Archive of Our Own (BETA rev. 2850)

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First Place Prize - Cover 2 by taliosi_x

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Chapter One

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// Late October 1584, just off the coast of the Virginias //

"Land ho!"

Everyone within hearing on the deck of the sailing vessel looked up at the redhead perched high in the rigging. Turning to the direction the slight figure pointed, First Mate Jack Turner nodded, catching sight of the thin sliver of land spotted by the boy. Singling out one of the crew, he issued an order. "You there, Briggs! Get below and tell Captain Barlowe that we've sighted land." Satisfied that he would be obeyed without delay, Turner began to raise his hand to beckon to the boy high above his head. The gesture was interrupted by a whistling thunder that grew louder each second. Looking up, Turner's eyes widened as he watched the sky rain fire down on the helpless ship and the surrounding sea. The panicked cries of the crew were barely audible over the roar of the flaming pieces of rock and the hissing that rose as the ocean boiled.

As quickly as it started, the onslaught from the heavens ceased. The crew extinguished several small fires onboard while Turner hurried to report to the captain as he emerged from his cabin below. "Captain Barlowe, sir. We've had some difficulty with...fires..., sir."

"Are they out? Did we sustain any damage?"

"They've been put out, sir, and I don't believe we will have any trouble because of them."

"Good, that's what I like to hear." Surveying his vessel in satisfaction, Barlowe inquired, "Did I hear something about land being sighted before all this started?"

"Yes, sir. Young Alex spotted it." Turner's eyes rose automatically to the rigging where he'd last seen the boy. He gasped as he saw the smoking hole in the canvas, just above Alex's last position, and the charred ends of the rope that no longer held him safely aloft.

// Mid-Autumn 1584, Roanoke Island, The Virginias //

"Jacykeme!"

The tall, broad-shouldered man pushed his way through the undergrowth, frantically trying to reach the woman who had called for him. "Mausi! I'm coming!"

"I'm here, Jacykeme! Come see what I found!"

Emerging onto the sandy beach, Jacykeme saw his wife kneeling by a large, shiny boulder. He hurried to her, worried that the burning thunder rocks that fell from the sky might have injured her. "Mausi, are you hurt?"

The woman looked up and shook her head, her long braid falling forward to curve along her full breasts. "No, I'm fine. Look at who I found after the fire stopped falling into the water." Still on her knees, she reached out her hand and coaxed a young boy from his hiding place behind the boulder. "Come, little one. Come out so Jacykeme can see you." Her soft voice and smile drew the black-haired child out of the shadows and into her waiting arms. "Isn't he beautiful, Jacykeme?"

Squatting down, Jacykeme studied the boy who appeared to be about five years old. He caught his breath in surprise as the boy raised his head from his wife's shoulder and stared at him with leaf-green eyes. Jacykeme had never seen eyes so brightly colored before and he knew the boy was not of their tribe nor of any of the others they traded with on occasion. "Mausi, his eyes. They are brighter than the holly leaves. I don't understand. Where did he come from and how did he get here?"

Mausi stood, carrying the naked boy on her hip, tucked under her deerskin mantle for warmth. Looking into her husband's eyes, she pointed up. "He came from the sky, Jacykeme. He is a gift from Kitcki Manitou, the god of the winds." Pushing back her mantle, she pointed to boy's chest a few inches above his heart. "See, he's been marked by the Great Spirit."

Jacykeme ran his fingers over the jet-black tattoo borne by the small boy. It was smooth, unlike the tattoos worn by some of the tribe. Those were raised and the ashes used to mark the skin did not make such clear lines. "It is Kitcki Manitou's mark, I see it." He looked into his wife's face in puzzlement. "Did he fly down here?"

Covering the boy again, Mausi patted the face of the rock next to them. Jacykeme could see it was smooth, smoother than the wooden bowls he had carved and polished for Mausi. "It opened, and he came out, like a *pineshish* from an egg."

"Like an egg." Jacykeme touched the dark curls on the boy's head and was rewarded with a shy smile. "Maybe someday he will learn to fly."

"He is ours now, Jacykeme, our son given to us after all these years without a child." Mausi's voice was firm, brooking no argument from her husband. Jacykeme simply nodded. He was not going to go against both the Great Spirit's and his wife's will in the matter. After all, he too had longed for a son for many years, grieving each time their babies died in Mausi's womb.

Alerted by the boy's vigorous squirms, Mausi set him down on the sand, thinking he needed to relieve himself. Instead, he scampered down the beach, surprising his new parents with his speed. Jacykeme ran after him, Mausi following as quickly as she could. They rounded a dune to find the boy kneeling next to a sand-covered lump just above the waterline. It looked like the body of an older boy that had been in the water long enough to bleach the skin white and rub away all its hair. "Boy, come here. Don't touch that!" chided Mausi, afraid the child would become ill from the rotting corpse. She tried to pull him away, only to be startled by his strength. "No, it will make you sick. Stop!"

Jacykeme carefully rolled the dead boy over to see if he recognized him and jumped back in shock when a low groan issued from slack lips. Mausi's new son pulled his mother closer before dropping her hand and kneeling at the side of his treasure. His small golden hand stroked a pallid cheek, tracing a gentle line past auburn eyebrows and then up to cradle the naked crown. A lighter red, the drowned boy's eyelashes fluttered open at the touch and Jacykeme was surprised to see eyes the color of the sky looking back at them. Looking up at Mausi, Jacykeme shook his head in wonder. "Two sons in one day?"

Her smile left him breathless. "We have been blessed with one from the sky and one from the sea." Picking up the younger, she urged her husband to carry the elder. "Let's take them home."

. . .

The sweet sound of a child's laughter lifted the quiet calm of the forest. "Itahu! Hurry up! You run too slowly." The noisy younger boy, who had been standing about twenty yards ahead, turned and scampered back down the trail to tug impatiently on his elder brother's arm. Any watcher would have been surprised at how starkly the warm golden skin on the smaller hand contrasted with pale flesh that had inspired the name, White Stone.

Laughing at his brother's antics, Itahu grabbed him under his arms and swung him around in a circle until his giggles turned into hiccups. "Isn't it better to fly, K'El?" Setting him down again, the two staggered like drunkards until the world stopped spinning, and then dropped to the ground holding their sides that ached from laughter. Reaching out a long, lean arm, Itahu ruffled the ebony hair before using his fingers to comb the soft waves back from adoring green eyes. "That's what happens when you don't slow down, Kitchi Elsu. I make you fly just like your namesake, like a brave falcon flying through the clouds, or maybe just a dizzy one."

Itahu preferred to use a shortened version of his brother's name, unlike his parents who insisted on using the full name. K'El liked Itahu's name for him because it was close to the word K'El used for himself before he learned to speak the Hatteras language. Eyes pale as the sky crinkled in amusement as K'El jumped up and tugged on Itahu's hand, urging him to his feet. "Enough, I want to see if anything is in the new traps."

Giving in gracefully, Itahu rose and followed his eager guide, who had run ahead once more. "Wait for me, K'El, I'm coming." Despite the chill in the early spring air, the younger boy wore nothing but his breechcloth and moccasins while Itahu shivered under his mantle of turkey feathers and wished he were back at the longhouse with Mausi, carving by the fire. He sometimes thought he would never be warm enough again, always feeling chilled since he had lost all of his hair last fall. At night, pulling K'El against him under his mantle helped as the boy gave off heat like the embers of the night hearth. Pulling his mantle closer, Itahu began to run, hoping the exercise would help warm him until he was able to hold K'El close again.

Darting back out to the trailhead, K'El waved his hand and shouted, "It worked, Itahu! Come see the fat *waboose*!" Itahu smiled at his brother's enthusiasm and followed closely until they reached the first trap. It held a dead rabbit, still a little lean from poor winter foraging but large enough to fill Mausi's stew pot tonight. K'El held the body still while Itahu unwound the sinew he had used for the snare so that he could reset it a few yards away. K'El chattered happily while Itahu finished his task. "Mausi will be happy with this one, Itahu. Its fur is soft and maybe she will use it for her new mantle."

