Billy Buckhorn and the War of Worlds, page 3
“When I first saw it, I didn’t know what it was,” Billy explained. “But I remembered reading a passage in the back of Blacksnake’s book that referred to some sort of supernatural viewer. It provided a spell and instructions on the viewer’s use, if you knew how to read the unfamiliar language.”
“It’s an Aztec mirror, isn’t it?” the elder Cecil ventured.
Billy was very surprised that the Osage medicine man could identify the strange object.
“A what?” James asked.
“An Aztec mirror,” Cecil said. “Invented or created or discovered—whatever term you want to use—hundreds of years ago by Aztec sorcerers for contacting disembodied entities. These are legendary. There’s even one in a British museum.”
Wrinkled foreheads and questioning looks told Billy more information was needed. “Chigger gave this to me, hoping I’d know what to do with it,” he said. “He had a faint memory of Tuckaleechee using it to contact other Night Seers or maybe even the ghost of someone she knew.”
No one responded. It seemed the more they heard, the less they understood.
“That’s not all,” Billy continued. “Chigger came by today to warn me that he’s begun picking up a supernatural signal like the one that came from the Horned Serpent’s purple tail crystal, or similar energy coming from somewhere else.”
The group’s silence encouraged Billy to quickly come to the point he was leading up to.
“What it all means is this,” he said with finality. “I think Chigger can be a valuable tool—no, a valuable weapon—against the darker forces in the coming conflict.”
He paused to let that sink in.
“That’s why I’ll be inviting him to join our little group as soon as possible,” he added. “My instincts tell me he’ll be able to bring us intel from the other side we can use to effectively defeat whatever the Underworld is planning to do.”
For the next thirty seconds or so, you could hear a pin drop in that room. To break the silence, Lisa’s father, Ethan, made an announcement he knew everyone would be pleased to hear.
“We may have a guest joining us in the next day or two,” he said. “She’s a new investigator from the Department of the Interior, the DOI, and she’ll give us an update on the leads she and the FBI have been following regarding the Sun Chief’s remains and his stolen burial artifacts.”
This obvious piece of good news seemed to fall flat. But it wasn’t surprising. The group hadn’t really made much progress during the past couple of months in their efforts to uncover details of the Owl Clan’s apocalyptic plans for Middleworld retribution. Neither had they made much headway in their search for the skeletal remains of Shakuru, the Sun Priest; the artifacts from his burial that had been stolen; or the all-important missing piece of the Sky Stone.
Lisa’s grandfather Cecil saw the need to shift the tense energy in the room. He’d already accepted Billy’s action in forgiving Chigger’s behavior while under the influence of the Cherokee witch, so that announcement didn’t concern him.
“In spite of the weather, we still have a medicine lodge ceremony to prepare for, don’t we, Spider Woman?” he said, looking at his granddaughter. “I believe that would be the best use of our time and energy now.”
Lisa knew that her grandfather’s use of her Indian name was meant to alter her attitude and force her to consider what was best in the long run. It frustrated her to no end that the tactic usually worked!
“I hear you loud and clear, Grandpa,” she replied. “Let’s go before I throw something at my boyfriend’s head.”
Out the door and to the van they went, driving through the slow, steady rain that was falling. The ceremony’s location was the Cherokee Nation Cultural Grounds, the usual site of the tribe’s annual powwow during the September Cherokee Holiday.
The Cherokee Nation had responded favorably to Billy’s request for permission to temporarily set up the Intertribal Medicine Council’s large community tipi on that spot. The young Buckhorn had become locally famous last fall, when he saved a busload of students from certain death, and even more famous when he helped police stop the actions of the malevolent teacher who was responsible.
The two Lookouts rode in silence on the short drive to the location. Lisa gazed out the window at the drizzling rain, hoping her medicine man grandfather wouldn’t begin lecturing her about her attitude regarding Chigger, but Cecil was too immersed in worries about all the challenges the ITMC still faced to confront his granddaughter.
