Near the Border of Modern-Day Rhode Island and Connecticut
March, 1636
Fast as Lightning in the Sky could smell the smoke before he saw it. This wasn't normal smoke, like the kind blowing through all Mohegan or Narragansett villages, from fire pits roasting meat or boiling water for maize and beans. This was a thick, sickly-smelling smoke. A smoke that one could taste on his tongue. And the taste was foul, black, a portent of terrible things to come. A chill ran down Fast's spine as he carefully sidled up to a fallen tree at the edge of the Mohegan village. What he saw was even worse than the smell.
Raging Wolf's village was on fire.
Worst still were the bodies of men, women, and children strewn bloody and broken across the ground. Every Mohegan that Fast saw was lying dead before him, faces turned to the sky in twisted reverie, or buried in early spring mud, revealing nothing save for the wounds they had received in their feeble defense. Every wigwam was on fire. Everything was quiet.
A woman screamed and ran into the burning village. Three men followed. They circled around the terrified woman and corralled her toward a wigwam that seemed to have been spared the worst of the attack. She halted near the entrance of the shelter. She hefted a war club still shining with warrior's blood. Fast had no doubt that the woman herself had delivered the blow. Even from this distance, he could see how fierce she was, how she bared her teeth, how determined she was to keep these cowards out of her home. For surely it was her home, her wigwam, that she protected. Who was inside? Fast wondered. Where was her husband? Lying on the ground dead somewhere, Fast assumed. She was the last of her village, and she was fighting to survive. Her dark hair was muddled and smeared with mud, blood, and sweat. She screamed and howled with each swing of her club. She looked familiar . . . so familiar. Who was she?
Fast leapt from the protection of the fallen tree, drawing speed and strength from his manitou, the Red God of the up-timers, his guiding spirit in all things. It seemed as if he were flying like a bird, his moccasins barely touching the ground as he drew his knife and leaped into the fight.
They did not expect him, and he took advantage of their surprise by driving his knife into the back of the closest warrior. He drove the blade into the soft, sweet spot just below the ribs. He turned the blade, and the man howled and staggered forward, clutching for his wound and falling to his knees. Fast withdrew his messy blade and tried for another warrior.
The second man was ready. He blocked Fast's thrust, brought up his own knife and tried to drive it into Fast's throat. But Fast was still imbued with the Red God's power and it was easy to step aside and put his foot into the man's knee. The warrior fell, howling his pain. He tried lashing out with his knife to catch Fast in the leg, but Fast kicked him squarely in the face and put him down. Fast then knelt beside the man, grabbed his ponytail, exposed his throat, and then drew his knife across it.
The third man did not seem to care about Fast. His fight was with the woman who, up to this moment, had held her own against the incessant rage of the man's war club. But as Fast turned to engage, the man struck the woman in the shoulder. She slumped, and the man struck her again, this time across the face with a spray of blood, broken jaw, and teeth.
She went down, and Fast launched himself into the man.
They tumbled through discarded clay pots and charred wood from a pit fire. The man's eyes were crazed, his skin moist with sweat and mud. He took Fast's strike, rolled left, and then used his legs to propel Fast into a pile of saplings freshly cut for wigwam repair. Fast disappeared into a mass of drying leaves, recovered quickly, and went at the man again. But the warrior did not stay to fight. He raised his knife, shouted indiscernible words, turned, and fled.
Fast pursued for several yards then stopped. Let him go, he thought as he paused to watch the man disappear into the wood.
He returned to the burning village. Smoke still lay heavy in the air; broken bodies were everywhere. He knelt beside the first warrior he had killed. He rolled him over and studied the man's face.
It was not the face of anyone he knew, but something was odd about it. He grabbed the man's chin and studied the clay that had been smeared in faded streaks across the cheeks and over the forehead. Black-and-white markings. Markings he knew very well.
Narragansett!
The woman moaned. Praise the Red God, she is still alive!
Fast went to her. He sat beside her, drew her up into his arms and rested her head and shoulders on his lap. She was a mess. Her face was shattered. Her jaw was slammed to the right from the blow she had received from the war club. Several teeth were missing. She tried to speak. Fast put his fingers near her swollen lips, tried to calm her. "Please, do not speak. Just rest. Rest. And be at peace."
He now saw past the damage, past the broken bones and teeth. He knew who she was, and his heart ached.
She raised her arm and pointed to the wigwam. She mumbled a few feeble words. Fast put his ear close to her breath, but he couldn't make them out. Her gesture was clear, however. There was something in the wigwam, something she wanted him to see.
She shook. She gasped for breath. She died.
Fast laid her gently onto the ground. He closed her eyes. He said a small prayer to help usher her spirit into the afterlife. He then stood and went to the wigwam.
Just inside the entrance lay a body. It was a man whose head had been bashed in by a tomahawk. Fast knelt and turned the body over.
It was Raging Wolf, the Mohegan sachem that he had fought against just a little over a year ago. He had broken the man's nose during that encounter, and Fast could still see the scar where his strike had landed. The man was dead now . . . and at the hand of Narragansetts?
"Gah!" Fast pushed Raging Wolf away and stood in disgust.
None of this made sense. The entire village had been wiped out. By whom? Surely not Narragansetts. It couldn't have been. And yet, the man outside, lying dead in his own blood, bore the markings of a Narragansett warrior, markings that Fast knew very well. He had borne those markings himself in his youth. It cannot be. It cannot. It—
He caught a rustle and a small movement to his left. A faint sniffle, perhaps. A cough. But nothing was there, save for a roll of fox and rabbit pelts and a bear quilt. Fast stilled, drew quiet, waited. Waited. Waited.
The bear quilt moved. Fast readied his knife and pulled the quilt away.
There, huddled in a small dirt dugout, were two children. A boy. A girl. No older than ten suns, maybe eleven, maybe twelve. They were perfect reflections of their mother and father.
The boy held a thin-bladed knife forward, protecting his sister from the terrible, knife-wielding coward that stood over them, threatening their lives. Fast realized then how fearful and deadly he must seem to them, two children hiding in terror under bearskin, not knowing what had happened to their parents. He backed away, held up his hand in peace, sheathed his knife. "Be still. I will do you no harm."
"It is over?" The girl asked.
Fast nodded. "Yes. You may rise now."
The children crawled from the dugout. The boy sheathed his knife, saw his father. He rushed to his side, knelt, and hugged him tightly. The girl followed.
"I am very sorry for your loss," Fast said, trying to find words that might soothe their tender sorrow. "Your father and I were not brothers, nor friends. But I am sad for his passing. He was a brave warrior, a mighty sachem, a—"
"You are Fast as Lightning?" The boy asked.
"Yes. I am."
"You are Narragansett."
Fast nodded.
"My father spoke of you often. He would curse your name, then praise it. He too thought you were a brave, though reckless, warrior."
Fast found that statement interesting. It would take a reckless warrior to know one. Perhaps he was indeed reckless, but Raging Wolf had been no man of caution himself.
He stepped forward and opened his mouth to respond. The girl interrupted. "Where is our mother?"
The Red God was gone, washed now from his blood. Fast could no longer rely on its strength to tell this poor girl the truth. "She is . . . outside." He bowed his head and fought tears. "Fierce Sparrow fought bravely to save you both. She—"
The children ran outside. Fast followed and tried consoling them as they knelt beside their battered mother. He could not imagine how they must be feeling. The loss, the helplessness. They were the only ones left from their village.
