Spirits Collide, page 4
part #2 of Evil Awakened Series
At the exact second the sun blinked the beginning of the morn, Ayam shook her totem beads, her actions followed by her sisters. With mouths stitched shut and eyes unable to see, the Ghost-witches chanted a waking ritual and stared at the forgotten graves. The Netherworld heard their cries, and the earth splintered at each burial site. Up from the depths of the dead came life. Life which wanted one thing and one thing only—vengeance.
A witch army, now hundreds strong, shook their beads and shrieked in unison the Skadegamutc battle cry. With a final yip from Ayam, silence pierced the gathering. With one final rattle of her beads, the ghost-witches transformed into orbs of blinding light and bulleted their way south.
11
Lessons
Pamoon tried set aside the images that continued to haunt her and was deep into her Okichitaw training. A Cree martial art, Okichitaw consisted of chopping and stabbing movements with and without weapons. She was being taught to use the gunstock-warclub, the long-knife or spear, and the tomahawk. In battle, they were used in hand-to-hand combat or thrown when necessary. Okichitaw also consisted of blocks, strikes, and holds common to other martial arts.
Exhausted from two hours of training, Pamoon was drenched in sweat, hunched forward, hands resting on her knees, trying to catch her breath.
“This is when you need to be your strongest,” her instructor barked.
Pamoon wiped the sweat from her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, squinted through the hazy sun, and stared at Tihk. Why isn’t he as tired as I am? Pamoon thought. That was her last thought before Tihk attacked.
With a high-pitched war-cry, he lunged at her with a long-knife, drawing it down on her in a chopping motion. Instinctively, Pamoon grabbed her gunstock, reared back and threw it, aiming for the middle of his chest. Exhaustion, panic, and adrenaline blended together to cause her throw to be way off its mark. Tihk drew down with his foam rubber blade and struck her in the side of her neck. If the blade would have been real, she would have been killed instantly. No doubt about it.
Pamoon’s hair that had freed itself from its braid, fell limp across her face, as she dropped to her knees. Frustrated, but too tired to care, she knew she’d been bested.
“You never throw your weapons unless you have no choice. You had a better chance of defending yourself with your gunstock in hand.”
“I know,” Pamoon mouthed, not able to catch her breath.
“Sit.” Tihk pointed toward a log by the fire pit. “Your concentration and energy have been low all day. What’s wrong? What’s going on in your head?”
She reached for the bottle of water he handed her and nodded her thanks. “What makes you think there’s something going on in my head?”
“How long have we been training together?”
“About three months,” Pamoon shrugged.
“Sounds about right,” he responded. “And in that time, you’ve always given one hundred percent. Until today. Why?”
“I don’t know?” she shrugged. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
“Has your daily routine changed?”
Pamoon thought about her training session with Powaw, but shook her head and said, “No.”
“Then it is something in your head.” With his last word spoken, Tihk stood and began to walk away.
“Wait, why are you leaving?”
Tihk stopped and turned back toward Pamoon. “Whether it is fighting skills or learning the ancient secrets of our people, honesty is everything.” Again, he turned to leave.
“What does that mean?” Frustration bled through her words.
“It means you’re not being honest with me or with yourself. If the elders taught me nothing else, they taught me in any discipline or in life, one must be truthful. Not just to others, but to oneself.” Tihk pointed at her. “Today, for the first time, I have seen you do neither.”
Pamoon threw her head back and grunted. “What makes you so smart? You’re only two and half years older than me.”
“You know more about my past than anyone else other than White Eagle and Powaw. Age has nothing to do with wisdom or life’s lessons.” Tihk stepped closer to Pamoon. “I messed up when I was younger because I couldn’t be honest with myself, and I didn’t think I had anyone to talk to. You,” he pointed at Pamoon, “don’t have either excuse.”
“What is it you want me to do?” she whined.
“Answer with truth. Has your daily routine changed?”
Closing her eyes, Pamoon allowed the memories of yesterday to flood the forefront of her mind. “Powaw tried to teach me about the use of peyote while meditating.”
“And?” Tihk said, retaking his seat.
“And, I freaked out. The visions frightened me, and even though I get it,” Pamoon rolled her eyes, “that they’re just visions of possibilities, they seemed more than that. They seemed inevitable.”
“Did you tell Powaw what you just told me?”
“Sort of.”
“And?”
“And,” Pamoon rolled her eyes, “he answered me with a riddle.”
“Riddle?”
“Powaw spoke of choices and patience and the consequences of both.”
Tihk’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve heard that answer once or twice, but he wasn’t speaking in riddles, he was speaking the truth.”
“Why couldn’t he just have told me what to do?”
“Do you remember the story I told you about my being sent to jail?”
“Yeah, of course. I could never forget that.”
Tihk raked his fingers through his thick, black hair, pulling it back behind his ears. “When I returned home from prison, I was embarrassed to look at anyone. Powaw had told me no one knew I had been in jail. He told me that White Eagle informed the tribe that I went to live with my Uncle Tag. I knew he wouldn’t lie to me, but I still had a hard time looking at anyone or talking to them without thinking they knew.”
