of the thread connecting him to the eagle above and went deep into the bird’s mind until an image of a woman appeared. Her dress was torn, tattered, and stained with blood. Her bare legs bore angry scratches and welts. She held out her hand. “I want that which you were given.” Her eyes, glowing with hate and greed, fastened on the amulet he wore around his neck.

Night Warrior’s hand fisted around his amber stone. Was he in a dream world? Or had he somehow connected with this woman? “This is not real.”

The woman shrugged. “Does not matter. I see you as you see me.” She jumped at him, her hands the talons of the eagle as she tried to snatch his amulet from him.

Night Warrior jerked himself out of the trance. He swayed. A strong hand on his arm steadied him until his mind cleared and he regained his own balance. He stared into Dark Star’s watchful gaze, then nodded.

“It is not an eagle, but a woman in the form of the bird.” Lifting his good hand, he clutched the sacred amulet that rested warmly on his chest. The dragon scale, if he believed grandmother, glittered and shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

“Who is she?” He felt strangely shaken from the encounter with the woman.

“She is one of us no more. She is a Shadowed Soul.”

“Red Flower.”

Dark Star lifted a brow. “Yes.”

Night Warrior frowned. “Your niece told me about her.” He held up the stone. “She wants this?” He could not take his eyes off the circling bird. The entire village had gone eerily silent. The amulet suddenly felt heavy in his hands, around his neck.

Dark Star nodded. “Yes.” He stared hard into Night Warrior’s eyes. “Guard it. Guard yourself.” He turned to go.

“Wait.” Night Warrior took several deep breaths. “Why does she want this? What is its importance?”

Dark Star shook his head. “It is not for me to explain. Grandmother will tell you in time. In the meantime, stay away from her. Do not approach her on your own. Not in your mind or in the forest.” He paused. “Or in your dreams.”

With that, Dark Star’s arms shot out to his sides, his bow and arrows dropping. Palms facing, he jerked them up and together in one loud clap.

Above their heads, a resounding roll of thunder echoed through the cloud cover surrounding the eagle. With a shrill shriek, the bird shot across the sky like an arrow set lose from its bow. Flashes of light chased the bird out of view.

****

Kangee sat on the sandy shore, knees drawn tight to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs to still the shivers racking her body. Here, near the lake, without walls of forest to trap much of the dense moisture, the fog billowed and scudded across the water, like waves. Clouds above her head mirrored the mist rolling on top of the lake.

She usually relished the blending of air and water, the soft caress like the sweet kiss of a mother’s lips on her skin. But today, the air was different. It seemed heavy, and the fine mist coating her bare arms felt slimy. Even breathing was difficult, as though she was forcing air into and out of her lungs.

Dread made her shiver. So much had happened. Too many changes now that she was alone, she had a lot to think about. But what first?

Dreams?

“No.” She lowered her head to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. “Not dreams. Not her mother.” She couldn’t risk letting Ardong into her mind. Not when she was so vulnerable.

Her mind turned to the revelation that she was a DreamWalker and an honored member among The Chosen. She lifted her head, catching glimpses of gray-blue water with tiny white caps as gusts of wind swept water toward shore.

“DreamWalker,” she breathed out. “I am a DreamWalker.” It didn’t feel real or even right that dreaming could be a gift from the gods. She’d always viewed that part of her as a curse, a childish behavior she’d never outgrown. To learn it was her gift astounded her and made her shake her head.

She should be thrilled over this discovery, but like all SpiritWalker gifts, dreaming had its dangers, as she’d learned during that last encounter with Ardong. She shuddered against the darkness whirling in her mind, tried blocking her mother crying and begging Kangee to go. To leave her behind.

“Ina. Mother. How can I leave you?” Kangee covered her face with her hands. Tears squeezed from her eyes and flowed between her fingers.

Free will.

Her mother was willing to give up her life and the lives of her unborn babes and never see her other daughters or her SpiritMate ever again. No. Not acceptable. Kangee lifted her head. There had to be a way to save her mother, but the thought of going back into the darkness to face Ardong terrified her.

Dreams. From nightmare to beautiful. The dream world she’d shared with Night Warrior had truly been beyond wonderful.

Dream Warrior.

Deep inside, the words rose and images slid through her mind of the kisses they’d shared on a soft mat of green grass with cottonwood petals raining down over them.

Her heart sped up, and a rush of desire warmed her from the inside out. She touched her lips, closed her eyes, and smiled softly. Night Warrior. Dream Warrior. A DreamWalker. Like her.

He’d saved her. He’d swept her from fear and the brink of death to a different threshold, one that left her on edge and needy. For him. Sighing, she crossed her arms, rested them on top of her knees, and wished Night Warrior was here with her, sitting behind her with his arms wrapped around her.

Chewing on her lower lip, she glanced back toward the village. What was he doing? Was he with Tatonga? Kangee didn’t worry about the other woman. Night Warrior would not marry her. Not now, for Grandmother had confirmed that she and Night Warrior were SpiritMates when she’d presented him with one of her people’s most sacred objects.

Kangee held her breath and pulled the amulet out from under her dress, the length of leather long enough that she could study the sacred dragon claw without taking it off her neck.

Hesitantly, and lightly, she traced the curled claw that lay embedded in the amber stone. Holding her palm flat, she stared in wonder at the sacred amulet nearly as large as her hand. What did this mean to her, to Night Warrior? How would this help free her mother? And what about the Shattered Soul, Ardong? There had to be a way to save her mother but not release the Father of Evil.

