Part 86: A Spy In Our Midst

Main story folder & table of contents: "Return To Manitou Island" 
Previous chapter: "Part 85: Great Minds Think Alike" 

PART EIGHTY-SIX:
A Spy In Our Midst

CHARMIAN, THOMAS, MANABOZHO, and the others stood on the trail parallel to the East Bluff, watching the vague dark shape as it flitted from tree to tree before at last vanishing from sight. As soon as it did so, Charmian's heart leapt into her throat, and she had to struggle just to swallow.

That's the same guy! The same guy I saw down there before--with the canoe!

He came from the east--Crooked Creek said he's an Iroquois. The enemy!

And Black Elk Horn's guys are down there--!

She grabbed at Thomas's arm without even looking. "I need you guys to head on to Sugar Loaf. I have to get to Stick's tribe."

They immediately started to protest. "You think I'm going to let you just walk in on all that by yourself--?" Thomas exclaimed, and Marten hopped up and down angrily.

"Nuh-uh! I'm going TOO!"

"I'm HARDLY going to be responsible for you getting in MORE trouble!" Manabozho retorted.

Charmian whirled around to face them. "I need you guys back at SUGAR LOAF! To find Stick if he's still there, and tell him what's happening! If we all go running in together it'll just make things WORSE!" She pulled her hood back up and straightened her mitts. "They know me in the tribe, so they'll let me in. If that ONE guy is walking around free, then that probably means there's more of them!"

"All the more reason to not let you go on your own," Thomas insisted, and when she made as if to jog away he grasped her arm. "I know you're listening to me! They know me in the tribe, too--remember? That card I made?" He glared at her. "At the very LEAST you'll let me trail along!"

Charmian grimaced. "All right!"

Marten hopped up and down on her shoulder. "And ME too! They won't even NOTICE me!"

Charmian waved her arms. "FINE! Just so long as we GET GOING!" She glanced back at Mani and Manabozho and his brothers as she started up the trail. "Mani, you scope out the bluff to see if there's any more of them! Manabozho, you and your brothers--find Puka--and make sure he's all right--and head to Sugar Loaf! Tell Stick what's going on if he's there, and fill OMM in on everything I said!"

Manabozho opened his mouth and closed it a few times, but by then she was already gone, Thomas following. He stared at the trail she had left before scowling and kicking at the snow.

Charmian could barely run in her snowshoes, and had to resort to awkwardly waddling across the snow, sticking her feet out almost like a duck as she did so. She wished she hadn't been so hasty to send Mani off on his own, but bit her lip and reminded herself that he had his own obligations now, and couldn't always carry her around. At least Thomas didn't seem to be moving much faster than she was, which helped, a little bit.

"Was he headed this way--?" Thomas had to yell, as Augwak's wind had picked up again, whipping against them as they ran.

"It looked kind of like it--but I couldn't tell!" she shouted back. "But I get the feeling he's the spy--he's been here before! He must've been doing reconnaissance or something!" She briefly felt impressed with herself for knowing such an important-sounding word, before shrugging the stupid thought off with disgust.

"Why would the Iroquois be interested in coming here?"

She tried to shrug, which was difficult with her legs going every which way. "Why NOT? This Island's just a legend to most people--imagine what they would do if they all knew it was REAL!" She made a face. "That's why I don't tell MORE people about this place--next thing you know they'll be selling fudge and making movies with Jane Seymour!"

"Jane Seymour--?" Thomas stumbled and nearly fell, and furrowed his brow at her. "What does Henry VIII have to do with anything--?"

"Wrong Jane Seymour!" Charmian returned, and they zoomed around a sharp bend in the trail. Tracks came into view here, and they both gasped and ducked down into a hollow behind a tree, peering out. They craned their necks and looked around, but nothing moved except the branches of the trees.

"I don't see him," Charmian whispered.

"Neither do I!" Marten whispered.

Thomas shook his head to indicate that he didn't, either. Then he looked at Charmian. "What's a 'movie'--?"

They all gasped when something thunked into the tree right above their heads, and jerked back into the hollow. Charmian tilted her head up to see the shaft of an arrow quivering just overhead, and her eyes widened. A moment later another one thunked into the wood a little lower, and Thomas had to haul her back, stumbling down into the snow.

"Is he SHOOTING at us--?" she cried as they altered their course and ran into the woods. "Why's he SHOOTING at us--?!"

"Well what did you expect him to do?" Thomas yelled, a third arrow zooming past them. "Bake us a cake?!"

A fourth arrow just missed hitting Charmian in the head, slicing off a few hairs from Marten's tail as it went. The Mikumwesu quailed and scurried to her other shoulder and she whirled around, clenching her fists.

