Mark Tufo - The End Has Come and Gone

The sight of the smoke from many funeral cairns at first stopped his advance and then made him speed up. His horse came to skidding stop at the hunched over body of Severed Hand who had just finished placing the last rock on the old Chief’s cairn.

“What has happened here?” Chief Running Bear asked alighting from his horse, wildly looking around for his wife and his children, in fact, anyone.

“They are dead,” Severed Hand said standing up, his hands nearly scraped clean of skin from his burial efforts.

“Who did this?” Running Bear asked, tears streaming down his face as he sought an enemy to lash out against.

“It is not a ‘who.’” Severed Hand said. “And your spears and bows would do nothing against it. Mourn, Running Bear, then come and sit with me. I have a way in which we can strike out against the demon that destroyed our people.”

Running Bear barely acknowledged the words of his Medicine Man, so lost was he in the depths of his loss, but still he nodded. Severed Hand rubbed a small amount of his mixture onto every warrior’s head and clothes as they fell where they were, cries of despair rising as one lone sad song across the now accursed ground.

For three days the remaining members of the tribe grieved for their lost ones. On the night of the third, Chief Running Bear entered into Severed Hand’s teepee. He was barely able to see the Medicine Man in the gloom, but he could see that he was beginning to shrivel away since he had not emerged to eat or drink in that whole time. The Chief sat across from Severed Hand who was only here in the physical sense, his spirit was walking the planes. The entire night the Chief merely sat and watched as the Shaman from time to time would shout out incoherent mutterings of warning and surprise.

“Hello, Running Bear,” Severed Hand said exhaustedly as the sun arose, light spilling through the top of the teepee’s smoke hole.

“Hello,” Running Bear returned the greeting, a determined look set on his face. “Can this demon be destroyed?” he asked.

“My spirit guides have shown me a way, but I will need the tribe’s help to achieve this. Even then I am not sure if we will be strong enough.”

“You will have all the help you ask for,” Running Bear said. “And if anger can be your source of energy, than you will have all you will need.”

Severed Hand gave the Chief a list of items he would need for that night’s spirit walk.

“Come old friend,” the Chief said to Severed Hand. “You have not drank or eaten in three days’ time. Let me get you something while we walk among the trees.”

“I would welcome some water, Running Bear, but I fear I will never walk in the light of day again. What I do the spirits have told me requires a high price.”

Running Bear nodded once, stood up and went to get his Shaman some water.

That night Running Bear was instructed by Severed Hand to bring ten of his strongest warriors into his teepee. The Chief did as he was told. They sat in a circle around the spiritual leader of the tribe. Kills Coyote handed over the peyote buttons in a ceremonial bowl. Running Bear watched in concern as Severed Hand ate five of the magic seeds. He had never seen him take more than two. After a few minutes of chanting, Severed Hand became violently ill, heaving up his spirit as an offering to the spirits. Kills Coyote took away the proffered bile in a wooden bowl.

Severed Hand began to rock back and forth. The eleven Lakotas around him joined hands, their chants joining his. Higher and higher his spirit rose, further than it had ever gone before. His spirit guide, the antlered Hawk, warned him that if he traveled too far he would not be able to find his way home and still Severed Hand soared. He passed those who did not know they were yet gone. Some watched as he went by, but most were too wrapped up in their own events to even notice. Up to the edge of the Spirits’ Home he went, to Purgatory, the location of lost souls. Tears rained down from these tortured individuals, they had been cursed in one form or another. Some bargained their eternity away for a bit of fame and fortune that was gone in the blink of an eye from this vantage point. Most had committed mortal sins and were banished from any form of a spiritual nirvana. A select few had had their souls stripped from them, some willingly, most not.

“I seek the one named Eliza!” Severed Hand cried among the lonely souls surrounded on all sides by their brethren, but they no more acknowledged each other than leaves on a tree. “I believe that I have something of yours!” Severed Hand said, holding Eliza’s hair high up in the air.

For long moments nothing happened and then off in the distance Severed Hand could see a parting of souls as one walked among them. Crevices had formed in the girl’s face from the tears that never stopped running through them. Her mouth was open in a wide oval as if she were screaming yet no sound was heard. Her arms were outstretched as she beheld the locket of hair Severed Hand held.

“You are Eliza?” Severed Hand asked. It was difficult to compare the evil being that had destroyed his people with this hunched over, tortured young girl. He had a moment of regret for what he was about to do. At least here she could walk free, forever searching for the body that had given her away. Once in the blood stone she would be trapped fast, even her tears would not be able to flow.

Eliza walked quickly to where Severed Hand stood. She was desperate to touch anything that had once belonged to her. When she reached out to touch the hair, Severed Hand pulled it close to his body and with the other hand gripped her arm tightly. “NOW!” he screamed in the ethereal world as well as the real.

Chief Running Bear and the braves began chanting the words that Severed Hand had taught them earlier in the day. He felt his spirit being dragged back down even faster than he had risen. It was too fast and yet he kept speeding up. Severed Hand slammed back into his body, almost relinquishing his grip on Eliza’s soul. Everyone but Running Bear gasped as they saw the vision before them of a white mist which formed the shape of a young woman in the grip of Severed Hand.

Kills Coyote ran towards Severed Hand and with a torch of burning sage swept it completely around the medicine man and the apparition. Severed Hand let go of Eliza who was trapped for the moment in the smoke of the Sage. He spoke a few words to the Spirits of the Ground. The Blood Stone shone from within, the red light illuminating the faces of those around it. Eliza was panic stricken as Severed Hand once again grabbed her; his spirit intermingled with hers as they both plunged into the stone. The light from within flashed brilliantly and then just as quickly died out. Severed Hand’s body slumped forward to the ground.

“Is he dead?” one of the warriors asked Running Bear.

“No, he will live forever,” Chief Running Bear said as he stood up and grabbed the red stone from the open hand of Severed Hand. He held the stone up to the light of the new morning; two minor blemishes deep in the depths of the stone stared back at him. “I will miss you, old friend,” Running Bear said sadly as he placed the stone into a pouch that Severed Hand had given to him the day before.

“You do this for me, Colonel,” Eliza said. “And I will return your family safely.”

“What proof do I have that you have them? I can’t just take my troops a hundred miles to the West and destroy an Indian tribe that has not so much as stolen a chicken,” Colonel Broward said to the beautiful woman before him. He had been summoned by his sergeant to meet her in the town saloon. She said that she had word of his family.

“Would you not recognize the earrings that you bought your blushing bride?” Eliza asked.