Prophecy

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It was only as he turned to move toward a now welcoming shelter that he became aware of something else.

How could he have missed it? Jak cursed himself. Obviously he was not as triple red as he thought. There were still some aftereffects from his recent ordeal, and his focusing on the wag noise had been at the expense of any other possible dangers.

For now he was aware of other people, about eight or ten, barely moving, not talking. Perhaps resting, or in some way conserving energy? There was the faint scent of a dead fire on the air, embers and remnants of smoke. Not just people, either; horses. Unnaturally quiet, or so it seemed. Jak was shaken by his own inability to pick up on this sooner, but dismissed the feeling. There was no time for this.

He hastened his approach, and also became more stealthy. He scanned the outcropping, wondering how he could make a recce without making his presence known. The rock was about ten yards across, and rose at a steep angle. The portion facing him was smooth, with little in the way of handholds. A few cracks in the rock, with barely existing and ragged foliage drooping miserably, were all that presented themselves.

Looking up, he could see that the ridge at the top of the crop was narrow, only a yard or two that angled upward, and seemed to offer nothing but a sheer drop and no cover.

Taking this as his only option, Jak reached the rock wall and began to climb, keeping as silent as was possible. With each hand- and foothold he paused, holding his breath as though that would prevent any disturbance.

As he reached the apex of the climb, he could feel the effect. Muscles ached and trembled, sweat poured off him. When he was on the ridge that formed a shelter, he paused momentarily, hungrily gulping in air while still being cautious.

Feeling more like his old self, he edged forward and carefully looked over the lip of the rock ledge.

What he saw almost made him exclaim in surprise.

Beneath, sheltered in the shadow of the outcropping, stood a small ville of tepees. The dyed and patterned cloth shelters, supported on constructs of wood, numbered nine. An equal number of horses was tethered a short distance away. The tepees were circled around the remains of a fire: it was this that had scented to Jak, along with the horses. Six men sat around the now dead fire, each with his head bent and perfectly still, as though in meditation. Perhaps they were.

That left three men missing.

Jak slowly rolled over so that he could see behind where he lay. The missing three men were behind him. Two had their long black hair in plaits that they wore loose. The other had his hair, unplaited, held back by a bandanna. All three wore vests of a tanned leather, festooned with feather and clay decorations. Their pants were of the same tanned leather, but were not decorated, except by colored thread in the stitching. Their moccasins were battered and hardy.

They carried no weapons, and they stood in a loose, easy manner that showed no obvious threat. But each man was stocky and heavily muscled. Their faces were impassive, so it was impossible to judge their intent.

Jak knew that he had been unforgivably slack in his approach to the crop, the lack of attention he had paid to his own back trail. Whatever happened now, he had to accept that he was responsible for his own position. Studying them, he could see that the one with the bandanna was closest. He would have to be the first point of attack. He could palm a knife, which would even the odds a little. Nonetheless, at such close quarters, to be outnumbered three-to-one were less than great odds. Especially as he was prone, and they were looming over him.

Jak tensed himself. Would they expect him to attack? Surprise might be all he had…

But it was Jak who was to be taken by surprise.

Chapter Six

“White man…whiter than white man,” the Native American with the bandanna chuckled. “Legend never told us it would be like this.”

Jak had been poised to spring to his feet and take his chances. But the tone of the man’s voice disarmed him. There was no malice in there; no hint of any hostility. If anything, he seemed to take the view that Jak was friend rather than foe.

Instinct would not let Jak completely let down his guard. Nonetheless, he relaxed slightly, the tension slackening in his muscles.

“We don’t mean you harm,” one of the others said, “but we couldn’t risk you attacking.”

Jak nodded. If he was in their position, he would act defensively. And he had to give it to them; they were good. It was a more than evenly matched standoff, and they knew it.

“What do with me now?” he asked, aware that while he was still prone he was at their mercy.