Chapter 5 - Spirit Warriors

The long, hard ride back to the Shawnee camp was enough to make most men keep to farm life. Trapping was not for everyone. To be the only man in the peaceful High Lonesome, was part of the draw of what made Erik Cullen venture this far. It also made him wonder if what the order was looking for, was out here too. The order was chasing the globe everywhere else, so why not here. It was very possible. It could be hiding out here too waiting in slumber, he could have even passed something on the trail. He was always checking into any livery wherever he went. He was continually looking for a powerful black steed. Then again, many men rode black horses. He figured if he did spot such a horse, it would stick out from the others he had seen.

He only had a few hours before he would reach the camp, but it was getting late and cold. Erik knew he would have to find shelter for the night. Any severe drop in temperature, the woods became lethal. Having an open fire would make him an easy target for enemies. He spotted one of the caves the Shawnee used for their hunting parties. He decided it was the best he was going to get. It was large enough for his horse and his pack mule to squeeze into. The small cave made a perfect shelter. Erik thought it was perfect timing, because it had started to snow very hard. He would have wandered around in circles with the white out. He grabbed some small brush and began to make a smokeless fire. It was a handy trick, he had been taught by the elders in the camp. He took out his coffee pot and began to eat some jerky. Something in the pit of his stomach told him to stay very still and quiet. His instinct paid off, for he began to hear voices. He went to the edge of the cave, crawling on his belly, inching ever so closely to the mouth of the cave. In the distance he saw two men. They looked like vagrants in poorly dressed clothes, walking through the snow. In his bones Erik felt something wasn’t right. Even in the cold, he could smell something foul in the air, as if death and decay were rotting all around. He had traveled this area many times, the air was always sweet. For this smell to be around, he had to be lying in a fresh battlefield full of corpses.

“Won’t be long now,” one said to the other.

“You think the General has laid waste to most of them?” the other vagrant said.

“Most of the Spirit warriors are gone. I just did a pass of this village, there are only 2. Not enough to cause any trouble. The white man’s wars are doing a great job for us. Fact is that most of the tribes themselves can’t stand each other. They won't unite, that helps us even more. General's just a' planting ideas where he has to, as usual. As far as I know he laying low. I think there is another camp close by. For some reason I couldn’t feel this camp until recently.”

“Our jobs are done, we both came to inspect. It’s time to head back and report.” Then they both walked into the snow. The rotting smell of death vanished with them. Erik clutched his chest and began to gulp fresh air. He reached into his shirt and pulled out his amulet. It was warm against his chest, a vast difference from the chill ground. He was sure that these were minions of War himself. He crawled out of the cave and the contents of his stomach emptied on the snow. It took him a few minutes to gain his composure. After a few moments, he reentered the cave. He took the coffee off of the fire and poured himself a cup to get the taste of sick out of his mouth. He took out his bed roll and went to sleep. He had to get to the village as fast as he could in the morning.

Dawn broke and sunlight entered the cave. Erik quickly packed up his things. The morning air smelled crisp and clean. The morning breeze had taken away the smell of the night before. Rotting corpses was a smell no man forgot. Before he took the horse and pack mule out of the cave, he took his pistol out of his flint lock holster. He took the first steps out of the cave with caution. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. He knew that any tracks would be hidden due to the falling snow. He was hopeful there might be something the figures left behind. He approached the trail, sure enough there was a slight hint of the dreadful smell of rotting flesh. He gingerly touched the trees. The snow fell off the leaves, onto the quiet forest floor. There was no sign of broken twigs or a broken trail. Both of them had trampled through like a heard of elk, yet there was no sign of disturbance.

