A Girl Called Badger (Valley of the Sleeping Birds) (18 page)

“Adith of course. She and Lute survived and had many children.”

“I still don’t understand why you think I’m a god.”

“Don’t be silly. You said you’re from the western mountains. That’s where the gods came from.”

“I’ve heard strange things before but that’s one of the better ones,” said Wilson.

Kaya pouted. “Stop trying to pretend. You’re wearing His sign!”

“What? Where?”

She pointed to Wilson’s necklace. “That one of course.”

“It’s a cross.”

“And the sign of Lute,” said Kaya.

“Lute? We don’t call it that.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the cross?”

“No, I do, but it has nothing to do with this ‘Lute’ character.”

“What a strange god you are, Wilson.”

“If I’m a god why am I becoming so annoyed with your crazy stories?”

Kaya smiled. “Of course you get annoyed and have feelings, don’t be silly. Gods do what they like. If you wanted to fly you could. What else ... gods can be hurt but they get better in a single day. Also, you also don’t become sick like the rest of us. You have secrets and spells.”

“Spells are for children and old women.”

Kaya squinted at Wilson and wrinkled her nose. “I’ve caught on to your secret already. You can’t fool me with jokes and pretending.”

Wilson sighed. “Changing the subject––can you sing? Let’s take turns.”

Kaya knew several old tribal songs and Wilson traded hymns with her as they followed the road beside piles of rusted metal and the delicate brown skeletons of buildings.

“Why do you say there is only one god?” asked Kaya, after an hour.

“In my village we believe in the one true god and his book. He created the sky and the earth, men and women.”

“You are speaking of Kimela. She created the first gods. Her husband died and she turned herself into a butterfly,” said Kaya.

“I knew you’d say something like that. We believe the one true god created us, sent his son to save us, and prepared a place for us to go when we die.”

“That’s strange!”

“What’s strange is your story of Adith. These ‘old gods’ were just normal men and women,” said Wilson.

“Normal to you but not me,” said Kaya.

“They died from sickness, most of them, a very bad sickness created by other men. You think the old times were fantastic but they fought each other just like we do.”

“The gods had tribes just like us?”

“You could say that. One tribe created the sickness and it killed many people. This caused all the tribes to fight together. Fire from the sky killed many of those that were left.”

“But not the gods in your tribe.”

“The people in my village were very smart. Their plans helped us survive the sickness and fires.”

Kaya laughed. “Now I believe you’re a god even more.”

“I have a feeling I won’t change your mind.” Wilson paused. “How were you captured by the Lagos?”

“I walked west of my village with friends. We gathered herbs for Teacher, but the strange Lagos men were there. We ran but they were too fast. They took the strong ones like me and my friend. The rest they …”

“I’m sorry,” said Wilson. “They brought you to Lagos?”

“Not at first. Many were chasing us from my village, so we separated to small groups. After a few days of hiding and running we came to Lagos. Those bastards treated me worse than a dog.”

“How long ago?”

“Not more than one moon, maybe two.”

Wilson stopped in his tracks and stared at Kaya.

The girl shook her head. “What?”

“Your friend’s name is Mina.”

“Yes! But how did you know?”

Wilson spread his hands. “I am a god after all.”

She tried to kneel in the grass but Wilson grabbed her hands and pulled her up.

“I know your friend because I saved her from the Lagos. They came near my village, probably chased by your people.”

The wide-eyed Kaya pulled at Wilson’s jacket. “Is she at your village?”

Wilson grimaced, thinking about his fights with Father Reed.

“For a time she was, but our people are taking her back to David. I was trying to find them when the Lagos–”

“They took her home?!!”

Kaya ran down the path at top speed. Wilson caught up and gently pulled back on her arm.

“We have to cross that ridge between the mountains,” he said. “Save your energy.”

“I don’t understand. If she was living in the beautiful cloud-home of the gods, why would she leave?”

“To see her father. Mina wants to partner with a friend of mine.”

“No! Did he use his magic on her?”

“He must have used something. Don’t look at me like that, it’s a joke!”

THEY FOLLOWED THE ROAD over the mountain to a yellow plain that stretched to the horizon. In the east rose a pillar of smoke.

