Legends of Havenwood Falls Volume One Page 3

  “That it is, little sister.” I lifted the edge of the blanket and scooted over, making room as she draped it across our legs.

  “Speaking of appearances . . .” Kenna started—though no one had been speaking of anything of the sort. She smiled and pointed at Jeremiah’s beard.

  Jeremiah yanked at the scruff on his chin. “Yes. I know. It will definitely take some getting used to . . .”

  “But at least you have some built-in fur to help keep you warm,” Kenna finished for him.

  Jeremiah shook his head, rubbing his neck again. “How did you know I was going to say those exact words?”

  “I . . . do not know,” Kenna gasped. Claiming a piece of her hair between her fingers, she looked around nervously and continued to make observations at the sights around us. “I wonder why the Vargas family never came this far south before?”

  I looked between the two, confused and feeling severely off-kilter myself.

  Jeremiah tilted his head up to the sky and replied, “I honestly don’t think any outsiders have ventured this far into the region before.”

  We all fell silent and listened as the sounds of the forest continued to wake around us––the crunch of snow under unknown hooves, the chattering of animals racing through the trees, and songs from the wind whipping between the boughs overhead. It was all so unbelievably peaceful––if one could block out the distracting clatter of the wagon.

  I snapped my head toward Kenna as a loud grumble sounded from her direction.

  “Goodness gracious, was that your stomach that just growled?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. Clearly . . .” She paused, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I think I am in need of a good breakfast. If we can stop, I can whip us up something to eat. I think there are some supplies in the back of the wagon.”

  “Let me get past this next bend, and I will look for a place to pull off,” Jeremiah quickly replied.

  I shifted my weight and followed Kenna back into the wagon as Jeremiah worked the handbrake to guide the oxen through the muddy terrain. Suddenly, he must have yanked hard on the reins, because pots and pans rattled around us as we came to a sudden stop.

  “What in the world . . .” My words trailed off as I peeked back out the front of the wagon and found our path blocked by savages.

  Chapter 5

  Kara

  “Maiku!” An Indian astride a large painted horse raised his hand and addressed me directly in his native tongue.

  I leaned toward Jeremiah and whispered, “Give me just a moment,” then I cast a quick language spell that would encompass us all:

  “Language yours, language mine, bridge the gap and intertwine. Understood, shall we be, as I will it, so mote it be.”

  With the spell in place, I understood and returned the man’s greeting. “Hello. We are the Vargas family and were sent with approval to trade with your tribe.”

  “I am Chief Aquakawwa. We have been expecting you. Please follow me.”

  The chief motioned his men ahead, then led us to the northernmost point in the village, where a beautifully painted teepee had already been erected. There was also a hitching post for our oxen and from the looks of the smoke rising out the top of the structure, a fire already built within.

  Jeremiah climbed from his perch and tied up our animals, releasing them from the wagon’s tongue while Kenna and I remained hidden in the back.

  Still astride his horse, the chief dismissed his men and provided Jeremiah with instructions. “Get settled, then come to the main dwelling in the center of our village once the sun begins to set. All here are aware of your visit, and I can assure your safety. You are my welcomed guests.”

  I peeked through the front opening and saw Jeremiah nod in understanding with a clenched jaw. He stood still with his arms crossed over his chest as the chief and his men rode off. Once they were out of sight, he waved us down.

  Kenna and I climbed from the wagon and quickly entered the teepee. I pulled back the flap and walked inside, gasping as another sharp pain shot through my head. Rubbing my temples, I stood awestruck, taken aback by the scene.

  “Look at all of these beautiful wares.”

  “Indeed.” Jeremiah frowned as he circled the room. “The tribeswomen are highly skilled . . .” His words trailed off, and he ran a hand through his hair, stopping to rub at the back of his neck again.

  “Are we supposed to put these on?” Kenna asked, pointing to a beaded dress laid out across a cot.

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

  Agreeing, Kenna and I set ourselves to task. We unloaded the wagon, sorted and cleaned our supplies, then prepared a small lunch before taking turns behind the fur-draped partition to don our new attire.

  “All set.” Jeremiah emerged from the teepee in a pair of dyed pants, a matching beaded vest, and a thick fur slung over his shoulders. “The chief said to make our way to the main dwelling.” He gestured to the worn footpath in front of us, taking the lead but stumbling slightly.

  “Are you okay?” Kenna asked, grabbing him by the elbow.

  “Yes. I’m fine, but obviously, this trip has taken a toll. Hopefully, they will have prepared some sort of meal, because I think a little more nourishment would do us all some good.”

  I looked back at Kenna with my brows drawn tight, not wanting to alert Jeremiah to my concern as we continued on.

  “I’m sure they have.” Kenna sniffed the air. “I smell some sort of roasted meat coming from that direction.”

  Jeremiah drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Smells good. I wonder what else they have planned?”

  Drums sounded at that exact moment, bringing an ominous end to our short walk. The pounding beat grew in intensity as Jeremiah pulled back the flap of 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.”

