Chapter 8

Sweat seeped down the side of Brahm’s face as she pursued the Peace Maker. Up ahead, he remained on the edge of visibility. She raced through tunnels of trees and shrubs, running until illusions of light blurred past her. She had passed out of the known world and into some bizarre pocket of unreality. It unsettled her gut like bad venison. Yet the Peace Maker had meant her to follow, and follow she would.

Eventually time and the blur of unreality caught up with her as she came to an abrupt stop. Her momentum flung her into a clearing well before her feet were prepared and she stumbled to the ground. Brahm grunted.

Not very dignified.

She brushed herself off and recovered her poise.

“Kwe kwe, Orenda.” The Peace Maker's voice was cool as an autumn morning, the words almost a rustling in the breeze.

Brahm tried to gather her bearings, but the trees shimmered around her and the clouds sat like sedentary puffs of stone. An eerie silence settled on the clearing. She sniffed at the raw air.

“What is this place?”

“Where few will look to find us,” he said. “I can only hope we are not noticed.”

She grunted again.

Fucking cryptic answer.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to a stump in front of him, “sit, child. Sit with me and listen to what I must tell you.”

Child?

His face held a smile that bordered on patronizing. Brahm would have strode out of the clearing had anyone else spoken to her in such a manner, but this was not just anyone. Instead, she perched herself on the large stump, and waited for him to elaborate.

He folded his hands in front of him. “War is coming and the Haudenosaunee will be a part of it, but not you. You must walk a different path. Though you may feel you are betraying your people, you must abandon them. The Great Mother needs your assistance. Both of you. Heed her call, Orenda.”

Both?

Brahm shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“In time, you will. For now, you must leave. If you stay, you will die.”

What?

The Peace Maker looked about, and for a brief moment fear played across his face.

“Leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Wait—”

“I must leave you now. I need to speak with the Council and light a fire under them. Perhaps more lives can be spared if I convince them to move quickly. Heed the Great Mother's summons, Orenda, and be wary. Now, I can say no more. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Wait, who would be listening?”

He leaned in close, his voice a hiss on the wind. “God.”

The Peace Maker vanished in a haze of color and a blur of motion; so had the peculiar place in which they had conversed. Brahm looked to the sky. The clouds soared through the firmament once more and birdsong swept in. The musty scent of the forest floor tickled her nose.

She would die?

She rose from the stump and searched for any trace of the spirit being. There was nothing.

She looked back from where she had run. The stream foamed and surged behind her. She was close to where she had first encountered the Peace Maker — barely steps into the forest.

How was that possible?

Brahm groaned. It was not worth pondering.

She stepped from the trees and let the sun rid her of the slight chill that danced along her skin. White Feather still lay on the rock, no longer in meditation, but basking half naked. She needed the visual distraction of seeing his hardened body glistening in the sunlight. Like the Clan Mother had hinted, he was a good catch. A sly grin crept across her face. Were he not Gray Wolf's brother, he might have at least made for some interesting nights.

Brahm paused.

What was she thinking?

She shook it off. That was the other soul lusting for him. Brahm knew where her tendencies lay.

White Feather covered his squinting eyes from the late afternoon glare of the sun and turned towards her.

“Where did you go?”

“I met the Peace Maker.”

“You pull on my leg, Orenda. Too bad it’s not my third,” he said with a grin.

Third leg, indeed.She remained silent.

“You’re serious.”

She nodded.

White Feather bolted up. “Where is he?”

“He is gone to address the Hoyaneh.”

“Do you know what this means? No one has seen him in over five hundred years. What did he say?”

“We are going to war. He didn't say when, but I would guess soon if he needs to address the Chiefs. He also told me I have a different path to walk. I must leave.” She chose to leave the dying part out. No sense in getting him too worked up.

“I don't understand. What path?” He grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head.

“I wish I understood myself.”

“We should go back. I want to see the Peace Maker with my own eyes.” He ran off into the forest, back along the trail. Brahm hesitated, looking back to where she had conversed with the Peace Maker. There was still nothing there, other than a small blue bird that chirped and hopped about, pecking at the earth.

He knew she was twin-souled.

Did he know about the incident that caused it? And, better yet, did he know how to get rid of it?

Walking into the village, Brahm found it robust with activity. Men and women ran in and out of the longhouses, bundles carried on their backs as many of the Clan Mothers gave orders, pointing and guiding each to their respective roles. She heard whisperings of the Wendigo among them, but they were silenced as she approached.

The Peace Maker had lit a fire all right. A God-damned forest fire.

The village bordered on chaos. Brahm searched for White Feather and spotted him with the Chiefs. They called out orders and plans of their own.

