Read Online Ancient Forces Collection by Bill Myers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bill Myers
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one last time. The boy smiled, and Ryan opened his mouth to drink the tea.
For a while nothing happened. As before, they discussed the history of Little Creek’s tribe, his beliefs, and his heritage. Then Ryan felt a wave of dizziness. At first he shrugged it off. They had left camp before breakfast, and he was getting pretty hungry. It was only natural that he would feel a little light-headed.
Then he noticed something else. On the cave painting. He hadn’t seen it before, but in the right-hand corner perched on a cliff was an eagle. It was so small, it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed it before. But as he watched, the bird started to grow.
Ryan turned to Little Creek and tried to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. “Thhhhe paintttting . . .” was all he managed to slur.
Little Creek smiled. “Relax, my friend. The tea is taking effect. Focus inward, and see what the Great Spirit will show you.”
Ryan couldn’t focus on anything. He felt like he was going to throw up. His head began to spin, and his stomach started to churn. When he looked back at the painting, the eagle appeared as large as the hunter. What was worse, its wings moved in a steady rhythm!
Ryan closed his eyes, hoping to force himself back into reality. It was as if he were looking over the edge of a very high cliff or stumbling through a dark tunnel knowing that there was a great hole somewhere in front of him . . . a huge chasm that went on forever. If he wasn’t careful, he would stumble and fall to certain death.
When he reopened his eyes, the eagle loomed so large that one of its wings pushed out of the painting, extending across the cave wall.
Ryan’s heart began to pound. He started breathing rapidly. What if the drug didn’t wear off? What if it damaged him? What if he had to live like this, with his brain scrambled, for the rest of his life?
Or,
worse yet, what if the images he was seeing were real?
All of these thoughts froze when the eagle turned its lifeless eye directly toward him. It had seen him. Ryan was sure of it. Just as he was sure that it wanted him. Slowly, with great effort, it detached itself from the wall and started flying toward him.
With open beak, it drew closer and closer. Ryan covered his face. And still, somehow, he could see it coming — its jet-black, lifeless eyes growing larger and larger as it flew closer. Suddenly Ryan realized it wasn’t the creature’s beak but its eye that was going to devour him. That eye was going to absorb him, swallow him . . .
The eye . . . the eye . . . the eye . . . the eye . . .
Two hours later, Ryan woke up. He lay outside the cave, vaguely aware that Little Creek was wiping his forehead with a damp handkerchief.
“How are you feeling?” Little Creek asked.
Ryan bobbed his head. “I don’t know. Woozy, I guess. How did I get out here?”
“You got up and started to run. We were just sitting there looking at the painting when you jumped up and tried to run. You managed a few steps before you crashed into the wall. It knocked you out cold.”
Ryan winced as he touched the lump on his forehead. “That would explain this headache.”
“I carried you out here hoping the fresh air and sunlight would help. You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”
Already memories of the vision were returning. “I – I saw an eagle,” Ryan stammered.
“An eagle?” Little Creek’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”
Ryan nodded. “It flew out of the painting right at me.”
“There is no eagle in that painting,” Little Creek said, unable to hold back his excitement.
“But I’m sure — ”
“No, no, but this is a wondrous sign. The Great Spirit is sending the eagle to you. This means he has much to teach you!”
“Really?”
Little Creek smiled broadly. “I was right! You are an initiate. The Great Spirit will use you in many ways. Congratulations!” Little Creek extended his hand toward Ryan.
Ryan looked at it for a moment and then shook it warmly.
For a while nothing happened. As before, they discussed the history of Little Creek’s tribe, his beliefs, and his heritage. Then Ryan felt a wave of dizziness. At first he shrugged it off. They had left camp before breakfast, and he was getting pretty hungry. It was only natural that he would feel a little light-headed.
Then he noticed something else. On the cave painting. He hadn’t seen it before, but in the right-hand corner perched on a cliff was an eagle. It was so small, it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed it before. But as he watched, the bird started to grow.
Ryan turned to Little Creek and tried to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. “Thhhhe paintttting . . .” was all he managed to slur.
Little Creek smiled. “Relax, my friend. The tea is taking effect. Focus inward, and see what the Great Spirit will show you.”
Ryan couldn’t focus on anything. He felt like he was going to throw up. His head began to spin, and his stomach started to churn. When he looked back at the painting, the eagle appeared as large as the hunter. What was worse, its wings moved in a steady rhythm!
Ryan closed his eyes, hoping to force himself back into reality. It was as if he were looking over the edge of a very high cliff or stumbling through a dark tunnel knowing that there was a great hole somewhere in front of him . . . a huge chasm that went on forever. If he wasn’t careful, he would stumble and fall to certain death.
When he reopened his eyes, the eagle loomed so large that one of its wings pushed out of the painting, extending across the cave wall.
Ryan’s heart began to pound. He started breathing rapidly. What if the drug didn’t wear off? What if it damaged him? What if he had to live like this, with his brain scrambled, for the rest of his life?
Or,
worse yet, what if the images he was seeing were real?
All of these thoughts froze when the eagle turned its lifeless eye directly toward him. It had seen him. Ryan was sure of it. Just as he was sure that it wanted him. Slowly, with great effort, it detached itself from the wall and started flying toward him.
With open beak, it drew closer and closer. Ryan covered his face. And still, somehow, he could see it coming — its jet-black, lifeless eyes growing larger and larger as it flew closer. Suddenly Ryan realized it wasn’t the creature’s beak but its eye that was going to devour him. That eye was going to absorb him, swallow him . . .
The eye . . . the eye . . . the eye . . . the eye . . .
Two hours later, Ryan woke up. He lay outside the cave, vaguely aware that Little Creek was wiping his forehead with a damp handkerchief.
“How are you feeling?” Little Creek asked.
Ryan bobbed his head. “I don’t know. Woozy, I guess. How did I get out here?”
“You got up and started to run. We were just sitting there looking at the painting when you jumped up and tried to run. You managed a few steps before you crashed into the wall. It knocked you out cold.”
Ryan winced as he touched the lump on his forehead. “That would explain this headache.”
“I carried you out here hoping the fresh air and sunlight would help. You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”
Already memories of the vision were returning. “I – I saw an eagle,” Ryan stammered.
“An eagle?” Little Creek’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”
Ryan nodded. “It flew out of the painting right at me.”
“There is no eagle in that painting,” Little Creek said, unable to hold back his excitement.
“But I’m sure — ”
“No, no, but this is a wondrous sign. The Great Spirit is sending the eagle to you. This means he has much to teach you!”
“Really?”
Little Creek smiled broadly. “I was right! You are an initiate. The Great Spirit will use you in many ways. Congratulations!” Little Creek extended his hand toward Ryan.
Ryan looked at it for a moment and then shook it warmly.
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