Smiling at K'El's excitement, Itahu stood and headed for the next trap. He was pleased that the changes he had made worked. Jacykeme had taught him how to make and set the simple snares, but Itahu had arranged the sinews and flexible strips of wood differently and the result was fewer animals escaping when they touched the edges of the trap. Itahu had counted and with the new traps, he was catching four animals where Jacykeme would have caught three. As he hiked in the spring mud mixed with snow, Itahu considered another change he could try when he returned to the village. A snarl a few feet away brought his head up quickly to see K'El standing over the next trap, where a red fox was struggling. "K'El, careful!"

"It's a mother *wagosh*, Itahu. She has babies somewhere." K'El frowned as he watched the fox writhe, her rear paw caught fast by the snare. "Jacykeme said we should try not to kill the mothers who have babies waiting for them."

Itahu nodded as he stopped beside his brother. "I'll try to free her. Stand on the other side and distract her." As K'El moved as he requested, Itahu squatted and reached for the vixen's paw. She whined and snapped at him, leaving one finger slashed and bloody. K'El, worried that his brother would be bitten again, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck in a move almost too fast to be seen. "Good, hold her carefully, K'El." Itahu made short work of the slip snare and the paw was soon free. "Toss her gently, over into that snowbank. I don't want to be bitten again in thanks."

Standing, Itahu examined his wound with a frown. K'El pulled his arm down so he could watch Itahu's torn skin knit itself back together, leaving no sign of injury after the blood was wiped away. Relieved green eyes smiled up at Itahu. "Mausi says you are special like me and that's why we are brothers, even though I came from the sky and you came from the sea."

Never able to resist his brother's sweet face, the first face he set eyes on after his rebirth from the sea, Itahu flashed his own grin. "That's right, K'El. We were meant to be together." Bending over to hug the boy, who had grown to the size of an eight-year-old in just a few months, Itahu murmured into silky hair, "We will be as one, always."

. . .

"Mausi, see how many *odeimin* we picked?"

Glancing around the hide she had been working in the warm sunshine, Mausi smiled at her youngest son. "I'm sure there would have been more in the basket, Kitchi Elsu, if you hadn't dropped them along the trail as you ran." Taking the basket from the laughing boy, she wet a finger to wipe away the red juice the early strawberries had left on the side of his mouth. "And if you hadn't eaten most of them as you picked," she chided gently, knowing his insatiable appetite.

"I rescued most of the fallen berries, Mausi, before the birds could fly away with them." Itahu strolled up to his mother with a smile. "I couldn't get lost because K'El left me a sweet trail to follow." Handing his basket over, he reached out to tickle his skinny brother who ran away, giggling as Itahu chased him around the longhouse.

Shaking her head fondly at the joyful noise, Mausi carried the baskets into the longhouse before returning to her scraping. She enjoyed the warm spring air, pleased that she could discard her winter mantle and move freely, wearing only her fringed skirt and moccasins. She wanted to finish the deer hide that day so she could make Kitchi Elsu new moccasins, again. He'd grown out of his at an alarming rate during the seven moons he had lived with them, his size now that of an eleven-year-old. She was glad Itahu did not grow as fast, or she would spend all of her time preparing hides for new clothing.

"And what are you smiling about, my *hurit wikimak*?" Jacykeme peered over the top of the softened hide and smiled gently at the woman he had just called his beautiful wife, presenting her with a blue flower he had picked in the forest. He liked to bring her the flowers her name suggested whenever he could, enjoying the quietly pleased looks she returned.

"Our sons make me happy, Jacykeme. Just as you do." She tucked the flower into her hair, her eyes crinkling in pleasure. "It's hard to believe they have not even been with us a year and know so much already. They speak as well as any elder and are strong and brave. The sky and the sea have blessed us more than I ever hoped."

Jacykeme came around the stretched hide to hold his wife in his arms. "Yes, Mausi. It was a good day when they came to us." Placing a quick kiss on the top of her head, he laughed. "Even if our sky child does eat more than two men."

. . .

"I need to wash at the stream, Itahu. Come with me." K'El handed the second brace of fat rabbits to Mausi and clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I stink after chasing these wabooses through the brush."

Itahu pretended to sniff with an exaggerated scowl. "You smell worse than a *shigak*! Did one raise its striped tail at you when you ran past?" Laughing at his own joke, Itahu took the bowl of soft soap Mausi offered, along with a soft piece of hide, and began to back away from his odorous sibling.

"I don't stink that badly!" K'El pretended to be offended at the thought and stood frowning with his hands crossed across his chest, imitating the way Jacykeme posed when he was angry.

"Just go and get clean, you silly boy." Mausi swatted at K'El as he danced out of reach, making sure she did not injure herself on his impervious skin. "You're both in my way with all your foolishness."

The two boys trotted away from the village, K'El keeping his pace down to match Itahu's so that he did not tire too quickly. K'El loved to run. Grown to the height of a thirteen-year-old boy, he was the swiftest runner in the village and was able to catch deer as well as rabbits without spear or snare, chasing them down until he was able to grab them and break their necks with single twist of his strong hands. His contribution to his family's larder was well appreciated and Mausi was kept busy curing the furs and hides from his frequent hunts. There were so many, Mausi had to ask for help from Lomasi, a young girl whose parents had died when the thundering rock, *pajackok asinine* fell from the sky. She lived with her aunt, but was happy to spend time with Mausi, singing quiet songs as she scraped the hides. There would be many furs and hides ready for trading at the end of summer, when the Hatteras tribe would meet with the neighboring tribes of Croatan and Powhatan.

Reaching the stream, K'El waded out until he was in the deepest part before ducking beneath the clear running water. Itahu watched from the bank as K'El regained his feet, his braid dripping water down his long lean back and legs. Removing his breechcloth, he dipped it into the water, rinsing the sweat and dirt from it before tossing it to Itahu to spread over a nearby bush to dry in the sun. Setting the bowl of soap down on a flat rock, Itahu mimicked K'El's action, cleaning his own soft deerskin and setting it out to dry before collecting a handful of soft soap and wading out to meet K'El.

By the time Itahu came up next to him, K'El had removed the sinew from his braid and was combing through the dark waves with his fingers so Itahu could wash it for him. It hung down to the middle of his back, growing as fast as his body had been in the ten moons since he had come down from the sky. Itahu found it hard to remember the small boy whose head had only reached the middle of his thigh when he looked at K'El who now stood as high as his eighteen-year-old shoulder. The tribe happily accepted the fast-growing sky child who was more than most men, just as they marveled at Itahu's pale skin and lack of hair. The men and women of the village knew they had been fortunate on the day the thunder's rock fell and left the gift of two sons of Kitcki Manitou.

"Come here *niwikanis*, and let me see if I can find my brother under all that dirt and stench," teased Itahu. He added water to the soap in his hand to create a lather before beginning to work it into the silken locks he loved to touch. K'El used some of the soap to clean himself thoroughly, being sure not to miss the creases where his sweat had gathered to mix with dirt and dust. At a signal from Itahu, he ducked under the water again, allowing the stream to carry away the soap and grime from his body and hair. Standing back up, he laughed as he shook his head, spattering Itahu with drops of water. "Very funny." Itahu pretended to be offended by K'El's joke. "Now it's my turn." He began to wade back to the bank for more soap so that he could clean himself.

"Let me, Itahu." K'El splashed past Itahu and returned with a handful of soap. Smiling, Itahu stood with his arms outstretched so his brother could rub the lather over the smooth skin that many of the village wanted to touch for luck. He basked in the warm sun with his eyes closed enjoying his brother's ministrations, the careful strokes sending pleasant shivers through him. By the time K'El had cleaned Itahu's head and shoulders and began to scrub his lightly-freckled torso, his member had grown heavy and thick with arousal. This condition did not surprise either boy; they had often seen the other males in the village touching themselves whenever they felt the need, either by themselves or with each other.

