Free Prophecy by James Axler Page B

feet. As Jak was led to them, they already had food and water ready for him. It was as though they had every confidence in his compliance. As though they had been expecting him.
    Jak ate and drank in silence. He was determined to give nothing away, and would wait for these men to make the first move. Were these men his captors, or his salvation? He was unsure.
    When he had eaten and drunk well, they presented him with a bowl of water in which to wash. While he did, they took down the tepees and stored them on a hide sled, which they then attached to the saddle mount of one of the horses.
    Once Jak had completed his ablutions, the warrior with the bandanna spoke to him. “If you ride with me, I’ll explain something of what has happened while we journey to our ville.”
    Jak nodded. Climbing up behind the warrior, he foundhimself moving out into the middle of the line of riders. The horse with the sled took up position at the rear.
    They set off across the plain, the sun now high overhead, and the heat intensifying with every mile they traveled.
    After a while, the warrior with the bandanna spoke over his shoulder.
    â€œWe knew you were coming. Some had arrived, and so it was certain that the others would be nearby. It was just a question of tracking you. The one who came upon us of his volition could say little. Too long out on the plain, exposed to the elements. But if we explored in the direction from which he came, then chances were that we would find you. As it happened, we were spared the need to search as you came upon us of your own accord. Truly, we should have known that this would happen. How else could the legends be realized?”
    Jak listened, but said nothing. So far, none of it really made much sense to him. This talk of legends was stupe, but if he waited long enough, he was sure that more would become clear.
    So they continued. It was near nightfall, the sun descending behind a far range of hills, casting long blue-hued shadows over the sun-scorched plain, before they came upon the area that the Native Americans called their ville. Riding into the shadows, as Jak’s eyes adjusted to the gloomier light, he became aware that a small ville of wigwams sat in the shelter of the hillside. The large structures, made of wood and brush woven together to form misshapen mushrooms of shelter, wereclustered close to the face of the rock, the beginning of a fire flaring and casting a glow reflected back off the rock. In this improving light, Jak was now able to see that the ville numbered more than twenty wigwams. There was also the suggestion of an opening in the rock, through which he was now able to see another source of light. Dimmer, but steady. Not natural or fire light, but something else. Electricity? Within the confines of rock, this could mean only one thing.
    â€œMebbe redoubt,” he breathed.
    The man in front of him glanced over his shoulder. They had ridden in silence for some time, and it was as much surprise at Jak’s voice, as it was at what he said, that prompted response.
    â€œSo you will say something, then? Even if it makes no sense. ‘Re’-what? Never mind, Red-eyes, it’ll be talked of soon enough. Maybe the shaman can get some sense out of you.”
    Jak would be ready for anything. He would bide his time and try to find out as much as he could.
    As the new arrivals rode into the ville, they found themselves surrounded by men, women and children. Jak noted that while the men and boys wore their hair long, the women were the opposite. Unlike most communities, where there were no rules or conventions about this, it seemed that it was a tradition strictly observed. Grimly, he wondered how Krysty or Millie would fare in such a place.
    The warrior party halted and dismounted. The throng milled around them, and there were questions aboutwhere Jak had been found and what he had said. None of these were directed toward him, which he found amusing rather than