The House of Sundown

"Whoa, Yellow," Sundown said, reining in his horse.

Scattered boulders coupled with another thunderstorm hid him from Star Travelers flying unseen overhead. Sundown needed more than extreme weather and rocks to come out of the unfamiliar valley alive with the relentless Hill Tribes bearing down on his trail. Two enemies against a lone warrior did not put odds in Sundown’s favor.

Lightning revealed a bigger problem than men in space looking for diversion or wild men chasing him for his hair and horse. Around a mired carriage in the crossroads a battle raged for the treasure it held. As far as Sundown could tell through the rain, all the combatants were from Sachem’s tribe. They wore black breechcloths and leggings and killed each other without hesitation for the black lacquered box on wheels. Whatever the bloodthirsty king of the North demanded mattered little to the warrior.

"Come on, Yellow," Sundown said, patting his horse’s neck. Through the fight and the hail pelting like angry wasps, Sundown felt a soft voice calling. Praying. Imploring. It was no conversation to which he was eavesdropping. No instructions from the Star Travelers he was at a loss to understand: headings, degrees, and gibberish. The chanter asked for help. No, for mercy. A merciful death. No such thing, Sundown thought. Death might be merciful if it meant the end to a tormented life. He filled an empty corner of his heart and urged Yellow forward.

A dazzling light pierced the clouds to stab the mud a bow’s length away. Yellow reared in panic, lost his footing and rolled downhill. Jumping at the last moment Sundown avoided his horse sliding by as the beam was extinguished. No light on Earth was so bright or left a dark so black.

Raiders swarmed the carriage and four passengers scrambled uphill straight for Sundown. He dove to cover in the rocks and found himself face to face with the sender of the prayers.

Later he’d take the time to recognize her skin was darker than his. Later he’d realize she was decorated in fine leather and spun silver from the ends of her perfect braids to the bottoms of her tiny moccasined feet. The sight he’d carry through his torture and pain was of her eyes.

Large, liquid, black pools of wonder and fear reflected the lightning. Eyes of a frightened deer. Eyes that spoke to his heart as eloquently as her prayers petitioned indifferent gods. Eyes that sealed their fate. They held Sundown as securely as if he was tied to the spot.

Frantic men scrambled after the passengers mindful of the strange lightning. Some greater fear drove them to pursue the women they had lost to just one man.

"No," Sundown said, wrapping her right braid around his left hand. He rested his knife on her hair. "Da."

The only sounds in the rocky crevice were rain dripping and her breath coming in shudders. A crystal tear slid down her cheek as she watched his knife.

Whistles sounded from the men searching every hole in the rocks except one: a concession from the Travelers who’d caused his present dilemma or Sundown’s enduring, uncanny luck.

Long after the first, a silent squad scoured the same area. They’d miss the unfortunate man who did find the prize. Sundown slit his throat and dropped him in the mud. "No talking," Sundown said, kicking the dead man. "No talking," he repeated tapping her chest.

Doe Eyes removed her necklace of silver disks and pushed it in his bloody hand. The next footsteps were not made with stiff-soled northern moccasins that left more track but kept feet drier. No threat was necessary to insure Doe Eye’s silence.

"Lieutenant?" a stranger said. "I’m down in the dirt. No sight of any source to account for the readings we get on board ship. The atmospheric electric display intensified and the NAs scattered when we did the visual scan. We didn’t know they were around but they couldn’t have seen much in this light show. Recommend we move northeast and wait for the energy source to get there. Whatever this power is I damned sure don’t want to meet it alone. Over and out." In the pause before the man spoke again Sundown realized he hadn’t breathed. "These rocks distort our readings worse than the sand, sir. That’s why we didn’t know the NAs were here. Pick me up. Get me out of here before I meet somebody I’m not supposed to, sir."

Sundown waited for more but the speaker was gone. "They chased me to this spot. They saw me fight and win you from Sachem."

On her third attempt through chattering teeth Doe Eyes managed, "T-Sah-keym, Wa."

Sundown spit at the mention of his enemy’s name. "Sachem, da. You’re mine from the Travelers. Mine."

She was appalled at his bad manners. "Mine, da, Wa. T-Sachem."

He pulled her closer. "Da."

Doe Eyes unwound her braid from his hand and straightened the silver tassels, smoothing wisps of black hair from her face.

"They can’t tell Sachem they lost you. What do you have he needs? Do you talk to his gods for him?" Sundown winced at the pain under his left nipple. The stiletto hidden in her hair for emergencies made the slightest dimple in his skin.

"T-Wa, da. T-Sachem." One red pearl of Sundown’s blood ran the length of the narrow knife. She inched toward freedom with Sundown pressing forward oblivious to the pain. A step away and he was on her.

Slashing him from shoulder to shoulder, she had little effect on Sundown who disarmed her and sat her down. "I don’t have time for this. Got to get you south. What’s in here? Another knife? Give it up."

She untied the pouch from her waistband and surrendered it to him. Throwing the coins in the mud, Sundown searched her skirt finding the next purse. He sniffed at the contents as she crushed petals between her palms only to have him knock them away. He frowned at the knot in the ties of her skirt. When he jerked the cords, a silver knife fell out.