K'El gently stroked the Itahu's hard length with the remaining soap in his hands, until Itahu took over the rhythm. He knew K'El would be afraid that he might injure Itahu by mistake, so he held K'El's hand to teach him the right speed and how tightly to grip. Soon, Itahu felt the rising warmth and moaned deeply as his seed splashed hot against K'El's chest and stomach. His head dropped to K'El's shoulder as he panted through his pleasure and their movements slowed, Itahu releasing K'El's hand as he became too sensitive to continue. K'El sluiced Itahu's seed from his body as he waited for him to recover. "When will mine do that, Itahu? It feels good to touch myself, but it is not hard like yours." He lifted his own member and stroked it, but it remained limber and unchanged.

"I'm sure it will be soon, K'El. You have grown so fast you'll soon be taller than me and probably bigger when you do get hard." Itahu smiled at his impatient brother, who could not wait to be a man. "You will know when you are ready." Rinsing himself a final time, he lead K'El from the water to the bank of the stream, where they sat on flat rocks to dry in the sun. Settling K'El between his legs, Itahu combed the tangles from his hair with his fingers before braiding it, securing it with a twist of sinew. K'El leaned back against Itahu's chest and hummed quietly, content to bask in the sun and the love of his brother.

***

Chapter Two

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K'El stayed close to Itahu's side as they hurried through the early autumn encampment. The meeting place for the tribes was crowded with more people than K'El had ever seen before and he was afraid he would lose sight of Itahu despite his own height and Itahu's unique coloring. "Where are we going, Itahu? Why has Jacykeme sent us to see the Eluwilussit, the holy one for the Croatan?"

"Jacykeme said she asked to meet the child of the sky and the child of the sea that everyone is talking about and when a holy one asks, everyone must listen and obey." Itahu stopped to try to see the wigwam that was set up for Eluwilussit. He had been told to look for the spirit symbol painted on the side with red clay. Failing to locate it, he stopped a young man passing nearby. "Do you know where the holy one is sitting?"

The light hair and gray eyes of the man were as startlingly different as K'El's or Itahu's as most of the people surrounding them had dark brown eyes and hair. He frowned as he examined the two boys on the edge of manhood. Both tall and well-muscled, they were a striking pair, one pale as the moon with no hair to be seen, the other golden with hair as black as night. "Why are you looking for Eluwilussit? She is old and doesn't talk to strangers."

"We were told to come to her wigwam as soon as possible," Itahu explained. Used to the deference he and K'El received from the Hattaras, Itahu was becoming frustrated at the delay and the rudeness of the Croatan. "We are the sons of Kitcki Manitou brought to the Hatteras tribe on the day of the thundering rocks." Reacting to the thinly-veiled hostility, K'El placed himself in front of Itahu, prepared to defend him from any attack.

Stepping back in surprise, the young man bowed his head in a quick apology. "I am known as Wemilat. Eluwilussit is of my family and I will take you to her." With a quick jerk of his head, Wemilat indicated they should follow him as he slipped through the crowd.

Following their guide, K'El and Itahu had little difficulty keeping Wemilat's light brown hair in sight. Walking quickly, they soon stood in front of the holy one's wigwam pitched under a sprawling maple to take advantage of the cooling shade. Wemilat waited outside impatiently. "I will tell her you are here." He ducked inside and spoke a few words before holding the flap back and waving them inside. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the dim light inside the hide tent, Itahu took a few steps forward, K'El following close behind as usual. They waited quietly to be acknowledged by the white-haired woman seated on a bed of pine boughs covered by a white deerskin.

"Welcome, son of the sky and son of the sea. Thank you for coming to see this old woman so she can learn about your lives." She gestured to the packed earth in front of her pallet. "Please come closer and be seated." Itahu and K'El both knelt where she had indicated and sat back on their heels as a mark of respect for the holy one. Neither one spoke, waiting for Eluwilussit to ask her questions. As Itahu studied her lined face, he noticed that her eyes were covered with a white film rendering her blind, yet she acted as if she could see them clearly. Holding out her hand, she turned it palm up. "Place your hand in mine, son of the sea." Puzzled, Itahu did as she asked without question. After a moment, her head dropped and she began to chant words in a voice too low to understand. A sharp gasp and her head rose so that her unseeing gaze fell upon K'El. "Son of the sky, you must add your hand to that of the son of the sea. You are bound too tightly together and I cannot see one without the other."

Trembling with suppressed emotion, K'El extended his hand and placed it on top of Itahu's, unintentionally squeezing until Itahu hissed in pain. Wincing in apology, K'El loosened his grasp, leaving his hand lying flat atop Itahu's in the holy one's palm. Eluwilussit placed her other hand on top of the two she held, clasping both in a surprisingly strong grip. Once again, she chanted whispers of mysterious words with her eyes lowered and her body swaying gently from side to side, until she drew a deep breath and released their tingling hands.

Milk-white eyes stared ahead unseeing as Eluwilussit spoke of their futures. "You are one, yet you are separate, together no one may defeat you, apart you are weak even with your great strength of body and spirit. Death will come to you and yet you will live again in pain and grief until blood joins you once more. Small into large, the secret shines, there is no sun and so it will share its light. One not of this world, the other reborn in fire, you will find no peace save with each other until the end of your days."

The holy one's face lost all expression and she slumped forward. Itahu caught her before she fell to the ground and laid her back gently on her pallet. Patting her pale cheeks to try to revive her, Itahu called out, "Wemilat, bring some water quickly!" He chafed her hand between his own until K'El touched his shoulder and shook his head. K'El pulled a shaking Itahu into his arms as Wemilat rushed in with a birch bark cup.

"Eluwilussit!" Wemilat dropped to his knees, spilling the water as he recognized the signs of her passing. He bowed his head in respect before passing his hand over her eyes to close them to the world she had left. "The holy one is no more." Rising, his pale eyes glittered as he appraised the last two people to see her alive. "What did you do to her?"

Hearing the threat in Wemilat's voice, K'El shoved Itahu behind him before protesting, "We did nothing. She held our hands and spoke of...told us..." K'El's voice failed him as he recalled Eluwilussit's words. He began to tremble and shook his head, "She said we..." With a wild cry, he spun and picked up Itahu, cradling him in his arms, and exited the wigwam. Shoving his way through the gathering crowd, he held Itahu close until they reached the edge of the encampment and then he ran.

. . .

Itahu lay on the grassy hill, looked up at the blue sky, and tried to remember how to breathe. He wasn't sure where K'El had brought them, just that they were no longer near the encampment. K'El had run so fast that Itahu couldn't catch his breath in the wind of their passage. In the distance, the sound of trees falling in the forest signaled K'El's location, his distress at the holy one's prediction requiring their destruction until he could calm himself. After he had injured Mausi accidentally in a tantrum, K'El had learned he could not let himself be angry or upset unless he was alone. The potential danger to others was too great to be ignored and Itahu had taught him to destroy trees and rocks until an emotional storm had safely passed. Removing his pouch and knife, Itahu patiently waited for his brother's return, dozing in the soft grass until the distant crashing had subsided to an occasional snapping branch.

"Itahu." A quiet plea and the thud of K'El dropping to his knees beside him brought a sad smile to Itahu's face. Opening his eyes, he saw K'El leaning over him, his unbraided hair lank with sweat, smears of mud and tears on his face and chest. "Itahu, I..." Itahu opened his arms to his beloved brother, the strong hunter who had grown and aged more than ten years in the short span of time they had been together, and consoled the young boy who sometimes still lived inside the body of a man. K'El's head rested above Itahu's heart and its steady, even beat soon lulled the son of the sky to sleep, healed by sound and sun.

. . .