Fortunately, the twenty-four-foot-diameter lodge had already been erected, and all that was left to prepare were a few interior arrangements, beginning with the arrangement of buffalo skins that Thunder Child, Medicine Council members, and invited guests would be seated on. That was Lisa’s job. A stack of dry firewood was also waiting inside the lodge to be used for the tipi’s central fire, and Cecil worked on starting the fire they’d use for the ceremony.
The ITMC sometimes used a medicine lodge ceremony in place of a sweat lodge when they hoped to receive a message from the ancestor spirits. That was what could happen this evening as part of the group’s spring equinox celebration.
ITMC member Eddie Abornazine, an Abenaki medicine man from Vermont, was next to arrive at the lodge. He would be leading the ceremony even though this medicine practice was one of the thirteen rituals Billy had learned as part of his Thunder Child training.
After greeting Lisa and Cecil, Eddie began his own preparations. Various other council members arrived during the afternoon, coming from all parts of the US and Canada. The main topic of conversation as they waited for the ceremony to begin was, of course, the weather. All were aware that this weather pattern was not the result of climate change.
Over at Tahlequah High School, Chigger was having trouble focusing on any classroom activities. The burn scars on his hands had now started to slowly pulsate with mild pain. The Horned Serpent’s purple tail crystal had been the source of the burns when he had violently refused to release the gem from his grip.
During lunch, he tried to take his mind off the matter by reading his new superhero comic book, but he couldn’t seem to focus. Then he opened his sketch pad to review his most recent drawings, which were all various kinds of weird monsters or hybrid creatures. Many of the images of these strange beasts had come to him at night in his dreams. Others had appeared in class when he’d lost interest in whatever the teacher was saying.
As Chigger sat in the school cafeteria, another creature popped into his mind. Quickly he sketched the horrific vision while it was still fresh. What emerged from the tip of his fast-working pencil was a furry nocturnal beast with giant antlers, that walked on two hind legs.
Windswept snow swirled around the ten- to twelve-foot-tall monster as he hunted for human flesh to fill his insatiable hunger. The howling wind in this vision seemed to whisper the word Wendigo, a word Chigger had never heard.
The mental image disappeared from the boy’s mind as quickly as it came, and Chigger shook his head to make sure it completely cleared away. After the creative outpouring had finished, Chigger gazed at the sketch. As with the others, he hadn’t been conscious while it was being drawn. And, like the other drawings, it had been signed The Muskrat.
He didn’t remember drawing it, and he didn’t remember signing it.
What the hell is going on here?
He couldn’t answer that question or the others swirling around in his mind. But he knew he had to do something and do it soon.
heyenne medicine man Thomas Two Bears knew he had a problem that he needed to fix sooner rather than later. Billy Buckhorn had been the cause of the problem and would have to be dealt with eventually. But for now, as the head of the Night Seers of the Owl Clan, Two Bears needed to focus on three priorities.
One was finding a replacement for Night Wolf, or Carmelita Tuckaleechee, as she’d been calling herself. Another was locating the woman’s Aztec mirror that went missing after fire swept through her cabin. If it fell into the wrong hands— Buckhorn hands, for instance—it could be a problem for the unfolding plan.
The third priority was retrieving Tuckaleechee’s Owl Clan talisman, the inscribed pendant she’d sometimes worn. In fact, all thirteen members of the Owl Clan owned such an object. It was not only a symbol of membership but also a protector of power and a source of sorcery if you knew how to use it.
All the pendants contained the image of a thirteen-pointed star and were made of titanium, a mineral element immune to heat and fire. Thomas needed to find Tuckaleechee’s talisman so he could pass it on to the new Night Seer member who would replace her.
The Cheyenne man had decided to drive his newly refurbished turquoise-colored 1958 Apache pickup truck for the journey. It had belonged to his medicine man grandfather back in the day but had been sitting abandoned in a barn for years.
The eighteen-hour drive from the Northern Cheyenne reservation to eastern Oklahoma was just what the old girl needed to break in the new engine he’d put in. The trip would take him through the Cherokee Nation, home to both Buckhorn and Tuckaleechee.