"STOP SHOOTING AT US, MORON!!"

She had just enough time to see the same man she had spotted on the East Bluff seemingly so long ago, now clothed in furs and running straight at them with his bow in his hand. Thomas grabbed onto her by the waist and started to manually carry her off, Marten hanging onto her hood for dear life as they went.

"JERK!!" Charmian yelled. "I HOPE YOU GET FROSTBITE WHERE THE SUN DOESN'T SHINE!!"

"Charmian, I rather think he's not interested in exchanging civilities!" Thomas exclaimed, stumbling through the snow.

Charmian kicked her legs. "I'm not exchanging civilities, I'm TELLING HIM WHAT AN ASS HE IS!!" An arrow hit the snow just inches from where they'd been and her face went brilliant red. "Oh, that is IT, buddy!" She wrenched herself free from Thomas's grasp and fell onto her stomach in the snow, scrambling to her feet as best as she could and bringing her hands up in front of herself. The native didn't slow his step one bit, and in fact brought his bow up again, fitting another arrow to the notch.

Charmian gritted her teeth. "FIRE!" she yelled, and a blast of flame shot out toward him. His eyes goggled and he barely managed to stumble to a halt, ducking as the fire flew over his head. The blast knocked Charmian to the ground as well, and she started flailing to try to right herself, but her snowshoes tangled with each other and all she could do was roll around like a turtle on its back. To her surprise, the native got up and with a brief shake of snow, came at her again, looking even angrier and more desperate than before.

Marten leapt off of Charmian's shoulder and flung his arms out, sprouting wings and zooming at his face with a hiss. The native scowled and batted him away as he came, and Marten landed upside-down in a drift, feet wiggling.

Charmian's anger flared again and she renewed her efforts to stand. "You're gonna pay for that, JERKWAD!"

She put her hands together again just as he reached her and pulled a knife from his belt, raising it in the air. At that moment Thomas vaulted over her head and slammed into him with his shoulder, and the two of them collapsed in the snow with a heavy thud. Charmian goggled as they started tussling, Thomas grabbing hold of the native's wrist and trying to work the knife free from his grasp.

"Charmian!" he managed to get out, the two of them kicking gobs of snow up into the air. "Get going!!"

Charmian gawked, then clenched her fists. She wrenched her snowshoes free of each other and staggered to her feet.

"No way! I won't leave YOU behind, either!"

"I never SAID I'm not coming along!" Thomas hissed through clenched teeth, the knife inches from his face. "Just let me finish with THIS first, and GET GOING--?!"

Charmian blinked, then nodded and turned. She hated the thought of leaving him, yet couldn't think of a way to attack the native without hitting Thomas too. She grabbed hold of Marten's feet and yanked him from the snow, tucking him under her arm and dashing ahead into the woods as if attempting to make the world's strangest touchdown.

She gasped and almost fell over herself when another arrow flew past her into the woods, and she whirled around in astonishment. "Thomas--?" she yelled, only to see him already running toward her like mad. The native followed close on his heels, still wielding his knife; Charmian's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What--"

Thunk! An arrow lodged in a nearby tree; Thomas skidded and stumbled to a halt now, and the native almost lost his footing as well. Charmian stood numbly in the trail until Thomas grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her down into the woods. They fell head over heels and landed in a tangled mess; Charmian's head popped up out of the snow and the native vaulted over the little rise, sprinting down toward them. She could tell from the look on his face that he didn't even know they were there, until he saw them; then his eyes goggled, he shook his head, and raised his knife.

Charmian grimaced. "What the--!!"

Thomas's head popped up, then he gasped and pushed her own head back into the snow. She sputtered and fought and glanced up just in time--THUNK!--to see a tomahawk strike the large tree standing just above them. The native's arms pinwheeled and he almost fell down to join them; at the last moment he changed course and dashed off to the side. Thomas and Charmian watched him go, when a rain of arrows flew over their heads, and they ducked down again, cringing.

Charmian just barely heard a fwip sound, then the man let out a cry; against her better instincts, she looked up again, and saw that he was still within sight, down in the woods off to their side. She sucked in a breath when she saw the arrow protruding from his shoulder, and started to get to her feet.

Thomas grabbed onto her sleeve. "CHARMIAN! What are you doing--?!"

"He's hurt--!" Charmian exclaimed, when an arrow sliced right past her head, and she gasped and jerked back. She turned her head to look up at the rise they had tumbled down, and nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw the half dozen or so figures standing atop it, bows drawn. Thomas pulled her back as they started storming down toward them, and got to his feet, pushing her behind him; but the newcomers, dressed all in furs, jogged past them with barely a glance. The one in the lead turned his head to look directly at them, however, and Charmian's eyes widened as soon as she recognized him. Black Elk Horn gave her a venomous glare before he was gone, he and the rest of the men headed toward the wounded native in the woods.