He let them grieve for many minutes, though he was beginning to feel the pressure to leave. The last warrior had gotten away, and certainly he would tell whomever had ordered this attack that the sachem's children had survived. More warriors would come, and likely very soon.
The boy wiped his face. He stood and turned to Fast. "Our father and mother are dead. Our people are all dead. What are we to do now?"
Fast shook his head. "You cannot stay here, that is certain. You will come with me. I will keep you safe. I will take you to Sun Rising. He will know what to do, and perhaps he can explain why these men bear his markings." Fast took a moment to check the body of the other warrior he had killed. He too possessed Narragansett war clay.
"I do not know why my people attacked your village like this," Fast said, "but I promise I will find out. I will—"
"They were not your people," the girl said. "They were not Narragansett."
Fast turned to her. "Then who were they?"
She walked to him. Her expression on her face was meek, small. She looked left, right, as if something would spring from hiding and strike her down before she could utter the words. She swallowed and looked up at Fast with wet, fearful eyes. "They were . . . they were Black Tooth's men."
****
Black Tooth snarled as he saw Cautious Fox entering the makeshift camp that his warriors had erected only a few miles from Raging Wolf's village. Cautious Fox was alone. That meant that the other six men who had been dispatched with him were likely dead. They were expendable, their deaths necessary, so Black Tooth wasn't concerned about them. But from the fear he could sense in Cautious Fox, it was clear things had not gone as planned.
Cautious Fox, meekly and with reverence, approached Black Tooth where he sat by the camp's fire. Black Tooth did not rise to meet him. Instead, he glared at the returned warrior.
"What news do you bring to me, Cautious Fox?"
"Great One, the village has been destroyed."
A pause, then, "But. . .?" Black Tooth frowned.
"A warrior, not from the village, appeared," Cautious Fox said. "He stopped us from finishing our work. Raging Wolf's children are still alive."
Leaping up from where he sat, Black Tooth sprang at Cautious Fox with fury blazing in his wild eyes. Cautious Fox saw the gleam of sunlight on the blade in Black Tooth's hand. He backpedaled, trying to avoid it, but Black Tooth crashed into him. The knife's blade entered Cautious Fox's stomach, right below his ribs. Black Tooth twisted it fiercely as they toppled to the ground. None of the other warriors in the camp moved to stop any of it. Their own fear of Black Tooth kept them frozen in place.
Cautious Fox struggled in vain to break free of Black Tooth's hold, but the madman held him firmly to the ground beneath his weight.
"Who was this warrior?" Black Tooth raged, spittle flying from his lips into Cautious Fox's face, as he twisted the knife's blade deeper.
"It was . . ." Cautious Fox squealed, blood dripping out of his mouth, "Fast . . . Fast as Lightning."
Black Tooth ripped the knife free of Cautious Fox's stomach. He stood, threw back his head, and roared like an animal. He brought the blade of the knife down again directly into the center of Cautious Fox's neck. Blood splattered onto the grass. Cautious Fox bucked a final time and then lay still.
"Great One?" Another of Black Tooth's warriors started walking towards him.
"Away!" Black Tooth flicked his hand toward the warrior. "Keep away. This one has paid for his failure. I do not wish to kill you as well. I need time to think."
Black Tooth left Cautious Fox's corpse where it lay. He looked around, relishing in the fear that filled the eyes of those who served him. Without another word, Black Tooth stomped out of the camp and headed into the surrounding woods. His men let him go. They were used to the walks he took to commune with the great and terrible spirit that guided him.
Wiping the blood off his knife, Black Tooth gnashed his teeth as he moved through the trees. Fast as Lightning's intervention was not something he had planned for. His master, Hobomock, the spirit of death, the one that all people had to face in the end, had spoken to him in his dreams and had told him that all of the Narragansett had to die. All of them. Once that was accomplished, it would be easy to turn the Mohegan against the English, and then the arrogant up-timers who were threats to both Hobomock's, and Black Tooth's, power. How could they not be a threat to his power? They were white and European. All white men were a threat to the Mohegan, the Algonquian.
He grunted in anger and plunged his knife into the trunk of a tree. He leaned against the tree. He spit then rubbed the sore black tooth that sat in his mouth to the left of the big front one. It had been brown-black all his life, like a dead stump. He had been teased constantly as a youth for it, and had considered, more than once, ripping it out. Going toothless would have been so much better than being mocked for a dead one.
Now it served him well, a symbol of his power, his prowess in battle, his focus and purpose in life. His strong bond with Hobomock demanded it, for when the tooth ached, Hobomock called.
Hobomock's deep, guttural voice rumbled inside Black Tooth's head. Raging Wolf's children must die. Find them, and let me hear their screams.
Hobomock's face flashed before Black Tooth's eyes. Maggots crawled through its rotting flesh. Its jagged, blood-smeared teeth clicked together as if they were tearing meat from bone. Black Tooth looked away, unable to bear the horror he saw. He cursed his weakness, tore his knife out of the tree, and said, "Raging Wolf's children shall be found, great Hobomock, and you will hear their screams. I will not fail you in this."
No. You will not, Hobomock hissed, its forked tongue flicking in and out of its hideous maw.
Hobomock disappeared. Black Tooth shook his head clear and stumbled back towards his encampment.
"Find Fast as Lightning and the children of Raging Wolf!" He yelled to his men who were waiting for his decision. "I want them found and dead before the sun sets!"
****
Narragansett Village; Sun Rising's Wigwam
They were led into Sun Rising's wigwam by a young Narragansett warrior who seemed disturbed by the two Mohegan children. He kept his distance, though that was difficult in such a small place as this. Fast thought the young man's behavior disrespectful, and if time were convenient, he would give the boy his opinion on the matter in a tone that would make clear his dissatisfaction. However, he kept his opinion to himself, entered the wigwam, and greeted the old man who sat by himself near a small fire pit.
Sun Rising was a highly-respected sachem among the Narragansett. Though Canonicus held higher authority, Sun Rising was the oldest, most revered, and an advocate of peace among the various Algonquian tribes. In his youth, he had been a great warrior, counting many coup and even shedding blood when the situation required. As he grew older, however, his desire for peace overshadowed everything else, though there had been times—and more recently—when the pressures for war and retribution against the Mohegans had pushed him to greater action. A tentative peace was being maintained, though raids and small skirmishes erupted along the border between the Narragansett and the Mohegans all the time. Fast was doing his part to try to contain these eruptions and keep them from escalating into a wider conflict.
The massacre of an entire Mohegan village was not helpful.
Sun Rising did not speak. He looked up from his contemplation and simply gestured for Fast and the children to sit. They did so and then waited politely. This was Sun Rising's home, and he would set the pace. Fast was surprised, however, that he had not been offered a pipe to smoke. Looking around, it did not appear that Sun Rising had a pipe lit at this time. That was very unusual. The old sachem was always generous with the smoke.
"Why have you brought me two Mohegan children, Fast as Lightning in the Sky?" Sun Rising asked, his voice grave and filled with water. He coughed and spit into the fire. It was no secret to anyone that Sun Rising had few winters left. "How have I angered you?"
Fast gestured toward the children, though they seemed more intent on playing with a puppy who had trundled in behind them when they had entered the wigwam, than presenting themselves proudly to their host. "Great Sachem Sun Rising, may I introduce you to Eagle Claw and Little Dove. They are Raging Wolf's children."