K'El's leg and arm pinned Itahu to the ground as he ground his heavy length against Itahu's hip. Still sprawled half-asleep across his brother, K'El's movements quickened as he moaned Itahu's name and pulled him closer. Roused from a heavy sleep, Itahu's own member swelled and he attempted to shift K'El so he could remove their breechcloths and touch without any barrier. Awakening, K'El understood Itahu's intentions, but was so impatient that he tore the hides away instead of loosening them, tossing them to one side.

Rising over Itahu, K'El positioned himself between pale thighs and thrust downwards, gliding hard and aching along the smooth curve of Itahu's groin until they met and matched their movements. Strong arms held his broad chest high as Itahu's eyes ordered him not to fear what was to come and promised that they would be together always. K'El watched as black eclipsed blue and Itahu's breath grew ragged beneath the weight of desire until a low groan broke free. K'El felt the throb and warm pulse between them, the slide easier with the spill for a few more frantic strokes until his own groan matched Itahu's. Spent, arms trembling more from passion than a hundred trees' destruction, K'El lowered himself carefully before rolling to the side and settling Itahu on his broad chest.

As their breathing slowed, K'El could feel Itahu's smile against him. "It's a good thing I carry sinew and awl with me in my pouch, K'El, else you would have no clothing and would frighten all the women away with that war club hanging between your legs." Raising his head, Itahu grinned at his younger brother. "It's hard to believe a few moons ago you were asking when you would become a man and now your span is almost twice mine and longer." He poked K'El in the ribs until he roared with laughter. "The women will back away and tell you to find a willing moose instead!"

Flipping Itahu on his back, K'El pinned him down in retaliation. "Then I will just have to be content with you, Itahu." Rubbing his smooth cheek along his brother's, he whispered in his ear, "Shall I ask Jacykeme to change your name from White Stone to Willing Moose?" Laughing at the joke, K'El jumped to his feet and pulled Itahu up after him. "I'm sticky from more than you," he grinned, brushing at his belly, "One of the trees had a large hive we'll have to visit before we go back." Retrieving their belongings from the ground, he pointed down the hill at a shimmer past the treeline. "Let's go swimming in the lake and see if I can catch enough fish to feed both of us tonight." His face sobered when he remembered why they weren't sharing their meal with the Hatteras. "The morning will be soon enough to talk about the holy one's vision."

. . .

Eyes burning from mending by firelight, Itahu finished his repairs and stretched out the tight muscles in his neck. "Now I know why Mausi complains about all the sewing she does for you. Between growing so fast and being careless, she is always making a new breechcloth or moccasins for you." He set aside their clothing when two warm hands came down on his shoulders and began to rub the ache away. "Of course, if you promised to do that each time, I would be happy to sew for her." A rumbling chuckle was K'El's response and the hands moved down his back to knead and press every knotted muscle they found. Itahu moaned with pleasure and relaxed back against his brother's strong body.

"Tired?"

Itahu sighed, "Yes. Not everyone can run up a mountain, fell a forest of trees and swim across a lake without becoming weary." He turned in K'El's arms and straddled him, pushing until he laid back in the grass, propped up on his elbows. Itahu cupped K'El's face in his hands and leaned forward to gaze into puzzled eyes, the firelight striking gold within green depths. "I wonder what makes you so much more than any other man and if there is anything that can hurt you," he murmured. One hand stroked along K'El's smooth jaw before gliding downwards to cover the tattoo above his heart. Tracing the sharply-defined lines with his finger, he watched the nipple below pebble before he retraced the black symbol with the tip of his tongue. K'El's breath hitched and Itahu felt his length stir between them even as he trembled.

"You," K'El growled.

Itahu raised his eyes to K'El's. "What?"

"You can hurt me Itahu, only you." Panting, K'El's eyes fluttered closed as his hips thrust up, nearly unseating Itahu. Abandoning the tattoo, Itahu's tongue laved the nearest brown nipple before testing it with his teeth. Another buck beneath him signaled K'El's enjoyment and Itahu repeated the action with the other. Sliding back on K'El's thighs earned him a hiss as he grazed over swollen heat before nipping along a ridged belly, dipping into the shallow hollow of K'El's navel with his pointed tongue. Balancing on a single elbow, K'El extended his large hand to cradle the pale dome that teased him, gently urging Itahu the last few inches downward, green eyes devouring the sight of Itahu's lips stretched over his yearning length. One hand held Itahu's prize steady above the nest of dark curls as he lapped and suckled the weeping head, the other attended to his own desire that spilled at deep groans and the jet of sweet liquor from K'El. Crawling back up K'El's slack body, Itahu brought his hand to K'El's lips to share his salty tang before tumbling into sleep, a powerful golden arm holding him safe.

. . .

The crowd that had gathered after they were sighted in the distance, parted to let the two young men through, exclaiming at the bounty they carried. K'El balanced a sapling across his shoulders with two fat gutted bucks hanging at each end. At his side, Itahu had several strings of cleaned fish hanging over a shoulder while he balanced a birchbark container filled with dripping honeycombs. K'El had carried Itahu, the fish and the *amo-sizibakwad* to within a few miles of the encampment before leaving him to walk alone. It hadn't taken K'El long to run down the deer and he'd met up with Itahu on the trail in time for them to make an entrance together. They knew the fresh meat and fish would be appreciated as the game around the encampment had become scarce. The honey was a special treat that they hoped would help temper any anger at their abrupt departure the previous day.

"Itahu! K'El!" Mausi's welcoming cry brought a smile to Itahu's face while K'El stopped to grin down at Lomasi, who had run ahead of her foster aunt to greet the returning hunters. Itahu, turning to see what had delayed K'El, saw Wemilat frowning at Lomasi's gentle laughter as K'El whispered in her ear. He wondered if there would be trouble over the young maiden who had captured the Croatan's eye and decided to remove K'El from temptation.

"K'El, hurry up! I want to leave these at the cooking area and go to the stream to get clean. I'd rather not smell of fish and blood all night." Itahu jerked his head towards the center of the encampment and waited for K'El to join him. K'El said something to make Lomasi giggle once more before he left, long legs hastening to reach Itahu's side. Leading him away, Itahu muttered sullenly, "You'll have to wait until later to ask Lomasi to walk into the forest."

K'El's green eyes were puzzled, "Why would I want to do that? I was just telling Lomasi about the *amo-sizibakwad* tree and that sometimes she was just as sweet. It was just a small joke, Itahu." His face fell and he dropped his head at Itahu's frown. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Ashamed of his jealousy, Itahu sighed and patted K'El's head, avoiding the blood that decorated his shoulders and chest. "No, I'm sorry, *nikwanis*. You did nothing wrong. I'm just tired." Shifting the container of honey to his other arm, Itahu led K'El to where Mausi was waiting for them. Handing over the honey, he smiled at his mother, "I hope you can make something as sweet as yourself from this, Mausi." Placing the fish on a flat rock by the fire, he helped K'El hang the two bucks from a nearby tree for the women to skin and butcher. "Mausi, do we have any of your soap left?" Thanking her for the bowl of soap that she had scented with summer flowers, he grasped the silent K'El by the elbow and led him towards the stream where he could apologize with hands and heart and restore the gentle smile he'd damaged.

. . .

Firelight chased shadows across the faces of the people gathered on the final night of the fall encampment. Stories of hunts and travels entertained all until a chant arose, calling for Jacykeme to tell of the day he and Mausi found their strong and brave sons. Standing tall in front of the flames, Jacykeme told of the thundering rocks that fell from the sky, covered in fire. His arms showed how large the egg was that Brave Flying Falcon hatched from and his hands turned the body of White Stone over at the edge of the sea. Laughter rolled through the group as Jacykeme told how Kitchi Elsu grew as fast as the corn and how much work it was to keep him fed and clothed, but then he paid it back with his strength and speed. Jacykeme finished by speaking of the improvements Itahu had made to the tools and traps of the Hatteras and offering to share the knowledge with the Croatan and Powhatan.