She hesitated just a moment before tensing and grabbing at Thomas's arm. "What're they going to do--?"

"He's the bad guy, isn't he?" Thomas said, and that effectively sent Charmian stumbling after them. "Charmian--!"

"Wait! Hold on!" Charmian cried, tripping over her snowshoes; how did the others manage to run so well in all this snow? They had already reached the wounded man and pulled him to his feet; she cringed at the way they pushed him back and forth between them as if he were a volleyball, and the grimace of pain on his face sent a pang through her.

Of course I'm mad that he shot at us--but he's got an ARROW in him! Can't they handle with care--?!

"Hold on!" she yelled again as she drew abreast of them, two of them grabbing hold of the man's arms and dragging him along with them; she hated the pained look on his face, and the stream of blood which trickled down around the arrow--nobody even made any move to pull it out. "HOLD ON--!"

One of the men whirled around and she saw that it was Black Elk Horn again--they all looked alike, dressed as they were. She came to an abrupt halt just before him, spinning her arms to keep from falling.

"I TOLD you!" he barked in her face. "You are NOT welcome here! You could have led him right to us!"

Charmian gawked, then scowled. "HARDLY! He was ALREADY heading this way--YOU guys flushed him toward the camp--!"

Black Elk Horn bared his teeth. "THEY WOULD NOT BE HERE IF NOT FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOU!!" he bellowed, and whirled back toward the others, jerking his hand at the air. They all started walking again, and the spy's legs dragged through the snow, a wince still upon his face. Charmian stared after them for a moment before scowling and following. Thomas caught up with her and grasped her elbow, but didn't pull her back; he carried the unconscious Marten under his arm.

"What exactly do you plan to do?" he whispered harshly. "Because if you haven't gotten the hint yet, I rather think he's made you persona non grata!"

"Tough!" Charmian snapped. "I'm going to make sure they don't do anything STUPID!"

Thomas flinched. "And who's going to keep an eye on you--?"

"That guy's wounded because of us," Charmian retorted. "The least I can do is make sure he's treated okay."

Thomas's face screwed up now, and he took a step ahead of her to look her in the face. "You do realize whom you're dealing with, don't you?" he asked. "Around here--they EAT people if they piss them off!"

"Then it's my job to make sure he doesn't get eaten," Charmian said, and picked up her pace. Thomas let out a flustered sigh but followed, and they made their way through the snow to the tribe upon the bluff.

* * * * *

The snow still fluttered down into the clearing of the camp, which was now crowded as everyone jostled one another, chattering excitedly. Charmian and Thomas lost sight of Black Elk Horn and the stranger, as everyone else had already been alerted to their arrival and had come out to see the newcomer. The two of them skirted the edge of the crowd, craning their necks to try to get a look, but meeting with only minimal success; there was simply too much going on to be sure of what exactly was going on.

Charmian chewed her lip. "We should've gone faster! What if they decide to cook him after all--?"

"I don't think they're going to eat him," Thomas said. "But he is their enemy--so I wouldn't be too surprised if I were you, if they do something you don't exactly agree with!"

"I have to stop that from happening," Charmian said, anxiety flaring inside her, and she ducked her head and slipped past a few people near the edge of the crowd. Thomas opened his mouth, but she was already gone. He ground his teeth and started peering over heads again, holding tightly onto Marten and letting out another frustrated sigh.

"Doesn't she know she's going to end up killed if she keeps doing that--?"

Charmian nudged her way through part of the crowd, trying to see which way led to the center of the camp, where everyone was facing. She found herself blocked by several of the men and chewed on her lip; she didn't like the thought of pushing them, with how unwelcome she was there already, yet couldn't think of anything else to do. She was looking from side to side to try to find another way through when somebody grasped at her sleeve.

Charmian tensed. "Thomas, I said I have to--" she blurted out, before turning and seeing this person was dressed in furs, and she jumped. She blinked when he pulled back his hood and she saw Stick-In-The-Dirt staring back at her. "Stick! I thought you were still at Sugar Loaf!"

"I came back when the storm let up," he explained. He furrowed his brow at her. "Where did you go--? I was told in the woods something about a cave, and a vision, and it didn't make much sense at all..."

"Told in the woods--?"

He nodded. "By a rabbit."

Charmian blinked again. He didn't bat an eye, so she supposed that sort of thing must be relatively normal around here. "We went down to Scott's Cave--the cave in the side of the bluff," she said. "It turns out I'm going to have to go to Arch Rock..."