"Are they your prisoners?" Sun Rising asked.
"No. They are the only ones left alive from their village."
Before the sachem could ask anything further, Fast continued. He told Sun Rising everything he knew about the attack on the children's village, which was not a lot, but enough to make it clear that the matter was dire and deadly. Sun Rising listened without question, quietly and calmly, as he stroked the back of Kitchi, his most favorite dog. Kitchi seemed to listen just as intently as his master. Both sat there, like stones, and waited until Fast had completed his story.
"So you see, great sachem, Black Tooth is making it appear that we, the Narragansett, have massacred Raging Wolf's people. How could Uncas refuse, then, to seek vengeance for such an atrocity? A full war between the Mohegan and Narragansett would weaken us far more than it would weaken the Mohegan, since they have Sassacus' support and the support of the Pequot. If we are weakened before the arrival of the up-timers, then we will not be able to negotiate with them fully, and thus have no say in our own future."
Uncas was a great sachem of the Mohegans. Sassacus was a sachem for the Pequot and considered one of the greatest men to have ever lived. He was as old, if not older, than Sun Rising, but the stories of his strength and infinite youth were well known. Fast had met Uncas only once. He had never met Sassacus, though he hoped to do so someday.
Sun Rising pushed Kitchi away and redressed his position next to the fire. He picked up a stick and poked the embers to freshen their flame. He coughed again, rubbed his face, and said, "You believe that Uncas is aware of what Black Tooth is doing?"
Fast shook his head. "I do not know. It is difficult for me to believe that Black Tooth would behave in such a manner without Uncas knowing, in some capacity at least. But I cannot believe that Uncas would allow his own people to be slaughtered in such a way. Uncas is power hungry, yes. He longs to replace Sassacus as the Great Sachem, the leader of both the Pequot and Mohegan people, but to massacre his own?"
"My father argued with Black Tooth often," the young boy Eagle Claw said, leaving the play with the puppy to his sister. He was standing near the fire now, the innocence of childhood no longer on his face. "Black Tooth believes that Hobomock speaks to him and that the Mohegan people are destined to lead all Algonquians against the up-timers. Father would always refuse to allow Black Tooth to raid further into Narragansett land. He would refuse to give him more men, more weapons. Refused to allow him to take prisoners and slaves. Black Tooth was always angry. He would spit curses at my father and stomp out of our longhouse." Eagle Claw lowered his head. "Black Tooth was a loyal warrior to my father, until Hobomock started whispering to him in his dreams."
Hobomock. The Mohegan—and Narragansett—spirit of death. Often referred to as Chepi, other Algonquian tribes believed in it as well, and all peoples, in time, stood face-to-face with death. Nobody worshipped Hobomock, however, and the thought of doing so made Fast shiver. For Black Tooth to be taking counsel with the spirit of death . . . the thought of it was too terrifying to contemplate.
"Was Uncas ever mentioned during these arguments?" Fast asked.
"No, I do not think so," Eagle Claw said.
"Then the children can be taken to Uncas," Sun Rising said.
"We cannot be certain that Uncas does not know," Fast said, perhaps being more dismissive of Sun Rising's suggestion than he should be. "I do not wish to return them to Mohegan territory while Black Tooth rages. If Uncas is involved, then we might as well hand them over to Black Tooth now and save us the trouble. They are the only survivors of his massacre. They know the truth of it. But they need protection in order to make the confession without fear of reprisal. Black Tooth will not rest until they are found and killed. They must be kept safe."
Sun Rising nodded. "And where do you think their safety resides?"
Fast cleared his throat, a touch of apprehension on his dry lips. "I was hoping that you, great Sachem, could protect them. You have many warriors here, and they are brave and fierce in their protection of you and your family. I ask that you take these children as your own, for a little while at least, until the matter with Black Tooth can be settled."
Sun Rising tried to stand, but it was clear that he neither had the strength nor the energy to do so. Fast moved to help. The old sachem waved him off, and instead, shuffled himself closer to the children by using what strength remained in his legs and by pushing himself with his arms.
"Come to me, children of Raging Wolf."
Little Dove stopped her play with the puppy and joined her brother. Sun Rising reached out and took their hands into his. He smiled, a large, generous smile that revealed his few remaining teeth, his old pink tongue. The children smiled back as best as they could, as best as their broken hearts would allow, for they were surely still mourning the loss of their mother and father. Sun Rising seemed to understand that, and so he hugged both in turn and patted them tenderly on the shoulders.
"I love all children," he said as he let them return to their spots near the fire. "All papoose, whether they be Narragansett, Mohegan, Pequot, or Niantic. And it is our responsibility, as their mothers, fathers, their people, to protect them until they, in turn, grow to protect and care for their children. That is the way of it.
"But these children cannot stay here, Fast as Lightning. They are no more safe here than in their own village. Black Tooth will quickly learn of their flight, will discover where they are, and he will come here, with Uncas' blessing, to take back the two children that we have stolen as ‘slaves.' I can see it all play out in my mind. He will come, and if they are here, he will take them in a bloody, bloody fight . . . and he will kill us all."
"Then where should they go?"
Sun Rising considered for a long time. He stroked his chin, scratched his head, grunted, and shifted in his seat. Then he nodded, as he came upon an answer. "Take them to Plymouth colony and to William Bradford. Bradford is a friend. He will give them the protection they need and the freedom to state publicly what Black Tooth has done. Then, even if Uncas is in alliance with Black Tooth, he cannot admit that he had anything to do with such an atrocity as the massacre of his own people. He will speak out against Black Tooth and take care of him for you."
Fast leaned back and considered the idea. It was a good one, but one fraught with many dangers. "We would have to travel several days through Wampanoag land. I do not know if Massasoit would allow it. He has not always been an ally. One Narragansett and two Mohegan children traveling through his land, hunting his game? Even with powers given to me by the Red God, I do not know if I can make it there with two small children."
Sun Rising motioned to the entrance of his wigwam. "Then you have permission to take three of my warriors with you. Choose whomever you like and go in peace. That is my decision."
The matter was concluded. Fast could see that the content of their conversation had weakened the old sachem. He needed rest and ending the conversation so abruptly was Sun Rising's subtle way of saying, "Get out."
They left. Outside, Little Dove tugged at Fast's breechcloth. "Who is Massasoit?" She asked.
"He is the great sachem of the Wampanoag. It is his land that we must cross to reach Plymouth colony."
"Will he help us?"
Fast shook his head. "I do not know. But we will find out soon."
The children moved to play with more puppies. Fast stood there, looking over the warriors that moved around the village. He needed to pick three, and which ones would he pick? It was a difficult decision to make. But that was not the biggest worry on his mind. Picking warriors, wondering whether they could reach Plymouth colony in time, or if Massasoit would even allow them to cross his land. All of those issues mattered. The biggest worry, however, was the one the mattered the most, and one that Fast did not have an answer for.
Even with all its power, could the up-time Red God defeat the spirit of death?
No . . . I do not think it can.
****
Black Tooth's Encampment
This time, Black Tooth flashed a smile as he saw the runner entering his encampment. The runner's skin was slicked with sweat, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He came to a stop in front of Black Tooth, paid his proper respect, then said, "Great One! I have found the children. Fast as Lightning is taking them into Wampanoag land. He is accompanied by three of Sun Rising's warriors."
