box of rattlesnakes. Or at least what Jack imagined a box of rattlesnakes would sound like. It crackled and hissed, barely above a whisper and with little inflection, fading beneath Ben’s stronger baritone interpretation:
“When the Caieche first arrived on this land, there was already a tribe dwelling in the mountains. No one knew how long they had been there. The Caieche called them…” He paused and cast a quizzical glance at the old man.
Ben seemed to have difficulty translating the phrase. “The shadows… that… walk.”
Running Bear shook his head, his pale eyes flaring as he said again,
“Sorry. They who walk in shadows.” Ben rolled his eyes and muttered, “He’s very picky about the language. We always just called them the Shadow People.”
Running Bear continued with his discourse and Ben hurried to catch up.
“Anyway, they used to say the N’watu worshiped the spirit of the mountain.”
“Spirit?” Jack said, taking notes in a journal. “What kind of spirit was it?”
Running Bear went on.
“They called it Sh’ar Kouhm—the Soul Eater,” Ben said. “They believed there was a gateway to the underworld deep inside the caves. Sh’ar Kouhm was the queen of the underworld and would come up at every full moon to feed on a human soul… or…” He seemed to search for the right word. “On the emotions. Fear and anger. The strongest emotions of a person’s soul.”
“Soul Eater?” Jack frowned. “So what happened?”
“Apparently their elders made a bargain with Sh’ar Kouhm. If the N’watu could provide her with souls from other tribes, she would leave them in peace.”
Rudy raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t they just move out of the caves altogether? Y’know, find somewhere else to live?”
Running Bear peered at him in the firelight for a moment. Then he spoke in soft, broken English. “Would you give up your home so easily?”
Rudy shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t resort to human sacrifices just to hang on to it. That’s for sure.”
“Look,” Ben interjected, “this is all just a bunch of old stories. I mean, nobody actually
Running Bear seemed to grow agitated and responded to Ben’s comment. Ben rolled his eyes again and replied in Caieche.
Jack interrupted their argument. “What’s he saying?”
Ben sighed. “He claims the N’watu took his great-grandmother when his granddad was just a kid. Apparently he saw them. They were like ghosts or something.”
“Wait a minute,” Jack said. “He says his
Ben shrugged. “Like I said, that’s what he says his grandfather used to tell him. But I think he may have been a little, y’know… few eggs short of a dozen or something. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”
“Were there any other witnesses? Did they try to go after her?”
“I think they just assumed she had run off with another man or gotten killed by a mountain lion or something,” Ben said. “Nobody ever talked about it much.”
“Still,” Jack said, “it’s a pretty compelling story. Does he know where the caves are?”
Running Bear spoke in a heated tone, and Ben appeared to be trying to calm him down.
“He says not to go off looking for the caves,” Ben explained. “He says there’s something evil in that place.”
“No doubt,” Rudy offered in agreement.
Jack reached into his pack and produced the papers from his father’s desk. “Look, my father disappeared somewhere out here twelve years ago, and I’m trying to find out what happened to him.” He pulled out the page with the image on it. “He had this drawing. I think it was some kind of artifact he was searching for. Does this look familiar at all?”
Running Bear’s eyes fixed on the drawing. He seemed intrigued and yet a little sad at the same time. He spoke slowly.
Ben translated. “He says he’s seen this before.”
“He has?” Jack leaned forward. “Where?”
The old man rose from his chair and shuffled over to a shelf on the other side of the room. He returned with a folded piece of cloth, carrying it gingerly in his arthritic fingers, and sat down again. Unfolding the cloth, he revealed a swatch of something that looked like animal hide. He held a narrow strip of soft leather up in the firelight, where Jack could see faded red markings. Several bands of lines connected in parallel and perpendicular designs across the length of the material.
The markings looked nearly identical to the ones in the artifact. As if they were characters from the same alphabet.
Running Bear nodded and spoke.
“He says it’s the language of the N’watu,” Ben said. “His grandfather wrote them down long ago. He claimed to have seen this writing inside the cave where his mother was taken, then wrote it down from memory.”
“His grandfather was
Running Bear’s soft voice replied, and Ben translated.
“His grandfather once told him the story about how he had been inside the cave when he tried to save his mother.”
“Did he tell him where the cave is? Does he know where to find it?”
Running Bear nodded and spoke as Ben translated. “Through the waters at the head of the Little White Eagle. In the cleft of the mountainside.” Ben leaned aside. “I’m pretty sure that’s White Eagle Creek. Just a couple miles north of here.”
Running Bear went on.
“He wants to know where your father saw this figure,” Ben said.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. I just found his papers a couple weeks ago. But this could prove his theories weren’t so crazy after all. If I can find this cave and get pictures of the writing inside it… that would be
Running Bear spoke in a weary tone.
“He warns you not to go,” Ben said, almost apologetically.
But Jack was having none of it. He wasn’t going to stop for the sake of some old Indian ghost story.
“No way. I can’t quit now.” He turned to Rudy. “I have to find it.”
Rudy held up his hands. “You didn’t say anything about crawling around in caves. I’m claustrophobic.”
“C’mon, Rudy,” Jack said. “You know I can’t do this alone.”
Rudy grunted. “Dude, this trip just keeps getting better and better.”
“Well, I can show you where White Eagle Creek is,” Ben said. “I suppose you can try to follow it upstream and see where it leads. See if there really is a cave up there.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Jack said.
Then Ben went on with a grin. “Of course, you two look like a couple of city boys. Not sure it’s the safest thing for you to do. Not without a guide, anyway.”
“A guide, huh?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose you have someone in mind?”
“I sure do.” Ben thumbed his chest. “US Army Rangers for ten years. I’ve lived in the area my whole life. Plus, I’ve even done a fair bit of caving in my day. If you need a guide, I’m your man. Provided the price is right.”
“Price…” Jack rubbed his jaw and peered at the Indian. It would definitely be helpful to have someone on his expedition who was familiar with the area. As long as it fit in his budget. “How much?”
They were beginning to haggle when Running Bear stood up and shook his head. His eyes flared in the firelight.
“If you go… death will find you there.”
