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waves of silt rising into the stale air. Sound-lessly she felt the pieces of her dream fit themselves into a giant picture. The Celtic heritage destroyed, ripped apart by the Eurasian Forces. Her guilt at not being with her family ... of living when they had died. Her fierce crusade to protect the relics of other pasts, other peoples. And her strange link to Grana, to the old woman s belief. The scientist bowed her head to her knees, uncertain whether she was unbalanced by grief or one of the privi-leged few able to tap into the universal consciousness. What it was, why it spoke to her Whispering aloud, she addressed it in a language she understood: I have done nothing of myself. I am but a vessel to be filled with what must be remembered. Amazingly, there was no bitterness in the thought; only wonder. Later to think it through, to wrestle with this possible intelligence, to demand explanation and under-standing of those wars, deaths, pain. Now there was only the moment; she had a source to explain the petroglyphs to her. Only a slip of thought, in the home-speech: I will remember& and so will others. You have my word. Presence grew within her, welling up like water so pure she was certain she would never thirst again. With presence came understanding. Staring at the petroglyphs, Brenna knew their meaning, tried to verbalize their prophecy. It was like the echo of a voice whispering from the past. . . . After the clans reach their final home, the time will come when they will be conquered by a strange people. They will be forced to pattern their land and lives after these strangers, or be punished horribly. They are not to resist, for a deliv-erer will come. Their lost white brother, Pahana, will bring them the missing corner of the Fire Clan tablet, deliver them from their conquerors, and point the way toward a universal brotherhood of mankind. Until that coming, to leave the Hopi way will bring evil upon the tribes, and then the Bear Clan leader must be beheaded to dispel the evil. The land between the two rivers is yours. Other tales& Brenna suddenly came back from the shadows, the ancient, quivering voice of a clan leader fading into the silence. She had seen the fire, the fire that had blackened the ceil-ing above her, the great man giving the tablets to the clan leaders, the making of prayer sticks and the chanting. The youths carving the story on the walls, copying the tablets. Tears had crept down her cheeks sometime during her trance; idly she brushed at the dusty tracks with the back of one hand. Ah, Duncan, I will save this cave for you& I will remember it. Preoccupied, Brenna lose to her feet, lifting the black box in passing. With any luck there would be enough evidence from the lab tests to narrow the dates, confirm her vision, give the Hopi back their sacred chamber Slanting sunlight drew her out of her thoughts. It was getting late; she would have to And then Brenna was outside, and she forgot what she was going to do. The two Coyote Clan Qaletaqa still stood guard, but Pamosi, their leader, was waiting at the foot of the path. He ges-tured for Brenna to follow him. Momentarily she held her ground. Other visions had told her that the people of peace had shed blood in the past, when they felt their way of life threatened. Then she moved to the clan leader s side. Old Pamosi did not speak as they walked up the trail, his gait the equal of any man in his prime. Several times he stopped to let Brenna rest, but he offered no informa-tion, not even to explain David s absence. When they neared the top, Pamosi let her walk ahead of him, moderating his pace. A silent crowd was waiting for them. Brenna slowed, confused, when she realized that four lines of cornmeal had been drawn across the trail. Pamosi had halted also; he waited quietly behind her. Searching the weathered faces of the gathering, Brenna realized that the village elders made up the majority of those present. She recog-nized David standing on the fringe of the group, his warm eyes reassuring. The elderly Bear Clan leader stood in the front; last of his line, spokesman of his people. Bright eyes peered at her from a wrinkled face; the man s with-ered hand did not shake as he extended it, palm up, to the young woman. Brenna fought to control her trembling. David had the carved rock [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |