LaBiche seemed curious and troubled. “One never knows what to believe, Captain, but with the magic rising…Well, Chaytan and the others say they have driven off talking animals who came to demand that they join with the forces of the land so they can expel the Europeans.” He paused while the Sioux continued to speak animatedly, then he continued to translate. “They say they don’t trust the magic behind this demand because it is a big and powerful magic, and they are frightened of it. And also because if the force is truly on their side, it would not attack their village or try to intimidate them. Enapay says it reminds him of an enemy tribe trying to compel you to do what it wishes before it will grant you peace.
“And so, the Sioux haven’t taken the offer to join the big magic. They remain in their village, though many other settlements are empty. Maybe the people have run away, maybe they were destroyed, maybe they joined the big magic. Now Chaytan and his people may move far away. They say that large beasts roam the land”—the interpreter made a gesture with his hands, to indicate the enormous size of the creatures—“devouring the great herds of buffalo that provide sustenance for the natives. And though the tribes can sometimes scavenge meat and scraps of hides from the torn carcasses after the monsters attack, many young Sioux are also eaten by the big beasts, whose footsteps make the ground shake and the mountains tremble.”
Though Meriwether thought this must be an exaggeration, he recalled the illustration of the woolly elephant on the cave wall. Could a creature so large actually roam the arcane territories?
“Why did they come here?” Meriwether asked.
LaBiche listened to the Sioux. “They came to warn us. They say that we will encounter their neighbors in half a day’s journey up the river. These people have also been harassed and starved by the Big Magic, but they blame Europeans for wakening that magic, and making their land perilous.” He nodded toward the three Sioux warriors. “These men say we should be prepared to defend ourselves against the next tribe.”
Clark showed the same concern and curiosity that Meriwether felt. “Thank them for the warning. We will take it under advisement.”
“And we want to thank our new friends,” Meriwether said. He gestured for one of the men to get the gifts they’d brought along for exactly such situations: medals that Franklin had infused with magic, so that when held in a certain way they displayed a miniature electric storm on their surface. Some other medals had healing properties, curing illnesses and discomforts for those who carried them.
When he and Clark handed the medals to the three Sioux, though, the visitors were clearly not impressed. Enapay spoke in a voice that sounded wrathful, holding his medal as if he were about to fling it in their faces. LaBiche quickly translated. “He says these are no use to them. They need weapons to fight both the Big Magic and the hostile neighbor tribe. He says that you offer them toys to appease children.” The trapper looked jittery, uncomfortable.
“These are not toys,” Meriwether hastened to explain. “They contain good will, and they have been infused with magic by one of our greatest wizards. The light show is to show their magic. They also possess a healing spell that makes smaller illnesses vanish and minor wounds close.” As LaBiche quickly passed along the words, Meriwether continued, “We would give you bigger medicine if we could, but magic is hard to bind, even for a great wizard. His profile is on this medal, and he wants his magic to be useful to you.”
The three Sioux listened, then seemed to reconsider the medals. Finally, Enapay slipped his medal in a small buckskin pouch, and the others did the same with obvious reluctance and disappointment. They refused to stay or share a meal with the expedition, which gave Meriwether and Clark the opportunity to discuss plans for defending against the neighboring band of Sioux, the ones hostile to Europeans.
Knowing the location of the hostile village from Chaytan, Enapay, and Mato, the two captains decided to approach along the river rather than sending a party overland. They would keep the keelboat and the majority of their provisions and people on the water, where it should be easier to escape. Captain Clark made sure that the big cannon on the boat was ready to fire and repel any attack.
As the keelboat moved upriver, with lookouts alert, peering intently at the shore, they found the village of hostile Sioux not far from the banks, just as the sun was beginning to set. Meriwether and LaBiche had taken the vanguard along with three other men, moving cautiously along the riverbank after rowing there in a small pirogue, while Clark remained in the main boat, manning the big cannon.
They thought it was important to draw out the hostiles, before they had a chance to set up a proper ambush later on.
A band of young native men, their faces fearsomely painted, emerged from the brush along the shore, glaring at the boat. They held spears in their hands, with rifles slung over their shoulders. They stepped in front of Meriwether, blocking their way. They must have been following us for some time, he thought.
One of the painted warriors advanced and barked a series of words at him. LaBiche was at Meriwether’s shoulder. “He says he doesn’t want you near his village. He says that you and your kind have disturbed the land and caused bad magic. Because of you, monsters are eating all the buffalo, and now his village is starving.” The trapper’s face twisted as he listened. “He says if you give them your knives and your guns, they’ll let you go without harming you.”
Meriwether forced himself not to cringe at such a bald and ridiculous demand. He squared his shoulders, looked the Sioux warrior in the eyes. “Tell him no. Tell him there is a big gun in the boat.” He pointed at the boat. “And that we will fire upon them if they will not let us pass unharmed.”
For a moment nothing happened. The painted warriors held their position, apparently steeling themselves. Meriwether noted the way they flexed their legs, shifting weight. Now the warriors looked towards the boat, showing telltale fidgets. On the keelboat, Captain Clark stood cheerfully behind the gun. He waved as though greeting a party of friends.
The painted warriors looked at Meriwether again. He understood why they wanted guns and knives, if they were plagued by rotting, murderous revenants as well as other monsters, such as the giant beasts massacring their buffalo herds. These warriors did not appear to be starving, not yet, but it was not yet autumn. And in the native tribes, the warrior men got fed first, because without them, both women and children died.
As the tense face-off continued for several more seconds, the ground suddenly shook. Meriwether thought that his own senses were recoiling, that the uneasy situation made him tremble, but then the riverbank shook again, and he heard a pounding sound.
The painted warriors panicked, crouching to defend themselves. Meriwether prepared to run, perhaps to dive into the river and swim to the keelboat. The trapper interpreter took a step backward, his mouth gaping open.
The largest of the painted warriors seized Meriwether about the chest, pinning his arms at his sides and rendering him incapable of fighting. The Sioux’s knife pressed threateningly against his neck, and LaBiche had also been caught and held. But the other three men in the vanguard party darted away, scrambling into the water and aboard the small pirogues they had brought to the bank.
Aboard the big keelboat on the water, Clark looked impotent even behind the large gun. If he fired upon the party of treacherous Sioux, he would also kill the two hostages.
The painted warriors ran toward the river, and Meriwether’s big captor dragged him along, not caring if he made him stumble. Meriwether barely managed to keep his feet, then tripped again.
Throughout, the shaking of the ground and the thudding sound grew closer, louder.