Approaching Little Doe, Brahm wanted to smile, but found it impossible. She felt too much confusion inside her to fake it.

“What troubles you, child?” the Clan Mother asked. She took Brahm’s hand in her own. The softness in her eyes spoke well of the love the old woman had for her.

“I don't want to worry you.”

She shook her head. “There is little that is worse than war.”

Brahm sighed. “I met the Peace Maker. He told me I must leave you. He said if I stay, I will die.”

The Clan Mother hesitated. She swallowed. “What do your instincts tell you?”

“I don’t know; that I am needed, that I could save lives.”

“And do you believe what he said?”

“How can I not, but I know that you'll need me. People are going to die.”

Little Doe stood on her toes to hold Brahm's face in her weathered hands.

“Orenda, you cannot save us all. People are going to die whether you are with us or not. And if it has already been fated that you should die fighting with us, then you should take the Peace Maker's advice and go. Defy the Fates, spit in their faces, and do what the Peace Maker suggests. Leave us and do not return until we have dealt with the Confederation. If not for yourself, then for me. As your Clan Mother, I command it.”

Damn.

The woman had her cornered. If Brahm considered herself Haudenosaunee, then she had no choice but to obey her Clan Mother. Little Doe changed the subject before Brahm breathed another word.

“We will be leaving tomorrow for Haven. Messages have been sent to let them know we are coming. The Peace Maker said none are to remain behind. We are taking as much as we can of our supplies. Two Moon will be sending messages to summon the tribes back from the new villages.”

Brahm pleaded her case. “How can I be sure the Peace Maker was right? You know the feelings I get and how they must be obeyed.” It was a losing argument, but the stubborn side of her refused to subside.

A deep look of sorrow settled on the Clan Mother's face. She knew all too well about Brahm's premonitions. If Gray Wolf had heeded them, the woman might still be alive.

“I know, child, but if the Peace Maker has advised you to ignore your better judgment, I think it would be wise to follow his advice. There is a path being laid out for you that you must follow. The Great Mother has a purpose for us all, even in death. But if the Peace Maker believes your death will serve no good purpose, then you should challenge the Fates and do what he suggests. Orenda, I do not want to lose another daughter.” The Clan Mother’s hands shook.

Brahm stood in stubborn silence, trying to face the old woman. Looking into the eyes of the one person that could bring her world crumbling down with a command, Brahm lowered her head and resigned herself to Little Doe's wishes.

“Mother, the Peace Maker said I should heed the summons of the Great Mother. What does that mean?”

Little Doe's eyes lit up, and she sat upon one of two stumps that were perched outside of the longhouse.

“Sit,” she said, and patted the vacant one. Brahm settled herself as the Clan Mother spoke. “Years ago, before Gray Wolf brought you to us, I had a dream; a dream that came from the Great Mother.

“In the dream, I stood on a great lake. My eyes could not see its end and I walked its surface, lost. I walked until I thought I could walk no further. The hot sun burned my skin. Then, in the distance, a great land rose out of the water. I climbed onto its beautiful shores. I rested there for a time and, as I sat in the shade, a naked woman on a white horse approached. She held out her hand to me and took me upon this great steed and we rode across a vast plain with the wind blowing in our hair.

“In the distance, I saw mountain ranges and we reached them fast, as if the horse had wings. In the midst of the mountains there was a valley with a great cave, dark and bleak. It was a crevice of despair and hatred, a festering welt upon the Earth. The woman took my hand and led me into the depths of the cavern.

“Down and down we went, deep into the belly of the Earth. Finally, we came upon a doorway, inscribed with writing I could not read. We stepped forward and the fear almost killed me, for staked to the walls were the writhing bodies of people. Men, women, children; they covered the walls and the roof of the cave from end to end, top to bottom. They were alive and suffering. I slipped on the floor that was slicked with their blood.

“There was a small spot left on the wall where I saw the bare rock. It was stained red and was just large enough for one last body. I feared for my soul, that the space left was for me, and that I would remain there to suffer for all eternity.

“Then I saw a woman on an altar. Cuts and bruises covered her body. I knew she had been tortured long. The stone surface of the altar was wrapped around her wrists and ankles. She was alive, but barely. I walked towards her, but the woman with the flowing hair held me back.

“’No’, she said to me, ‘you are meant only to witness. He must not know we are here. Orenda will save her. You will know her when you meet her. Your love for her will be forever bittersweet. Tell her of this when the time is right. Tell her to heed the call of the Great Mother. Her true destiny leads her elsewhere.’ Then the woman on the altar screamed. The walls of the cave and the people nailed to it laughed with the most loathsome sound I have ever heard. Then I woke up.”

Little Doe grabbed the deerskin flask that hung about her shoulder and took a long drink. She wiped the water from her chin before she spoke again. “For months I could not sleep and prayed I never be shown that dream again. I think of it from time to time. It was a message, and the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew who you were. That is why I named you Orenda. I do not know what the meaning of the dream is, but I know the Great Mother will have need of you. Now that the Peace Maker has come and told you to heed the call, I can finally relieve myself of this burden. The woman from my dream was right about you. I love you like my own daughter, but you are a constant reminder of Gray Wolf. It is a bittersweet love I have come to embrace. You are dear to me and I would hate to lose another daughter.”

Brahm reached over to grab Little Doe’s hand. “Mother, I don't understand any of this. Who was the woman in your dream? How am I to save her?”

“I wish I had an answer for you, child. But perhaps she can help you if you help her.” She pointed to Brahm’s chest.

Brahm offered a slight nod. Only the Clan Mother knew about the presence inside her. She had tried various concoctions and ceremonies to be rid of it. Nothing had worked. But if the Clan Mother was right, maybe she could be rid of the thing that was leeched to her soul.

Freedom.

Brahm gazed about the village, at the mass movement of supplies and wagons. If she had to leave, she at least wanted more time to enjoy herself. Her shoulders stooped.

“Do not fret, Orenda. When the time is right, you will come to live among us. Perhaps by then you will be ready to settle down with someone,” she said with a grin, changing the subject to her insidiously favorite topic.

Brahm rolled her eyes and laughed. With any luck, White Feather would leave for Haven and all thoughts of settling down would be lost for a time.

And in that moment, born from something deep within her gut, she decided she would venture out on the morrow as far away as possible. She would search for Diarmuid. It was the only thing that gave her any sense of sureness.

The Clan Mother rose and offered her arm. “Come.”

Brahm took it with neither smile nor grimace, and let Little Doe lead her into the longhouse.

***

Friar John ducked through the doorway of the crude hut, desperate for air. Dark clouds inched across the late afternoon sun as Liesel's laughter trailed him through the frail opening.

He paced, trying to think.

The old woman hobbled after him, a toothless grin adorning her leathered face.

“You did not know this.”

“The first woman Pope,” he muttered.

Miguel stumbled after the woman, holding Meega's tiny hand.

“What does Pope Joan have to do with what we are looking for?”

John sighed. “Have you ever read the works of John the Evangelist?”

The fat friar hung his head. “The Book of Revelation. I did not like what it said.”

John pulled a tattered bible out of his sack. He thumbed through it until he found the passage he was looking for.

“And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet color, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication: and upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon The Great, The Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth.” He paused. “I always thought the Whore of Babylon was the Church itself.”

Miguel's eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“I was mistaken. The Whore is not the Church, but the head of that Church, the first woman Pope.”

Miguel's mouth fell open and he stammered, his fingers fumbling with the rosary. “Do you know what you are saying?”

John ignored the comment, and skimmed the passages.

Strange.

“It says nothing of her carrying a child,” he said.

Liesel eyed him. “Are you sure?”

John gave her a silent look.

“Is there only one woman mentioned in that little book of yours?” she asked.

One woman?

He flipped through the brittle pages. “A woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars: and she being with child cried, travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered.”

But what did it mean?

“Are you saying Sephirah was the second woman?”

“One of two, or two as one,” she said. She cast her glance upon the bible in his hands, and nodded.

Two as one?

He read further. “And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads. And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth: and the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born.” He looked at the old woman. “But it says nothing about them being the same woman, and why would the Dragon devour his own child?”

Liesel cackled. “Are you a master of prophecy now, heretic? Do you know the mind of the Fallen One? Do not let your feet trip over the steps of literalism. Read further.”

His eyebrows furrowed at the old woman before he turned his gaze back to the fine script. “And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God.”

She escaped Him.

“A place prepared of God,” he said. “But where did she go?”

“What place on Earth is mired in the worship of your God?”

The answer came to him, swift as the Lord's wrath. “The Confederation.”

John read further. “And the serpent cast out of his mouth water as a flood after the woman, that he might cause her to be carried away of the flood. And the earth helped the woman; and the earth opened her mouth, and swallowed up the flood which the dragon cast out of his mouth.” He eyed the old woman. “She fled over the sea.”

Mirth lit her eyes like a Nightwatcher's torch. “You are learning, heretic.”

The clouds rolled across the sky, laying the sun to rest in a grave of heavy gray.

“And the child is who I think?”

Liesel nodded.

Miguel pulled out his own bible. He fumbled with it. “Who?”

The words caught like phlegm in John's throat; this was worse to him than any evil he could have imagined. And he had had a hand in its making.

John grimaced. He was going to have to kill this child. He looked at Meega.

“The Beast.”