Legends of Havenwood Falls Volume One Read online

  “What is our purpose here? Do you know of the trader’s destination yet?” I asked.

  “Yes. It seems he was heading toward a secluded canyon where trade with the local Indian chief has already been approved. Though,” Jeremiah scratched his beard, “he’s never dealt with them before and seems a bit nervous about it.”

  “Well, from the information our soul journey has provided, I think that is a normal reaction for these parts in this particular time. Do you think we will be able to start looking for Karina soon?” I prompted, anxious again to start the search for our lost sister.

  “Yes. Once we are safe within the village, we will finalize our business and then begin our search for Karina on the way back out. Spring is upon us, but this high up in the mountains, the temperatures still drop below freezing at night, which will make the pass we are meant to take a treacherous mess. We will need to be in and out as quickly as possible.”

  I nodded in understanding and continued to bounce along in my seat as the sun rose over the distant mountains. The landscape here was wild and untamed compared to our previous locale of Salem, Massachusetts, but it was shockingly beautiful. Evergreens surrounded us, glistening with a coat of frost in the late spring morning, while cragged mountains and snow-covered peaks reached far into the bright blue sky. I blew out a breath and squealed at the tiny plumes of frozen air that escaped past my lips.

  “Damn, it’s cold,” Kenna muttered in lieu of a morning greeting as she squeezed her way between us on the plank seat.

  “That it is, little sister. Shall we do something about it?” I lifted my brows as magic played in my eyes.

  Jeremiah reached across and grabbed my wrist. “No. Do not use magic out here in the open. The trials of our time may not have been heard of here, and we need to keep it that way. I will not risk exposing ourselves in an unfamiliar land.”

  I looked at Kenna, who had begun to twirl her hair again, and nodded at them both.

  “You are right, of course.” I patted Jeremiah’s hand with my free one.

  Kenna scooted closer, sliding under the fur that was draped across my legs, adding to our shared warmth. “If we are not going to practice magic out in the open, then how are we going to search for Karina? The last time, it took a lot of magic performed under the moon to even find a trace of her location,” she asked.

  “Yes, Kenna, I am aware of that too,” Jeremiah replied in a smooth, even tone. “But like I have explained to Kara, we will finish our business with the Indian chief and be on our way as quickly as possible. Once we are back down the pass, it is my hope that we can make camp for the summer in a secluded area where we can cast our spells without reprisal. But, until I know where that might be, we need to keep up appearances. Understand?”

  “Certainly.” Kenna dipped her chin, giving Jeremiah a clipped nod as she continued to spin the thick strand of her hair.

  We rode together in silence for another half mile or so before Kenna spoke again. “Speaking of appearances, I think this is the first time I have ever seen you with a full beard.”

  She winked at Jeremiah, a wide smile spreading across her face. Jeremiah shifted in his seat, the apples of his cheeks flushing a light red.

  “Yes, it is going to take some getting used to for me as well.” He gave it another scratch. “At least I have some built-in fur to help keep me warm,” he teased, clearly happy his reprimand had not dampened Kenna’s spirits.

  Kenna and Jeremiah laughed, and I giggled at the sound, grateful that Karina’s original spell had saved us all and started us on our continual soul journeys. Despite her absence––and the multiple lives we would be forced to live while continuing our search for her––at least we three would always be together.

  With my heart a little lighter, I continued to make observations as the sights around me developed under the sun’s morning rays. A thick layer of pine needles and dark leaves covered the forest floor beneath the evergreens, while chirping chipmunks raced through their limbs above. However, after another two hours of bouncing along the rough path and taking in the breathtaking views, it was Kenna’s stomach that captured my attention.

  “Goodness gracious, was that your stomach that just growled?” I whipped my head in her direction.

  “Yes. I’m so sorry. Clearly, working our protections last night has sapped my energy and left me completely famished.” She turned to Jeremiah. “If we can stop soon, I can prepare us something to eat. I believe I saw a small box-stove and some supplies in the back corner of the wagon.”