  Jeremiah, Kenna, and I walked forward and took seats upon the blanket-covered log closest to the fire. I reached for Kenna, who had dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose as soon as she was seated.

  “Are you all right?” I whispered.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head but did not respond as the chief began to speak.

  “Tonight, we welcome you into our village and celebrate your arrival with the Ute Bear Dance. This celebration traditionally marks the beginning of spring, but today we perform it to honor you and your timely arrival.” The drums picked up again and dancers moved into formation.

  Kenna lifted her head, seemingly recovered, and sat quietly next to Jeremiah, twirling her hair as they enjoyed the show. I, however, was drawn to the chief and the older man whispering in the corner. Herbs popped and hissed in a small bowl as the elder blew smoke over it from his long pipe. The dancers’ movements faded into my periphery as I stared intently at the ingredients until they burst into flames. Pain shot through my head and magic crawled across my skin. Squinting against the throb in my temples, I focused on the shaman again, trying to make out the words forming on his lips. Unfortunately, from this distance, I simply could not. 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 and . . .”

  “AHHH!”

  Chief Aquakawwa’s words petered off as I grabbed my head and screamed.

  Kara

  I woke to the sounds of arguing outside of our teepee.

  “What is happening to her? What did your shaman do?”
Jeremiah’s huff was distinct and familiar, while Chief Aquakawwa’s voice remained low, yet audible.

  “I assure you, nothing is amiss. The herbs our shaman uses are nothing out of the ordinary and are used to cleanse and purify our ritual space. Nothing more. I am sure your daughter is just worn out from her long journey. Please rest, and we can discuss more in the morning.”

  I remained quiet and listened to the chief shuffle away, but sat up when Kenna and Jeremiah reentered through the thick flap covering the door.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “You screamed, then lost consciousness during the welcome celebration,” Jeremiah explained.

  “Oh my goodness! Did I offend the chief?”

  “No. That was all me,” Kenna snapped, kicking her moccasins into the corner. Silence hung in the air as she disappeared behind the changing screen, reemerging in her nightclothes and claiming a seat at the end of my bed. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”

  I lay back down, massaging my temples as I thought back. “I remember arriving, cleaning out the wagon, having lunch, organizing the supplies here in the teepee . . .” I paused, looking at the tools and weapons against the far wall. “Then walking to the gathering, the dance starting, and . . .”

  “And . . . ?” Kenna prompted, reaching for a thick swath of her hair.

  “And . . . magic!”

  “Yes! I knew it.” Kenna bounced from the cot and walked to where the baskets and bowls were stacked between two support beams. “Look at these. Do you not remember them being clean and new when we arrived?” She held them out for Jeremiah and me to see. Frayed threads hung from the baskets, and scrapes from vigorous cleaning marred the bowls, inside and out. “How did they become like this in a matter of hours?”

  I gasped. “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying, something is not right here, and we need to be careful. I asked the chief to explain what the shaman was chanting during the dance, and well . . . as you may have heard, everything is supposedly fine and nothing is amiss.” Kenna walked to her own cot and crawled beneath the covers, frantically spinning a curl between her fingers. “But I do not believe him. We need to remain alert.”

  Chapter 6

  Kara

  Pots and pans rattled around me as I woke within the covered wagon. Jeremiah must have risen before either of us girls and set off on the trail this trader had been traveling over for the last few weeks. We were the Vargas family in this lifetime, and . . .

  “Ahhhh!” A scream tore from Jeremiah at the front of the wagon.

  I jumped up and pushed out the opening, scrambling to claim the reins and yanking the oxen to a stop as Kenna burst through the tarp with a small pistol in hand. “What is wrong?”

  Jeremiah fisted his hair and began rocking back and forth.

  “I do not know.” I yanked the handbrake into place. “Help me get him inside so I can scan him,” I instructed.

  Kenna placed her hands under Jeremiah’s shoulders and pulled, while I lifted his legs and pushed him back into the safety of the wagon bed.

  “God and Goddess hear my plea, through your vision let me see. Reveal to us the wrongness here, allowing me to cure those dear.”

  Visions of disjointed scenes filled my head: Indian celebrations, meals being shared, the three of us working the fields in a summer that had yet to come, friends becoming family through native customs, all set against the wild landscape in a canyon surrounded by mountains on all sides. Some things seemed the same, while others were slightly different, yet all were somehow looped together.

  I tried to focus on the images, pinpointing their origin, and suddenly my magic wavered, but not before I caught sight of one last thing . . . a shaman burying an item under three beds in a grand teepee.

  “Oh no!” I pulled back my hands, severing the connection.

  “What is it? What is wrong with him?” Kenna pleaded, dabbing his forehead with a damp towel.

  “There is nothing wrong with him . . . yet.”

  “What on earth do you speak of? Look at him!”

