Free People of the Mist by W. Michael Gear

his
face was tattooed in a peculiar fashion, as if his eyes looked out of two
swallowtails. He carried a fearsome war club inset with a nasty copper blade.
The spider gorget he wore was said to belong to some secret society of warriors
who served the Serpent Chiefs. Others said he knew strange ways, that he spoke
to alien gods, and enchanted evil spirits to his will.
                 All
of these things might be true, for he had welded the squabbling upriver clans
into a cohesive alliance for the first time in the memory of men. With them at
his back, he’d managed to defeat first Stone Frog” and then Water Snake.
                 Both
battles had been won with inferior numbers of warriors, and had inflicted great
losses on the larger forces. And now the Great Tayac, as Copper Thunder styled
himself, sat astride the most important trade route to the interior. Along that
line flowed all the copper, chert, and rhyolite for tools, fine fabrics, dyes,
and steatite for pipes and bowls. That lonesome young man had collected an
amazing amount of prestige, authority, and power. His strength seemed to be
growing by the year. Many now said there was no way to stop him.
                 But
is that true? Nine Killer listened to the shouts of his men echoing through the
forest, and considered what sort of man it took to accomplish such a thing.
                 Copper
Thunder was more than just a long-lost kinsman of the Pipestone Clan. He had
some other quality, something that set him above other men. Whatever it was, it
differed from the proclaimed deity of men like Water Snake, who believed
himself to be part god. In all the times Nine Killer had dealt with the
Mamanatowick, he’d always known instinctively that he dealt with another
man—albeit a powerful one.
                 Copper
Thunder was a different matter. Nine Killer need but look into those eyes and
his soul shivered. People said that the Great Tayac carried a powerful amulet,
a tablet engraved with the image of a creature part bird, part man, and part
snake—and whispered that it made him invincible.
                 Nine
Killer tightened his grip on his bow, reassured by the resilient wood. He’d
made the weapon himself, carved it from the fire-hardened branch of a hickory
tree. Of all the warriors he’d met, only five had been able to draw it to full
arc. With it, Nine Killer could drive an arrow clear through an enemy warrior’s
oak shield and into his body—no matter what intrigues good or bad spirits might
contrive.
                 He
had been thinking about this new alliance between Hunting Hawk and Copper
Thunder. As War Chief, who wouldn’t? After all, he would have to bear the brunt
of Water Snake and Stone Frog’s rage.
                 Things
were changing. The old, ordered ways had crumbled, largely because of the
arrival of Copper Thunder. Were it not for him, and the expansion of the upriver
clans, things might have stayed pretty much the same around the great Salt
Water Bay. But, like Okeus after the Creation, Copper Thunder had brought chaos
to the country. Those three stones were closing in on the Independent villages,
grinding away with ever more determination.
                 Nine
Killer frowned. Thinking of Okeus always made him nervous. After all, temples
and shrines were erected to the dark god. He was worshiped and placated,
whereas Ohona, god of Creation and order, was mostly forgotten. Okeus always
made Nine Killer feel as if he were standing on a high point while lightning
flashed and banged in the sky. A man never knew when he was going to be
blasted.
                 Okeus
and the Weroansqua had a great deal in common. Perhaps old Hunting Hawk had
saved them again by this alliance to Copper Thunder’s Pipestone Clan. The test
would be to see if Hunting Hawk was truly capable of handling Copper
Thunder—and Okeus only knew what would happen if… A