Kaya pointed. “My spirit-home.”

As they crossed the heat-shimmered grassland it became obvious the smoke wasn’t from cooking fires. The smell of burning wood floated on the breeze along with the sharp crack of firearms.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Wilson.

He shared the rest of a water-skin with Kaya and they jogged eastward across the flatlands. The overgrown, picked-over carcasses of old machines dotted the waves of grass on both sides of the road.

The open fields gave way to dry hills scattered with spruce and pine, and the pair climbed toward the smoke. Kaya pointed out fields of corn, squash, and beans planted together. A steady and constant snap of firearms rolled from the north side of the road.

Wilson heard a violent rustle and pulled Kaya into the cover of tall grass. Men shouted nearby. A pair of tribals in yellow buckskin exploded from the bushes and legged it across the road.

“Westcreeks,” whispered Kaya.

A shot cracked and one of the fleeing tribals screamed. A man with a rifle pushed through the high grass. He wore a brown shirt with a white cross sewn on the left chest and a wide-brimmed hat. Hidden in the grass, Wilson could have reached out and touched his black leather boots.

The man pushed forward a metal lever that protected the trigger, put a cartridge in the open breech, and pulled the lever back. He aimed across the road and fired a spume of smoke and sparks from the rifle. When he fumbled and dropped the reload cartridge at his feet, he saw Wilson and Kaya.

“Holy cats!” the man yelled, and shoved the cartridge in the breech.

Kaya scrambled up from the thick grass. “Stop! It’s me!”

“Kaya? Where did you come from?”

She pointed at Wilson. “He saved me.”

“We thought you were dead!”

As bullet whizzed past, both Kaya and the man ducked their heads.

“What’s going on?” Wilson asked him in English.

The man shook his head. “Stay here.”

He reloaded his rifle and dashed across the road. Wilson heard the crack of his rifle twice and the hollow boom of a tribal gun. The man returned and both Wilson and Kaya stood up.

“Creeks tried to burn us out,” said the man. “Most of the village is fighting the fire.”

Wilson held out his hand. “The name’s Wilson.”

The man shook hands firmly and backed away. “No time to talk. Kaya, take him and help with the fire.”

He crossed the road and pushed through the manzanita bushes. Wilson and Kaya walked north and climbed over a rise toward the smoke.

A village surrounded by dry, cultivated fields lay before them, larger than Lagos and protected by a palisade of gray pine driven into the ground and spiked at the top. A pair of square towers stood inside the walls at the north and south.

Between Wilson and the walled village lay a blackened field and a line of flames throwing up gouts of smoke. A strong breeze whipped flying embers into a row of villagers who passed buckets from a stream to the front edge of the smoke. Men swung the wooden buckets and the flying curves of water disappeared with a hiss. Other villagers swatted the embers with straw brooms or turned up the earth with shovels to create a fire-break.

Wilson and Kaya ran into the thick smoke and spent hours dumping water on the fast-spreading fire. Most villagers could stand only a few minutes of the heat before having to stumble away, arms over their faces. Wilson looked but saw no familiar faces from Station.

At last they broke through the fire line and fought from the blackened areas with the wind at their backs. In the late afternoon the wind changed direction and clouds brought sheets of rain. The last flames met a gasping, undignified end.

Throughout the day Kaya’s fellow villagers hugged her and thanked Wilson. With the fires out, people crowded around the pair as they walked to the walled village. Wilson did his best to stay apart and stared at clumps of people scattered across the blackened, rain-soaked earth.

In the distance five figures crossed a field. Wilson recognized one of the figures from the long, easy strides and began to jog in her direction. As he ran through the damp grass the people in the group turned to look. One dropped a shovel and rushed toward him. She collided into Wilson with a squeal and knocked both of them to the muddy ground.

She kissed him. “Where did you come from?!!”

“You’ll have to ask my mother, she won’t tell me,” said Wilson.

Badger kissed him again. “You bastard. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more. I guess that’s why I’m here.”

They held each other like it had been a year instead of a week.

“Who else is with you?”

Wilson shook his head. “I came by myself.”

