Read Online ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3) by Joan Dahr Lambert - Free Book Online
Authors: Joan Dahr Lambert
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of a man . Naked save for a cloth wound tightly around its loins, its hairless skin gleamed white, almost translucent, in the soft evening light. The figure moved as if it had no bones, only fluid, rippling muscles that did not know the normal boundaries of strength or rigidity, so that they could propel it into the air in impossible bounds or mould it into positions no man could assume.
So fixated were all eyes on the figure, with its lithe form and intense movements that no one saw the Leader enter the circle . He simply materialize d in its center and stood there , still as stone, while the cavorting figure leaped around him. His eyes were closed, his face raised to the sky, and his hands were held in front of his chest, palms together, fingers extended at an angle toward the crowd.
The drumming sound came again, low at first, then louder, as the prancing figure continued its gyrations . Another sound joined it, and this one they recognized. Deep in the woods, someone played a flute. The notes rose and fell, beautiful in tone, even more compelling than the drumming. Their ears could not escape them any more than their eyes could escape the dancing figure. Faster and faster it whirled , higher and higher it leaped until the leaps were so high Zena thought it truly must be bird, not man. No man could jump so far from the ground, hang suspended in the air and then land as if on a cloud instead of the hardness of earth. But it was a man; she was sure it was . She thought, too, that it must be Korg.
When the figure slowed, she was certain. The dance change d character as she watched . B efore, it had been graceful in its intensity, magnificent to see, but as the movements slowed, the figure seemed to i nvest them with savagery . The revulsion Zena had felt earlier returned. Each gesture was exaggerated , drawn out; there was cruelty in them somehow, and the leaps were twisted instead of fluid, as if something twisted in Korg ’s mind had come into them and contaminated them. Images of pain came into Zena ’s mind and she was suddenly afraid , threatened by the malevolence that seemed to emanate from the gyrating figure. Lief watched her face and felt her fear, as if it had come into him instead.
And all the time, the Leader stood perfectly still, as if rooted to the ground, like a huge tree that could not fall, would never fall. The contrast was extraordinary; the tall, commanding immobility of one, the insistent, almost obscene movements of the other, smaller figure that seemed never to stop.
And then it did stop. The whirling creature executed one last leap straight into the air and fell prostrate at the feet of the Leader. It lay there as if broken, its arms extended toward the still form above it, its bird-like face cast in the dirt. Abruptly, all was silent once again; the booming noises stopped, the flute, too. Even the birds kept silence. It was as if everything, all the creatures of the forest and the skies as well as the people, were waiting for something else to happen, something profound, something that would change them so that they would never be the same again. Lief tried to pull his eyes away and watch Zena again, but he could not.
Long moments passed and nothing moved. Then, very slowly, the Leader lowered his arms and spread them wide. He held them out there, immobile, waiting. All eyes were on him now , all breath suspended, as the people waited with him.
Suddenly, with a dramatic gesture, t he Leader brought his arms up in a great sweeping arc that seemed to encompass the prostrate figure at his feet, the clearing and everyone in it, the earth below him and the sky above. His voice carved into the silence, and their breath caught in their throats at the sound.
“ The Great Spirit has come. All power belongs to the Great Spirit. Submit to the power, the power that will heal your hearts and minds, the power that will give you strength. Give yourself to the Spirit; it waits for you, waits for you...
So fixated were all eyes on the figure, with its lithe form and intense movements that no one saw the Leader enter the circle . He simply materialize d in its center and stood there , still as stone, while the cavorting figure leaped around him. His eyes were closed, his face raised to the sky, and his hands were held in front of his chest, palms together, fingers extended at an angle toward the crowd.
The drumming sound came again, low at first, then louder, as the prancing figure continued its gyrations . Another sound joined it, and this one they recognized. Deep in the woods, someone played a flute. The notes rose and fell, beautiful in tone, even more compelling than the drumming. Their ears could not escape them any more than their eyes could escape the dancing figure. Faster and faster it whirled , higher and higher it leaped until the leaps were so high Zena thought it truly must be bird, not man. No man could jump so far from the ground, hang suspended in the air and then land as if on a cloud instead of the hardness of earth. But it was a man; she was sure it was . She thought, too, that it must be Korg.
When the figure slowed, she was certain. The dance change d character as she watched . B efore, it had been graceful in its intensity, magnificent to see, but as the movements slowed, the figure seemed to i nvest them with savagery . The revulsion Zena had felt earlier returned. Each gesture was exaggerated , drawn out; there was cruelty in them somehow, and the leaps were twisted instead of fluid, as if something twisted in Korg ’s mind had come into them and contaminated them. Images of pain came into Zena ’s mind and she was suddenly afraid , threatened by the malevolence that seemed to emanate from the gyrating figure. Lief watched her face and felt her fear, as if it had come into him instead.
And all the time, the Leader stood perfectly still, as if rooted to the ground, like a huge tree that could not fall, would never fall. The contrast was extraordinary; the tall, commanding immobility of one, the insistent, almost obscene movements of the other, smaller figure that seemed never to stop.
And then it did stop. The whirling creature executed one last leap straight into the air and fell prostrate at the feet of the Leader. It lay there as if broken, its arms extended toward the still form above it, its bird-like face cast in the dirt. Abruptly, all was silent once again; the booming noises stopped, the flute, too. Even the birds kept silence. It was as if everything, all the creatures of the forest and the skies as well as the people, were waiting for something else to happen, something profound, something that would change them so that they would never be the same again. Lief tried to pull his eyes away and watch Zena again, but he could not.
Long moments passed and nothing moved. Then, very slowly, the Leader lowered his arms and spread them wide. He held them out there, immobile, waiting. All eyes were on him now , all breath suspended, as the people waited with him.
Suddenly, with a dramatic gesture, t he Leader brought his arms up in a great sweeping arc that seemed to encompass the prostrate figure at his feet, the clearing and everyone in it, the earth below him and the sky above. His voice carved into the silence, and their breath caught in their throats at the sound.
“ The Great Spirit has come. All power belongs to the Great Spirit. Submit to the power, the power that will heal your hearts and minds, the power that will give you strength. Give yourself to the Spirit; it waits for you, waits for you...
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