  “Wonderful. Let me get past this next bend, and I will look for a place to stop.”

  Kenna and I shifted our weight and climbed back through the canvas and into the rear of the wagon as Jeremiah continued to work the handbrake, guiding the oxen through the muddy terrain. After one final turn around a tight curve in the ascending trail, Jeremiah yanked hard on the reins, bringing us to a sudden stop. Pots and pans clattered around us, and we both yelped at the abruptness.

  “What in the world are you trying to do, kill . . .” My words trailed off as I peeked my head back out the front of the wagon and found our path blocked by savages.

  Chapter 3

  Chief Aquakawwa

  The crunching of dirt and rocks reached my ears as the clatter of a wagon approached. I looked to my shaman and received a confirming nod, signaling these were the traders we had been waiting for. I motioned to my tribesmen and we mounted our horses. The beads and feathers in the manes of our fierce and noble creatures drifted silently on the wind as we rode forward to intercept our guests. My anticipation reached its peak as iron-rimmed wheels ground their way around the last bend in the trail.

  I gave a whistle and then led my men to the entrance of the canyon, quickly blocking the wagon’s path. The male had a full beard and fine clothes, but it was the dark-headed woman who had emerged from the wagon that captured my attention.

  “Maiku.” I lifted my hand in welcome, curious if she would understand our native tongue.

  She leaned toward the man I assumed to be her father and whispered in his ear, then returned my greeting fluently. “Hello. We are the Vargas family and were sent with approval to trade with your tribe.”

  I smiled widely, pleased to know they had studied our native language in preparation for their trip. It was a sign of great respect. “I am Chief Aquakawwa of the Ute people. We have been expecting you. Please follow me.”

  I motioned my men ahead, then led the family to the northernmost point in the village, where my shaman had already set up a teepee and a hitching post for their animals. The skins for the dwelling had come from our winter stores, but my shaman had assured me it would be for a “grand and wonderful cause.”

  The man climbed down from his perch and tied up the oxen, releasing them from the wagon’s tongue, while the girl returned to the back of the wagon, disappearing from my sight.

  Still sitting astride my war-painted horse, I provided the man with instructions. “Get settled, then come to the main dwelling in the center of our village as the sun begins to set. All here are aware of your visit, and I assure your safety. You are my welcomed guests.”

  The man stood still as my men and I rode off in a flurry of flying dirt and pounding hooves.

  Kara

  As soon as the natives were out of sight, Jeremiah motioned for us to join him. Pulling back the flap of the teepee, I walked inside and gasped.

  “Look at all of this!” Turning in circles, I took in the beautifully dyed clothing and moccasins laid out across handmade quilts. There were also coiled containers sealed with pitch for water storage, and weapons made of stone and wood, including bows and arrows, flint knives, arrow heads, and throwing sticks, all scattered around our new lodging. Digging sticks, weed beaters, tools, and more baskets, plus metates and manos for food preparation, lined one whole area, as if we’d be expected to stay for the spring harvest. “It is all so beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is. The tribeswomen are highly skilled, and
their goods are very sought after. It is the reason we are here,” Jeremiah explained, thanks to Lorenzo’s knowledge.

  Kenna ran her hand over a beaded dress lying on one of the beds, then frowned. “Are we supposed to put these on?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “The chief didn’t specify, but I think it would be a show of respect if we did. But first, let us gather our supplies and fix a bite to eat while we wait for tonight’s gathering.”

  I nodded in agreement, then led Kenna outside, filling our afternoon with the menial chores of emptying the wagon, cooking lunch, cleaning, and organizing our supplies. Once done, we each took turns behind the small fur-draped partition, donning our new attire, then waited outside for Jeremiah to do the same.

  “All set.” Jeremiah emerged from the teepee in a pair of dyed pants, a matching beaded vest, and a heavy fur draping slung over his shoulders which would help fight the dropping temperature at night. “The chief said to make our way to the main dwelling.” He gestured to the worn footpath in front of us, then took the lead, pounding softly ahead in his fur-lined moccasins.

