THE NIGHT OF THE CHEYENNE CALLED WHITE EAGLE
By Andamogirl
WWW
ACT TWO
Part one
Later, at sunset
The whole band gathered at sunset in the middle of the settlement: women, children, elders, warriors… everyone, all circling the big bonfire. The women were singing songs passed down through many generations as several warriors danced and others used the traditional drum. The Chief was sitting on a buffalo fur between James West and American Knife…
Faux Lone Wolf and White horse stood on each side of the bonfire, bare-chested, wearing only a loincloth. They both held a knife.
Mo'ȯhtaenahkohe raised his hand and silence settled. In his language he said, "Vohpo'hame has defied Ho'neohno'kaests to the 'blood challenge' because he wants to prove that my son is weak, therefore unable to succeed me, to become the new leader. Let's hear what he has to say."
Raising his knife above his head, White Horse said in Cheyenne, "I'm not weak like Lone Wolf. I'm the strongest warrior. I will show no pain – withstanding it like a true warrior." He looked at Lone Wolf with contempt. "When I become Chief, I will banish you from this band, where weak people do not have a place." Then he puffed out his chest and flexed his muscles to impress his adversary. "I'm going to enjoy this."
Unfazed, keeping his face impassive but stressed inwardly, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Artemus lifted his knife too skyward. In Cheyenne too, he declared, "I will show you and everyone here that I am worthy to be the next chief of this band."
Black Bear nodded, proud of his son. "Let the blood challenge begin!"
On that the songs re-started, the dances and the music too. American Knife translated what the Chief had just said to Jim.
Then, looking at Artemus he mouthed, "Héhnovetānȯhtse!" (Courage!)
The faux-Cheyenne nodded.
Giving his opponent a daring look, White Horse used his knife to slice his right pectoral deep, and blood immediately poured from the wound.
His shoulders tensed but his face remained blank. "Your turn," he said.
Faux-Lone Wolf placed the sharp blade against the top of his right shoulder and made a deep gash in his flesh until he reached the crook of his arm.
Blood dripped on the ground. He clenched his teeth, keeping his face neutral, determined not to show any weakness.
The Cheyenne tightened his hand around his knife and suddenly plunged the blade in his left side, deep, then pulled it out, showing no sign of pain.
Blood rolled down on his abdomen and lower on his leg.
Artemus-Lone Wolf glanced at Jim and noticed that he was pale and radiating worry. He gave him a reassuring smile and did the same thing White Horse had done before him.
He started sweating profusely and to tremble, but kept his face immobile, like carved in marble doing his best to ignore the pulsating burn of his newest injury.
Smiling, relaxed, faux-White Horse cut his left leg three times, deeper each time. Blood poured again, along his leg, to reach his foot.
Faux-Ho'neohno'kaests drove the blade into his right thigh, twice. Blood fountained onto his leg and he remained stoic. Only the tightness of his jaw and the few – barely audible - sharp inhalations of breath giving away the pain that he was in.
He noticed with both envy and admiration that White Horse wasn't affected at all. He was even smiling… in future victory.
The hulking warrior slashed his chest, from his already bleeding pectoral to the other one, and then he did it again, stoically.
Using his knife, Artemus-faux-Cheyenne cut down his skin, from his middle-thigh to his knee. Blood immediately welled up from the deep cut and matted his calf within seconds.
The pain was bordering on unbearable. He didn't know how he did it but he managed to stay immovable, his face still expressionless.
He felt all his energy draining out of him in time with all the blood leaving his body.
Sitting beside Black Bear American Knife leaned forward and said in his language, "You have to stop the blood challenge Chief Black Bear. He responded to the challenge by shedding his blood and showing no pain but his endurance to the pain, that he's strong, as strong as any warrior, as strong as White Horse. Your son showed that he is worthy to succeed to you. Besides, he needs to be fit enough to assist in the ceremony of power transfer tomorrow night and he won't be able to if he is too gravely injured."
Black Bear nodded. "You are right, you're a wise man, Motšėškevé'ho'é." He raised his hand again and silence resumed. "Everyone here witnessed that Lone Wolf showed no pain. We all saw his courage. We are all satisfied. My son is worthy to succeed me. It ends the blood challenge."
Disagreeing, White Horse glowered at Black Bear. His hands clenched tightly at his sides, he growled, "No! Let us continue!"
The Cheyenne Chief shook his head. "He'kotoo'éstse! (Be quiet!) The blood challenge is over. I repeat it Ho'neohno'kaests, my son, showed in everybody's view that he deserves to succeed me."
Tears blurring his eyes, his vision graying, Artie-Lone Wolf swayed on unsteady legs. He was panting, his breath ragged in his chest.
The world around him slowed.
He had pain everywhere. "Ma'ééhe! (It hurts!)…" He mumbled, in Cheyenne. He could feel bile rise in his throat and his left hand reflexively cover his mouth, but he swallowed it down. He was shaking uncontrollably, knees threatening to give out.
American Knife and Jim rushed to Artemus's side as he collapsed catching him mid-fall and they held him steady. He leaned heavily on them as blackness engulfed him.
More than furious, White horse headed toward his tepee.
