I whisked a sharpening stone, which I’d borrowed from Ambrose, along the edge of my sabre, from tip to hilt, one side and then the other. Sweat dripped from my forehead onto the stone, so I didn’t need spit or water. The steel glinted in the Three Brothers’ light. I’d been sitting there since sunset, watching the nomads pack up their belongings for their exodus into the desert tomorrow morning, for they played a major role in our plan. We’d spent hours devising it, running over every possible scenario that we could think of—twice, sometimes three times.
By this time tomorrow night, we’d know whether or not we’d made the right choice. And if we hadn’t, we’d be enslaved, dead, or maybe even worse. If there was such a thing.
Three Denoon women prayed over the graves of the children who’d been murdered a few days ago when the slavers had raided the camp. I’d since learned that one of them had been a five-year-old boy run down by a slaver’s horse as his mother watched. And I couldn’t help but think of the slaver’s ‘war story’ I’d heard as Don Franco and I made our escape.
Colby was shadow fighting with his katana—bare torso glistening with sweat—slashing, parrying, thrusting. And I thought how graceful and panther-like he’d become with that deadly weapon. Out of a need for survival.
Hoekstra’s falcon sat on its wooden T-perch, head tilted, shiny black eyes fixed on me curiously. When a hand rested on my shoulder, I ceased sharpening my blade.
“Hey, you were starting to go a little crazy there,” said Simon, nodding to my blade.
I looked up, blinked a few times. “What’s up?”
“He wants to speak with you.” he said.
“Who?”
“The shaman, Kodee,” he said, and gestured toward a small, distant fire burning on the far side of the basin, away from all the tents and people.
“What for?” I said.
“I don’t know, but what I do know from my culture is that when a shaman asks for you, you always go,” he said.
As we got up to walk away, the falcon gave a little screech. “Glooscap told me its name is Strong Desert Wind Storm of Two Wings.”
“Holy crap, that’s one doozy of a name,” I said. “Why don’t they just call it Storm?”
“Come on, around here?” he smiled, and gave me a playful backhand. “That would be way too short, make far too much sense.”
Kodee’s sitting form was vaguely illuminated in the firelight, so motionless that he could’ve been a statue of sandstone. My hand rested automatically on my sabre’s pommel. I’d been carrying the weapon around so much that it was beginning to feel like an extension of my arm. Even when I didn’t have it on, I found myself reaching for it every few seconds, as if I was a hunted gunslinger with a bounty on my head. In a way, I sorta was.
None of the others were in sight. Sleeping, probably. They were exhausted. I’d learned that neither Anna nor Tabby had left my side the entire time while I lay unconscious, apparently ‘hovering over me like nurses over a fevered child,’ said Ambrose.
Simon and I walked out of the cluster of tents, leaving behind a few Denoon men doing some last-minute preparation.
“Hey, your nose is bleeding again,” I said.
He wiped a dribble of blood with the back of his finger and looked at it. “Oh, crap, yeah, I think it’s this dry air—been doing it since we left the mine.”
A cool, desert wind swept around the basin, creating fleeting vortices. Kodee was sitting cross-legged, and had started rhythmically rocking back and forth, muttering some kind of prayer, eyes tightly closed as though he was deep in trance. We sat down cross-legged on the other side of the fire. Felt like the right thing to do.
In the sand to our left, small pebbles had been laid out in an intricate pattern. All dark purple with a polished lustre. A minute passed, then a few more. But Kodee carried on as though he was drifting mystically in some other time and place. I turned to Simon, a bit puzzled, but he just shrugged his shoulders.
Then Kodee abruptly stopped rocking and spoke: “Humankind did not weave web of life. We merely strands in web. Whatever we do to web, do to ourselves.” He leaned forward to stare at us with his intense, dark eyes. He held us there a moment, and then he looked to the sky. “You visit from many worlds away.” His gnarly hand emerged from his fur robe holding a wand-like stick. Three charms hung from the top—a blue crystal, a white feather, and a porous rock. He touched the wand’s tip to every pebble. “Shamanoo brought you here,” he said, fixing on me.
I took my first breath in a minute, and said, “Shamanoo?”
“It’s their Creator or God,” whispered Simon.
“Look—we came here because of a fluke,” I said. “A random event brought us here. We’re just kids—I’m just a kid! And now we’re trying to find a way home, sooner rather than later. If Tooney hadn’t woken us up, we would’ve never found you guys. I have no idea why One Who Sees All wants me—no idea.”
Kodee’s lips spread to reveal alabaster teeth, then he nodded. “You chosen to save the Denoon and many others.”
“Whoa, I’ve never been chosen for nothing. This is a big mistake. I mean, gigantic mistake.”
Kodee frowned and shook his head as if he wasn’t buying it.
“How do you know you don’t have the wrong person?” I said. “We will ask Shamanoo’s children,” he said. He dug in his robe and removed a sharp stone, which he then handed to me. He dragged a finger across his palm in a cutting motion.
“You want me to cut myself?”
He nodded impatiently.
Wincing, I slowly made an inch-long cut, just enough to draw blood. Kodee gestured to the sand in front of me with his wand. I made a fist, squeezed, and blood began dripping. He spoke ceremoniously in his own tongue, and then he passed me a piece of cloth to wrap my hand. Silently, we all stared at the blood for what seemed like minutes, waiting for something to happen. But nothing happened.
“You see,” I said, “You got the wrong—”
A powerful gust struck the fire. Embers burst, the flames hot against my skin. Another gust struck from the opposite direction, whipping sparks high into the night. Then all went quiet.
A tiny hole opened in the sand directly in the center of my pool of blood. Simon and I leaned forward, expectantly, as Kodee stared. At first there was nothing. Then something moved. A black ant crawled from the hole, followed by another and another. Soon a row of ants was forming. Their bodies were like shiny onyx under the starry sky. Scurrying, they made a beeline for the outer hill of the basin.
Kodee grinned, rocked forward, and made an aha as if what we’d witnessed pleased him greatly. As soon as the last ant emerged, the hole closed in on itself, leaving no trace of blood. And the row of ants vanished over the basin, as if they were never there, as if what had happened moments ago hadn’t really taken place.
“What was that?” I whispered, mystified.
“He’s a shaman with powerful medicines,” whispered Simon.
“Shamanoo watches over you” said Kodee, circling his hand over where the pool of blood had been. “Trust your spirit.”
Then he placed something in my bandaged palm and closed my fist tightly around it. He waved us off and leaned back as though to say we were done. He shut his eyes and began muttering a prayer to the wind again. We waited to see if he’d speak anymore, but he didn’t. I opened my fist. Inside was a leather thong tied to a bird’s talon.
“It’s a totem,” whispered Simon. “Connects you with nature.”
“A bird?” I hung it around my neck and dropped it under my shirt to join the medicine pouch.
Simon and I slowly got to our feet to leave the strange spot, where we’d experienced that strange event. We walked back toward the heart of the camp. When I glanced back, I couldn’t see Kodee anywhere, only the fire. He was gone.