The Ancestor
Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
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January 8th, 1857
Midday
Bart takes another look around and then shakes his head, before looking over to his current employer. Though 'employer' might be a bit of an overstatement, given that no actual money had changed hands yet. Oh, he was confident that he could turn a profit somehow, but he didn't think it would come from the Indian tribe. If they could afford him, they wouldn't need him.
"Come on, fellah. I don't see no way there's anything worth fighting for 'round these parts. What's really got y'all so riled up?"
The middle aged Indian shifts slightly on his horse, then looks over to Scalphunter. Because once you've seen a person cut someone's scalp off their face, you're not going to be calling them 'Brian' or 'Mr. Savage' in a hurry. And just calling him 'Savage' didn't seem like such a good idea, however much it fit him.
"There are evil spirits in this land. If the white men-."
"I am a white man."
"If they come here, if they disturb the land, it may awaken again. The Ancestor told us to keep people away, but… But we are too weak."
"Mm."
Scalphunter wasn't looking at the local. Instead, he was watching the trees. Bart had no idea what for, but he was the better tracker between the two of them.
"So who's this 'Ancestor', then? Fellah who founded your tribe?"
"No. He was-. He was a white man, like you. He walked all across the world long before people from Europe came here."
Bart frowned. He could generally honestly say that he was the best educated amongst any band of wanderers and chancers he happened to join up with, but there weren't a lot of white men around who couldn't trace their forebears to Europe.
"An albino?"
"No. His eyes were orange. Not red."
"I don't wanna argue the point, but that's the kinda detail gets lost in the retelling."
"No, they glowed orange. That is part of his story."
Bart hadn't ever seen anyone with glowing orange eyes. Glowing eyes, once or twice. Out this far from civilization, things could get a little strange sometimes. There was a mesmerist that one time, and-. Glowing orange was new. And kind of specific.
"Before Columbus?"
"Yes."
"Think I remember something about the Vikings trying to settle North America before that. Called it 'Vinland', because the land was so good for farming."
"No. Before that, whenever it was. He walked the land before people were people."
That put a different spin on things. And that was why he was here. Some times superstition was just that; nothing to it. Sometimes there was something darn strange going on, but for a good reason. There was a stream in England that was supposed to turn things to stone, but that was just due to some chemical in the water. Strange to look at, but not much to worry about.
Or if you got real lucky, there was oil close to the surface killing off the plants and that was why the place had a bad reputation. In which case, his good friend Mr. Bissell would give them a few dollars for it. Minus a finders' fee.
And then sometimes there really was something going on, and if you were real lucky you made it through without soiling yourself. But for the life of him Bart couldn't work out what Scalphunter was seeing in the trees that would give him a clue what was happening here.
"The Kiowa also told tales of the Ancestor." Scalphunter leans down and pulls a small piece of chalk out of his pannier. Then he leaned over and drew a shape on the bark of a nearby tree. A small circle with lines coming out of it. Some kind of Indian writing? "This shape?"
"Yes." Their guide nods, looking a little relieved if Bart was any judge. "The sign of the Ancestor."
Scalphunter looks at Bart. "You don't recognize it? The stories say he walked all over the world."
A circle… With a 'v' cutting through it at the top, two little lines coming off it at the two and ten o'clock positions and another two at the five and seven. Looks a little like a man with arms and legs sticking out. It… Could be a Viking rune, but those were usually made up of straight lines. Not that he thought reading a couple of pulp Viking adventure stories when he was a boy made him any kind of expert. So, maybe some Viking sails to the New World, walks from the east coast through Colorado to California before other white men visited either and made a big impression on the locals.
"You got any idea when this Ancestor guy visited?"
"When he first visited us, or when he most recently visited us?"
"First time. Just trying to get some idea of how long he's been around here."
"He told us that he walked across the bridge between Siberia and Alaska and protected our ancestors from a Martian."
W-?
"I don't know what a Martian is, but he said that Alaska is the land to the furthest north of the west coast, and Siberia is across the sea from it."
"A Martian?" Jesus. "Is this some kind of joke?"
The guide looks at him with widening eyes. "You know what they are?"
"Martian. From…" Ridiculous. "Mars. It's a planet. You know what a planet is, right?" He shakes his head. He might have taken advantage of Indian superstition once or twice, but it sounds like someone took these guys for a ride.
"Another world, orbiting the sun. One place further from the sun than our world."
So some educated white man swung through here a few years ago, claimed that he was some Ancestor hero and spun a few tales… He couldn't imagine what the man wanted from them, but this was starting to sound like a waste of time. Back when the local Indians moved in… Did they even know the world was round back then? Galileo was around in the 16th century, and the Indians had been in America for a lot longer than that.
"Listen, I don't think-."
Scalphunter comes alert, and Bart finds himself instinctively ducking closer to his horse.
"Those aren't trees."
His hand snaps out, chalk stick striking-. Passing through a tree, the bark rippling like the surface of a pond when someone threw a stone into the water.
Ah hell. This was that kind of job.
And these were his good pants.
Bart smiles. "Guess he's not a Viking after all."
"No." The guide shakes his head and then shakes his reins, causing his horse to trot forward-. And vanish. "Come."
Bart looks at Scalphunter. "If he knows your tribe too, maybe… You better go next."
Scalphunter scowls. "Bat Lash, I will say this once. I grew up with the Kiowa after they stole me from my parents, but I was never one of them."
Bart raises his empty hands.
"I misspoke, and I apologise."
"Accepted. Don't do it again."
"I won't."
Scalphunter nods, and spurs his horse to follow the guide, vanishing with the same ripple he did.
Bart hesitates, then for a moment looks back longingly at the trail they used to get here.
For a moment longer.