Erik wandered a little further where he had seen the two figures walking. The smell of decay was a bit stronger. He had thought this is where they had stood for a few moments to speak briefly, but he could not be too sure. The snow was falling very heavily during the night. He found that odd as well, most of the heavy storms had usually passed by this time of year. Spring should have been peeking its warm breath around the corner. As he trudged through the heavy snow, he found something out of place. The leaves on the trees did have snow on them, but they were blackened. He brushed the heavy snow off the weak branches and indeed found that the leaves were rotting away. They had a slight foul stench on them too. Erik took out his hunting knife and cut away the rotting branch. He knew it needed to be examined by the elders back at camp. He had some extra brown paper from the dress that had been carefully wrapped up. He decided to use that as a way to discretely hide what he was transporting. Once that was complete, he cleaned up his make shift camp, loaded up his horse and pack mule and made haste for the village.

It was late into the day before he arrived. He heard the laughter of the children and the barking of dogs long before he entered the village. He knew the warriors on patrol had let him enter the camp a half a mile away. He had seen their sign, not many white men could. Living among them for the past three years, strangers were not a very common sight. Most were unwelcome, especially those from other tribes trying to poach horses. Defense was very important to the Shawnee. This time when he entered the village, not only did the children gather, but several of the Shawnee braves rode up fast and hard. This actually took Erik by surprise. His adopted brother, Iron Bear dismounted and started to lead his pack mule to the elder’s tent.

“We are glad to see you home Brother,” he said softly. His tone was stern and troublesome. Nothing like his words reflected. “Come, Father is having a gathering. We have been waiting for you.”

“I have something for him. I need to talk to the Council. Something of great evil has passed by the land last night.” Erik said to Iron Bear. The brave looked at him in shock.

“Then you felt it too?” he looked very surprised.

“Yes, I brought something to show Father and the council. I think the Village needs to move immediately. I will bring up my concerns at council. Bring my mule near the Elders tent, my brother. I have to grab something from my tent and I will be there.” Erik said almost out of breath. Iron Bear nodded and lead the pack mule over. Erik took his horse over to his tent. He grabbed his briefcase full of his research, then raced over to the tent filled with the elders and other braves sitting in many circles. As usual, Erik took one of the outer circles. If he was invited into the inner circle, it would be a sign of honor. If he took a seat in the inner circle and was asked to move out, he knew shame would be brought upon himself.

“Arik.” He heard a deep melodious voice speak. He knew at once it belonged to the Chief and his adopted father, Running Bear. “Please come to me my son. Our tribe has great troubles. Iron bear has told me you may be able to shed some light on what may be going on?” He moved over and made a spot next to him close to the inner circle. He lit a long pipe and began to pass it around.

“Many of our elders think that Kinepikwa or Msi-pissi are lurking about with the snow coming so fast. The waters will rise, both will create much damage, causing the other tribes to go on the move. We felt an evil presence with the cold moon, that is something we have not felt in a long time. With our numbers so low we fear we do not have enough braves to protect the village this time.” Erik looked a little out of place holding his briefcase and parchment, but the tribe was used to him by now. Erik looked sadly at the fire and heaved a heavy sigh.

“A great evil did pass through this land. Before I say more, I ask what I speak, is it for the ears of all? Or just a few?” Strong as Eagle Flies, one of the great elders raised his eyebrow in question.

“Ask your question Arik, and I shall determine.” His old raspy voice cracked.

“You have only two left in the Village. What happened to the others?” Erik asked very quietly. He saw the color drain from Strong as Eagle Flies' face. The Elder began pointing to several of the younger braves slowly.

“I need all of you to leave the council meeting. This is a matter for the eldest of the braves alone.” His voice was shaking. The men got up, bowed respectfully to the elders, and left the tent. “How did you come to find out this information? These stories are only passed down at the right of passage. Our tribe has yet to see if one of our warriors even possesses such a power. Our shaman has told us that only two warriors here have the capability of awakening their physical spirit guide. One is older and I feel it will never happen, the other has yet to produce sons of his own. He has not taken a wife. We do not know if the blood line will continue. Even through his grandchildren, nothing has been foretold to us yet by the shaman.” Strong as Eagle Flies said sadly.