Black Tooth huffed. "The fool must have taken them to Sun Rising seeking his protection. The old Sachem refused him . . . and wisely so. Sun Rising is not long for this life. He knew Hobomock would come for him now had he kept the children."
A giant warrior named Bear Fist, who served as Black Tooth's chief lieutenant, spoke. "Why would he run to the Wampanoag? To Massasoit?"
"He is not," Black Tooth said. "Fast as Lightning is taking the children to Plymouth and to the English. It is the only reasonable conclusion for this move, and we must leave at once and track this Narragansett fool who follows the Red God of the up-timers. Fast as Lightning believes that he can outrun death, outrun Hobomock. Nothing can do that. We shall overtake him before he reaches Plymouth."
"Yes, Great One." Bear Fist nodded and then turned away to prepare for departure.
Again, Black Tooth felt Hobomock draw near. It crawled out of his mind and into the flames of the camp's fire. There, it formed into a skull, scorched black in flame. Black Tooth looked into its hollow sockets and heard his master's voice.
Go . . . now! Run after Fast as Lightning. Show him your speed, your power. Show him the truth that you have spoken, the truth that you have seen in my eyes. Show him that nothing, not even a Red God, escapes death.
Black Tooth nodded and whispered, "Nothing escapes death." Black Tooth turned to see Bear Fist watching him intently.
"Great One?" Bear Fist asked as he returned and waited for further instruction, a glint of confusion in his eye.
"I was not speaking to you," Black Tooth said. "I was speaking to . . ." He shook his head. "Waste no more time. Fast as Lightning has a day's head start on us already. We will go . . . now!"
****
Somewhere Near the Border between Narragansett and Wampanoag Territory
That is it! I am never having children!
Fast made that decision early on the third day as they travelled, with all possible speed, toward Wampanoag land.
Eagle Claw and Little Dove could not stop fretting about every step, could not stop complaining about being tired or needing food, water. There was plenty of both. When they needed food, Fast would have one of Sun Rising's warriors fetch a squirrel or rabbit as they made their way to safety. When they needed water, there was always a creek or river to cross. That did not stop the children, however, from agitating them all with each step. I am never having children!
In truth, Fast understood their discomfort quite well. He had been pushing them hard for days, and their young bodies were not accustomed to the punishment. Especially Little Dove who, as a girl, would never have had to endure such traumatic action unless absolutely necessary. Eagle Claw bore it a little better, trying to show bravery and strength amidst all these Narragansett warriors, but even he would in time relent and join his sister in their mutual dissatisfaction on the rigors of the march. Well, they would have to endure a little longer, Fast knew. Behind them, and close, he suspected, was Black Tooth. And death.
At the end of the fourth day, there was no way around it: they had to stop for an entire night's rest. Even Sun Rising's warriors, who had protected them courageously for the entire trip, were beginning to show signs of fatigue. Fast himself, who had developed over the years an almost inexhaustible supply of energy moving from one Narragansett village to another as a spokesman for Sun Rising, was beginning to slow. His bones ached, his muscles were very sore. This was the kind of exhaustion that even the Red God could not conquer. They had to stop, despite only being a half day's travel from reaching Wampanoag land.
He built a small fire in a clearing between heavy underbrush and thick trees. They were barely visible even from someone who was only ten, fifteen feet away. They needed guards, however, and after feasting on hastily-roasted quail, Sun Rising's warriors found good ambush spots around the camp, with strict instructions from Fast to keep their knives ready for Black Tooth. They had not seen or spotted him or his men since their flight, but he was there, somewhere behind them, bearing down. Fast could feel it.
"Will the Red God protect us?" Little Dove asked as they sat near the fire and waited for the sun to set.
Fast pitched a quail bone into the fire, wiped his mouth clean, and said, "Yes, Little Dove. The Red God is very powerful."
"Even more powerful than Hobomock?"
I don't know. "Yes."
"Tell us about the Red God," Eagle Claw asked as he settled down next to the fire in a place good for sleeping.
Fast nodded, sat up, cleared his throat, and began.
He told them everything he knew. How he had seen the Red God in a picture book that an Englishman had carried before his death to snake bite. He told them how mighty the Red God was in that story, how his fire-red clothing, etched with yellow bolts of lightning, gleamed with power and courage. He told them how the Red God had defeated evil spirits in the book, how his speed had overwhelmed the bad men facing him, and how he had brought their evil deeds to justice. He told them how the Red God had spoken to him through those pictures. He told them that the Red God was an up-time spirit, faster than a deer, stronger than a bear.
"What is an up-timer?" Little Dove asked.
"Well . . ." That was a difficult thing to explain, Fast knew, for how did one explain something that he had never seen? It was easy to explain the Red God: he had seen and had felt its power, was feeling his power each day. He had never seen an up-timer, though by all accounts, they were coming. Someday, they would arrive from the sea from Europe . . . and all the world would change.
"Are the up-timers good people?" Eagle Claw asked.
Fast fought against shrugging. He did not want to seem uncertain at this moment, not when the eyes of tired children were looking up to him for guidance and comfort. They were not asking these questions because they were just curious, he knew. They were asking these questions to calm fears, to settle an uncertain path.
"I suspect most of them are. But, like all men, like all Europeans, there are some who are bad. The up-timers are, from all that I have heard, like the English, the French, the Dutch, in the way they speak, the way they carry themselves, the way they look. They are all from the same tribe, the same people. Some are good, some are bad. Just like the Mohegan. Though we had many differences between us, your father Raging Wolf was an honorable person. Your mother was a brave, honorable person. Black Tooth is not.
"But I believe that a people who would bring such a wonderful manitou as the Red God to this world cannot be bad."
"Will the up-timers come here?" Eagle Claw asked.
Fast nodded. "Someday, yes. I believe very soon. And you must both be alive to meet them."
They asked a few more questions, but in time, they fell asleep. The sun set. Fast went to each warrior to ensure they were ready to face the darkness. He then returned to the fire, added more wood to quicken the flame, and then settled in himself with his knife clutched tightly in hand.
His dreams were unsettled, fast, uncontrollable. His mind raced. He dreamed of everything, it seemed, from the time before he was a servant of the Red God, when he was known as Runs Like Deer, to the moment that he found that Englishman in his death throes. In that moment of death, a deer became a Red God, and from that moment, everything seemed clear, certain. Until now.
His dream changed. Where there was once light and clarity, now there was muddled, dark imagery. An image of a demon, an evil beast with worms and bloody teeth. Hobomock. It was certain. The spirit of death rose out of his memories and challenged him to fight. And there he stood, Fast as Lightning in the Sky, near a pit of fire, flashing a small knife against the roars and clicking teeth of a monster.
Fast saw himself turn into the Red God itself. He wore its red clothing, bore the yellow lightning bolts of its strength. He still clutched his blade, though it was now a foot long if not longer. Hobomock stood across from him. The fire pit was gone. There was nothing around them now, save for the dark space, a glitter of a few passing stars in the sky. A blood-red moon shown dimly in the heavens. Fast looked at it, drew courage from its color, its radiance.
Hobomock attacked.
And they fought and fought, moving back and forth through that hazy darkness between them, strike and counter-strike. It seemed as if it would go on like that forever, neither finding advantage. Then a face appeared. The shape of a girl. Little Dove, as clear and as real to him in this dream as she was a moment ago when they spoke near a campfire.