He should have won, he should have been chosen as the next leader of the band. But the old Chief had stopped the ceremony before Lone Wolf lost consciousness and thus showed his weakness, he thought raggedly, pushing aside anyone in his way.
WWW
Later under Lone Wolf's tepee
American Knife knelt beside Artemus Gordon and shook his head in awe. "Artemus really deserves to wear a bear tooth around his neck, he was very courageous. He showed no pain."
Sitting cross-legged beside his partner, more than worried Jim nodded and said, "Yes, yes, but look at him! He's bleeding from everywhere!"
The Cheyenne touched Artemus's throat, taking his pulse. "His pulse is fast, and he's a bit cold, it's because of the blood loss. But he isn't in any danger." He placed a large terracotta bowl beside Artie containing lukewarm water, soaked a cloth in it, and then he started removing the blood covering him.
Jim ran an absentminded hand through the damp hair near his best friend's forehead, burning with fever through the thin layer of the mask, he noticed, and said, "You're going to be okay, buddy." He knew he had said that to reassure himself, because Artie was unconscious and couldn't hear anything, and would probably stay unconscious for a while.
Once Artemus body was cleaned Motšėškevé'ho'é.used his finger to open or re-open the cuts making blood well up and drip down then poured inside a homemade disinfectant.
Suddenly there was a moan and Artie tried to open his eyes, barely doing so. "Mahpe…water, thirsty," he croaked, his throat dry.
Immediately American Knife brought a terracotta cup to his lips and commanded, "Drink!" before Artemus was fully conscious. The other man complied thirstily and then blinked up into Jim's concerned face. "Jim?... it hurts, it hurts so much..." He wiped a sheen of sweat from his face. "Hot…" His pain-dulled, chocolate eyes became unfocused. He closed them as he felt consciousness begin to slip away.
His head slumped bonelessly to the side as he passed out.
American Knife met Jim's questioning look. "I gave him a powerful potion that will make him sleep…" He touched his patient's cheek and nodded. His skin was hot and dry. "He has a low-grade fever, which was expected. But that potion will stop his fever. He should sleep till tomorrow afternoon." Then using a needle and thread he started stitching all the cuts the other man's had done to himself.
Frowning Jim asked "What's next?"
Once all the stitches were in place, the Medicine Man covered them with a thick layer of the greenish, greasy, smelly concoction he had prepared earlier. "It's a powerful salve with antiseptic properties. It will help the healing and prevent any infection. Artemus won't have any scars afterwards." He touched his patient's cheek and nodded. His skin was hot and dry. Looking at Jim he finally responded, "The next ceremony will be grueling for Artemus, especially in his condition: after the ceremony of power transfer, I'll give him a powerful drug after which he will dance, until he collapses, having visions… If he was a real Cheyenne, those visions would connect him with all the spirits of his ancestors and with the Wise One Above; He would visit the spirit world and the Supreme Being, then they would give him their blessings… But Artemus will have visions of a different kind and it could be deadly for him… If he says something that Lone Wolf couldn't know, or simpler if he talks with his own voice, be himself, then everyone will realize that he's an impostor. White Horse will be more than happy to kill him, and then claim the right to be the next Chief."
Furrowing his brow Jim asked, "What can we do to avoid this happening?"
The Cheyenne shook his head. "Unfortunately, nothing, we can just hope everything will be alright. I'm going to sing a healing song for it."
WWW
Much later in Lone Wolf's tepee
It was past noon when Artemus's eyelids finally flickered open. At first the faux Cheyenne didn't recognize his surroundings and then he remembered where he was and noticed Jim sitting beside him looking down at him, wide-eyed and anxious.
Memories flowed back. "Hi Jim! I'm going to be okay… " He said with a grimace of pain and sweat began to slick his skin. "Ow! For now, everything hurts…"
Jim placed a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Hiya Artie, how do you feel?"
Artie sighed. "I'm tired and achy and a bit nauseous. But don't worry; I'm going to be fine. I've had far worse than this, you know that, James my boy. It's just a few cuts and stabs… Well, I did a pretty good job on myself with that knife – and that hurts!"
Swallowing, his mouth dry, Jim nodded. "I know. I was there."
Artie managed to sit with Jim's help pushing him in his back, stiffly, wincing all the way. He groaned as pain ripped through his body at the movement. "I'm sorry you had to see that… But I didn't have any other choice. White Horse challenged me each time…" He glanced at the long stitched cut he had to his right arm, coming from his shoulder to the crook of his arm, finding it covered with a thick layer of greenish, greasy smelly salve – like all his others self-inflicted (and stitched) lacerations. They had started to heal. He smiled and said, "It looks awful, smells awful, but American Knife's salve is fantastic. It's so powerful that I will heal rapidly and won't have any scars. I would ask him the formula of his fabulous salve… but he won't tell me. It's a secret." He rubbed his temples tiredly. "Oh boy! I'd like this mission to be over already."
Shaking his head Jim sighed. "Unfortunately, it's not over… After the power transfer, American Knife will give you a powerful drug and then you'll have visions, hallucinations…."