Wemilat of the Croatan was the next to stand and he spoke of the father of his mother's father who had come from the farthest edge of the sea in the largest canoe the Croatan had ever seen. His skin was as fair as Itahu's, beneath his strange clothing, and his hair and eyes were as Wemilat's, paler than any other's. He'd had many children and now the sky-eyed Croatans were believed to be lucky or blessed, just as the Eluwilussit had been. Wemilat himself was the wealthiest of the Croatan with many furs and clothing decorated with colored quills. Looking straight at Lomasi across the dying flames, Wemilat thumped his chest and declared he lived in the largest longhouse on Croatan land and that he could trade for anything he wanted. Sitting down, he glared at K'El and Itahu who were amused and unimpressed by his boasting.

As the whispers grew about Wemilat's ancestor and Itahu's pale skin, Manteo of the Powhatan rose to his feet. He spoke of seeing a large canoe on the water to the north and of watching men with strange coverings and hair on their faces come to shore and hunt with sticks that spit fire and stones that killed from a distance. Some of the men of the Powhatan had tried to speak to the strangers, only to be greeted with shouts of anger, so they had contented themselves with watching. Manteo could not say whether Itahu was of the same people, but Itahu had no hair and did not act like them. There was only silence after Manteo spoke and the final fire of the encampment was allowed to burn down to its embers as the audience dispersed and the elders discussed plans for the next meeting in the spring.

. . .

"K'El, what's wrong!" At his brother's pained cry, Itahu dropped the nets he was carrying and hurried to where K'El lay writhing on the beach. He knelt next to him and tried to pull K'El's heavy body into his arms. "What is it?"

"Hurts," groaned K'El, his face contorted in agony. His arms clutched his stomach and the veins over most of his body were hard and distended in a manner Itahu had never seen before. "Itahu, hurts..." With a final moan, K'El fell unconscious, although his limbs continued to twitch spasmodically.

Looking around for something to help him drag K'El back to the clearing where the Hatteras had camped, Itahu saw the rocks on the beach near K'El's body. The closest rocks were glowing a bright green, while they were unchanged farther away. Following his instincts, Itahu began to pick up and throw the rocks farther down the beach and was soon rewarded with a groan from K'El as his long dark eyelashes fluttered. Heartened by the improvement, Itahu redoubled his efforts and soon had all the surrounding fragments far enough away to allow K'El to roll over without assistance. The remaining shards and pebbles hidden under his broad body were quickly disposed of and K'El was able to sit up, almost completely recovered and blinking in surprise. "Itahu?"

Reaching down to help K'El up, Itahu shrugged. "I don't know why, not yet." He pulled K'El into a quick hug. "You frightened me, K'El. I think you found something that can hurt you badly." Releasing him, Itahu turned and pointed back to the clearing. "Follow our path back and ask Jacykeme and Mausi to come here with carrying baskets. You stay away from the beach until we say it's safe. Understood?" Nodding, K'El left quickly, leaving Itahu frowning at the rocks that almost killed his beloved brother.

. . .

Jacyykeme's frown matched Itahu's as he examined the green rocks. "I think these are pieces of the *pajackok asinine*. Looking in both directions along the beach, he pointed to a bluff in the distance. "That's where we found you and Kitchi Elsu. There will be more rocks there." He cocked his head in puzzlement. "They didn't hurt him before, why now?"

Itahu shrugged. "It doesn't matter, now they do. We need to take them to a place they won't hurt him." Seeing a bluff in the distance, he pointed to it. "We'll take them there and drop them into the sea. The only way to reach them would be to swim out there."

Mausi, who'd been silent up to then, nodded in agreement. "Kitchi Elsu will not let us fish without him, so the rocks must be taken away." She began filling a basket alongside her men. "We must be careful," she cautioned. "No one else must know these rocks can hurt him, or he will be in danger."

. . .

By nightfall, enough of the thunder's rocks had been cleared to allow K'El to rejoin the fishing on the next day. Itahu vowed to himself that he would continue to collect the rocks until there were none left to cause K'El pain. As he made his way farther along the beach, he stopped occasionally to watch K'El and the rest of the men throw the nets and pull them back in, teeming with fish. The heavily laden nets were then carried to the women and children who waited to clean the fish before placing them on drying racks. Itahu admired K'El's burnished skin gleaming in the sun, his defined muscles moving smoothly as he cast and dragged the heavy nets repeatedly.

Rounding a bend in the shoreline, Itahu lost sight of the fishermen, only to encounter a large rock that shone like the copper pot he had seen at the encampment. Startled, he stumbled to one knee, his hand touching one of the rocks he was seeking. Picking it up to place it in the basket he was carrying, he saw a gleam in the sand. He brushed the rest of the sand away to find a flat piece of metal, smoother than any sea-polished rock. It was heavier than he expected for its size, and when he turned it over, he saw markings that reminded him of something. Regaining his footing, he walked closer to the rock, discovering it was made of the same metal he held in his hand.

"That is the egg that Kitchi Elsu hatched from," declared a voice from behind him. Itahu spun around in surprise, as he had not heard Jacykeme approaching while he was studying the two strange objects he'd found. "Mausi saw him come out of it. I was too late to see it happen."

"It's not broken like an egg," Itahu noted. "I wonder why not."

"We never came back to look at it. We were too busy getting you back to the camp." Jacykeme approached his elder son and clasped his shoulder. He pointed farther up the beach. "You were lying just out of the water over there. Kitchi Elsu found you and at first we thought you were dead." Jacykeme smiled and shook his head at the memory. "He wouldn't let us leave and when I turned you over to see your face, he touched you as if he knew you belonged to him."

"We belong to each other." Itahu hefted the piece of metal and looked at the markings again. "These are the same as those on K'El's chest." He frowned as he showed them to his father.

"They do look the same," Jacykeme agreed. "Maybe it came from the egg too."

Itahu tucked the metal piece away in the hide pouch at his waist. "I'll show it to him later." Lifting his basket of rocks, he began to walk back to the fishing area. "After I clear away the rocks, we can come back and look at the metal egg more closely." Jacykeme nodded and followed his son, content knowing that Itahu would always protect his brother from harm.

. . .

"We'll be landing soon, my lord."

Sir Lionel Grenville waved a hand in dismissal as he lounged in the rearmost seat of the longboat, idly stroking his beard. He didn't care about the journey to the island, only that they arrived soon so the search for more of the gemstones could continue. He needed to show some profit from the voyage since none of the gold rumored to be found in this barbaric land had been located. Only the discovery of the green and red stones that closely resembled rubies and emeralds made the losses he'd sustained worthwhile. The savages on the mainland had spoken of more 'thunder rock' to be obtained on the island's seaward side and Sir Grenville wasted no time setting off to claim it.

The grating sound of the boat as it was pulled up the shingle interrupted Sir Grenville's musing and he accepted assistance as he stepped out onto the shore. Surveying the island, he sniffed in disdain before issuing his orders. "Turner, tell the men I want every rock they find brought back to me intact. I don't want them thinking they can keep any for themselves. Of course, they'll be searched before they return to the ship, but it will save time if they don't try to steal from me." His smile twisted as he smoothed a hand possessively over the leather pouch secured to his belt. The first mate nodded and passed on the warnings before joining the men in their search along the beach. Sir Grenville retrieved a blanket and his heavy cane before making his way across the sand and stones to relax under a shady tree. As he waited for the men's return, he admired his new ring, a heavy silver band set with a lion intaglio carved in a green gem.

. . .