Hobomock saw the girl too and moved to strike. Fast leapt forward, using all the strength and speed that the Red God had given him, to block the attack. But it was a trick, a fake. As Fast moved to put himself in the way of Hobomock's strike, the spirit of death pulled back, waited until Fast had exposed his belly and chest in the leap. Then Hobomock attacked, driving its clawed hand through Fast's chest and tearing out his heart.
Fast fell to the ground, dead.
He shouted as he awoke. The forest around him came back into focus. Sweat rolled down his face. He glanced toward the children. They were still asleep. The night was quiet, save for cicadas calling to each other through the trees. A bird's whistle in response. The howl of a wolf far away. All was well.
Fast squeezed his chest. Thank the Red God! His heart was still in place and beating. I am alive!
The forest was quiet. The world was at peace. But there was something out there. Fast could feel it. With each beat of his own heart, a beast in the darkness drew near.
Fast put his knife away and crawled to the children. He touched each lightly to rouse them from their sleep. They awoke, and he silenced them with soft fingers to their mouths.
"Be still, be quiet," he told them, trying to allay his own fears at the memory of Hobomock ripping his heart from his chest. "And listen to me very carefully."
****
Black Tooth was pleased. Pushing his men to their limits had paid off. They had caught up to the young fool that sought to keep Raging Wolf's children safe. He could feel Hobomock's pleasure at his success and the wicked spirit's eagerness to feel the children's fear as they were recaptured and the job, as planned, was finished. Yes, Hobomock was pleased. And soon, all the Mohegan—and dare he dream, the Pequot tribes?— would be under his control.
"Getting the children back is my first duty," he whispered to the spirit of death. "Doing away with Uncas, the next."
Black Tooth watched as Bear Fist directed several of the men to move slowly and carefully into position around Fast's camp. They had slipped past Fast's guards with ease, the guards being even younger than their leader and far more inexperienced than Black Tooth's men. And now they were poised on the edge of the camp and ready to strike.
Black Tooth followed suit and took his place at the edge of the camp. He peered through the foliage. Three bodies lay in quiet, wrapped up against the chill of the night, near the smoldering embers of a fire. Black Tooth could not help but give a wry smile and glory in his own skills. He had managed to outsmart the follower of the Red God, and there would be no escape for them this time. No one escapes Hobomock. No one escapes death.
Black Tooth looked over at Bear Fist who waited patiently for the signal to move. Black Tooth paused a moment more, savoring his fortune again, and then with a sharp nod, gave the signal.
His warriors carrying bows loosed their arrows. They flew silently into the camp, across the fire, into Fast as Lightning's body, into the largest bundle. Bear Fist then gave a mighty war cry as he charged into the camp. The rest of the men followed.
Bear Fist reached Fast's motionless body and thrust the tip of his spear into him. Black Tooth watched as the other warriors struck at the smaller two bodies with their hatchets and clubs. The onslaught was quick and furious, leaving no chance that anyone could live through it. Bear Fist roared in victory, jerking his spear free.
Black Tooth walked into the camp. He was happy, delighted in fact. Everything had gone as planned, as Hobomock had ordered. This was a great day.
Then he saw that there was no blood seeping out of the bundle of blankets Bear Fist had speared. The small bundles lying nearby were the same. And there had been no cries of shock or pain from the arrows. Nothing. No movement at all.
Bear Fist raised his bloodless spear, blinked his confusion, and tried to speak. "Black Tooth . . . I don't . . ."
A warrior near Bear Fist cried out as an arrow thudded into his back. He tried reaching around for the arrow, but another slammed into his chest. The warrior yelped, then toppled to the ground.
Out of the darkness of the wood, Fast and his Narragansett warriors charged into the camp with spears, tomahawks, and war clubs held firm. Fast swung his club hard at Bear Fist's head, and Black Tooth heard bone crunch as the big man dropped and lay still.
The camp erupted into battle.
Feeling the power of Hobomock flow through him, Black Tooth pulled his knife and quickly downed a Narragansett warrior who tried putting a spear tip through his belly. Black Tooth then ducked beneath the swing of a tomahawk and quickly put that man down as well with a swift kick to his gut, and a quick jab of his blade into the man's back as he fell.
Through the haze of smoke and battle, Black Tooth saw that the rest of his men had fallen or were about to. Only Fast and one of his men remained. Where were the children? he wondered, but in the heat of the fight, that was not the most important question. The most important question was, who should he attack first? Fast himself, or his last warrior?
Bear Fist lay at Fast's feet. Fast had given the big man a few extra taps with his club to ensure his death. The young warrior at his side was finishing off Black Tooth's last man.
The camp fell silent. Three men stared at each other across the dying embers.
"It is over, Black Tooth," Fast said, taking a cautious step forward. "You have been defeated."
"Where are the children?" Black Tooth asked, clutching his dripping blade, breathing slow and deliberate, allowing Hobomock to once again feed his thoughts, bolster his courage.
"They are beyond your touch now, Black Tooth," Fast said. "It is over. Turn away, and go home. Or, stay and die."
The warrior beside Fast, a young, anxious man, did not wait for an answer. Before Fast could still his arm, the man raised his spear and tried throwing it across the fire. But before the man could even loose the shaft, Black Tooth raised his knife and tossed it through the smoke, as quickly and precisely as flicking a fly from his arm. The blade sank easily into the boy's neck.
Now, two dead men lay at Fast's feet. Black Tooth found that amusing. He chuckled. "I have killed all of your men, Fast as Lightning." He knelt down and picked up a war club and a spear and held them firmly in his hands. "Shall I kill you as well?"
They stood across from each other, for an eternity, it seemed to Black Tooth, until Fast moved as if he were about to say something. "I—"
Then he was gone.
Black Tooth roared. "Run! Run as fast as your Red God allows. But I will find you. I will find you!"
****
Oh, what a foolish thing to do! To run. To look Black Tooth, to look Hobomock, in the face, and then turn and run. Coward! You are a coward, Fast! But the truth was simple: Eagle Claw and Little Dove were not out of Black Tooth's touch. They were not safe at all.
"Come," he told them, offering his hand to help them out of the little hole that they had hastily dug underneath a fallen tree. Fast helped them out.
"Is Black Tooth dead?" Little Dove asked.
"No," he said, not wanting to lie to her, yet not wanting her to fear. "You are fine. But we must go now."
"What is that noise?" Eagle Claw asked. "Is that a wolf?"
It was no wolf. That was Black Tooth, howling his rage, howling his satisfaction at killing all three of Fast's warriors. All of them. He had taken them down as if they were leaves falling from trees. And not a single scratch. And now here he came, with the full power of Hobomock driving him forward.
Fast scooped Little Dove up in his arms, and they ran. Eagle Claw followed as best as he could, and Fast had to slow to ensure that the boy did not fall too far behind. Black Tooth's howls kept them moving; the boy could hear the voice of madness as well as Fast could and so, his little legs strained to keep up. Fast was proud of him, and perhaps, when all this was over, he would introduce the Red God to Eagle Claw in such a way as to allow the boy to accept the up-time manitou as his own.
The river was near. Fast could hear it running higher and faster than usual due to heavy rains. He liked the sound. A river gave him options.
They reached it. He set Little Dove down. He held both their hands. They knew exactly what he intended to do, and they held themselves close to him and followed him slowly into the water. It was cold, the current strong, but they held on tight as the water grew deep and strong enough to carry them downstream. Fast was pleased that both children could swim, at least enough to aid in their drift. Little Dove held herself close, hugging Fast's shoulder, while Eagle Claw held Fast's hand and gripped the hem of his vest.
