would approve of. We cannot lower ourselves to lies, deceit, theft or murder, as others choose to do. As pipe carriers, we are the symbols of all things good about those who walk the sacred Red Road. We are role models.”
“I see a gleam in your eyes, Agnes,” Doris noted, grinning. “What plan have you hatched under that messy hen’s nest of white hair?”
Chuckles echoed throughout the hogan. Indeed, Agnes’s white hair did resemble a tangled nest. With arthritis in her joints, she could no longer braid it, much less comb out all the snarls.
Raising her white eyebrows, Agnes gave a toothy smile. “Hens lay eggs. A nest is rich with ideas.” She blinked her watery eyes. “Besides, the dozen hens in my coop think I am one of them now. They come up to me, clucking in their language, and I talk back to them.”
More chuckles sounded.
Agnes felt the tension in the hogan begin to melt. She didn’t mind making a joke about herself to ease it, and shift attention momentarily from the awful reason why they were gathered here. Humor was most needed in the direst of times.
“We must get Dana to come home,” she stated. “Then I will ask her to retrieve the Storm Pipe from Rogan and his women. This is something she must do. She was in line to receive it.”
Shifting restlessly, Sparrow Hawk said, “But does Dana have the heart to do this, Agnes? Rogan is savage in battle and gives no quarter. If this woman has not been fully trained in the ancient ways, how can she combat him? Instead of facing the deaths of her loved ones, she ran away, and has remained out of touch with you. I don’t find that very courageous.”
“I hear your words, sister.” Agnes looked down at the knotted handkerchief in her hand. “But I helped deliver Dana. She was born on November 17.”
Sparrow Hawk grimaced. “So?”
Doris reached over and patted Sparrow Hawk’s arm. “In case you did not realize it, Rogan was born the exact same day and month as Dana.”
“Oh.” Sparrow Hawk gulped. “I did not know. Well, this changes things.”
“Oh, yes,” Doris said in agreement, “it changes everything.” She directed her attention back to Agnes. “They are twin souls.”
“Indeed, they are. Mirrors of one another. One has a good heart, the other is a two-heart—a person of darkness who’s chosen an evil path to fulfill his needs.” Agnes lifted her head and said proudly, “You should have been at Dana’s birth. Her grandparents were there as well. Everyone was so excited. Because I was there to help with the birth and had been adopted into the family, I assisted in the delivery. When Cora went into the final stages of labor, a thunderstorm came rolling out of the west. I watched from the window as the sky grew black with approaching thunder beings, the spirits who create these powerful storms. Each time Cora cried out, lightning would flash across the sky, followed by a clap of thunder that shook the house like a dog shaking off fleas. And when Dana slid into my hands and took her first breath, a bolt of lightning was hurled by a thunder being. It split the huge cottonwood that grew fifty feet away from their door. I stood with my adopted granddaughter in my hands as the blinding light filled the house, bathing all of us with his radiant presence. Dana did not cry. She did not whimper. As I looked out the window, I saw the cottonwood tree cleave in two and fall over.”
Rubbing her chin, which was sprinkled with white hairs, Sheila One Feather groused, “Well, there you go, Agnes. Even then, the thunder beings were telling you that as Dana was born, another of equal power was being born. It doesn’t matter that the year of birth is different. When two people are born on the same day and month, there is a connection between them. A sacred cottonwood splitting in two means two of something.” Her thick, bushy brows fell. “Now we know who the other one is. Rogan Fast Horse.”
“Yes, yes,” Agnes said, nodding her head. “As I stood there drying Dana off, before handing her to her mother, I didn’t realize what the thunder beings were trying to tell me. It didn’t dawn on me until recently.” She touched her head. “A little slow, this one.”
Laughter again permeated the hogan.
“Rogan was born in Kentucky. Dana was born at the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota,” Kate Little Bird mused. “Otherwise, they are twin souls bound together in a spiral death dance.” Her full lips puckered and she looked around the circle. “Only one will survive their confrontation with one another. We all know that. I have seen other twin souls born, and every time, one of them dies early. Usually in a violent or tragic event. And it may or may not be due to the twin causing the death but they will meet and the Great Spirit will decide who lives and dies after that.”
“It is a battle between the light and darkness,” Doris reminded them. “And no one can foretell the outcome. Dana’s heart must be pure and powerful in faith in order to overcome Rogan’s dark ambitions.”
“She is the daughter of the Blue Heron Society,” Agnes declared. “It is in her blood, in her heart, to help Mother Earth and all her relations.”
“Well,” Sparrow Hawk grumped, “Rogan has plenty of power now. What’s to stop him from using the Storm Pipe again? A ceremonial object used for centuries accrues tremendous power. In the wrong hands, such a pipe could be directed to send a lethal blow. But even a ceremonial pipe must have time to recharge after such a feat. Most take six weeks, at least, after unleashing all their power.”
“True,” Agnes agreed. “I know the Storm Pipe. It will be that long before she can be used again by Rogan.”
“I hate the fact that one of our precious pipes is being misused like this,” Doris muttered. “They are our most powerful ceremonial tools, which is why the choosing of a pipe carrier takes so long. Years of watching a person, gauging their heart and intent, to ensure the pipe is used only for good, never for evil. Once the connection between carrier and pipe is established, the spirit within must obey the new owner. In this case, Rogan must have had Blue Wolf connect with the pipe, for he cannot.”
“That’s right.” Agnes sighed and wiped her mouth once more. “It is up to us to stop him and retrieve that pipe for our society. Dana is charged with doing this, whether she knows it or not.”
“And is she trained in the art of war in the other dimensions? Is she physically fit for such a mission?” Kate Little Bird inquired.
“Let me sing you a song that has always been with the Storm Pipe. Perhaps it may answer some of our questions.” Agnes cleared her voice and began to sing in a wobbling soprano.
“Come to me, pipe who works with the storms
I am your friend, I am your friend
Come to me, pipe of the storms
I am your friend, I am your friend
Wind mixes with fire, and Mother Earth cries
I am your friend, I am your friend
Pipe of storms, fire of the sky
Come to me, come to me
Thunder walks, the wind screams and blood flows
Come to me, come to me
Blue heron lies dead, iron hand moves, and the nighthawk rises
Thunder and iron hand join battle, fire holds the key
Come to me, come to me….”
The energy in the hogan throbbed as Agnes finished the sacred ceremonial song linked to the Storm Pipe.
“Fire holds the outcome,” Sparrow Hawk said. “That could easily mean nuclear annihilation for all of us!”
Patting the pipe bag she carried, Agnes said, “That is one possible way to interpret this song. I prefer to think that Dana Thunder Eagle will have the ability to work with the thunder beings, who bring fire in the form of lightning, in order to destroy Rogan and bring the Storm Pipe back to us.”
Sheila One Feather groaned.