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CHAPTER 1
Tyhen stood motionless on a ridge above the valley where the New Ones had stopped to rest. She had called a halt knowing there would be protection from the wind between the two hills. As she did, the people dropped where they stood, some sitting, others stretching out to catch a quick nap.
Now the wind slapped her in the face like a jealous lover, stinging her skin and making her eyes burn. She turned her back to the blast and pulled the hood on her coat up closer around her face. The coat was made from bearskin and her leggings were made of deer skin. If she had been down on all fours, she would have blended easily into the background as an animal.
Although she stood lookout for unseen dangers, she stole a few moments to look for sight of Yuma, the man who held her heart. The New Ones called her The Dove, because she had been born to unite the native race, but it was Yuma, the Eagle, who loved and protected her.
Tyhen was young, barely seventeen when her journey had begun, and although the experiences had been harsh and they'd all lost weight and sleep over the months on the march, nothing could mar the beauty that came from within her.
As the daughter of such a powerful spirit she had been given all of the abilities she would need, all of the magic that a Windwalker possessed, but today she was feeling most human, grieving the loss of the family she'd left behind.
She would never see her mother or Cayetano again, and the twins Adam and Evan, who saw both the future and the past and who were like her brothers, had stayed behind as well. In the midst of thousands, she stood alone but for one man.
Pushing aside the sadness, she swept the horizon with one last glance and then began walking back down to join the others. As she did a harsh wind ruffled the brown fur lining the hood of her coat, tickling her cheeks and reminding her of the winter to come.
Once she reached the edge of the gathering she shoved the hood from her head, letting her long hair fall free as she sat down.
Grateful to be off her feet, she began watching a young boy of about ten years playing a few feet away. He was a handsome little man with skin as brown as hers and dark hair almost as long. He called himself Gecko. The name fit. He was skinny and as quick with his movements as the lizards that used to crawl on the walls inside the palace at Naaki Chava.
At the moment he was playing intently with something he'd found in the grass, and she wondered what it was that held his interest. When she realized he'd caught her staring she smiled. As she did, he quickly looked away.
She combed her fingers through her hair and then frowned as she glanced up. Storm clouds were gathering quickly — too quickly. Yesterday they'd found a marker tree pointing the way to water. The trunk had been bent when the tree was young to let travelers know which direction to go, and from the carving on the rock beneath the tree, it appeared to be a river. Now the tree was older and the trunk had formed an unnatural bend that would, for the life of the tree, point the way. However, from the looks of the sky, it was likely it would rain before they reached the river, so the riverbank would have to be their campground for the night. In the morning they would cross, bringing them one day closer to the great gathering of tribes. The Gathering would be the end of one thing and the beginning of another and while she was ready for this march to be over, for now she had other concerns.
With one last look at the sky, she pulled the pack off her back, dug out a piece of Montford Nantay's deer jerky and took a big bite. She eyed the people as she chewed and then glanced up at the sky again. The clouds were building, growing taller in the sky and turning dark. Soon they would have to leave.
She looked back at the little boy called Gecko as he continued to play, unaware that he'd been casting looks of longing her way. As she took another bite of her jerky, she caught Gecko watching, and laughed out loud at the startled expression on his face. When he grinned, she waved him over. As he approached, she offered him the other half of her jerky. As he took it from her hand, he dropped something in her palm in return and then ran.
Tyhen looked down at what he'd given her and frowned. She was still frowning when she felt a hand on the back of her shoulder and then Yuma was kneeling behind her. When he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, a swath of his long dark hair swung away from his face and slid down across her shoulder onto her breast, making her wish it was his hand and not his hair touching her there.
"You, my little Dove, are most beautiful when you laugh." Just the sound of his voice made her ache for him. Some day they would have a life of their own again. It was enough to keep her focused on all of the dangers that still existed between them and that day.
"Thank you, my Yuma," she said, but in truth, she was silently admiring his wide shoulders and long legs as he knelt down beside her.
Yuma studied the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked as weary as he felt. They had all been pushed to both physical and emotional limits, but none as much as Tyhen.
He traced the shape of her cheek with his thumb and then ran it lightly beneath the edge of her lower lip, remembering how soft it was and how crazy she made him when they made love.
"Did you eat?" he asked.
"Yes, a piece of Montford Nantay's fine jerky. I gave the last bit of it to Gecko."
Yuma shook his head. "That little one is never far from you. I will have to watch out for him. He is in love with you, I think."
Tyhen shrugged. "He is too young to know love."