The noise in his head had not always been there. It began soon after Itahu and Kitchi Elsu came to Jacykeme and Mausi. He would hear someone speak before their mouth opened and could answer questions not asked. It made some people unhappy to be close to him, afraid that he would tell their secrets. Nadiemakwa enjoyed the quiet that gathered around Kitchi Elsu. When the noise of the rest of the Hatteras grew too loud for his head, Nadiemakwa would find his large friend and sit next to him as he worked, content in his silence. Although Itahu was rarely absent from Kitchi Elsu's side, his thoughts were filled with his love for his brother of the sky, so they were easy for Nadiemakwa to bear. All that had changed the last night of the encampment. Itahu's thoughts were often of the strangers Manteo had spoken of, colored with fear that they would come to the Hatteras and find him. Nadiemakwa didn't know what to do about the secret, whether he should speak to the brothers about Itahu's fear of the strangers or just stay silent and hope no harm came to them. He had decided he would wait and watch.

Tagging along behind Kitchi Elsu, Nadiemakwa was carrying several fish spears for him to use out beyond the nets. Head down, watching the sand for the small holes that would show where a clam was hidden, Nadiemakwa almost walked into Kitchi Elsu's back. He was standing still, head up and listening, and then he was gone. The only signs left of his presence were his footprints in the sand and the pile of nets he had dropped. Worried, Nadiemakwa ran after him, easily following the tracks he'd left behind.

. . .

"There he is my lord. The one I was telling you about." Turner pointed to the figure walking along the bluff several hundred yards away. At the edge, the tall, oddly pale native began to raise the basket he carried until he was interrupted by shouts. Dropping the basket in surprise, he whirled to find a half-dozen men carrying clubs and knives surrounding him. He crouched, his hand going to the knife at his waist.

"Now there should be no need for violence here, gentlemen." Itahu froze at the sound of the drawling voice preceding the two men that stepped onto the bluff. "I sure it's a..." The voice stopped in surprise. "Alexander?" The taller of the two men stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "My God, Alexander. Is that you, son?"

Straightening, Itahu gave a short nod and with a twisted smile acknowledged the name. "Yes, Father. It's me." The ring of men parted and Itahu strode toward the man who claimed him as son. As he neared, Sir Grenville withdrew his hand and frowned.

"What have you done to yourself, Alexander?" Sir Grenville's autocratic lip lifted in disdain. "You look like one of those half-naked savages that plague us," he complained, "And why have you shaved your head?"

"It's not shaved, Father." Alex replied evenly, "And if I look like 'a half-naked savage' it's because they took care of me after I was nearly burned alive and drowned." His eyes narrowed as he saw the disgust in his father's face. "They've taken better care of me this past year than you have my entire life."

The sound of the back-handed blow echoed across the bluff. "That's enough, you ungrateful whelp." Sir Grenville pointed to the basket of rocks. "Turner, get that and have it taken to the boat." Grabbing Alex's arm, he jerked him forward and hissed into his face, "You will act respectfully towards me in the presence of my men from now on. Is that understood?"

Pulling free, Alex wiped his hand across his mouth and spat blood from his cut lip on the ground. "No, Father, I won't be doing that. In fact, I won't be going anywhere with you."

Gesturing to two of his men, Sir Grenville ordered them to take his son's arms and escort him to the boat. Laughing at Alex's angry protests, the men began to force him down the slope when they were torn away from him by a whirlwind. Dropping to one knee and trying to recover from his struggles, Alex cried out, "No, K'El, go back!" A second shout was too late and Alex saw K'El crumple in pain as he neared the basket of rocks. "K'El!" Alex struggled to his feet and tried to reach his fallen brother, only to be held back by his father's men.

K'El groaned and tried to crawl to Itahu only to have Sir Grenville step between them. A snarl rose from K'El's throat as he lunged at the man who was keeping him from his brother. Sir Grenville laughed and raising the heavy cane in his hand, brought it down on K'El's head, the thud making Alex scream in despair and redouble his efforts to escape. A second heavy blow was followed by a third before Sir Grenville turned away. Nudging the body at his feet with the toe of his boot, he ordered its disposal. "Throw the savage over the edge." Alex raged at his father as K'El's body was dragged to the edge of the bluff, his heart breaking at the sight of his beloved's crushed and bloody face. He continued to shout and struggle as K'El's body rolled over the edge, screaming threats of vengeance until a sharp blow to his head brought silence to the bluff.

In the brush at the base of the bluff, Nadiemakwe held himself still despite the tears running down his face. His head echoed inside and out from Itahu's fury at his brother's murderers and his heart was sick from the knowledge that Itahu's birth father was guilty of killing the son of the sky. Holding his arms across his trembling body, Nadiemakwe waited until the sounds of the men faded in the distance before crawling out of his hiding place. Scurrying to the top of the bluff, he peered over the edge hoping to see Kitchi Elsu alive by some chance. That forlorn hope was dashed by the sight of bloody, contorted limbs lying atop a pile of green glowing rocks exposed by the low tide. He returned to the camp with a heavy heart to report that the strangers had taken Itahu away and that Kitchi Elsu had returned to the sky.

. . .

Weeping quietly, Mausi straightened Kitchi Elsu's twisted limbs and washed away the blood and dirt that marred his beautiful face. She could not bear to touch the bloody depressions at his temple and the back of his head, so she contented herself with tidying his braid and tying in feathers and beads. As she finished, Jacykeme touched her shoulder and she rose to allow the chosen men to lift her son's body using the corners of the hide on which it lay. She had not let the sea take her son away, insisting that Jacykeme take the largest canoe and bring his body back to her. She knew he should to given to the sun that had worshipped his body. All of the Hatteras followed silently as his body was carried to the burial ground. Lifting Kitchi Elsu high above their heads, he was carefully placed on the wooden platform constructed at the edge of the beach. His finest weapons and clothing were placed at his side and baskets of food at his feet so he would not be poor or hungry when he entered the next world. When all was arranged, the Hatteras returned to their camp to pack and depart for the mainland, their fall fishing completed for the season.

Mausi was the last to leave the burial ground. She looked at Jacykeme with tears still running down her face and begged, "Bring back my son of the sea. He is all that is left to me now." Jacykeme bowed his head and walked to the camp swiftly. A few minutes later, Mausi watched as Jacykeme and five other men left the camp and silently headed north to the mainland, carrying war clubs and bows. Nadiemakwe watched from the edge of camp and wished he was old enough to join them. He wondered if the Hatteras would ever be the same without their gifts from Kitcki Manitou and if he would spend the rest of his days listening to them mourn in his head.

***

Chapter Three

***

//December 1585, Portsmouth, England //

"You must be glad to be back in England, eh Alex?" The tall pale young man winced as the first mate's heavy hand came down on his shoulder. "You've been gone a long time. I'm guessing you'll be looking for some willing young wench as soon as you're off this hulk." Turner sniggered as Alex attempted to mask his revulsion.

Alex stared at the approaching docks and wondered what he would be doing after he disembarked. He suspected there would be no delay and he would be climbing into a carriage with his father for the trip back to the manor house in Sussex. Turner had been right, he had been gone for over eighteen months, even though he only remembered five of them, and everything in his life had changed. He had woken from a brain fever with no memories of the time in Virginia, save one of a flaming rock approaching as he swung helplessly in the ship's rigging. The fever had also left him with no hair anywhere on his body save his brows and lashes, earning him whispers and stares from the crew on the voyage home. His father had told him nothing of the lost months and had obviously warned the crew not to disturb Alex with any tales. It was as if it those months didn't exist, although he carried the evidence of change on a body that had grown broader and stronger as well as taller.

Setting his shoulders, Alex kept his naked head high as he stepped onto the docks. He refused to don a hat, preferring to deal with the shocked faces and rude comments directly, rather than trying to hide his bald pate and ill-fitting clothing. He was a Grenville and above the common crowd and he had not forgotten that.

// March 1586, Sussex, England //

Alex thought that rain was appropriate on the day he buried his mother and brother. He was thankful that standing bareheaded in the downpour would conceal the tears his father despised. As soon as the expected words were spoken, and the coffin containing his sad redheaded wife and the son that died before his second year was lowered into the ground, Lionel left the graveyard without a single glance backward. Alex followed behind slowly, entering the carriage behind his father without a word.