They let the flow of water take them down the river, until in the moonlight, Fast saw an outcropping of trees that had recently fallen into the river. With the rest of his strength, he guided them over to its cover of limbs and green leaves. Once they were under its dying canopy, Little Dove and Eagle Claw grabbed branches to slow their drift. And there, shivering, afraid, they waited.
Black Tooth drew near, but praise the Red God, he was on the other side of the river. His howls were horrifying, however, like a wolf's howl and yet, darker, deeper, even more feral, like a wolf being tortured, or a soul burning in Hell. Fast did not believe in the Christian Hell, as it had been defined to him by the so-called godly men of Europe. But if there was a Hell, then surely what drew closer to them on the opposite bank was something close to a man burning in an eternal flame.
Black Tooth came out of the tree line. He stood there on the bank, making no sound, looking across the river. His eyes searched the water. He looked straight at them.
Little Dove shivered. "Do not move," Fast whispered. "Do not speak. He cannot see us through the leaves."
Silence. Then Black Tooth continued up the river bank, howling his rage. "I will find you, Fast. I will find you, kill you, and take the children. I am Black Tooth, and I have no fear!"
They waited until the Mohegan warrior's voice faded, then Fast guided the children to the bank and helped them out.
They sat there, on the fallen tree, trying to dry, to warm. Fast rubbed their arms for comfort, as much for himself as for them. They huddled close, for even now, in the midst of his failure, they held faith in him, faith that he would take them into Wampanoag land and keep them safe. Misplaced faith, Fast knew, for when the time had come, he had failed. He had faced Black Tooth across a stark, bloody campsite, and he had failed. It wasn't that he had fled a fight with Black Tooth. That was not the failure. No, for running and speed and quick judgment were the powers gifted by the Red God. The failure was not in his flight. The failure was in his eyes.
I stood before him, Fast thought, rising to his feet, I stood before Hobomock and showed him my fear.
****
In Wampanoag Territory
The river was a natural barrier that gave them a head start against Black Tooth, though Fast knew that he was still out there, had not given up the chase, and could, at any time, reappear and try to take his vengeance. He kept the children close and made sure that when they stopped to rest, especially at night, they were well hidden and guarded. Fast slept little and ate even less. He had received a small wound during their ambush of Black Tooth's men, but had not noticed it until they were past the river and moving. A small cut on the right arm. A small cut that had swollen somewhat and had grown in tenderness. It would be fine, Fast was certain, but only if they were able to find Massasoit soon.
Two days later, they were met by Wampanoag warriors who escorted them to Massasoit. Fast was reluctant to give up what few weapons he had, but he put himself and the children in Wampanoag hands. He was in no physical and mental shape to refuse.
Massasoit was the great sachem of the Wampanoag confederacy and a friend to the English. Though conflicts between the Plymouth colony and the Wampanoag had erupted over the years, Massasoit would much prefer to align himself and his people with the Europeans than with the Narragansett. The fighting between the Narragansett and the Wampanoag had gone on for longer than Fast had been alive, and so it was surprising to him that Massasoit greeted them so warmly. Perhaps they had just caught him in a good mood.
They were taken to his longhouse and set before the fire pit. The house was similar to Sun Rising's, Fast noticed, though it was occupied by more people, more vibrant, anxious people willing to ingratiate themselves to their leader. They all looked at Fast and the children with cautious eyes. Fast felt uncomfortable in their gaze, as if something was wrong with him and the children, something physical. They were certainly dirty and foul from their travel, and Fast was beginning to feel the aches and fever of the cut. But otherwise, they were fine. Fast tried to stare them all down, as he held his body erect as he sat warming himself beside the fire.
Massasoit entered. The room grew silent and still. He was a tall, strong man, with prominent Algonquian features, smooth dark skin, and hair dark, long, and fully braided. He was older than Fast; that was clear. His hands were strong. His eyes were strong. He took his place beside the fire. He did not smoke. He offered no smoke.
"I do not often allow Narragansett warriors to enter my land without good cause," he said, his voice deeper, hoarser than Fast would have figured. "But since you travel with children, I decided to show mercy. Tell me your name, Narragansett warrior. And then tell me why you are here."
Fast introduced himself and the children. He told Massasoit everything that had occurred, from the massacre to the ambush before the river. The great Wampanoag sachem listened quietly, his eyes never leaving Fast's face. "And that is why I am here, great sachem. I am here to ask that you take these children and deliver them into the care of William Bradford at Plymouth. He is a good friend of Sun Rising's. He will protect them."
Massasoit gazed at the children, smiled. "Why do you care so much, Fast as Lightning in the Sky, for two Mohegan children? The Narragansett and Mohegan share no love for each other. Why?"
"They are children, great sachem," Fast said, his impatience beginning to show in his tone, "and they are innocent. They are the only witnesses to Black Tooth's deceit. If they are given back to their people, Black Tooth will most certainly get them and kill them, and then he will be able to blame his crimes on my people . . . and the Mohegan and Narragansett will wage war that will, in time, involve you, your people, and every other tribe. And then the Algonquian will be at war, just as the up-timers are arriving on our shores."
"Do you believe the stories of these up-timers?" Massasoit asked.
Fast was about to tell him of their Red God, but thought better of it. He was in no mood for further storytelling. Massasoit had a decision to make, and he needed to make it now. "What I believe is that, if we are at war with one another before the up-timers arrive, then we will be too weak to confront what they will bring when they arrive. In my heart, I do not believe that they will bring war, famine, and death, like many others believe. But I cannot be certain of that. You ask why I care so much for these children? I care little about the Mohegan, truth be told, but I do care about the Algonquian people, and I believe that we are destined to speak with one voice in a future uncertain. And we can only do that if we are not at war with one another before the up-timers arrive.
"So I will ask you again, great Massasoit. Will you take Eagle Claw and Little Dove to Plymouth?"
Massasoit did not answer. He sat there, looking left, right, perhaps seeking a pipe, for all great men knew that the smoke calmed the mind and allowed it to focus on the important decisions in life. He had no smoke, and thus, he was forced to answer Fast's question without proper deliberation.
"No," he said, finally. "I will not involve my people in a dispute between the Narragansett and the Mohegan." He gestured toward Eagle Claw and Little Dove. "They are in Wampanoag territory now, and so they are safe from this ‘Black Tooth' you speak of." He paused, then said, "Howev—"
Fast jumped to his feet, his anger, his impatience mixing with feverish emotion. "Then you are not the great sachem that I have heard stories about. You think they are safe? I tell you they are not. Black Tooth will come, and no Wampanoag warrior will stop him. Hobomock, Chepi, drives him forward. He will not stop until he is dead . . . or they are."
He was seized, and a knife placed at his throat. Massasoit stood and held his hands up, calming the anger spreading through the longhouse. "Peace, peace, my people." He walked up to Fast, stared him in the eyes, then noticed the swollen cut on his arm. "You are not well. You are pale. You sweat. Your wound is festering."
Fast nodded as best he could, realizing that he had made a grave mistake. "Yes, yes, great sachem. I apologize for my outburst. I am ill and growing more so every day." He lowered his voice, hoping that the children would not hear. "I do not think I can make it for very long. I do not think I can take them to Plymouth myself. Black Tooth is coming, great sachem. He is coming."