Yuma's smile faded. He reached for her then and kissed her, leaving the imprint of his lips and his love on her heart.
"I was his age when I killed the man who would have ended your mother's life, and with you still in her belly. I knew I would love you before you were born. I knew you would be mine and you would love me forever."
The ache grew within her to lie with him again, but there was never any place or time to make that happen.
"Yes, I remember the story."
His dark eyes flashed. "I wasn't any older than Gecko, so I have no doubt what he feels is real to him." He started to say more when he saw what she was holding. "Where did you get that?"
She dropped it in Yuma's hand. "Gecko gave it to me. It's something I think he found in the grass."
"So, they were already here, too," Yuma muttered as his gut knotted. Yet another sign of how urgent this journey was becoming.
Tyhen frowned. "Who was here? What is this called?"
Yuma turned it over and over in his hand, studying the size and style of the hammered silver.
"It is called a buckle. It comes from a white man's belt to hold up his pants. It looks Spanish, which means the explorers — the men who were part of the ruin of our people — have already been here. Most likely this one died here since this would have been part of his clothing, but that won't stop more from coming."
The burden of what lay on Tyhen's shoulders felt even heavier.
"Are we too late to stop them?"
"No, no, but this just makes our journey more urgent," Yuma said.
Before she could answer, a hard gust of wind came over the rise, sweeping down the hill and bringing with it the faintest tinge of a scent that did not belong.
Yuma saw her frown.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Probably nothing. I think I'll walk around a few minutes before we leave just to make sure everyone is okay."
"Don't forget your gift," Yuma said, and held out the buckle.
She didn't want anything that would remind her of intruders into their world, but Gecko had given it to her innocent of its origin, and so she dropped it in her pouch.
Yuma brushed a last kiss across her lips, then stood and helped her up.
"Soon, we need to start moving," Tyhen said.
Yuma nodded. "I will see to it, but first I need to find Stanley Bluejacket. He wasn't feeling well this morning."
Stanley was the oldest man living from the ones who'd come through the portal with her mother, and they all went out of their way trying to keep him healthy and on his feet.
"Find a healer if he needs one," she said.
"I will," Yuma said, and walked away as Tyhen ran back up the rise for a better view.
The wind was changing. It was coming out of the southwest now, moving the gathering storm clouds above them at a fast pace. She was trying to judge how long it would be before it caught up with them when she felt movement around her feet. Just as she looked down, a half-dozen rabbits came out of the tall grass, moving at a frantic pace. Startled by the unusual behavior, she turned to watch as they disappeared and missed seeing the deer that came over the rise behind them.
She jumped as it leaped past her. At that point she then turned and ran the rest of the way up to the highest ground. Yuma had the people up and moving now, strung out across the landscape as far as the eye could see and walking at a steady, plodding pace. The wind, which was part of the storm front, was pushing hard at their backs, giving them a sense of unspoken urgency and subconsciously hastening their steps.
She watched them a few moments longer then turned and faced the wind and heard screams coming from within. Her skin crawled. The Old Ones were talking.
Something bad was coming!
She began looking for Yuma and when she didn't see him, had to trust the spirits to send him her thoughts.
Yuma! Where are you? Can you see me?
Yes, I see you. I always know where you are. Look down. Both my arms are in the air.
She saw him and quickly shared her concerns.
Something is wrong. The New Ones must get to the river as fast as they can. I will give the warning, but you must lead them and see to the crossing. They have to get on the other side of the river to be safe.
She saw Yuma's reaction to her warning as he turned in place, searching the horizons.
I see nothing. What is it you fear? Is it the buffalo? Do you fear a stampede?
No, not the buffalo. Fire. I think the land is going to burn.
Yuma had long since learned not to question the Windwalker's daughter. She might be young in years, but she was ancient in power and wisdom. He was already shifting his pack for a swifter pace when he heard her voice on the wind, carrying her warning for all the New Ones to hear.
"Danger comes! Follow Yuma! Run with the wind at your back and don't stop until you have crossed the river! The prairie is on fire!"
The New Ones had been moving in groups, staying together in families, walking without looking up and, when needed, leaning on the younger and stronger, determined to see this walk through to the bitter end. But when they began hearing Tyhen's voice they immediately stopped. Her warnings had saved them too many times before to ignore one now.
The message was frightening, but there was no time to lose focus. Like Yuma, they shifted the loads they carried, grabbed the hands of the young and the old and started moving — first at a trot, and then a little faster, and then lengthened their strides to an all-out race.