"I expect your marriage to the Hardwicke chit to proceed as planned." Lionel's sardonic tones broke the silence as the carriage made its way back to the manor house. "I'll brook no delays in your getting an heir on her."

Alex attempted an objection. "I would have expected at least a six-month mourning period, Father."

"Nonsense! I may as well have declared myself in mourning the past two years, even before Julian was born, as much good as your mother did me." Lionel's mouth twisted in a sneer that Alex wished he could remove with a well-placed fist. His finger stroked the raised scar on his lip as he stared at the ring on his father's hand, the one with the lion carved into a green gem. A memory floated at the edge of his consciousness only to be banished as the carriage drew up in front of the front entrance.

Before Lionel exited the carriage, he fired a parting shot. "I don't care if you bugger every stableboy from here to London, Alexander. After all, your namesake did have his Hephaistion. Nevertheless, I'll have an heir from you or I'll force myself to marry again and get my own. If that proves necessary, I'll not have you claiming precedence. A writ from the crown can disinherit you if I can prove you're unable to father a child." The heavy cane threatened Alex's manhood. "Easy enough to prove if you are *castrato*." Alex swallowed the bile that rose from his roiling stomach and refused to betray any fear at the threat.

Exiting the carriage, Lionel strode into the house without another word while Alex followed reluctantly. Despite his success at increasing the profits from the iron works, as well as the farms, he could not overcome his father's disgust at his physical deformity. His only road to redemption in his father's eyes was to wed and provide the requisite heir and a spare as soon as possible. Fortunately, the wealthy chandler, Harold Hardwicke, was willing to trade his brass and his daughter Victoria for the possibility of a future title and lands, even if it required her marriage to a hairless oddity. Hardwicke knew Sir Grenville would obtain the queen's favor with a promise to deliver more gems to her coffers from the Virginia shore. It only took the patience to wait through the months required to advance through the court protocols.

// October 1586, Sussex, England //

"How long?" Victoria held the bedclothes in front of her as if they would shield her from her young husband's icy tones. A step closer and his lip curled as if he could smell her perfidy. "How long have you accepted that bastard into your bed, you foul strumpet?"

Eyes blazing at the insult, Victoria spat back, "At least he's man enough to come to my bed! We've been wed six months and you've visited me but a handful of times in the dark. For all I know it was your manservant performing your duties for you because you lost your manhood as well as your hair!"

Fists clenched, Alex's eyes blazed as his wife's words hit their mark. Tearing open his breeches, he stroked his unwilling length to hardness as he advanced on the bed. Victoria's eyes widened as she realized his intent and she scrambled to exit the bed from the opposite side. She had hesitated too long however, and her unbound hair served as a restraint when wrapped around Alex's hand. Hauling her backwards, he threw her down on the coverlet and knelt between her thrashing legs. Loosening her hair, he transferred his hold to her throat and closed his hand until her struggles grew weak. Without a word, he wiped his rival's seed from her thighs and slit with a corner of the sheet before thrusting deep. A muffled scream assured him that his manhood did not suffer in comparison as he continued to thrust without mercy. As he felt his crisis approaching, his eyes closed and another face appeared, the same face that haunted his dreams with reproachful green eyes. The soft curves beneath him filled him with disgust as he spilled into adulterous flesh, gritting out an unknown name , "K'El!"

Panting, Alex withdrew, leaving Victoria sprawled and moaning in pain. Wiping himself off, he closed his breeches before addressing his wife. "That will be the last time, my dearest bitch. At least if you whelp within nine months there will be a chance the child is mine, instead of my father's. Anytime sooner or later, the odds lengthen, don't they?" Turning on his heel, he made for the door with a final observation. "I guess it matters little in the end, either way it will be a Grenville and fulfill my father's requirements."

// February 1587, London, England //

Eyes closed, hips pumping to a stuttered, silent release, Alex pulled out of the boy roughly with no care to his comfort. Groaning, his dark hair in disarray, he fell face forward onto the stained sheets. One green eye opened to watch the man who had hired him yank on his expensive clothing. "Did I do summat wrong, sir?"

"No, boy, you did nothing wrong. Your ass was as fine as any I've buggered." Alex tossed a purse on the bed before exiting the room. As he made his way out of the inn, he reflected that his temper matched the gray drizzle of the weather. Another dark-haired, green-eyed boy, just like all the others and still he was unsatisfied. No others attracted him and yet when he bedded them it was never enough. He decided his left hand would be less costly in the future.

// July 1587, Sussex, England //

The two men standing at the graveside did not speak as they watched another wife and child descend into the earth together. The plain marker would bear only 'Victoria Hardwicke Grenville and son'. The unnamed boy arrived early and had never taken a breath outside her womb. Final words were offered by the parish priest who forbore expressing any condolences to either the husband or his father. Silently, the men walked to the waiting carriage and set off for the manor house.

"Her majesty has released the promised funds for the return to Virginia and our ship departs Portsmouth next fortnight."

Alex nodded at his father's bald announcement without turning his gaze from the carriage window.

"Alexander, I..." Lionel's words were cut short as he caught sight of the blazing fury in his son's eyes. The balance of power seemed to shift in that long moment.

"If you say one more word about this...farce, I swear you will join my two brothers in the grave."

// September 1587, Mid-Atlantic //

The dreams that had plagued Alex for the past year or more had become more intense as the ship drew nearer to its destination. Often waking in a cold sweat, Alex could almost taste words that had no meaning in the light of day and glimpsed faces with names he did not know. He would bathe away the stains from his nightly journeys to the unknown, hoping that one day their meaning would become clear.

Lacking any shipboard tasks, Alex spent his days pacing the deck or staring out over the empty horizon. Another young boy scrambled in the rigging, laughing at the crude calls from his mates below. When Alex thought about joining him aloft, he grew dizzy and shook from the memory of screaming, of falling into the sea with his clothes and hair aflame, the agony of saltwater in raw wounds and then nothing. Nothing, that is, save the dreams.

Captain Barlowe and the first mate Jack Turner were the only familiar faces in the crew for this voyage. The hard-bitten men knew nothing of the young man without any hair, nothing beyond his fastidious insistence on daily bathing and his curled lip that spoke of his contempt for their unwashed, odorous bodies. They exchanged no words and Alex missed the easy camaraderie of the earlier trip, but was unable to free himself from his waking dream enough to try to make new friends. Sir Grenville stayed in the cabin they shared, aloof and distant from his son as well as the captain and crew.

Taking his usual stance at the stern rail, Alex lifted his face to the breeze that cooled the beads of sweat dappling his body. He'd stripped to the waist in the heat, yet the sun did little to darken his pale skin. A block of wood and a sharp knife waited at his feet, for the idea of carving *something* had come to him that morning and he was eager to try. He'd decided that anything that could relieve the tedium of the days would be welcome. Rolling his shoulders to loosen his muscles, Alex sat on the deck with his back to the rail and began to score a shape in the block of soft wood.

"Master Alex. It's good to see you've found something to amuse yourself." Turner's sly words brought Alex's head up from his initial cuts. "Mayhaps something you can trade with the savages, although they were the ones that most likely taught you the trade." The smell of spirits reeked on Turner's breath. He'd obviously dipped into the ration heavily that day.

Alex was no fool; he'd known his father had tried to make sure that no one would talk to him about the previous voyage. It was as if Sir Grenville wanted the missing months to remain buried in Alex's memory. Alex desperately wanted to find out what his father was hiding from him. "Did you meet many savages when you were ashore?" Alex hoped that if he asked questions about Turner's experiences, he might glean some information about his own. "Were you able to speak to them?"

