The Pythagoras Curse Part IV

Death In The Territories

I do not know how long I was unconscious.

Over these last six hundred years I’ve discovered the transference of a soul is not always easy. There have been times when it felt as if a feather was brushing against my arm as a soul left me; making its way to its new host.

Other times it was a struggle, a taxing moment which shook every muscle in my body to the point of exhaustion.

This had been one of those times.

I peered around attempting to adjust to the darkness. The boy wasn’t with me. From beneath the cracks of space at the base around the teepee I saw orange flickers of light.

I thought of my mare. I’d tied her up on the other side of the hill. She’d been without food and water for most of the day.

When I stood, my head pounded with a ache at my temples. I bent at the waist and clasped my knees attempting to steady myself.

Taking deep breaths I waited until the fuzziness in my brain passed and I could trust myself to walk out of the teepee.

Ringed around a large fire just outside sat the entire community of villagers. When I appeared some began to chant, some leaned aside to their neighbor and spoke in hushed whispers.

I saw the boy sitting between a man dressed in battle attire of his countrymen and the woman, the woman whose son I had saved. The boy and the woman smiled at me.

The warrior did not. When he stood the entire congregation stopped talking.

The chanting died until the only sounds heard was crackling and popping of burning wood and the chittering of field thrush protected from harm by the darkness.

I stood in place as the warrior approached me, stopped, then eyed me up and down as if to gauge whether I was friend or foe.

I was certain he knew of what I’d done and I was certain of something else.

He was standing there to prove his worth, his power and strength to his tribe. His face off with me would prove to all he was not afraid of the one the Great Spirit had sent.

I nodded at him. He folded his arms across his chest and spoke, “White man no sent from Great Spirit.”

“No.”

“Fayala Talako alive because of you white man?”

“Yes.”

“You healer? A Great Shaman?”

“No. I am just a man.”

“Long Feather struck down by Chickasaw warriors.”

I watched him spit on the ground as if a vile taste of something had suddenly formed in his mouth.

“We rode against them. The bodies of our attackers now lay forever beneath the many suns to come. Birds of prey will pick their bones clean. The souls of each will not find Aba.”

He stepped nearer and lowered his voice until it was hardly a whisper. I was certain no one would hear what he had to say to me.

I was also certain it is what he intended.

“You Shaman, have my blessing to leave. We will share stories of your kindness and your magic this day. For saving my son, you shall pass through these territories with the blessing of the Choctaw.”

“I am obliged for your gracious offer. If you’ll let me find my mare I will be on my way.”

Upon hearing this, Long Feather sprang up. From his lips burst a long stream of language in his own tongue. He pointed at me, and then pounded his chest, now devoid of the wounds he’d suffered when I found him.

When the boy finished he continued to stand, his arms by his side, his fists clenched as if he was expecting a fight.

I watched his father turn from him then stare at me.

“Long Feather must pay debt to you.”

“He owes me nothing.”

The boy spat off another string of sentences. Again his father turned to me.

“You gave him life. For this he will ride with you, be your guide through the territories. He will help you find which you seek.”

“He’s just a boy. A boy who has no idea what I seek.”

“I know you are a great warrior.”

“Oh so you speak English boy? And how is it you know I’m a great warrior?”

“We brought mare back to village. I have seen your great sword, your mask of metal. These are things a warrior wears in battle.”

“At one time long ago yes. Now I only seek to end my days in peace.”

“You have chosen to save my life and now you must allow me to repay. I will go with you on your quest.”

“I don’t believe I spoke of a quest.”

“Why would white man be here with no other? What brings you here if not quest?”

I sighed. It was time for me to be on my way. Perhaps this young boy would tire of his folly. Perhaps he would grow sick of days and nights away from his family.

Perhaps he would run away in fright when he learned the truth about me.

“I take it you have a horse yes?”

Long Feather grinned at me then spun and raced away from the fire. I gazed through the flickering tendrils of flame and studied his mother’s face. She appeared calm, but her expression of concern and worry told me she had doubts with this arrangement.

I gazed at the boy’s father and said loud enough for all to hear, “from this day I will treat Long Feather as my son. He is the son of your chief and he will be my son as well. I will care for him, protect him from harm. I will give up my life to save his.”

When I saw his mother’s slight grin and watched her close her eyes and nod I knew I’d eased at least some of her fears.

The father of Long Feather eyed me with a respectful grin.

“You are not as the Choctaw has seen before Shaman.”

“I am not a Shaman. I am just one who seeks two others such as myself.”

What the man said next sent shivers of excitement up and down my spine. Almost rendered me senseless.

“We have heard tales from our brothers and sisters in the north of another such as yourself. We did not believe until this night. Until we were blessed by your magic.”

“Another like me?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“We do not know. Somewhere north. Is it this Great Shaman you seek?”

I nodded my head as Long Feather arrived on a pony with my mare following along behind. I grabbed the reins from Long Feather, hastily mounted then paused to gaze at the boy’s father.

“Thank you for your gracious hospitality and the information. If what you heard is true, it may be what I need to save me. If it is the debt of your son will be repaid.”

“Then ride swift Shaman. The Great Spirit will protect you.”

I gave my mare a gentle nudge with the heel of my boot and with myself in the lead Lone Feather and I left his village.

North, we would head north.

North where another such as I is alleged to be still alive.

READ ON — THE PYTHAGORAS CURSE PART V

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part VIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII Part XXIII, Conclusion

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