The snap of a twig startled her. Kangee closed her fingertips over the amulet and jumped to her feet to stare into the forest at her back. She took a couple steps backward, toward the lake. Her eyesight sharpened as she searched among the tree trunks and thick brush. She didn’t see anything but she felt something, someone.

“Who’s there?” Her voice quivered, for there was no doubt in her mind that she was no longer alone. She took another step back, ready to run toward the village when she heard voices in the distance along with the crackle of dried leaves being stepped upon. She knew those voices and relaxed.

Without warning, a large black bird flew out of the forest toward her. She ducked, felt the scrape of its talons in her hair, before it circled around and went into another dive.

Kangee sent a blast of air at the bird, whirled around, dropped, and rolled. Spotting the bird a few feet away on the sandy shore, she jumped to her feet, ready to call up a windstorm.

Just as she lifted her arms, two figures emerged from the line of trees. “Got enough wood here to keep us warm for a while,” Blaze called out as she and Alex slid from the forest and dropped to their knees on the sandy soil where just moments ago, Kangee had been sitting.

Heart pounding, Kangee stared at the bird, heard its cry of fury as it rose into the air and circled the forest from high above before shooting across the sky and out of sight.

“Kangee?” Alex paused in her arranging the wood into layers to make a wide, tall pyramid. “What’s wrong?”

Kangee let the amulet fall to rest just below her breasts and took a deep calming breath. “You two frightened me,” she admitted, which was only partially true. “Guess I’m a bit jumpy.” She returned to the tiny log-lined area that formed a natural half circle. In the center, where Alex worked, the soil carried evidence of many fires.

“I’ll gather some leaves to start the fire,” Blaze said.

Not wanting any of them to go into the forest alone, not even where they could see one another, Kangee motioned to one of the logs.

“Sit, sister.” Facing the line of pines, she lifted her hands and using her mind, pushed a gust of wind toward the fallen leaves littering the forest floor. Leaves immediately skittered across the ground and slowly fluttered upward. At knee level, they chased one another in a small, tight circle. With a flick of her fingers, Kangee pulled the tiny cyclone of leaves toward her.

A wind broke over the three women and tossed their hair around their heads, then the whirling column of air grew smaller and tighter as it hovered over the stacked wood. Alex laughed and reached into the swirling leaves to grab a leaf.

“Sure wish I could do that, cuz.”

Kangee smiled and with a quick hand motion, released her hold on the current of air. It dispersed and dropped the leaves. Blaze grinned. “You have good command over Mother Air.”

“It is all I seem to have,” Kangee said wistfully as Blaze held her hands over the wood. Thin bright streaks of light shot downward from her palms and with several small pops, smoke rose from the center of the woodpile. “You have many gifts.” She knew from her brother that Blaze commanded great storms of wind, clouds, and even thunder and lightning if she lost control of her emotions. “You also shift shape and mind-merge.” She still held out hope that one day the spirits would bless her with that gift as well.

Alex leaned over and blew gently at the tiny flame while feeding it with tiny twigs.

Blaze sat back on her heels and stared down at her palms for a moment. Then she picked up a small pebble and rolled it between her hands. “Until I met your brother, I had no idea what I was or that I had family. A real family.”

“You can do much more than I can,” Kangee murmured, watching Blaze polishing the stone with her hands and mind.

Alex slid a knife from her boot and began whittling away at a piece of wood. “You both do amazing things. Me? I am boringly normal.”

Kangee rolled her eyes. “You are a warrior woman, Alex, and I pity those who cross paths with you.” Her cousin by marriage dressed like a trapper in baggy britches, a loose buckskin shirt, and old, worn boots. She kept her black hair short and moved with the silent grace of a warrior stalking prey.

“If that is so, why does my father insist on leaving me with the women instead of taking me with him when he traps or goes for supplies?”

Kangee shrugged. The woman was slim as a willow, tough as a reed, but she was still a woman. “Uncle Albert protects you. From other trappers. He worries.”

“He shouldn’t. I can take care of myself.” Alex’s voice was hard.

“I know you can,” she reassured. Alex refused to take on a woman’s role. She wanted nothing more than to be out hunting. And protecting. Doing. Not sitting.

Alex smiled wryly. “Then convince my father I am a warrior, that I should be walking the land with him.”

Kangee tightened her hand around the amulet. Noticing Alex staring at it, she held it out so that both women could get a closer look. Awe clogged her throat, kept her from speaking. As did fear. The owners of such sacred tools carried a great duty and responsibility to not only their people, but to the world.

Breaking the silence, Blaze leaned back. “What does it mean?”

Kangee sighed. “Those who hold a claw from Dragon are Guardians of the Past. More than that, I do not know yet. I had hoped it would help free my mother, but it didn’t.” She shoved back the memories of that dark place and Ardong.

“Night Warrior has one as well,” Blaze said.

Nodding, Kangee clung to the knowledge that she wasn’t alone, hadn’t been alone. Night Warrior was there, had been there, and would always be there. He was a powerful shaman in his own right, and somehow, when Blaze had healed him, he’d become a SpiritWalker.

Alex tipped her head to one side. “You are a storyteller, Kang. You keep alive the history of your people. That is a guardian of sorts, right?”

Kangee thought for a moment, then nodded. It made sense. She was a storyteller. And a dreamer, a DreamWalker. “But how will those save my mother?”

No one spoke, for no one knew the answer.