“Say no more, I think I have guessed who they are. You may speak to me in solace about this matter great elder. For now, I bring you something and a warning. I think it’s time you moved the village. If you have another sister tribe that you are in alliance with, I would suggest join and increase your numbers. Dark times are coming. I have spoken to you about the great creator with healing hands. There are always things that go against those who are his children. It is time I told you all the truth about my being here.” Erik said calmly. He heard a thump, then the gentle clicking of knick-knacks. A very old man stood up holding on to an ancient staff. He threw some powder into the fire and it started to glow with many vibrant colors. Erik knew this was the shaman of the tribe. He rarely spoke or got involved publicly at tribe meetings. When he made his presence known, the tribe took great heed.

“I have seen you before in our lands Arik. Time has not touched you. I was a boy when I first saw you. I was in the great valley of our mother. It was during the first hunt with my father. This was many moons ago. You still wear on your wrist the coyote tooth he gave you. It was in thanks for saving me. I was not sure it was you who entered our lands at first. For my eyes are no longer as sharp at that tooth you carry. I thought maybe you might be the son of that man I met so long ago. As the moons have passed in the village, your secret has been safe with me, until now. I have wondered how can this be? You are no shadow walker, you are a man of flesh and blood. You hold no ill will to our people. That is why I have allowed you to stay. Are you sent here from the great creator?” Grey Beaver looked at Erik with piercing eyes. He began to remember that encounter.

Erik was stunned, that was over 80 years ago. He honestly had no idea of where he was at that time. His head was spinning. All he could remember, it was somewhere in some valley in the Rockies. He was going on a lead about a cyclone deity. For him, any lead was worth digging into. He stumbled upon a Native, crying over his son. It seemed while they were hunting buffalo, his son got knocked off his pony. While that happened, a coyote had made fair game of the young brave. While the coyote had lost his life, it managed to inflict a mortal wound. Erik did not speak the tongue well yet, but the warrior at least had enough sense to know Erik was there to help. Instead, Grey Beaver’s father chose not to scalp the white man approaching them. Erik had his own tools given to him by the order and was able to heal the young boy immediately. The tooth fell out of the lethal wound as if nothing had happened. The brave couldn’t communicate verbally with Erik, he was extremely grateful and showed his thanks by offering food for that evening. Erik communicated the best he could by the campfire. Erik thought he did a decent job, saying he was looking for the cyclone deity in the best broken tongue he could for that time period. Grey Beavers father was more than happy to provide what he could. While Erik slept, Grey Beaver’s father made a small trinket of the coyote tooth. Both braves left in early dawn leaving Erik to sleep peacefully in his bed roll.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Erik was shocked that the eyes he was looking at, so vibrant and deep, were the same of that young boy he had saved so long ago. He rarely used anything from the order, because of the attention it brought. Eighty years had passed since he had performed the task of saving the small boy. It was amazing to him how the flow of time made things happen. Here he was in the Shawnee camp adopted and welcomed as one of their own. He always wondered why. Finally, he had his answer.

“Grey Beaver, I am just working for him.” Erik said with a sad smile. “In a way, I guess. I am looking for a few things. Your legends are very common with ours in fact. This new land has already seen war in its infancy. We think there is more to come. There are three great evils that will plague the land. They normally work alone. However, it’s when they start coming together, we start to worry. I have a book here I would like to give you, its printed in the white man’s language. I have been teaching Running Brooks son, Bending Oak to read it. He is very well versed and can translate it for you. I have always wondered if your demons and great creator are one in the same.” He paused.

“I came over to this land years ago. Before this country really had a name. I started my search in the New England area. There are Viking settlements there. Long before a man named Christopher Columbus came over, there are records of our holy temples, as you would call them, being raided. I think something went missing. I think someone may have come over with them. The Vikings vanished into this land as well. They were very similar to your people, not like the men that come over now. I think they adapted into this land. The two tribes may have become one. This person might have fled deep into the heart of the earth. More settlers came, things are easier to disappear now. Items could be further south. I have been looking ever since.”

“This person are they good or bad?” Grey Beaver asked coldly.

