Ashes of the Dead - Bucket of Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

full of water. He left the village and turned a sharp corner by a large Oak tree, half dead from a bolt of lightening. He hurdled over a broken rock and sloshed water on the ground, and then turned on the path to a steep hill, which he dashed over in a few quick steps. He continued down the hillside into a deep ravine and turned into a clearing. In front of him sat a large round hut with thick smoke pouring ominously from several holes in the roof. He paused at a distance to catch his breath and stole a sip of water from the bladder.
    Two Washoe men stood on either side of the door, one tall and the other surprisingly fat for what little he ate. They stood guard and held long sharpened spears at their sides, but neither had ever seen a real battle. The boy approached them cautiously and coughed to make sure that they weren’t caught off guard in the growing darkness. He handed the tall Washoe man the bladder of water, and then stood in front of the door waiting to see inside. The fat one stepped in front of him with his spear held out, ready to back hand him if needed.
    “ Go back!” he scolded. He was deadly serious and glared at the boy. “Go!” He waved his hand, trying to scare him away like a stray dog.
    The boy waited for a moment longer, but soon realized that the two men were nothing but serious . He knew that he had to become a man before he could take part in these sacred rituals. His father had warned him that only men who were trained in the ancient ways could witness them without having their eyes plucked from their sockets. So he finally relented and ran back over the hill and turned toward the village where he belonged.
    The tall man opened the leather door of the hut and stepped inside. A great fire burned brightly at the center, surrounded by smooth stones that had shallow depressions carved into their surfaces. It was very hot and humid inside the hut, which was used as a ceremonial sweat lodge. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness as he stood by the door waiting. From behind the fire he heard shallow and guttural chanting, the droning of spiritual incantations.
    His eyes finally adjusted and he saw a very old man s itting on the ground on the other side of the fire. His eyes were closed as he waved his hands through the air. A large white buffalo skull sat atop his shaved head and his face was painted half red and half black, with several small animal skulls strung around his neck. The shaman was known to many as a spiritual healer and highly regarded among the Washoe people, but some also feared him as a dark magician who could speak with the dead.
    The man bent over and poured water into the depressions on the hot stones, which steamed and hissed, throwing more humidity into the air. He stepped back and watched the shaman, mesmerized by his words.
    “Daed nuae mortui unstae, daednuae mortui unstae. Estan id a daednuae. Daednuae mortui unstae, daednuae mortui unstae,” he chanted in a tongue that the man had never heard before, an ancient language that only a handful remembered, and even fewer dared to speak.
    The fire seemed to grow larger in front of the Shaman . It turned a deep shade of red and spit hot embers into the air. He threw his hand into the hot flames and held it above the smoldering coals, but they did not burn him. As he held it there, the fire turned from red to bright purple and he withdrew his hand from the flames. His incantations became faster and faster, his arm movements more pronounced. “Daednuae unstae! Daednuae unstae!” he said as he started to shake and sway back-and-forth with his arms high in the air.
    Fear crept inside the man and he dropped the bladder, threw back the leather door, and ran out of the hut as fast as he could. The other man followed behind him and ran up the hill as fast as his fat legs could carry him, and they both disappeared into the darkness.
    The clouds grew dark in the sky as it started to rain. Strange blue lightening