  “What I am saying is, whatever is affecting him has not happened yet . . . or has already happened before. I do not understand it all, but I think time is being manipulated around us.” Kenna stared at me wide-eyed as I continued to explain. “What is clear, however, is that something happened—or happens—once we arrive in the Indian village. I believe it is the catalyst for this entire situation.”

  “Should we rather not go?” Kenna posed the obvious question.

  I shrugged, unsure. “I do not know. Whatever this time spell is, it has already been cast upon us, so at this point, I am not sure it would even matter.”

  “Then, how exactly do we figure that out?” She reached for the end of her thick raven hair.

  I thought for a moment, recalling what I had seen. “Well, we could either continue to the village with the awareness we now possess and try to find the objects I saw in my vision, or we could stay here and not arrive today as planned, to see if that changes anything. Unfortunately, if I’m right, that means everything may just start over again tomorrow, leaving us to hopefully figure it out once more.” I took the rag from Kenna’s hand and dabbed Jeremiah’s brow. “Personally, I say we continue on as planned, use this knowledge to discover the root of the spell, and put a stop to it as soon as possible.”

  Kenna nodded, pushing back to sit against the canvas of the far wall. “I agree. Once Jeremiah is well, let us continue on as though nothing has changed.”

  I smiled, thankful for her unwavering bravery and strength. “I am not sure what the items are, but I know they are buried under each of the beds, so as soon as we reach the teepee, we will need to dig them up.”

  “This whole thing gives me the jitters.” Kenna cringed. “Entering an unknown village, yet knowing we are already familiar with these people, and they with us . . . what if we mess up and say the wrong thing? Will that not make it clear we are aware of their spell?”

  I reached out and took my little sister’s hand. “We just have to act as we usually would and say whatever comes to mind. I am certain that, however many times we have re-started this loop, it all works out the same in the end, or else it would not be continuing as it has. Honestly, I think what rattles me the most is not knowing how many times we have actually been reset.”

  Kenna shivered and rubbed her arms. “Oh my, when you put it like that . . . it is definitely not something I want to think about.”

  Jeremiah moaned, reclaiming our attention. “What happened?” He sat up, holding his head.

  “You fell ill, in a way, and I had to cast a spell to find out what was affecting you,” I quickly explained.

  “And . . .”

  “And, I discovered that we have all been caught in a time loop cast by the tribe’s shaman.”

  Jeremiah took the damp cloth from my hand and ran it over the back of his neck.

  “You are certain?” he asked calmly. Like the rest of us, he was completely used to magic and mayhem continually affecting our lives.

  “Yes. The more we discussed it, the clearer things became to us both. Like distant memories—moments of past or already lived events—and feelings about people and families we have yet to meet. But most importantly, there are three cursed objects placed under the beds in the teepee we will be assigned to, which are maintaining this loop.” I paused, dreading my next question. “Have either of you felt Karina or had a desire to find her?” They both shook their heads, confirming my suspicions. “I think our quest has somehow been blocked by the shaman’s spell, and more likely than not, it is affecting our memories as well.”

  Jeremiah nodded and tossed the rag atop a stack of pans in the back corner. “Then let’s not dally. The sooner we arrive and get to the bottom of this, the sooner we can get back to wherever it is we’re truly supposed to be and find Karina.”

  Without another word, Jeremiah climbed back through the front opening, reclaimed the reins and release
d the handbrake.

  Kenna and I remained in the back, taking in the wild landscape through the hole in the tarp. The sun crept over the distant mountains once again, revealing the same snow-covered peaks I had seen in my vision. The evergreens reaching far into the sky now seemed familiar, glistening with a coat of frost in the late spring morning. I pulled my jacket further up my neck to combat the chill in the air as Jeremiah continued to work the oxen around the final curve in the ascending trail. Yanking hard on the reins, he brought us to a sudden stop, shifting the pots and pans in a cacophony of motion. Neither Kenna nor I made a peep, however, because we both knew what was coming next.

  Chapter 7

  Kara

  “Maiku!” The chief spoke directly to me again, offering his usual greeting in his native tongue.

  I cast my language spell again and replied, knowing my words were correct and matched the others I had previously spoken in this situation. “Hello. We are the Vargas family and have been approved to trade with your tribe.”

  “I am Chief Aquakawwa. We have been expecting you. Please follow me.” The chief motioned his men ahead, and then led us to the northernmost point in the village, just like before. Jeremiah and I exchanged nervous glances as he climbed from his perch and tied up the oxen, releasing them from the wagon’s tongue.

  “Get settled, then come to the main dwelling in the center of our village once the sun begins to set. All here are aware of your visit, and I can assure your safety. You are my welcomed guests.”

  Jeremiah crossed his arms and nodded to the chief, standing still until he and his men rode from sight. Not waiting for him to call us down this time, Kenna and I raced into the teepee and immediately scoured the earth under each of our beds.

  “Kenna, grab some of those tools.” I pointed to a pile of digger sticks and stone trowels lying against the far wall.