Massasoit nodded. "What I was going to say, before you interrupted me, was that I will not take them myself. But, I will allow you to take them to Edward Winslow. He is near and on an exploratory mission. He is a great man among his people. He saved my life. He is a true friend, and if I ask, he will take your Mohegan children to Plymouth. There is no white man I trust more than Winslow. They will be safe with him. Of that, I can promise."
"Thank you, great sachem, thank—"
"We will speak no more. Tonight, you will stay here. We will clean your wound, give you medicine, and food. Allow you to smoke. In the morning, we will guide you to Winslow." Massasoit paused. His face grew stern, dark. His voice deep but clear. "Then, I want to see Fast as Lighting in the Sky no more. Do you understand?"
Fast nodded. Massasoit departed and left Fast and the children alone with three ladies that guided him to a bear rug. They laid him down and began dressing his wound.
Little Dove walked over to him. Fast opened his eyes to acknowledge her, and he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Do you not like us, Fast? Do you not like the Mohegan people?"
Another mistake. He motioned her to kneel, and she did. He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. He motioned to Eagle Claw to come as well. The little boy came. He did not hug Fast, but he knelt close and put his hand on his weeping sister's shoulder. "No, no, Little Dove. I do like the Mohegan people. I do. The Red God has left me. I can no longer draw upon him for wisdom and strength. I am saying things I do not mean. But I promise you. I promise you and Eagle Claw, that I will get you to this Edward Winslow. By my honor, I will place you in his hands. Even if I should die in the trying."
Fast hoped that his words were true. But the Red God had left him. He had called upon him again and again and nothing. No words. No acknowledgement. Gone.
Even if I should die . . .
The words lingered in his mind as he fell asleep.
****
They are near . . . they are near. Strike . . . strike now!
The words were as clear in his mind as his own, and Black Tooth relished them. He was tired, he was weak. He hadn't eaten in days, save for the few scraps of cured venison he had put in his satchel before he and his men had begun their pursuit of Fast as Lightning and the children. He had drunk only a little water from streams, had allowed gathered dew in leaves to wet his tongue. Nothing else. The body needed to be unburdened of all things but rage and vengeance, Hobomock told him. Fast and the children were near, and Black Tooth needed to meet them lean and focused. All other needs were secondary.
He stumbled forward, through Wampanoag land, gripping the spear and club he had collected at the camp ambush. They were part of his body now. He could part with them no more than he could his own arms or hands. They would serve as the extension of Hobomock, bringing death to anyone, anything, who would stand in his way. His path was certain now. The way forward was clear.
He could smell the Englishmen. He was that close. He could smell the Narragansett warrior who had betrayed all of the Algonquian with his acceptance of the up-time Red God. Black Tooth may have accepted the spirit of death as his guiding light, but at least Hobomock was an Algonquian spirit. Kill them . . . kill them all . . .
And he would. They were just beyond the thin line of trees, over the hill, and down into the valley. They were there. He could see them through Hobomock's eyes. The brown-black tooth in his mouth ached, and the spirit of death guided him forward.
****
Edward Winslow had a round, sallow face, with wet, rosy cheeks. An English face, and one that Fast was not altogether unfamiliar with. Having been in the woods on expedition for so long, Winslow's clothing bore the recognizable stains of sweat and grime from the path. What used to be a Van Dyke beard, as the Europeans liked to call it, was now something more expansive and disheveled, with a wholesome touch of red interspersed among strands of common black. But his eyes were large and pleasant, and Fast detected no threat or disdain in them when he and the children and Massasoit's men bid admittance into the Englishmen's camp. The colonists among him hefted muskets, and some were trained on Fast as he tried to keep his balance by holding on to the children's hands. The fever had waned, but he was still weak. The cut on his arm was still swollen, but it no longer ached.
Winslow greeted them warmly. "It is always an honor to accept brave Wampanoag men into my camp. Come, let us sit, and we will discuss why you are—"
"Edward Winslow," Fast said, letting Winslow's interpreter get his bearings, "I am Fast as Lightning in the Sky. I am Narragansett, and I bring you these two children."
They sat by a small fire, and Fast told Winslow everything. The Englishman interrupted on occasion to get clarification on various details. He seemed most interested in the story that Fast was telling, going so far as to produce a small leather-bound book and scribbling a few lines in it as Fast told him about the massacre at the children's camp, their flight, and the relentless pursuit of Black Tooth. He did not bother explaining the Red God to Winslow, nor did he say anything about Hobomock, for he had learned long ago that white men, especially those called to the Christian faith, grew impatient when a native told stories about their "unholy" spirits and gods. It would not matter anyway, for there was nothing Winslow could do about the spirit of death, nor could he imbue Fast with the gifts of the Red God which had left due to injury, fever, and fear.
"So I ask you, Edward Winslow, good friend of Massasoit," Fast said in conclusion, "to please deliver Little Dove and Eagle Claw to Plymouth colony, so that they may, some day, tell their story, without fear of reprisal. The Mohegan people, and my people, need to know the full truth of what Black Tooth had done." He paused, then, "Will you take them to Plymouth?"
Winslow considered for a long while. He scribbled more words into his book, scratched his face, looked into the cloudy sky, deliberated with fellow travelers, spoke with his interpreter. Fast's patience was at an end, and he considered bursting into anger as he had done in Massasoit's longhouse. But Little Dove, clearly recognizing his agitation, touched his shoulder, and he calmed, nodded to her gently, and patted her hand. "Thank you, Little Dove," he whispered to her. "You have more wisdom than I."
Finally, Winslow stood. Fast did the same. The Englishman nodded. "Yes, I will take them to Plymouth, as my good friend Massasoit so requests." Winslow smiled. "But you needn't worry anymore about this Black Tooth you speak of. They will be safe with me. No crazed murderer will get past my men."
A musket fired outside the camp. One of Winslow's guards. One shot that echoed through the wood. Only one shot. Then silence. Then a scream. A white man's scream.
Winslow motioned for his men to investigate. Fast begged them off. "Please, no. It is Black Tooth. He is here."
"Then we will shoot him," Winslow said.
"No! He calls to me, and I must answer. I will meet his rage with my own. You have agreed to take the children to Plymouth. That is your duty. Mine is coming. You can do no more."
Little Dove hugged his legs tightly. She sobbed. "No, do not meet Black Tooth. Come with us. These men will protect you."
Fast knelt, hugged Little Dove, and pulled Eagle Claw to him. They huddled together in silence. Fast gave himself time to collect his thoughts, his courage. He was feeling courage again, and it felt good. "I must meet Black Tooth alone, or the Red God will forever be dead inside me. This is something that I must do, and your duty is to go with these men and stay alive. We each have our duty in this life. Your duty is to live and to tell your story."
Eagle Claw, trying to be brave, fighting his tears, offered Fast his knife. It was the small, slender blade that he had held against Fast at the massacre. It was thin, but very sharp. Fast took it graciously. "Take this," Eagle Claw said. "It was my father's. He would be honored to have you use it."
Fast bid them farewell once again and guided them to safety behind Winslow's men. The row of muskets that lined themselves up in protection gave him pause. Indeed, these men could gun Black Tooth down in one volley, and perhaps Little Dove was right. All he had to do was place himself between these muskets and Black Tooth, and the matter would be resolved in one mighty hail of fire. But no. In death, Black Tooth—and indeed, Hobomock—would know that he, Fast as Lightning, that the Red God, had hidden like a coward. No. He had to face this alone.
