Finally, the tall warrior spoke. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said in excellent English. “My companions and I would like to know what brings you so far into the territory of the Shoshone…and how you are creating such a magical disruption that terrible beasts are eating the buffalo and fire monsters are consuming the camps of our friends and neighbors.”
Clark advanced to stand next to his partner. “We have done nothing.” He, too, flashed a quick glance to the shadowy figures just out of view. Neither of them wanted to provoke a confrontation. The rider carried a spear, but the other warriors beyond the camp might well carry firearms. Between trade with trappers and fur traders, even theft, the native tribes had plenty of access to firearms. “We are traveling across the land and over the mountains in search of the great western sea.”
The warrior on horseback responded with a skeptical frown. “Prove it.” The campfire cast eerie shadows on his face, making his smile look to be a leer. His eyes shone with an intense fervor. “No one else is causing trouble, and yet the great magic throws our land into turmoil. The people suffer—and all since your party moved into these territories.”
“We mean no harm,” Meriwether said. “Your enemy is the evil sorcerer. He is tearing this land apart.”
The warrior did not seem convinced. “Our shamans tell us this is foreign magic, magic from that land across the sea, from invaders who came here before the comet.”
“Shamans can say whatever they like,” Clark said. “That doesn’t mean they know the truth.”
“What else could cause this much disruption? Prove to us it is not your fault.”
Meriwether felt a trickle of sweat down his back. “And how can we prove that? If we have done nothing, then no proof can possibly exist.” He doubted this young warrior would understand the nuances of legal logic.
Sacagawea might be able to explain, though, since she had suffered more at the hands of the dragon sorcerer than any. She knew who he was and what he had done to the land and to the other tribes. She could vouch for them—if the warriors believed her.
He looked over his shoulder and saw her standing by the fire. He immediately realized something was wrong. She clutched her hands at her chest, and her face was vacant, her mouth half open, her eyes huge as if caught in some new magical attack. As she stared at the tall man on horseback, she seemed to see something entirely different.
Immediately on guard, Meriwether dug deep inside himself and prepared to release his spirit dragon, as he had done against the river monster. He didn’t know if he could do it, or how he would fight against this raiding party, but the appearance of the supernatural creature connected to him would certainly startle these natives. Then Clark and the rest of the expedition members would have to fight and hope to survive.
“Cameahwait,” Sacagawea finally spoke, breaking his concentration. “Brother.”
The warrior swung about, staring at her as if poleaxed. Sacagawea spoke in a rush, a language Meriwether couldn’t understand. The man responded, shaken, as she stepped closer, so he could see her. His voice had lost its assurance, growing husky with disbelief, like a man fighting back tears. He secured his lance and leaped down from the horse in a single, sudden movement. Ignoring Meriwether and Clark, he strode past them, opened his arms, and Sacagawea ran into them. She was crying and talking, her voice gone higher with excitement, as if she’d become a young girl again. Meriwether heard the same word again and again. “Cameahwait.” Her brother’s name.
While the men in camp murmured in confusion, the two of them were lost in a world of their own. From the darkness beyond the firelight came the shuffling noises of men and horses. The rest of the raiding party drifted closer, possibly threatening. Meriwether hoped that their leader would call some kind of truce.
Cameahwait had Sacagawea by the waist, hugging her frantically. She grabbed his shoulders, said something, and broke away to where she’d left her sleeping son. She returned holding Pompy, the baby blinking and half asleep in her arms. She proudly held him up to show her brother, the leader of the band. She said the name “Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau.”
With an expression of wonder on his face, Cameahwait stroked the baby’s head, his wisps of dark hair, and he looked up, as if waking from a dream. He found the two captains and spoke, his voice thick with emotion. “Forgive me. My sister says that you have been kind to her, and that you are trying to secure help for her husband, who has been cursed by the great magic. She also tells me you did not cause the disturbances my people and I have endured, but rather you intend to combat them, so that the land may be at peace.” He looked specifically at Meriwether. “She tells me you have great magic of your own.”
He didn’t know how to respond or explain, but Cameahwait did not seem to want conversation. He shouted something in his native language, directed to the other warriors hidden in the trees. Out in the shadows, he heard the sound of people dismounting, horses moving forward. The other members of the raiding party advanced just enough to reveal themselves, but made no other threatening moves. The men who stepped forward carried spears, but no rifles. Meriwether thought they all looked very young, perhaps even sheepish.
Sacagawea seemed in a daze as she explained to Meriwether and Clark. “This man is my brother, Cameahwait, and these are his men. They do not intend to harm us.”
Meriwether could feel a tangible sense of relief as the tension in camp eased. Some of the men slowly sat back down on boulders or blankets. York fed more branches into the waning campfire.
Cameahwait’s people came into the firelight, curious and wary. “We are friends now,” he explained, then shouted something to his men, presumably the same words in their language.
Sacagawea cradled her baby in one arm and slipped her other arm around her brother’s waist. “We need to sit down with Captain Lewis and Captain Clark, so that we can compare what we know and talk of what is happening to the land. Can you help us with what ails my son’s father?”
The big Newfoundland joined them, slumping to the ground and wagging his tail by the firelight, as the others sat near the fire. One of the men brought out some of the leftover food from their dinner, as well as coffee. Gesturing to his warriors, Cameahwait had them offer preserved meat and nuts from their packs. As in all human encounters since the dawn of time, Meriwether thought, eating together symbolized peace.
During the meal, Meriwether described the world of the European settlers back east, how they had made their own American civilization after the continent was sundered from the rest of the world. He explained that if they did reach the far ocean, they might have another route to rejoin the old world. But first, they had decided to battle the evil force that was using the awakened magic to tear the land apart. In a halting voice—with Sacagawea’s prodding—he also described his dreams, his spirit dragon, and his previous encounters with the dark sorcerer.
Her brother listened with great interest as Sacagawea described her captivity with the Hidatsa tribe. At some parts, the big warrior turned his head aside, as if to hide a shimmer of tears in his eyes. While Meriwether understood that she had been very badly treated by her own people, it seemed that Cameahwait understood more of her ordeal, being familiar with the customs and habits of the region. He seemed to grow calmer as she spoke of her time with Charbonneau, then fraught again as she described being captured and enslaved by the dragon sorcerer. As she sat with her son asleep in her lap, she explained her escape, and why she had been drawn to the men at Fort Mandan.
“It had to do with my baby,” she said. “The dragon sorcerer wanted him, meant to steal his soul and take his body.”
Meriwether confirmed. “The dragon sorcerer said he was searching for the bird and her egg.”
“But Captain Lewis fought him, defeated him,” Sacagawea said.