Then he gives his head a small shake and follows them.
Midday
Bart takes another look around and then shakes his head, before looking over to his current employer. Though 'employer' might be a bit of an overstatement, given that no actual money had changed hands yet. Oh, he was confident that he could turn a profit somehow, but he didn't think it would come from the Indian tribe. If they could afford him, they wouldn't need him.
"Come on, fellah. I don't see no way there's anything worth fighting for 'round these parts. What's really got y'all so riled up?"
The middle aged Indian shifts slightly on his horse, then looks over to Scalphunter. Because once you've seen a person cut someone's scalp off their face, you're not going to be calling them 'Brian' or 'Mr. Savage' in a hurry. And just calling him 'Savage' didn't seem like such a good idea, however much it fit him.
"There are evil spirits in this land. If the white men-."
"I am a white man."
"If they come here, if they disturb the land, it may awaken again. The Ancestor told us to keep people away, but… But we are too weak."
"Mm."
Scalphunter wasn't looking at the local. Instead, he was watching the trees. Bart had no idea what for, but he was the better tracker between the two of them.
"So who's this 'Ancestor', then? Fellah who founded your tribe?"
"No. He was-. He was a white man, like you. He walked all across the world long before people from Europe came here."
Bart frowned. He could generally honestly say that he was the best educated amongst any band of wanderers and chancers he happened to join up with, but there weren't a lot of white men around who couldn't trace their forebears to Europe.
"An albino?"
"No. His eyes were orange. Not red."
"I don't wanna argue the point, but that's the kinda detail gets lost in the retelling."
"No, they glowed orange. That is part of his story."
Bart hadn't ever seen anyone with glowing orange eyes. Glowing eyes, once or twice. Out this far from civilization, things could get a little strange sometimes. There was a mesmerist that one time, and-. Glowing orange was new. And kind of specific.
"Before Columbus?"
"Yes."
"Think I remember something about the Vikings trying to settle North America before that. Called it 'Vinland', because the land was so good for farming."
"No. Before that, whenever it was. He walked the land before people were people."
That put a different spin on things. And that was why he was here. Some times superstition was just that; nothing to it. Sometimes there was something darn strange going on, but for a good reason. There was a stream in England that was supposed to turn things to stone, but that was just due to some chemical in the water. Strange to look at, but not much to worry about.
Or if you got real lucky, there was oil close to the surface killing off the plants and that was why the place had a bad reputation. In which case, his good friend Mr. Bissell would give them a few dollars for it. Minus a finders' fee.
And then sometimes there really was something going on, and if you were real lucky you made it through without soiling yourself. But for the life of him Bart couldn't work out what Scalphunter was seeing in the trees that would give him a clue what was happening here.
"The Kiowa also told tales of the Ancestor." Scalphunter leans down and pulls a small piece of chalk out of his pannier. Then he leaned over and drew a shape on the bark of a nearby tree. A small circle with lines coming out of it. Some kind of Indian writing? "This shape?"
"Yes." Their guide nods, looking a little relieved if Bart was any judge. "The sign of the Ancestor."
Scalphunter looks at Bart. "You don't recognize it? The stories say he walked all over the world."
A circle… With a 'v' cutting through it at the top, two little lines coming off it at the two and ten o'clock positions and another two at the five and seven. Looks a little like a man with arms and legs sticking out. It… Could be a Viking rune, but those were usually made up of straight lines. Not that he thought reading a couple of pulp Viking adventure stories when he was a boy made him any kind of expert. So, maybe some Viking sails to the New World, walks from the east coast through Colorado to California before other white men visited either and made a big impression on the locals.
"You got any idea when this Ancestor guy visited?"
"When he first visited us, or when he most recently visited us?"
"First time. Just trying to get some idea of how long he's been around here."
"He told us that he walked across the bridge between Siberia and Alaska and protected our ancestors from a Martian."
W-?
"I don't know what a Martian is, but he said that Alaska is the land to the furthest north of the west coast, and Siberia is across the sea from it."
"A Martian?" Jesus. "Is this some kind of joke?"
The guide looks at him with widening eyes. "You know what they are?"
"Martian. From…" Ridiculous. "Mars. It's a planet. You know what a planet is, right?" He shakes his head. He might have taken advantage of Indian superstition once or twice, but it sounds like someone took these guys for a ride.
"Another world, orbiting the sun. One place further from the sun than our world."
So some educated white man swung through here a few years ago, claimed that he was some Ancestor hero and spun a few tales… He couldn't imagine what the man wanted from them, but this was starting to sound like a waste of time. Back when the local Indians moved in… Did they even know the world was round back then? Galileo was around in the 16th century, and the Indians had been in America for a lot longer than that.
"Listen, I don't think-."
Scalphunter comes alert, and Bart finds himself instinctively ducking closer to his horse.
"Those aren't trees."
His hand snaps out, chalk stick striking-. Passing through a tree, the bark rippling like the surface of a pond when someone threw a stone into the water.
Ah hell. This was that kind of job.
And these were his good pants.
Bart smiles. "Guess he's not a Viking after all."
"No." The guide shakes his head and then shakes his reins, causing his horse to trot forward-. And vanish. "Come."
Bart looks at Scalphunter. "If he knows your tribe too, maybe… You better go next."
Scalphunter scowls. "Bat Lash, I will say this once. I grew up with the Kiowa after they stole me from my parents, but I was never one of them."
Bart raises his empty hands.
"I misspoke, and I apologise."
"Accepted. Don't do it again."
"I won't."
Scalphunter nods, and spurs his horse to follow the guide, vanishing with the same ripple he did.
Bart hesitates, then for a moment looks back longingly at the trail they used to get here.
For a moment longer.
Then he gives his head a small shake and follows them.
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