“You’re mad! That sounds like something I would do.”

“Well, now there are two of us.”

Badger scrambled to her feet and helped Wilson out of the mud.

“Whatever happened the last few days, you got the worst of it,” she said. “Looks like a mountain cat had her way with you then dragged your face through a thorn bush.”

“Why thank you, love. You, on the other hand, are more beautiful than ever.”

“I’m covered in dirt!”

“Just how I like it.”

Footsteps squished in the soft earth behind them. Four hunters from Station ran up, covered in soot and mud.

“Wilson! What’s wrong?” asked Liu.

“Nothing. I’m going to Springs with you.”

Carter, an older hunter, stared wide-eyed. “Founder’s boots, Wilson. You followed us?”

“In a roundabout way.”

With arms spread, Badger pushed Wilson and the amazed hunters to the village. “We can talk story during dinner. Right now I’m starving.”

Kaya waited at a pair of massive wooden doors in the palisade wall, apparently the main entrance for the village. She saw the group approach and quickly tied her wet chestnut hair back with a square of yellow cloth. Villagers who had fought the fire greeted Kaya with hugs and happy, loud voices, then entered the gate.

“Wilson savisto, are these your friends from the west?”

Wilson nodded. “Kaya, meet Kira, Martinez, Liu, Carter, and Mansard.”

Kaya spread the ripped skirt of her mud-covered, formerly white dress and bowed gracefully.

Badger laughed. “You always catch the pretty ones, Will.”

“Don’t be like that! The Lagos captured Kaya and freed her––I just happened to be going the same direction.”

Badger grabbed his arm in mock surprise. “Of course! It must have been ... destiny!”

She waved goodbye to Kaya and led Wilson through the open gate.

Fine gravel covered the streets and on each side lay a walkway of pine boards. In contrast to the muddy alleys of Lagos everything on display was neat and well-organized. Wilson recognized a smithy, leather workshops, and storage for grain. A pair of matrons in black stopped in mid-sentence when the group from Station walked by. Others knelt on the walkway or touched Wilson’s sleeve like it was made of gold. The men of the village wore plain brown shirts with a sewn cross. The women favored dresses with patterns in fine silver thread. Some villagers carried books and most had pistols stuck in their belts. A few men carried single-shot rifles like the one Wilson had seen earlier.

Badger stopped at a wooden house raised half a meter above the ground while the rest of the group continued down the street. She opened the door and led Wilson to a small room that contained a narrow bed, a washbasin, and white towels.

“This is your room,” she said.

“Why can’t I stay with you?”

Badger shook her head. “You can’t––only partnered couples can sleep together.”

Wilson groaned. “More stupid rules.”

“And here’s one from me––you need a bath. I’ll get the hot water.”

She returned in a few minutes with two steaming pots.

“That was fast.”

“They have a water boiler,” Badger said. “Looks strange but it works.”

“Ladies first.”

“No, this is just for you.” She left one of the steaming pots with Wilson. He took a bucket of cold water in the corner and mixed it with water from the pot, then washed himself with soft yellow soap.

A stack of folded clothing lay outside the washroom and Wilson changed into a white long-sleeved shirt and brown trousers. He ripped long strips from a towel and wrapped his arm, then covered the fading marks with his shirt sleeve.

“How’s that lizard bite?”

Badger stood behind him, hair washed and brushed to her shoulders. The soot was gone and her face glowed pink. She wore a yellow and white printed dress over trousers.

“It’s better. The last few days haven’t helped.”

Badger put her arms around his neck.

“I’m thrilled to see you,” she said, kissing him. “But did you eat a fairy mushroom or something?”

“I don’t feel crazy, but it’s possible. None of this seems real, especially with such a pretty girl in my arms.”

“You don’t think I can take care of myself?”

“I know you can. I still had to do it, Kira.”

“But–”

“You’re the most important person in my life right now. Why would I trust anyone else with that? The journey to Springs won’t be easy. Some of them, maybe even Reed himself, will give up. I guess it sounds crazy but as long as we’re together I don’t care.”

“It looks like I’m the fairy mushroom,” said Badger.

“Oh, definitely.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything this crazy ever again.”