Adventuresome

Chapter 10

The morning air was still crisp as Whetam strode up the path to the Village elders house. The sun was burning off the thin frost lines that had formed overnight, and people were starting to emerge from their houses and go about the day. When Whetam passed they stopped and stared. His eyes where focused on the way ahead and his mind was wrestling with what he should say when the council asked his opinion. The anger he felt was bubbling in his blood and it threatened to jump to a boil at any moment. Now that he was in his full war gear he could feel the power it gave him. The weight of the trident in his hand, its three pronged head carefully honed, Whetam knew a swift thrust would easily pierce the thin leather armor the men at the outpost wore. As he let the anger start to swell, the talisman around his neck began to pulse and glow.

The Elders kept a fire lit without interruption in the center of the amphitheater, each year when the forest fires would spark in the black hills to the west, embers would be brought back to be added to the fire. The act of always renewing that which remained steady and unchanged was a scared act. It was in this flame that his talisman had been forged. The fearsome Hawk, wings outstretched and talons grasping a still struggling fish. Embedded in the heart of its breast was an ancient crystal. The crystal had the power to capture a spirit from the world around it.

It was the Spirit Shaye that resided in the talisman, partner and warrior with Whetam. Her spirit throbbed inside his mind, she was wild with the thirst for a hunt, bold and quick, her swiftness tingled at the ends of his nerves.

"Go and hunt" Whetam commanded.

She burst forth from his chest. A bird that had been called many things, Sea Hawk, Eagle of the Lake, Osprey, Queen of Emerald Mountain. Her wings beat hard and she rose quickly. Rushing above the tree line, the sun caught her in dazzling rays. Whetam watched her bright and golden head, eyes already focused on the lake, her green flecked wingtips catching an updraft, she soared even higher.

His mind was quiet. The flames of anger had left him for a moment, Shaye had taken it with her. He watched her go, becoming just a speck high above circling high above the lake.

Looking around he realized he was much further than he thought, he was almost to old Greylocks house. The village elder lived a more secluded life than most, further up the mountain. The cabin squatted low in a depression, tucked in tightly against thick white boulders. Most of it was below ground sealed against the coldest of winter nights. Out in the yard Greylock was giving instructions to his young great grandson Hickory. Some said he was over one hundred years old, but no one knew for sure, and he himself denied knowing how old he was.

"Good Morning" Whetam hailed.

"A momentous day for sure" Greylock replied.

"Hickory, do not forget any of my instructions. The pigs always get agitated when I'm away, you must be prompt when it is feeding time."

Hickory was a wiry ten year old, with a mess of black hair nearly covering his eyes. With the smile of a child who has heard an instruction repeated often he nodded dutifully.

The two men set off for the councils' meeting grounds, in the rolling hills on the northeastern tip of the lake.

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The two men descended the gentle slope that led to the amphitheater. At the bottom was a broad semicircle platform, with high canvas shades that covered the stage. Already clusters of people were arriving, families and groups of a few dozen at a time. People from all of the nine villages. Most talked in hushed voices, the weight of what had drawn the council together cast long shadows. Even still spots of children's laughter dotted the air, the fresh morning sun of the early summer helped the littlest ones forget themselves.