When the dream was over, he was propelled somewhere newor somewhere old, he wasn’t sure which. He saw the whole valley of Ti-Ra’-Wa spread out below him, so far below that the great trees of the forest city appeared as a mere ripple of texture, like a shawl thrown over the laps of the mountains. He saw the high crags of the barrier peaks, thrusting up into the sky, tossing the cold winds from their shoulders in flying clouds of snow.
Colorful patterns and figures writhed, weaving into complex geometric shapes. There were colors he had never before seen, let alone imagined. The light, the figures, the shapes and colors, melded and spiraled themselves into a vision, a panorama of black man-shapes shambling out of a dark gray gloom.
The man-shapes were human but not truly human, only reflections in a broken mirror, great, huge-shouldered, deep-chested brutes of men, with powerfully knotted thews and heavy brows thrusting over tiny eyes.
The brutes melted, became skin-clad red men battling huge, shaggy elephants, dying to gain their precious bounty of meat.
As Ryan dreamed, he could not watch the progression of visions quickly enough. The images seemed to tumble over one another in their haste to enter and exit his mind. He felt they had to slow down, to stop moving, to stand still. They didn’t.
He saw council fires of the great tribes bursting into flame for the first time, the red men kneeling in awe of Ah-badt-dadt-deah’s mighty works and in gratitude of the Grandmother’s many gifts.
He saw a man, much like the Sioux or the Cheyenne, staring in wonder at a shimmering, dancing, shifting column of light. Ryan stared at the light, trying to determine its color, but it blurred, and he couldn’t will it back into focus.
Slowly, reverently, the red man touched the light, bowing his head before it.
The images swam faster now, flashing only a fraction of a split second in Ryan’s mind. He saw armlets of frozen gold and shimmering silver, and disks of glinting crystal; homes made of living trees; armored, helmeted men tramping uphill toward a mountain pass; arrows whistling, spears flying, matchlocks belching flame.
And over it all danced the unliving, undying light, shining and glowing forever inside the womb of the Grandmother, inside the Cavern of Creation.
Then the light faded, and all Ryan knew was black, a black so deep he knew he was dying. But he also knew he had a choice, not of when to die, but of whether to die. He wasn’t sure if he should live or die or dream.
He felt a throbbing pain, and a moment later he became aware of his body, and he knew he had decided to live, not to die or to dream.
Fear and memory exploded simultaneously in Ryan’s mind. He made a convulsive effort and opened his eye. Brilliant sunshine shafting down from above blasted into it, and he squeezed the lid shut. He tried to touch his face and discovered he couldn’t move either hand. Or his feet.
Carefully he opened his eye again, and this time he wasn’t blinded. He focused slowly on the details of his surroundings.
He was in a room shaped like a cone. The sunlight poured in from an opening above him, where the cone narrowed to a point. Dust motes danced magically all around him.
He turned his head, first to the right, then the left and finally down. He was hardly surprised that he was bound tightlyhe was more surprised that he was alive.
Ryan’s wrists, legs and ankles were tied securely by knotted leather thongs to a wood-framed, skin-covered latticework, like a hide-drying rack. He was in half-reclining position and his hands were bound to the frame at ear level. He also saw he was naked. He blinked. He didn’t go away, so he was certain he wasn’t dreaming.
“A precaution only,” a woman’s voice said from the shadows. “Not an attempt to humiliate you.”
Sisoka moved toward him, cutting through the sparkling dust motes. She was clothed in soft, white-fringed doeskin and high moccasins. Her raven black hair cascaded down her back like an ebony waterfall.
Blood-sniffer moved forward at her side, and Ryan couldn’t keep the anger that flowed through him from registering on his face.