  “I hope they have prepared some sort of meal, because I am still starving.” Kenna rubbed her stomach, trying to inject some playfulness into her words.

  “I’m sure they have. I smell some sort of roasted meat coming from up ahead,” I replied, pointing toward our destination.

  Kenna reached for a strand of hair and closed her eyes, twisting it around her finger as she inhaled deeply. “Oh, thank goodness. I wonder what else they have planned?”

  Drums sounded at that exact moment, bringing an ominous end to our short walk. Jeremiah pulled back the flap of the main dwelling, and the pounding beat intensified, rattling our chests as we walked inside the oversized teepee. Smoke drifted from a fire pit in the center, while members of the tribe––fully dressed in elaborate headdresses and face paint––sat around the perimeter of the gathering. Chief Aquakawwa stood, and the drums fell silent.

  “Welcome, friends. Please sit.” He pointed to the blanket-covered log closest to the fire and waited for us to take our seats. “We welcome you into our village and celebrate with the Ute Bear Dance. This celebration traditionally marks the beginning of spring, but tonight we perform it in honor of you and your timely arrival.” The drums picked up again and dancers moved into formation.

  Shuffling feet wove intricate patterns into the dirt floor as the natives chanted and moved to the beat. Jeremiah and Kenna sat quietly, enjoying the show. I, however, found the chief and the older man whispering in the corner far more interesting.

  A small bowl, filled with herbs and fragments of things I could not see, popped and hissed under the smoke of his long pipe. The elder continued to blow on the ingredients until they burst into flames, their smoke mixing with the main fire’s as it spiraled up and out through the teepee’s vaulted opening. Magic tingled along my skin, and I squinted, trying to read the words forming on the elder’s lips. Unfortunately, from this distance, all remained unclear. At the song’s crescendo, the dancers released a shout and gave a final stomp, standing tall and effectively blocking my view until the chief rose and dismissed them back to their seats.

  “Spring is a time of awakening and rejuvenation. As the bear emerges from his long winter’s nap, we too shall spend the season re-embracing our customs, holding tight to tribal traditions in preparation for the battle ahead.” The chief opened his arms wide, motioning to the entire room, which sent the fringe hanging down from the sleeves of his shirt swinging wildly back and forth. “The constant struggle against Mother Nature’s turning seasons is not the only thing we must prepare for; other forces still threaten to change our way of life.”

  Jeremiah, Kenna, and I all shifted uncomfortably when the chief’s gaze fell upon us.

  “Our new visitors are the only traders allowed within this village, and with them comes a chance for us to secure our place in the future as this land continues to change. But make no mistake, our traditions will stand, and tonight, we will begin this successful union with the customary exchanging of gifts.” The chief motioned for Jeremiah to rise.

  Jeremiah nervously looked back at Kenna and me, and then stood. Thankfully, my sister was quick in preparing a protection spell that she sent to us both––just in case things went askew.

  “Tonight, in celebration of the upcoming Strawberry Moon, we give thanks to the protective spirits of the land. As we make this exchange, know your gift will be offered as payment to the spirits, so that they may protect and grant us prosperity in the upcoming harvests.” Chief Aquakawwa reached behind him then presented Jeremiah with a stack of thick furs and skins.

  Jeremiah bowed in acceptance and handed them off to Kenna, who had already cast another spell to conjure up a suitable gift in exchange. Taking the chief’s offering, she handed Jeremiah a burlap-wrapped jar, its lid tied tightly with twine.

  “Please accept this gift of our healing salve. It will soothe and heal any injury that may befall you,” Jeremiah repeated the words that Kenna had obviously spoken into his mind.

  Chief Aquakawwa took the jar and nodded, signaling the exchange was a fitting one. “The spirits are appeased. Let us eat.”