Yuma purposefully moved part-way up the slope on the opposite side of the valley so that he was easily visible then set a pace. Their numbers were in the thousands and the river was still at least an hour away. He didn't know if they could outrun a fire and get across the water before they burned, but they were about to find out.
Tyhen watched until the people were in motion before she walked down the other side of the rise and out of sight. She had to go higher to see what they were facing, and since she had been standing on the highest point in the area and still saw nothing, she had to go to the air.
Lifting her arms above her head, she began to chant, summoning the wind to do her bidding. The air above her began spinning, going faster and faster, gathering in size and power until it grew into a giant whirlwind and took her up, carrying her high above the ground.
From that height she could see for many miles in all directions and it didn't take long to find the source of her concern. The storm clouds far behind them were dark and low to the ground, and every few seconds a quick flash of the long fire would come down from the clouds and strike the earth and the dry grass upon it.
In the jungles of Naaki Chava where she'd been born, rain came quietly and without warning, falling from the sky like tears from the eyes. But in this land, the fingers of fire that came down from the storm clouds made noise like the mountain that had burned up Naaki Chava, popping and cracking in horrifying explosions before it would let go of the rain. She didn't like cold and frozen, and she didn't understand how fire and rain could come from the same clouds, but in this land they did.
She rode the wind a little higher, going farther away from Yuma and closer to the gathering storm. When she finally saw the wide swath of smoke many miles behind and how fast it was growing in power and speed with every bite the fire took of the long grass, her heart sank.
She rode the whirlwind back down to the ridge and looked toward the east, to the frantic exodus of the New Ones. There was a knot in her belly as she watched them run. She had to stop a windfed fire before her people burned.
To the New Ones, the horror of Tyhen's warning was like a bad dream. They'd run from a landslide after leaving Naaki Chava. They'd survived so much since that it was difficult to accept that they were running for their life again.
Tyhen was still on the rise when she heard Yuma's voice in her head.
Run with me. I cannot keep you safe if I cannot see you.
She felt his fear for her and understood because she felt the same for him.
But I cannot keep all of you safe if I hide from what comes. I am the Windwalker's daughter. I cannot die.
Yuma wouldn't look back. It took everything in him to lead the people away from her and certain danger. She'd made the right call. He just didn't like it.
And so the New Ones ran until their sides were aching and their lungs were burning. When someone stumbled and fell, others paused long enough to gather up the dropped belongings and pull the runner back to his feet. They'd come too far together to abandon anyone now.
Yuma was young and strong, yet even he felt the strain of keeping up the speed. Running in cold-weather clothing was confining, but there were no other choices. Even after they reached the river, getting everyone safely across would take longer than the race to get there.
He did not panic until the animals came up from behind them and ran into their midst as if the people were not there.
The first to appear were antelope. They came over the ridge beside him in a thundering herd and enveloped him. Before he knew it he was running with them, caught up in a life and death situation completely separate from the fire. If he stumbled or fell they would trample him before he had a chance to regain his footing.
He could feel the heat from their bodies, hear the grunts and the squeals as they jostled each other to get away, and when he caught a glimpse of their wild-eyed panic, the flared nostrils, and the flecks of bloody foam coming from their gaping mouths, he knew they had been running for a very long time.
When the last of the herd finally ran past him and up and over the next rise, his legs were shaking and his gut was in knots.
After that, he began seeing rabbits coming out of their burrows and running in circles, as if unsure of which way to go. Flocks of birds that should have been going to roost were, instead, taking to the skies.
When a small herd of buffalo appeared on the horizon ahead of them and running at an angle the New Ones would eventually intercept, he groaned. They had to stop and let them pass or be trampled.
Luckily, the herd was small and the time loss was brief. It allowed the New Ones pause to catch their breath. When they began to run again, they moved faster, lengthening their steps to make up for lost time.
* * *
The smoke was getting stronger. Already it was making Tyhen's eyes water and burn even though she had come to what felt like an impossible conclusion. She had to stop the fire. But how? Her power came from the wind, but it was wind fueling the fire that threatened their lives. She looked up at the clouds. If only it would rain here — now — but the wind-driven storm front was ahead of the rain.
She wouldn't let herself think of Yuma. She couldn't think of what they might lose if she didn't succeed. She stood up and began to chant, once again creating the whirlwind that took her up into the air. Now she was flying above the smoke and below the storm — a dangerous place to be, even for a Windwalker's daughter.
Never before had Tyhen doubted her ability to do what must be done, but she'd never before been faced with an enemy that did not have feet.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Gathering"
by .
Copyright © 2015 Sharon Sala.
Excerpted by permission of RosettaBooks.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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