Rubbing his tired eyes, Artie interrupted Jim. "I know. It's the way Cheyenne connect with their gods, and receive their blessings." He furrowed his brow. "Uh-oh!" he said, swallowing hard, realizing that it was a trap, a trap that could end with his death. "Once drugged, I'm going to lose control of myself. If the real me takes over, and it's very possible… The Cheyenne will realize that I'm not Lone Wolf, but an impostor and they will kill me. No, White Horse will kill me."
Frowning in worry too, Jim nodded. "Then let's hope you will stay in your role of Lone Wolf, Artie, or it will be your last."
Silent, they both looked at the fire dying down, both too exhausted to say anything.
WWW
Later, at night
Ho'neohno'kaests (Artemus), drugged to the gills, (prior to the ceremony, he had smelled a burning bundle of different herbs under American Knife's tepee intended for altering the state of consciousness) moved toward the sacred fire, staggering.
His whole body twitching slightly, Artemus started to dance on unsteady legs, the way American Knife taught him, turning rhythmically on himself with the sounds of the drums, with women singing, his arms raised upward.
He danced around the Sacred Fire, alimented with wood and sacred herbs, the smoke facilitating the connection with the spirit world, under the gaze of everyone, briefly catching Jim's stricken face and American Knife's worried look with each lap.
Faux-Lone Wolf ended his dance abruptly, after his seventh lap and he sank to his knees next to the bonfire. He felt himself falling sideways and hit the ground, barely conscious, and boneless… then he rolled onto his back and looked up through dilated pupils at the dark sky filled with stars… so many stars, so bright, and… leaving space, gathering and coming toward him. "That's impossible, I'm hallucinating", he said with his own voice, loud drums and loud songs muffling his words.
The stars were now orbiting around him in a slow pace, creating a ring of bright light.
That was his last coherent thought as he reached out with his both arms to touch them. They were glowing, pulsating, like hundreds, like thousands of mini suns, he could feel their comfortable warmth envelop him and grinned in total bliss… "This is amazing…"
He breathed out, "Nápévomóhtahe…" (I'm feeling good)… Mmmmmmm…" then he grinned from ear to ear, like a loon. He was so lightheaded he felt like he was floating. "Mmm…. Drugged, good."
But it didn't last.
His body was on fire.
He clenched his jaw, his breath hitched and he suddenly screamed in fright as the mini suns exploded, one by one… and gigantic balls of fire headed toward him. They joined and a unique, gigantic wall of fire and hot air hit him.
Panic flared in his eyes. He screamed.
Shells were falling from the dark sky, coming from everywhere, raining on the battle field like comets. He was running, surrounded by raging explosions, by balls of fire engulfing his men all around him, burning them alive, and shredding them in bloody pieces. He was zigzagging between the deep scorched shell holes in the ground and between the carbonized bodies of the soldiers of other companies… so many soldiers, hundreds of them, burnt beyond recognition, dismembered, almost vaporized – with only a limb left on the blood-reddened grass as last remains.
He stopped, somewhere in that hellish landscape, in the terrifying heat. He was exhausted gulping the air which was choked with powder and smoke, burning his throatand with the nauseating smell of burning flesh and blood floating everywhere. He bent over as a wave of bile rose up from his stomach. He began to heave and then vomited.
Horrified, he sank to his knees and looked up at the sky and breathed out, "Oh God…" The sky was black with smoke and ashes above him.
He looked down at his hands, so burnt they were dark as ash and gasped in both surprise and horror as he watched them… crumble and fall off, bit by bit at his feet, then his burnt feet broke – and he crashed to the ground, hard.
He screamed in panic as the ground opened beneath him taking the shape of a grave. He fell inside and flames formed a burning coffin… beginning to eat away the rest of his body.
He noticed with surprise a golden falcon was flying over his coffin made of flames, then the bird's head got bigger, bigger, becoming the big, dark, metallic mouth of a canon, a falcon-shaped canon… pointing toward him. There was a loud detonation and a burning white light engulfed him as the shell hit him. He exploded and finally turned into ashes.
He came back to life, feeling bizarre… He felt like his whole body was floating, no flying. And not as a human, but as a bird he realized in total awe, a big bird similar in size and appearance to an eagle except he had vibrant peacock-like colored plumagewithred,blue andbrightgold; his legs were covered in scales of yellow-gold with rose-colored talons. He was now a Phoenix, had just arisen from the ashes of Artemus Gordon dead in a show of flames and combustion. A new life awaited him.
He took off, flying above the Cheyenne settlement, then high, and higher until he touched the sky, and headed toward the sun.
Once close to the giant ball of fire he merged with it – becoming one with it, feeling whole, complete, in peace at last.
He emerged from the sun changed. He wasn't a man anymore but a white eagle. The sun was reflecting on my body and it looked like it was made in gold.
Out of breath, his whole body shaking Artemus-Lone Wolf's legs buckled from beneath him as the world blurred into golden light.
Exhausted, shaking, Artemus lost consciousness, his clothes and hair soaked with sweat. American Knife was at his side a couple of seconds later.
He touched the other man's neck feeling for a pulse and sighed in relief. It was over. Artemus would be fine and his secret identity was safe.
Tbc.