“Cursed and blessed from what we have gathered. They could be carrying an item. We are not actually sure. It can go either way. A great curse to man, or a great blessing to mankind. We are trying to fill in all the gaps. What we have gathered, has been thrown across the world. We all feel that we are dealing with the same sort of evil. Your land had been hit with War, Famine, and Pestilence. Not in the way to wipe out your people as a nation. I feel they are trying. I need to know if, at the end of any battles, in the distance, have any of you see a rider on a pale horse? White, maybe a bit green like your eyes, were almost playing tricks on you?” Erik asked solemnly.

“I have.” A hollow voice said. “I had been captured by a bounty hunter. He forged some papers. He said my mother was half black and my father was Blackfoot. I was transported over to North Carolina to work on the plantation for some time. When the south revolted, my then master took all able bodied men and forced them to fight. In trade, his sons would not have to face the front lines themselves. We were taken to a place called Gettessbury.” Crouching Fox shuttered.

“Gettysburg,” Erik said softly. “It was a massacre. That would make sense.”

“I saw many strange things on that battlefield. I do not think the others saw. I cannot put them into words.” Crouching Fox shook his head and said no more.

“My son, let us see them through your eyes.” Grey Beaver whispered. Crouching Fox nodded. The old shaman began to chant around the vibrant fire. He shook his staff around the low flames. They began to dance and rise with his song of old. They came alive, rising with his whispering commands. He took Crouching Foxes hand and made a small cut. The drop of blood dripped down the side of the ornate stone blade. He threw a bitter smelling powder into the fire. He chanted for the spirits of old to awaken and help guide the way. He dripped the warrior’s blood into the fire and it sprang to life.

The flames told the story of men falling on the battlefield. Smoke wrapped its way around the circle of braves, revealing all of what happened on that horrific day. The great spirits of the flames had much more to tell. They reached beyond the sight of ordinary men. The mythical flames showed some of the fallen souls who could not let go of the hate. Locked forever on that ground still in combat.

They revealed two riders on a hill in the distance, looking down on the massacre. They were both cloaked. One rider was dressed in a black robe, every inch covered. The other was on a great black steed even larger than the white mount. The rider was smaller and covered in a tattered worn cloak. In the passing cannon smoke, deep scars and marks could be seen on the black riders arms. Erik was taken back in amazement. His eyes were drinking in every tiny detail. He noticed the rider on black steed had a broken sword wrapped tightly to the mount. In the right hand, a huge claymore was unsheathed and ready to be wielded. For a split second, Erik saw the eyes of the rider on the black mount. They seemed so full of pain and sorrow. The rider on the black steed nodded to the figure on the white steed. The white rider then revealed a scythe. As if on cue, the rider on the black mount charged into the cannon fire, unseen to the soldiers. The flames showed Crouching Fox frozen to the spot, as the black steed approached him. The rider looked at him. The mighty claymore, raised high above his head, unexpectedly cut the barbed wire, where he had become tangled in. Hoof beats pounded and then continued to massacre many in their path. The rider on the black steed vanished completely into the smoke of cannon fire, never to be seen again.

There was a great wailing on the field as the rider on the pale horse extended their hand. The willing souls had greeted this rider like an old friend. Erik could see the peace on their faces as they walked. There was no fear, no sorrow in these men’s eyes. There were others who had fallen, screaming stuck to the spot where they had died. Erik tried to make sense of all of this, but it was already so much to take in. He had no idea that power like this existed, to pull memories from others. Not even the order had such gifts, or that he knew of. There was a great quiet in the council.

“I managed to escape,” Crouching fox said quietly. “I had taken some shot, and a rifle. Anything I could find off the dead lying next to me. Then I ran for my home. My spirit guide lead me back. I am very thankful for the blessings. Returning home, I am with my wife and two sons.”

“It seems your tribe has a gift to see more than normal men.” Erik said.

“Every man can see what Crouching Fox can see. It’s that he chooses to ignore the gifts our creator gave us. The land provides everything for us. Our hearts and minds provide our strength to go on each day. Free will gives us the power to learn and grow. What more do we need? Why should we change?” Said Running Bear.