“That makes sense,” Pamoon said. “Every time I see anyone looking at me, I always wonder if they’re thinking I don’t belong here because I’m white.”
Tihk nodded. “One day, I was thinking about leaving for good when Kamenna sat me down. She told me that when we are babies, someone must do everything for us, as we grow, we are told what to do and given small freedoms to see if we have learned from those lessons. Once we mature, we are given choices. The paths in front of us are as infinite as the rain drops that fall from the sky. Each path we choose alters every other that comes after.” Tihk shook his head, a lopsided grin emerging. “She tapped my chest with her finger and said something I will never forget. She said the past is in the past, and the future was mine to choose.” Pamoon watched as he picked up a stick and dug in the dirt. “At that time, I thought she was nuts. Or as you said, talking in riddles. I promised her I wouldn’t pack up and leave until I had time to think about what she said.”
“And?”
“And, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Our past is our past, but only we can choose our future.” He lightly tapped his finger on the palm of her hand, her neck, and then her chest. “Your future, maybe more so than anyone else, ever, in this tribe, is going to be hard to navigate. You have been granted many powers by Kisemanito; most you have yet to discover, but you must always follow your heart when choosing your path.”
Pamoon threw her head back. “Arg,” she moaned. “What does that mean?”
Tick stood and looked her dead in the eye before leaving. “It means, stop thinking and start doing.”
“And if I do the wrong thing?”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because, I know you.”
Pamoon thought for a long time about what Tihk had said before she left the training area to go find Powaw.
12
Peyote
“You are sure you want to do this again so soon?” Powaw asked.
Pamoon opened the door to the sweat lodge and nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Huh?” she said, turning her attention towards Powaw.
“You have spent the good part of the day training with Tihk. I can see you’re tired, and I’m not speaking just of your body.”
“That’s why I want to do this now. You’ve taught me that when the body is tired, the mind and spirit awaken.” Pamoon stretched her neck to the side and grimaced. Her neck popped causing her to moan a sigh of relief. “The way my muscles feel, my mind and spirit will never be as open as they are now.”
“That is all well and good, but you didn’t answer my question.” Pamoon looked at him sideways, “Why now?”
Pamoon opened her mouth to answer, but closed it along with her eyes. She thought about what Tihk had said earlier about truth. Nodding to herself, she opened her eyes and sat in a cross-legged position on the wood floor. Before answering, she breathed deep and chose her words wisely. “I know the vision I had was only one possible path among countless others I may choose to walk, just one possible outcome, but in that vision, I stood in the Spirit Cave and it was full of evil.”
“What do you mean—evil? You know evil cannot dwell in that cave; the Creator told you herself.”
“That’s one of the reasons I was so scared. I didn’t see anything evil, in fact, I didn’t see anything at all, but I sensed it. It was there.” She lowered her eyes and stared at the floor. “I’m hoping that with the help of the herbs, I might gain some clarity.”
“Peyote doesn’t work that way. There is no guarantee you will have the same vision.”
“I know,” Pamoon exhaled.
“You mentioned that was one of the reasons, you wished to try this again, what is the other?”
In my vision, I heard Ayas’ voice in the Spirit Cave. He sounded frightened, I mean, petrified. I’ve never heard him sound like that before.” She shook her head, her words merely a breath when she finished. “It was as if I could feel his pain through his words.”
“What did he say?”
Pamoon stared at Powaw, a mix of sadness and fear etched deep into the furrows of her down-turned mouth. “He told me to hurry, to run, and he called me, Kiche. I don’t know if he wanted me to run to the cave or run away from it, to him or to safety. I just don’t know,” she shrugged, “but I need to know. And,” she hesitated before continuing, “Kiche? He doesn’t call me by that name.”
Powaw grunted as he moved the copper kettle into the middle of the room.
Pamoon watched him remove an herbal mixture from a cedar chest and empty it into the bowl. He then took a bulbous plant from the chest. It looked like a green clove of garlic with a small pink flower in the middle. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Fresh peyote,” Powaw answered, grinding it into the bowl with what looked like a cheese grater.
“Isn’t there peyote mixed in with the herbs?”
“Eha, but not enough to take you where you need to go.”
“And where’s that?” Pamoon’s voice rose along with her fear.
“To the world of possibilities.”
By now the steam had begun to rise and Pamoon was dripping in sweat. “I don’t understand?” she said wiping her forehead with a bandana.
“Your spirit is not like others. It’s older, stronger, maybe eternal,” he muttered. “The mixture you inhaled the other day should have kept you in an herb-induced state for hours, but you woke in just minutes. This,” Powaw said, showing her the bowl of fresh peyote, “will help you stay within your visions for a much longer time.”
“But what if I hallucinate or overdose?”
Lighting the flame under the kettle, Powaw answered, “I will be here to watch over you. You will be able to hear my voice, no matter where your visions take you. If I see you in distress, I will bring you back. But,” Powaw pointed his finger at her, “you must stay calm, no matter what happens. If you fight the effects of the herbs, your trip back will be much harder.”
Pamoon took a swig from a bottle of water, watching the beads of sweat drip from her hair onto the floor of the lodge. Even with the water, her mouth felt dry.
