Meriwether shared the same goal, since Franklin had given them the difficult mission. If he could find a passage across the western ocean to reconnect the rest of the world, he would literally change history. But a part of him felt lost, and he did not want this journey to end.
Clark interrupted, impatient. “I do see the point of your objection to us continuing. I see why you wouldn’t want to press on, because of the increasing dangers. The great evil does not have to kill the two of us. He can chip at us, slowly, like an ax against a strong tree. I can see that.” He shrugged. “Therefore I agree with what you have not yet been able to say. Our only course of action is to find this evil sorcerer and neutralize him.” He gave a determined look first to Sacagawea, then to Meriwether. “But what makes you believe we can do so? This enemy commands terrible creatures, uses revenants of the dead as his puppets, and possesses vast arcane knowledge. What chance to we have? How does it profit us to fight him if there is no possible way we can win?”
Sacagawea spoke first. “If I can bring Toussaint back to himself, he will be able to help us. Because his mind was touched by the enemy, he will have a better idea of what the sorcerer, the dragon, is…and how to fight him.” She made a face. “I think I understand the state he is in now. I have heard how sometimes a powerful shaman will do this to a man in an enemy tribe, using his body and looking through his eyes as a spy.” She shook her head. “I am not sure my herbs will heal him. If we could find the tribe of my birth, the shaman would know.”
The tribe of her birth. For the first time, it occurred to Meriwether that she often spoke of it in those terms, seeming to separate herself from them.
“Is your tribe nearby?” Clark asked.
She nodded once. “I think so. I was very young when I was taken away, but I recognize this land as where my tribe roamed. And the moccasins we’ve found in the burned camps are similar to the things my people wore.” She looked intently at them. “We are the Snake People, as the other tribes call us. I’m sure our shaman can help us. He was very wise and full of great power. When I first ran away from the servant of the raven, I hoped to find the shaman. But then I sensed your dragon, Captain Lewis,” she said, giving him a smile. “And I realized you would help me.”
“Why hasn’t your shaman already battled the great evil?”
She made a face. “I didn’t say he could fight the sorcerer, only that he can help heal my husband. Maybe then—” Her voice faltered. There were tears in her eyes.
Meriwether had already decided that this is what they should do, but he felt a sudden qualm. “I think perhaps we should put it to a vote among the members of the expedition. We’ll be asking them to risk their lives in unequal combat. They agreed to go to the Pacific—”
“And to face any dangers on the way,” Clark added.
“And they’ve faced plenty of them. But even if there is something in Toussaint’s mind that helps us understand our enemy, the danger is of a different sort. The overwhelming likelihood is that we’ll lose.”
“All right,” Clark said, conceding. “We’ll gather the men and tell them the situation. We’ll ask them to vote on it.”
“The women too,” Meriwether said.
Sacagawea said, “The women left last night, after the fire creature. The interpreters ran away, too.”
Clark seemed about to debate, but then shrugged. “Very well. Everyone votes, including Sacagawea.” He seemed amused by the idea. “Except Seaman, unless you find a way to interpret his vote.”
My Dearest Julia,
Not long ago we held the oddest vote ever taken in the new world or, I daresay, in the old. A month ago, after our camp was attacked by the fire demon, we all decided together that we could not go on as we’d been. The chances of the entire expedition being killed before we reached the Pacific were high. We cannot hope to survive against the continued and increasing attacks of the evil sorcerer who means to destroy us.
Sacagawea hopes that should we find her tribe—called the Snake People, though she calls it Shoshone—the shaman will be able to revive her husband, who is very ill indeed. After the destruction of the fire demon, he lies unresponsive, carried on a litter by two of the men. If he can be revived, he might give us some insight into how to defeat this dark sorcerer, who seems to be part dragon, or at least the Indian manifestation of a similar legend.
I don’t know what has gotten into Captain Lewis, though. He seems moody and irrational. If we were back east, I’d say he must be in love, but that cannot be possible here on our expedition. Except for Sacagawea, all of the women have departed, fled with their trapper husbands. Yet he demanded that every member of our party should have a voice on whether we continue to the Pacific or stay and fight this menace that has plagued us mercilessly. He even insisted the former slave York and the native woman get a vote.
Once the perils had been explained, all members voted to find the Snake People and their shaman, hope that he can heal Charbonneau, so that we can all try to fight the great magic that has been attacking us.
Yes, Julia, after great consideration, even I voted to stay and face this menace, though with a heavy heart. I want more than anything to reach the western edge of our world, so that we can consider our mission complete and then I can return to you. How I long to hold you in my arms and to finally celebrate our wedding, which will make you mine forever.
But now that we will fight the evil sorcerer, I do not know if I will survive to reach the western ocean, much less get back to you.
For the past month since the attack of the fiery creature, we have continued to search for Sacagawea’s people, without success, though yesterday some chance-met natives warned us about a fierce party of warriors in this region. Charbonneau remains unchanged.
Hopefully we will find her people, and her shaman. They may not even be alive, considering the local wars that often result in entire tribes being taken captive or killed.
With a heavy heart and a fear of not seeing you again, I must sign myself,
Yours, ever,
William Clark
—Letter from William Clark to Julia Hancock,
June 1, 1805
Flying
For days now, as the fruitless search continued, Meriwether had been aware of mounting despair. Because he knew he was prone to despondency since an early age, he tried to pay it no mind, to focus on their goal. Ever since his father’s death, his moods were at best an unreliable instrument. For no particular reason, a black gloom might descend upon him, so deep and dark that he could not muddle through it, nor even write in his diary.
Because of his own preoccupation, he did not at first notice that the same mood had taken hold of everyone else. As they plodded on, the men had stopped talking among themselves, except for the most necessary things. Even Clark rarely spoke, and when he took Pompy from Sacagawea to hold, he no longer smiled or laughed at the child’s cooing and antics.
Other than the brief excitement of a bear chasing Meriwether through the forest, and another strange dream or vision when he thought he had seen Charbonneau conversing with the bear, they had not faced any great peril and no further supernatural attacks since the fire demon. Meriwether had shot and killed the bear which, when they inspected its carcass, seemed to be nothing other than a normal animal, though of unusual size.
One night two bull buffalo had rampaged through the camp, seemingly disoriented rather than driven to a mad frenzy. They had both been shot before either of them could trample the men in camp.