~The Candle~ (Chapter One)
By WordWulf, 25th Jan 2011 | Follow this author
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Posted in WikinutWritingShort Stories
This did not sit well with the chief. An enemy could be hunted down, revenge quiet and deliberate in the way of the warrior. No man could hunt spirits and the only one he had ever trusted to deal with them lay dead before him. He wet his fingers with saliva and, rubbing them together with ashes from the fire pit, pressed them against the dead man’s eyes.
~The Candle~ (Chapter One)
They were the People of the Cave of the Dark Heart. There were one hundred and thirteen of them and they lived in a fertile valley between two large stone mountains. They were one of hundreds of Stone Mountain Tribes contributing to the whole of the Stone Mountain Nation. Their small band was composed mainly of warriors and hunters, responsible for protecting the Eastern boundary of the nation and providing meat for the People.
The one hundred and thirteen consisted of seventy-five warriors, some of whom had women and children, most did not. The leader was a man called Wulf. He was a brave and wise man who, by his own choosing, shared leadership with the Holy Man of the Dark Heart, a man named Gray Eyes. The two men had known each other since childhood and had successfully led the small band of warriors for many years.
One morning in early spring, KaiLuk, apprentice to Gray Eyes, appeared at the entrance to Wulf’s cave. He was sobbing and too agitated to speak. Tears ran down his cheeks. He took Wulf by the hand and led him to the cave he shared with Gray Eyes. Wulf knew the moment he stepped into the cave that the closest friend and ally of his life, Gray Eyes, was dead. He felt the chill of his absence as if the cave entrance had been left open. A cold winter wind tugged at his heart.
Wulf pulled back the curtain which separated Gray Eyes’ sleeping quarters from the common area of the cave. He shivered from the early morning chill and foreknowledge of what he was sure to find under the soft deerskin where his friend slept. He ordered KaiLuk to make a fire at once. The young man stepped outside to gather wood.
Gray Eyes had bored several holes the width of one knuckle of his hand in the solid stone roof of the cave to allow light into the room. Wulf pulled back the single skin covering his friend and was relieved to see peace upon the face of the man’s death. There were no signs of violence upon his person. It was Wulf’s immediate opinion that man had nothing to do with the death of Gray Eyes. The solving of his death would be a spiritual matter.
This did not sit well with the chief. An enemy could be hunted down, revenge quiet and deliberate in the way of the warrior. No man could hunt spirits and the only one he had ever trusted to deal with them lay dead before him. He wet his fingers with saliva and, rubbing them together with ashes from the fire pit, pressed them against the dead man’s eyes.
The Woman of Great Healing would come later to cleanse and prepare Gray Eyes’ body for the Tower of Death. She would make him ready for the ceremony celebrating the journey of his soul. Wulf sat down, fighting back tears. With his voice strong and low, he began to make the death song of Gray Eyes. He heard fire crackle in the main pit of the cave, watched dust devils dancing in the conflicting angles of the tubes of light from the ceiling as he followed his voice into the River of Sorrows.
KaiLuk was devastated at the loss of Gray Eyes. He made a good fire as Wulf had ordered, a winter fire for his soul denied the spring on this sad morning. When he heard the first sounds of Wulf’s voice singing Gray Eyes’ death song he pressed his forehead against the stone wall of the cave. He held it hard against the stone until pain throbbed through him like the shaking of the earth and his face was awash in his own blood. He was overcome, wracked by anguish and guilt.
An apprentice was responsible in all ways to his teacher/mentor. KaiLuk slept on a skin just outside Gray Eyes’ sleeping room and had let the evil spirit of the night slip away with the Holy Man’s spirit. Gray Eyes had taken KaiLuk in upon the death of his mother in his birthing. His father, who had been on a hunt at the time, failed to return. The men of the hunt reported he had died bravely, protecting the hunting party from a young rampaging silver-haired bear.
It was unusual for any man, even a respected Holy Man such as Gray Eyes, to undertake the raising of a child. More than unusual, it was all but forbidden. Against tradition, Gray Eyes held firm his beliefs, “As there are some women born to the hunt, so this man-child was born to be a Holy Man, raised and nurtured by a Holy Man.” He sang the death song over the mother of KaiLuk and made the boy’s name the same day upon the news of his father’s courageous death. “He is KaiLuk, son of the Great Bear.”
KaiLuk pressed his bloody face against the stone wall, suffering these and many other wonderful stories and legends Gray Eyes had shared with him as he grew into a man. What courage had possessed him to stand against custom and tradition? Had he sealed his own fate those many years ago as some believed, by taking in an orphan child? “Better that he let me die then,” KaiLuk thought morosely, “As it was meant to be.”
Strong arms pulled him away from the wall. He was embarrassed and afraid, having been caught in the throes of self pity and doubt. He looked up into the eyes of Wulf. At that moment KaiLuk knew what it felt like to be a rabbit in the talons of a hawk, caught and staring into the eyes of certain death. They were all-knowing, these eyes of the chief of the Dark Heart, a warrior whose actions transcended campfire legends told about him. A veil of water seemed to fall over Wulf’s eyes and KaiLuk fell into his arms sobbing, “He was my Father.”
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25th Jan 2011 (#)
Very good - Thanks
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25th Jan 2011 (#)
I appreciate that, sir!
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