"The cave?" A look of anxiety flitted across his face. "No one goes near that place--ever! They say this is a place where the spirits dwell!"

"Well, they're not entirely wrong," Charmian murmured. She waved her hand. "But I have to get to the middle of the camp--I have to see what's going on."

"A prisoner was brought in. You did not see? He's one of those who came up to the east shore. He must have been looking over the Island before the others could arrive, so he could report back to them."

"He was hit with an arrow," Charmian said. "He was wounded. What are they going to do with him--?"

The medicine man looked at her as if trying to determine whether she were feigning ignorance or not, then said matter-of-factly, "Well--he is a prisoner. If he is really one of the enemy, then they will do what they usually do to the enemy."

"Which is...?" Charmian heard a fresh outbreak of yelling and hooting and stood on tiptoe, hopping up and down. "I have to get to him!" she cried, and dashed from side to side, futilely seeking an entrance.

Stick-In-The-Dirt came up beside her. "Why--?"

"Because it's my fault that he was hurt. And he's just one guy! I don't think he's here to hurt the Island!"

"But--how can you tell?" he asked in confusion; Charmian continued her efforts to make her way through, and he sighed. She gasped when he took hold of her sleeve again and started tugging.

"Come," he said, and pulled her around to the side of the camp. Some of the women and older men stood here, and he carefully nudged his way through them, apologizing all the while. Everyone looked at them but stepped aside, and Charmian noticed how they all glanced toward the middle of the clearing as soon as they passed; when the camp center at last opened up before them, they halted, and Charmian sucked in a breath.

A wooden post had been pounded into the ground right in the center of the camp, and the wounded man knelt here, his arms bound behind his back and the rope looped tightly around the pole. His head hung forward and Charmian's heart twisted when she saw how the arrow still stuck out of his shoulder, the deerskin there stained dark from his blood; he was breathing heavily, but she couldn't see his face. The Islanders stood in a great ring around him, most of those in the front the same men who had headed out with Black Elk Horn, and Black Elk Horn himself stood near the captive with his hood thrown back. Charmian then noticed the large knife he held in his hand, and jerked and gasped.

She whirled to look at Stick-In-The-Dirt. "What's he going to do with that--?"

He didn't get a chance to answer. Black Elk Horn stepped toward the bound man and grasped hold of his hair, yanking his head back. Charmian's and Stick-In-The-Dirt's eyes widened. The stranger's face was wet and dirty, but he glared right back at Black Elk Horn, the same way that he had glared at Charmian and Thomas.

"You are not one of us," Black Elk Horn said, his voice venomous. "Why did you come to the Island?"

The stranger didn't answer. Black Elk Horn scowled and pulled his head back and forth so he winced; Charmian winced right along with him. "Tell us why you came here!" Black Elk Horn snapped. "Tell us what you dogs plan to do!"

Everyone held their breath, yet no response came. The stranger merely continued glaring defiantly at Black Elk Horn until he let go of his head, pushing it down abruptly so he pulled against his bonds. Only Charmian saw the way his face contorted when the arrow in his shoulder quivered, and she had to bite her tongue to avoid crying out.

Black Elk Horn flared his nostrils. "If you do not speak, then you make your plans clear," he grated. "You and your people are enemies to us and to this Island. We know that you mean no good by being here. The Island protects its own, and you have been given plenty of warnings never to come here."

Stick-In-The-Dirt glanced down at his arm. Charmian's fingers were digging into it, yet she didn't even notice, her eyes fixed on what was happening in the clearing. Black Elk Horn grasped the captive's hair and pulled his head back again, and glowered down into his face.

"All of you were warned. You will be the last warning."

With that, he raised the knife over the man's head, and Charmian's eyes goggled when she finally realized just what he intended to do with it.

He--he CAN'T be--!!

She let go of Stick-In-The-Dirt's arm and took a step forward, mouth working but no sound coming out. Nobody else made a move. She glanced wildly from side to side but nobody did anything to stop what was about to happen. Even Stick-In-The-Dirt kept his place, his eyes telling her that he didn't like what was going on, yet couldn't do anything about it. Charmian whirled back to look at the two in the clearing just as Black Elk Horn pulled the man's hair back even further, and she at last saw panic enter the stranger's eyes. Then it was as if all sense inside her snapped, and just as Black Elk Horn brought the knife swinging down she stumbled forward into the clearing, clenching her fists and yelling.

"I CLAIM HIS LIFE!!"

Continue:

Part 87: Squeezing Water From A Rock  (13+) It doesn't look like Charmian's prisoner is going to be very forthcoming... #922867 by Tehuti, Lord Of The Eight

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