If the old Owl had just carried out her part of the plan and not gotten sidetracked by her feud with the Buckhorn family, I wouldn’t be trying to clean up her mess now, Thomas thought. I’ve got more important things to do.
After passing through Tulsa, he had to take a back road, State Highway 82, that cut diagonally across the hilly, forested landscape. Then he followed an even smaller back road, a shortcut, that put him on Highway 10 just south of Buzzard Bend, the witch’s rural homestead.
Turning onto Tuckaleechee’s winding driveway reminded him of the time, maybe ten years ago, when the Night Seers met at her place for their annual gathering. The forest of dead trees covered with matted Spanish moss still emitted the sense of foreboding that Thomas had always liked so much.
At the end of the driveway, he parked the truck between the two burnt-out structures, the old Victorian house on the left and the even older log cabin on the right. Since Night Wolf had no children and no other family, the property had essentially been left untouched since the fire.
Somebody from the local community, maybe teens looking for a hidden place to party, must’ve visited the site. Broken beer bottles and beer cans with bullet holes lay scattered about. Graffiti painted in red on the only remaining wall of the house declared High School Sucks and Tahlequah Tigers and You Reap What You Sow.
Getting out of the truck, he made his way to what was left of the cabin and began picking through the charred debris. Near what was once the cabin’s back wall, he found the object of his search: the witch’s fireproof safe. Unfortunately, it was empty.
Using the toe of his shoe as a prod, he continued to sift through the cabin’s sooty remnants, finding nothing of interest and no titanium pendant. He closed his eyes and, using a well-tested Night Seer technique, pictured in his mind the moment when the objects disappeared. A momentary flash gave him the clue he was looking for.
A Native boy, probably a teenager, stooped down and pulled an ornate wooden box out of the safe. Then, opening the box, the boy saw the black obsidian mirror and, beside it, the thirteen-sided pendant.
Was that Buckhorn? Two Bears thought. Or was it that apprentice Night Wolf was using? What was his name?
He couldn’t think of it at the moment, but he’d have to remember to check with Jacki Birdsong and Geraldine Osceola, who’d stayed with Night Wolf for a while. They’d helped her end the life of the elder Buckhorn, Wesley, with their reversing spells.
Time to press on, he thought.
His next stop would be Wild Horse Mountain, Oklahoma, in search of a Cherokee medicine man named Raymond Bushyhead. Two Bears had heard good things about the man and hoped he was the right person for the job.
Keeping the membership number at thirteen was vital if the group was going to maintain its full supernatural powers. Together, all the members were connected by a chain of energy that gave each of the Night Seers boosted abilities. The chain had temporarily been broken with the death of Tuckaleechee.
It was rumored that Bushyhead transformed himself, not into an owl but a different nocturnal bird called the black-crowned night heron. Night herons hunted for food at night or early morning at the edges of streams or lakes and hid in deep shadows during the day. Their piercing red eyes boosted their night vision considerably, and their black heads and backs made them harder to spot in daylight. Two Bears needed someone on his team who would be hard for the Buckhorns and Lookouts to see.
Wild Horse Mountain was just north of the crystal cave and across the Arkansas River from Spiral Mounds Archaeological Site. That might be a significant location in the very near future, according to what he’d heard from the head of the Serpent Society.
Once he neared the Wild Horse Mountain community, Two Bears looked for Bushyhead Road, so named because that family had lived there for generations. Signs pointed down a dirt road that led to the End of the Trail Trading Post, a general store owned and operated by the Bushyhead family.
The trading post was housed in a weathered wooden structure that appeared to lean a little to one side. It was obviously in need of serious maintenance. Two Bears parked out front, entered the building, and was greeted by an elderly Native woman who was stocking a shelf with canned corn.
Two Bears introduced himself and told her why he was there.
“The old fart is out back, whittling,” she said, pointing toward an open door behind a counter. “You can go on out there.”