Fast turned toward the path that led out of the camp. He could not see Black Tooth approach, but he—everyone—could hear his rage.
****
Black Tooth emerged from the wood, looking as beaten and battered as Fast. Blood from the English musketman that he had just killed was caked upon his war club and spattered across his chest. It mixed with the red-and-black clay that he had smeared on days earlier, when the chase was fresh. Now, his entire body looked bruised and broken. Perhaps it was. But Fast was taking no chances. He held Raging Wolf's blade before him and took a defensive stance. He tried drawing courage from the Red God. It was there, but weak. Very weak.
Black Tooth presented his war club and spear. He squinted through the sunlight trying to peek through the canopy of leaves and clouds. "That is Raging Wolf's blade."
Fast nodded. "It is. And soon, I will drive it into your chest."
Black Tooth smiled, the tooth, the object of his name, glinting rot and ruin in the faint light. "If you can get so close."
Fast moved. Black Tooth kept his distance, circling until he was firmly on the path and in a good defensive stance. He kept his weapons forward.
"It is over, Black Tooth," Fast said. "You can no longer harm Little Dove and Eagle Claw. They are beyond your reach now."
Black Tooth paused and looked up the path toward Winslow's camp. Everyone had drifted down the path toward the stand-off, including Winslow and the children. Several muskets were held at the ready. Black Tooth's expression changed. He seemed less gleeful, more subdued, serious. His face turned sour, and for a moment, Fast saw Hobomock's terrifying visage flash through the Mohegan's dour expression. "Then I have nothing more to live for, but to see you die. For if you die, then it does not matter if the children live, for their story cannot be proven without you as their witness. I can deny the truth of it to my people, to Uncas, and there will be just enough doubt, confusion, in their minds, that they will side with me." He forced a smile. "You foolishly left the bodies of my men, with Sun Rising's markings, on the ground. They will see these dead men, and they will wonder . . . and I will tell them my story, the story of a great Mohegan warrior who fought off a deadly Narragansett attack, and they will listen to my words over the words of impressionable children with confused memories, for I, Black Tooth, have done so many good things for my people. How could I be lying?
"So you see, Fast as Lighting in the Sky, if you die, then the truth of what happened will die. And I will win."
Fast did not give Black Tooth any more time to speak. He attacked, moving quickly to drive his knife into the Mohegan's throat. Black Tooth leaned left and blocked the attack with his spear, nicking Fast's shoulder with the tip. Fast screamed his anger and lurched again, this time striking Black Tooth's arm with a quick slash across the bicep. Black Tooth swung his club, but Fast ducked, then backed away to regain his balance and strengthen his grip on his knife.
They circled each other as the musketmen up the path began to howl their enjoyment of the fight. They were on Fast's side; that was clear by their words as they cheered him on. Winslow and the children remained silent, and Fast had to force himself not to look their way to ensure that they were safe. They were safe, and he had to stop placing their safety in his hands. That part of this long, dangerous journey was over. What mattered now was the demon wielding a spear and club before him.
That demon attacked, swirling his club round and round as if he were chopping wood. Fast fell back, looking for an entry through the blur of war club, but finding nothing. Black Tooth's eyes were so red and rage-filled that they seemed to weep blood, and for a moment, Fast was terrified again, like he had been near the river on that night that the Red God had left him. And in his fear, he nearly dropped his guard. The war club glanced across his right shoulder. The pain was unbearable. Fast fell, scrambled backwards, turned and twisted to avoid a spear thrust.
Then he had an idea. A quick, simple one that could have only come from the wise counsel of the Red God.
Break the spear!
Fast paused, exposing his stomach for a thrust that he knew would come. Black Tooth leaned into the strike, using all his strength to stab through Fast's belly, but the tip of the spear found only solid ground.
Fast twisted again and grabbed the spear. His hands moved faster than he had ever seen them move before. He gripped the wooden shaft, pulled hard, and snapped the spear in two.
Black Tooth howled, and it was no longer the sound of an enraged, wounded wolf. This was Hobomock's scream, pouring itself out of Black Tooth like a raging waterfall. A sound that Fast had never heard before. It scared him, but his fear of Black Tooth was gone. Now, he only felt pity for the twisted, enraged man before him. Black Tooth was a slave to the spirit of death. He could no more disobey its words now than he could his own hunger or thirst.
Black Tooth tossed the broken spear away and attacked with his war club, but his movements were no longer keen or deliberate. He was just hacking away, swinging madly in every direction, hoping to land a blow. Fast ducked and dodged each swing, letting Black Tooth waste his strength and energy while Fast felt the Red God's gifts return to him in full. The fever was gone, the weakness was gone. The indecision, the apprehension, the fear, were now all washed away in a glorious burst of energy.
Fast lunged again with his blade, aiming for Black Tooth's chest. But one of those wild swings connected with Fast's arm and nearly tore the blade from his hand. He kept hold of the blade, but stumbled forward, giving Black Tooth another opportunity to strike. The war club struck Fast in the back near the neck. The club connected with a crunch, but it did not feel as if bones had been broken. Fast gritted his teeth in agony, cursing himself for foolishly letting his guard down in the rush of strong feelings. He staggered out of reach, near blind with pain. Black Tooth pursued and chuckled.
"It is hopeless," Black Tooth said. "Hobomock laughs at your up-time Red God. I mock your faith in these up-timers, these people from the future who will prove to be just as powerless as your Red God. They will come, and I will defeat them. The Mohegan will rise to great power, and so will I. And now, I will defeat you."
Fast shifted his knife to his other hand. He was ineffective with weapons in that hand, for he could barely move his wounded arm. He shifted his blade and raised it forward, ready for Black Tooth's final strike, ready to dodge, ready to twist, calling upon the Red God for more strength and courage.
Black Tooth raised his club to strike, but in his relish, his glee, he exposed his stomach, his chest. Fast's arm was weak, his balance off, but he made a fist around the hilt of his knife, like he had seen Europeans do. Like he had done to Raging Wolf's nose, he punched up into Black Tooth's throat. He did not strike with the knife blade. He just struck the tender flesh of the Mohegan's throat with his fist. He let Black Tooth's weight and momentum carry him into the punch, and the Mohegan yelped loudly and fell to the side, gasping for air. He kept his balance, but his swing was off just enough to allow Fast to turn the blade around in his hand and drive it into Black Tooth's back.
Black Tooth's body hit the ground, and Fast stabbed again and again, with speed gifted to him by the Red God. He kept stabbing until it felt joyous. Then he stopped, fearing that Hobomock would overcome the Red God and take over his mind like he had done with Black Tooth. There was a fine line between killing for protection and necessity, to protect those you loved, and killing for joy. Fast never wanted to glory in killing, never wanted to step over that tenuous line.
Fast dropped the blade. He fell to the ground and lay back. Perhaps he dozed. When he opened his eyes, Little Dove was there, the smile on her face the most joyous thing he had ever seen.
"You won," she said. "You defeated Black Tooth."
Fast wanted to agree with her. He couldn't. It wasn't his victory. It was a victory for the future, of the time coming. Now, the Mohegan and Narragansett would not wage full war upon themselves. They could, the Red God willing, face that uncertain future together.
The up-timers could now come, for good or ill, and the Algonquian would be ready.
Fast as Lightning in the Sky smiled, nodded, closed his eyes, and slept.
****