  A dull roar filled the teepee as the women of the tribe brought forth the meal they had prepared. Steaming bowls of meat, corn, and wild onions were presented to the chief and shaman first, then to Jeremiah and us girls. Wild raspberry, gooseberry, and what I thought to be buffalo-berry had been gathered and could be eaten raw but had also been mashed and strained to serve as our drink. Everything was fresh and delicious, though different from what we were used to. Thankfully, the Vargas family were familiar with the native fare, and their memories continued to serve as the perfect bridge between our cultural differences. This was the beauty of Karina’s original spell, which allowed us to transition smoothly into each new lifetime we would have to live.

  I ate in silence, enjoying the food, but kept a watchful eye on the shaman throughout the meal. After the grumblings of our stomachs were curbed, the chief announced the celebration’s end, and all began to return to their homes––all except the shaman. I rose slowly from my seat and watched as he continued to mutter and fiddle with the bowl of ingredients in his lap. The chief must have noticed my hesitation, because he stepped in front of me and held out his arm, pointing to the main exit, his fringe swinging wildly again.

  I smiled and left with my family, my stomach roiling as it filled with questions and concerns.

  Chapter 4

  Kara

  Chief Aquakawwa followed us out, escorting us all the way back to our teepee.

  “Thank you again for your gift. A healing salve will be most useful to my tribe. As for our official trade negotiations, they are set to take place in two days’ time.” The chief bowed his head, his long black braids falling forward as he stared at the ground, then turned to leave without another word.

  Once inside, Kenna and I took turns discarding our heavy dresses, changing instead into the lightweight nightclothes the Vargas girls were used to wearing. Though with the temperatures still dropping at night, a fur draping would be required over our cotton petticoats to fight against the bone-numbing chill in the air.

  “That was . . . interesting,” Kenna said as she climbed into the warmth of her cot.

  “Yes, I agree,” I replied, finding my way under the blankets as Jeremiah stoked the fire in the center of the room. “Did you notice the shaman chanting during their dance? I hope I wasn’t the only one who felt something was off.”

  “No, I didn’t notice. But then again, I was concentrating on the chief,” Jeremiah replied. “He seems eager to welcome us and accept our trade, but there was something intense in the way he discusses their history and traditions.”

  “I agree,” I continued. “We need to be careful here. The rise of magic was distinct during their dance, and I think the shaman was attempting to cast some sort of spell.”

  “Were you able to identify what the root of it was?
” Kenna asked.

  I shook my head, still getting used to her Latin features and habits, instead of her usual light-skinned, red-haired self. “No. I could not see his ingredients or hear the chant he seemed to be whispering. Either way, I think tomorrow we should try to get back into that tent.”

  Kenna nodded and Jeremiah agreed, finally crawling into his own bed and drawing the fur coverings up to his neck.

  Kara

  Pots and pans rattled in the wagon as we bounced along the rough terrain in the foreign mountain-scape our soul journey had brought us to. Jeremiah must have woken before either of us girls and . . .

  “Ouch!” I grabbed my head, rubbing small circles against the sharp pain that shot through my temples. With the pressure slightly relieved, I climbed through the front opening and joined Jeremiah on the wooden bench. “Oh my! How unexpected,” I exclaimed, shaking my head against the lingering sting.

  “Yes, oxen are far more capable of pulling the weight of a wagon this size . . .” Jeremiah paused and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

  I looked to the sky, taking in the scenery as the morning rays lit up the snow-covered peaks.

  “Have we been here before?” I asked, frustrated at the strange nagging feeling in my head.

  “No. I do not think so.” Jeremiah continued to rub the back of his neck. “It seems we are heading toward a secluded canyon, where trade with the local Indian chief has already been approved.”

  Another sunburst of pain shot through my temples. I leaned back against the canvas of the wagon and took a deep breath. The wild landscape surrounding us was breathtaking. I concentrated on the tops of the evergreens as they reached far into the sky, glistening with a coat of frost in the late spring morning.

  “Damn, it’s cold.” Kenna squeezed her way out the opening, dragging with her a heavy fur, and flopped between us on the board.