Thomas found Bushyhead at a well-used workbench, carving some sort of mask out of a length of white pine with a hunting knife. The carver looked up from his work.
“I seen you last night in a dream,” the man said. “I knew you was coming. Somethin’ about number thirteen, which is good.”
Two Bears introduced himself, described the Owl Clan, and asked Bushyhead if he’d heard of them.
“Yeah, I heard a ya. Who hasn’t heard a ya? Night Seers been around since forever.”
“Would you consider joining us?” Two Bears said. “We’re doing something big and important, and we need a new number thirteen.”
“I’ll think on it,” Bushyhead said and returned to his carving.
“I need an answer in a couple of days,” the Cheyenne man said.
“How do I reach ya?”
Two Bears took a business card with a picture of an owl on it and handed it to Bushyhead. “My cell phone number is on the back,” he said as he stood to leave. “What are you carving?”
The man held the wooden mask up, and that was when Thomas saw the coiled rattlesnake sitting on the mask’s head. The reptile was poised and ready to strike.
“Whoa!” he said. “That’s quite a piece!”
Two Bears knew it was no coincidence that his next stop would be with a man who claimed to be the Snake King.
“It’s a traditional Cherokee warrior mask,” the carver said. “Warriors dance with them at the stomp grounds to show they’re not afraid to go to war.”
Now Two Bears knew Bushyhead was the right man for the job.
As he walked back toward his truck, he thought about his next challenge. For months he’d been trying to renew the ancient alliance between the Owls and the Snakes. However, the head of the Snakes had played hard to get, and time was running out to make it happen.
Not only had the man played hard to get, but he played hard in general. The guy wanted to be the boss of both groups instead of being equals, so Two Bears knew he had to do a balancing act. He needed to let the man think he was the boss without actually letting him take over. Tricky business.
Back in Tahlequah, Billy and Ethan arrived at the Intertribal Medicine Lodge in late afternoon, bringing with them Cherokee healer Wilma Wohali, the woman who’d helped free Chigger from the purple gem’s unholy grip. She had agreed to take Wesley’s place on the Intertribal Medicine Council and be the Keeper of the Southern Piece of the Sky Stone, if and when it was found.
Inside the lodge, Billy made the rounds and shook hands with each Medicine Council member, taking time to welcome them to his home territory.
As the sun set in the rainy western sky, all was ready for the unusual ceremony to begin. Originally an Algonkian ritual, it was usually conducted by a single medicine person who was located within a small lodge. All other participants would normally observe the process, also known as the shaking tent ceremony, from outside the lodge.
But everyone in attendance today was a medicine maker to some extent, so everyone would remain within the large tipi. As with the regular ITMC sweat lodge ceremonies, all were meant to hear today’s spirit message from the ancestors.
After all were seated on the buffalo skins, Eddie Abornazine began the ceremony by smoking the sacred pipe, offering the prayer-infused smoke to the four directions. Other than the patter of raindrops on the tipi’s canvas, the only sounds to be heard were Abornazine’s soft ceremonial whispers between his inhalations and exhalations of the tobacco smoke.
Then, accompanied by Thunder Child, he started singing the songs that would call the ancestor spirits into the lodge. Others in the group who’d been to a previous shaking tent ceremony also joined in singing, which increased the power and intensity of the songs. After about a half hour of constant singing, the lodge began to quiver, only slightly at first.
But everyone continued singing more and more intently until the entire tipi, poles and all, began to shake violently. The ferocity of the vibration caused the ground beneath them to shake as well, until it felt as though the nomadic canvas structure would be shredded to pieces, the poles ripped apart and the dirt below them disintegrated.
And then suddenly the shaking stopped. All was quiet and still for a long few seconds.
Finally, the rushing sounds of whispering voices were heard, much like those experienced in the sweat lodge held near Cecil’s house at the beginning of the year. But this time, instead of points of light flying into the lodge, all that could be perceived were the sounds of multiple entities passing through the canvas walls— whish, whish, whish—as the thirteen ancestor spirits arrived.