“I think I know what that pale rider was. I will have to ask a few of my colleagues about this before I can say more. I have to go away for a while, but I plan on coming back. I want to ask, with your blessing Chief, if I may take your daughter with me?” For the first time all through the grave conversation, everyone burst out with laughter. He smacked Erik on the shoulder, hard.

“You have my blessing. Try getting hers.” Running Bear wiped away a tear of laughter. Erik saw several whispers going on around the circle. Then saw trinkets and other items of value being passed around.

“You really think she’s going to tan me alive in my buckskins?” Erik grumbled and put his face in his hands.

“Oh this is easy win my friend. I am sorry.” One of the braves said out of the circle. Grey Beaver clapped his hands loudly.

“Bring in the women. I am starving!” One of the younger braves who was allowed to stay got up and began to fetch the women and children. It was very late for meal time. Erik pulled Running Bear off to the side and out of the tent.

“My son, what still troubles you,” Running Bear looked confused.

“Please get them all out of here.” Erik pleaded. “Go north if you have to. Run, I will find you. Something is coming. I am not sure, but the two spirit warriors in your clan? I am guessing are you and your son.” Erik said to Running Bear.

“He has no sons yet, but I am hopeful there is another. My daughters first son. We will not know until his first hunt. He will go with us, once the thaw hits.” Running Bear said calmly.

“You have the spirit of the Bear in your tribe. I have noticed that your clan does its best to not hunt any bear. If one attacks, that is the only way your tribe will take it down. Even then you take the skin and bless the bones then bury the animal as one of your own kin.”

“Arik either you are wise or sent to us by the great spirit.”

“I told you I just work for him, sort of.” Erik chuckled.

“I do need to take your daughter with me. Will it hurt the tribe if I take her with me?” Erik asked with all respect.

“No, the tribe can get along without her. She is done bearing sons or daughters. It would be too dangerous for her now. If what you say is true and we have to move the tribe, I want to make haste.” Erik pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket containing his findings from the morning.

“This is the great evil you felt last night,” Erik gingerly unwrapped the parchment and showed him the withered branch. Immediately the smell of decay and death hit both of their noses.

“It must be burned outside the village. The land which its ashes are burned must also be blessed.” Running Bear said.

“I came across two men dressed very poorly in the snow. They looked like beggars from town. They were not affected by the cold but they smelled very strongly of this.” Erik held out the withered branch. “ They left no trace of a trail. Not a single broken twig or a disturbed path. Only this in their wake. They had said there were only two spirit warriors left in this village. They had been looking for this place for quite some time. I am guessing the reason they could not find it before, is because I was here.” Erik pulled out an amulet he kept very close to his chest. He did not fear exposing it to Running Bear, for over the years he had fully gained his trust. “I want you to look at these symbols very carefully father. Do not ever paint them on something that may last. If something happens to you, in my absence, pass along knowledge of these symbols. You can use them in the ground. Then wipe away the earth as if they were never there.” Running Bear nodded. The wise Chief studied these symbols very closely. There was a fish, a strange cross, not quite like those of the missionaries that passed years ago, almost like a hook to it. Then a third which he had never seen before that looked like three fingers reaching up.

“Will these help us?” Running Bear asked a little confused.

“In a way, I hope. Each of us carries something different. You may find a small marker in the woods to guide you. Gather all of your brothers and sisters, from all the clans you can find. I would start heading north into the Canada region. I have a plan. I want to move as many of you out of this land as I can. When the time is right, then you can come home again.” Erik thought of his own home in Scotland. “I can’t place it, but there is something coming.”

“You too have felt it in your bones. I thought it was just old age coming for me.” Running Bear looked into the great land below sadly. Erik gazed out into the wonders of the untamed wilderness alongside his wise father.

“I wish it was just old age and peace. I am afraid before it is all said and done, this valley will cry out with the blood of many men. On both sides.”