Children of the Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page A

himself.
     Fingers jammed into cracks. Toes dug into unseen crevices. He groped around heaps of boulders, clambered down slides of shale—hard
     going—full of scrapes, bumps, and stubbed toes. At times the older boy had to catch the younger one as he slid by.
    Hearts pounding, chests burning, with still a long way to go, they stopped to rest on a narrow ledge. As his ragged breathing
     slowed, Kai El smelled his mother’s blood. She had been here. Where was she now?
    He looked down at the moonlit riverbank and saw them: Amah lying still, Adah weeping over her. Kai El’s hope crumbled, and
     his bravery. He heard Shahala voices from the cliff-top above. Thank Amotkan, his people were coming. Kai Elwas only a little boy—shaking, weak, more scared right now than he’d ever been—just a little boy who needed his mother. And
     she was dead. He knew it because no thoughts came from her.
    His father? Adah’s mind must be ruined, for he babbled over and over, “You are alive.”
    Clearly, Amah was not.
    The Moonkeeper’s screams jerked many Shahala people awake, one of them Tenka, Rising Star, the supposed-to-be
Other
Moonkeeper.
    She sat straight up and clapped her hand over her mouth.
    Oh, Amotkan! If anything happens to Ashan, I’m not ready!
    Tenka could heal, and speak with spirits; knew plants, animals, seasons, rituals, and laws. She knew about magic, but it was
     not her friend. Either it failed when she needed it, humiliating her—or worse, sometimes she couldn’t stop it. More than once,
     she’d nearly killed someone she only meant to frighten.
    The people will never follow someone who can’t use magic!
    She covered her ears against Ashan’s screams.
    “Oh,” she moaned. “I’m only thirteen summers—”
    TENKA!
    Dead Raga’s voice inside her head stopped panic. Tenka took deep breaths. Ashan stopped screaming. Shock and fear swept the
     camp on the barren plain as if it were a kicked-over anthill, as people got up and ran around, shaking others awake.
    Tenka, the Other Moonkeeper, knew she must take control. One of Amotkan’s earliest lessons was that a tribe must have a leader
     to survive.
    Though she had warmer things, she chose the garb of her position—a dress of fox fur sprigged with falcon feathers—and short
     moccasins that didn’t need lacing.
    “Warriors! Follow me!” she commanded with a thrust of her staff, as she leaned into the wind and ran off in the direction
     of the screams.
    The warriors took up their weapons and followed—not because they thought she must be obeyed, but because theywere afraid. They’d lost Ashan once before, and the Time of Sorrows had almost destroyed the tribe.
    Tenka stood on the canyon rim gaping at the endless water, the moonlit riverbank… two people… Ashan lying on her back, Tor
     squatting next to her.
    Fear emptied the girl’s mind of thought. Loneliness emptied her heart of courage.
    The warriors panicked.
    “The Moonkeeper is dead! We are doomed!”
    Tenka bit her lip, then spoke to the fastest runner.
    “Ashan needs all the people. Go get them.”
    Deyon disappeared. The rest of the warriors followed the Other Moonkeeper down the cliff like a hatch of spiderlings.
    At the riverbank, Tenka hurried to Ashan. Quiet as death, she lay face upward to the waning stars; head toward the river,
     feet toward the sacred mountain, Pahto—the wrong way for healing.
    Tor was squatting by Ashan—head down, rocking back and forth, mumbling.
    Warriors bunched up around them.
    Tenka dropped to her knees. “Ashan!”
    Ashan didn’t move. Afraid of what she’d feel, Tenka touched the Moonkeeper’s cheek; it was warm. She picked up a limp hand,
     found a weak throb in the wrist.
    “Our Moonkeeper lives.”
    “Thank Amotkan!” a warrior said.
    But barely!
Tenka thought.
Unconscious; pale; breathing so faint her chest doesn’t move.
    “Get back,” Tenka said. “You’re stealing her air.”
    Tor had not even noticed them.
    “Alive, alive… ”