“Understood?”
She took another sip of water, and felt Powaw’s hand on her shoulder. “Kiche, I asked you a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, her stomach queasy. She swallowed her nausea before continuing. “I understand. Why did you call me, Kiche?”
“You were born to transform. If your visions take you to the Spirit World, it is the name you will respond to.”
“Is that why Ayas called me that in my vision, yesterday?”
“Eha.”
As the lodge filled with smoke, Pamoon coughed with each breath. “My lungs are burning,” she gasped, wiping the salty tears from her eyes.
“Close your eyes and breathe through your nose,” Powaw instructed.
Pamoon fought back her rising anxiety and did as she was told. At first, her inhalations were shallow, but with time, she found it easier to draw deeper. While she concentrated on her breathing, Powaw chanted, the sound seemed to fade in and out as if someone was playing with the volume on a radio. The sound wasn’t the only thing fading in and out. Pamoon’s mind began to get fuzzy—like the time she had her wisdom teeth pulled.
“I’m draping a towel over your head and the kettle,” Powaw said, his words distant and distorted. “Keep your eyes closed and relax. Don’t fight the peyote.”
Pamoon’s body swayed; unable to remain in a sitting position, she fell back. Her thoughts murky, no longer her own.
13
Visions
Pamoon felt the damp ground seep through her clothes and tasted the dense scent of pine with each breath before ever opening her eyes. Surprised to find herself sprawled out in the woods that bordered the reservation, she blinked at the setting sun attempting to gather her bearings. Squinting at the sun’s position, she figured it had to be about four-thirty in the afternoon. Standing, Pamoon surveyed the area hoping to see Scout, yet knowing she was alone. The silence of the woods and the thick smell of pine unnerved her. She slid her left hand to her belt hoping to find some assurance; with a slight tremble, her right hand mirrored the action of her left, neither finding what they hoped for—no knife or staff. Panic wound around her legs like a tightening rope. When it reached her torso, she found it hard to breathe. Afraid to take her eyes off her surroundings, her hands fumbled from her belt to her chest and she exhaled relief as they felt the worn leather of the shoulder strap which held her sword’s sheath. Reaching over her shoulder, she gripped the cold steel of the sword’s hilt, her panic retreating.
Feeling a bit surer of herself, Pamoon focused on accessing the Spirit Cave. Her first concern was finding and entering the Misty Woods. Heading southwest, she ran toward the bent trees, the trees that signaled the entrance into the Misty Woods. As she ran, she expected the area to become foggier, but woods remained clear. Something’s wrong, she thought, slowing her pace.
Using the tracking skills taught to her by White Eagle and Powaw, she stopped to survey the area, searching nature for answers. The leaves on the near side of the tree felt dry, but as she moved to the far side, they held moisture.
Using her sense of touch, Pamoon followed the signs. If the ground and foliage dampened, she moved forward. If not, she changed directions. It wasn’t too long before she saw wisps of fog hovering along the base of the woods, causing her to quicken her pace.
The mist thickened as she neared the eastern edge of the woods. In the distance, she saw the mist narrow, forming a path. Pamoon’s heartbeat kept pace with her excitement as she moved closer. Standing in the center of the path, the mist was so thick, she couldn’t see her feet, but if she stepped off, it was clear as day. As her sight adjusted to the mist, she spotted the outline of the Y-shaped tree in the distance. Moving with caution, the mist continued to narrow until it was only as wide as the tree trunk itself.
Standing in front of the tree, the mist climbed the trunk and spread out as it filtered through the branches that formed the Y. Remembering her earlier trips into the Misty Woods, Pamoon eyed the bark and found Cree words carved into it.
“Through the eye of the needle, one must enter,” she muttered to herself. “I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”
Pamoon grabbed the branches and hoisted herself through the opening and into the Misty Woods.
Dropping into the Misty Woods, Pamoon knew she had left the natural world and entered the Spirit World. The climate was cold, colder than before, and the terrain, mountainous. Pamoon tingled with anticipation but waited for her sight to adjust to the fog before proceeding.
As her surroundings came into focus, she was shocked at the density of the thorns. Bushes were everywhere and where there were no bushes, vines seemed to grow straight from the ground; all pointing and growing toward the path. They reminded her of how Kudzu tended to swallow parts of the Everglades. Her mind flashed back to the first time she entered the Misty Woods, lost her balance, fell off the path, was pricked, and bled. The poison the thorns carried would have killed her if she hadn’t found the Spirit Cave.
“There are so many more than before,” she thought aloud. “Why? I thought the thorns were supposed to protect the woods from those who are not supposed to enter. This is my world. Why are they trying to keep me out?”
Taking a deep breath, she slid the sword from its sheath. The sound of the blade rubbing against the metal of the scabbard awakened her spirit, stifled her fear. “Time to find out what the woods are hiding.”
Pamoon trudged upward along the mountain path, watching for ice and other treacherous objects. She attempted to cut or move the thorns from the path with her blade, but the thorns seemed to sense its presence. They curled in on themselves and the vines retreated from the steel before she had a chance to swipe at any of them. An hour into her trek, she began to hear voices crying out in Cree.