Turner's laugh sent a chill up Alex's spine. "Oh, I managed to make myself understood, especially with the women." He rubbed the front of his breeches suggestively. "They wear nothing but short leathern skirts and they'll lie with any man that asks, for nothing. An English whore will at least demand a few coppers and keeps her nipples covered." Alex's eyes were at the wrong height to avoid seeing Turner harden at the memory, and he was forced to breathe through his mouth by the stench of the man's grimy clothing and unwashed body. "The men were handsome enough too with smooth dark skin. I wouldn't have refused one of them if there were no women to be had." His next words caused Alex's hand to slip on the knife. "Of course you had a pretty boy of your own. I don't blame you for threatening to kill your father after he beat the boy to death in front of you with that cane of his."

. . .

Turner's words had broken through the wall Alex's mind had built to shield him from the pain of K'El's death. The screams and the blood and the hatred had overwhelmed him until he had lurched to his feet and emptied his stomach over the rail, heaving until he was sure that he would turn himself inside out. Turner had found the sight amusing, until Alex turned and laid him out on the deck with a single blow to the sneering mouth. Retrieving his shirt, Alex wiped the tears and vomit from his face before dragging Turner's comatose body to the aft rail, leaving him to the mercies of the crew.

No longer able to rest in the same cabin as his father, Alex had taken a blanket up to the poop deck and bedded down, propped himself against a rain barrel lashed to the rail. Crossing his arms beneath his head, he gazed up at the stars and reached for a memory to help him sleep. The silence of the night sea, broken only by the creaking of wood and rope, helped calm Alex's feverish mind and he was able to summon another night's sky.

It was a summer night filled with the sound of insects and night creatures, a night on a grassy hill with a boy who wanted to hear tales of the heroes and gods that matched the stars that Alex...that Itahu pointed out to him. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the weight of a head pillowed on his chest and the warmth of a body alongside his own. A hand caressed his belly moving downward and finding no barrier, nothing to stop it from grasping his heated length and stroking firmly. Gathering the fluid seeping from the head of his member, the hand slid more freely, twisting at the top to brush a thumb over the sensitive tip. A pinch of his nipple brought him surging up with muffled groan, a second and he spilled over the hand, whispering a beloved name, choked by his tears.

Exhausted by the day's revelations, he soon fell into an uneasy slumber. Images flashed, a woman's warm smile, strong hands tying sinew to set traps, a fish flapping on the bank of a stream being chased by a laughing dark-haired child. They came faster, an old woman with clouded eyes, a shining object on a beach, green rocks that glowed, green eyes that smiled, green eyes that shone with love, green eyes covered in blood. Blood that spilled over hands, blood that covered a ring bearing a lion, blood and the sound of bone breaking, blood and the sound of screams, his screams, screams that yanked him up out of his nightmare and echoed over the night sea.

Heart beating as if to break free of his chest, Alex gulped in air and trembled, wiping away the evidence of his grief. As his breathing evened out, his racing mind slowed and his path became clear. He would bide his time, keeping his own counsel until the ship dropped anchor and the longboats landed. After that, he would find his family and make sure they were safely away from danger before he returned to...to kill his father.

***

Chapter Four

***

Ignoring the early spring storm that raged overhead, Jacykeme watched Mausi as she sat in the corner of the longhouse, silent and idle while Lomasi tended the fire and prepared the evening meal. Her hair, once a glossy brown, was matted and snarled and dirt marred one sunken cheek. She had spoken little since Jacykeme and the rest of the men had returned to the village empty-handed, explaining that the large canoe had left the shore before they arrived and Itahu was not to be found. Nadiemakwe was the only one who could make her smile for a short while, but he had been ill and could not leave his longhouse to visit. Jacykeme felt helpless as he watched his wife fade away in grief at the loss of her two sons. Not even the lightning that had struck the earth many times that day, as far as the eye could see, had wakened her attention.

Jacykeme jumped to his feet, reaching for a spear when the hide covering the doorway of the longhouse was ripped away. A naked giant stumbled into the fire-lit space and dropped to its knees with a groan. Tangled black hair dripping with rain masked its face until its head lifted and unmistakable green eyes were revealed. Kitchi Elsu spoke only one word before he fell face downward, "Itahu..."

. . .

"I don't remember anything except trying to reach Itahu and then fire. I was lying on the ground with pieces of burning wood all around me. I think it might have been the lightning because it struck a tree nearby just as I stood up." Kitchi Elsu was sitting close to the fire with a mantle over his shoulders to help warm him after his journey through the icy rain. "I wasn't sure where I was, I just knew I had to come home." A spasm of grief crossed his face. "I wanted Itahu to be here. I can't believe he's gone."

Using the comb Jacykeme had carved for her, Mausi knelt behind her son and worked diligently at the knots and tangles in his silky hair. She couldn't stop touching him at first, her hands fluttering over his face in amazement as tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. Her son had returned from the dead and she had been saved from madness. Jacykeme watched Mausi tend Kitchi Elsu and thought with pride that his son was the giant he first thought he had seen. It seemed that he had not stopped growing even as he lay on his burial platform. A head taller than any other man in the village, now Kitchi Elsu had no rival in the breadth of his chest and the span of his muscular arms and legs.

"I have some fish stew for you." Lomasi held out the carved bowl, her eyes downcast and shy in front of the man who once played games with her in the forest. Kitchi Elsu smiled in thanks as he took the food and then watched as she withdrew to her pallet along the wall. Using a bone spoon, he tasted the stew before looking back up at Lomasi and complimenting her cooking. Tilting her head, she peeked through the curtain of her hair and giggled. Mausi watched the byplay between her son and the girl she had taken to her hearth to train and smiled, missing the shadow that crossed her son's face as he recalled his lost brother.

. . .

"Wemilat of the Croatan favors Lomasi." Sitting outside in the late spring sun, Mausi's tone was casual as she worked on new moccasins for Kitchi Elsu. She glanced up to see what affect her words had on her tall son who had just returned from hunting with a fat doe on his shoulders. "They may decide to join at the encampment in the fall."

Kitchi Elsu shrugged as he hung the meat for his mother. "If that is who will make her happy..."

"I think she might be interested in someone else," Mausi suggested. "Someone here in the Hatteras."

Sighing, Kitchi Elsu shook his head at his matchmaking mother. "I do not want to take Lomasi for my wife, Mausi. She is as a small sister to me. I'm not thinking of any woman right now and I don't think I ever will." A shout caught his attention and he smiled as Nadiemakwe ran to greet him. "I am taking the boy fishing as I promised."

"But..."

"No." Afraid he would start shouting at his mother in anger, Kitchi Elsu picked up Nadiemakwe and ran into the forest. After a time of running without thinking, he noticed that the felled and shattered trees that surrounded them looked familiar. Looking up, he saw a green clearing at the top of a nearby hill and he knew he'd returned to one of the last places he had been truly happy. With a heavy heart, he climbed to the top and sat in the sun with a silent Nadiemakwe, remembering the caring, laughter and joy of those days. Eyes closed, he could see Itahu's laughing eyes and almost taste the salt-sweet skin that was smoother than any river-polished stone. His own hands could not match Itahu's skill in bringing him release and he ached with a want no other could satisfy. The last time he saw Itahu, held fast in the arms of the strangers and crying out his name, burned across his memory hotter than any fire he'd known. Tortured by his loss, Kitchi Elsu leapt to his feet and howled in pain that echoed across the hills. "Itahu! Itahu!" His mourning roared as thunder and Nadiemakwe's tears fell as his spring rain.

. . .

"Set the loop here, just so." Squatting down next to him, Kitchi Elsu pointed to the bent sapling, showing Nadiemakwe the right way to set a trap, just as Itahu had taught him. Although Kitchi Elsu could have run down any number of summer-fat *waboose* for the stewpot, he knew it was important to teach the boy to hunt and trap as a Hatteras would. With Itahu gone and Lomasi living with the Croatan, Nadiemakwe had easily made a place for himself in Kitchi Elsu's aching heart. When the boy succeeded in his task, Kitchi Elsu stood up, patting his thin shoulder with pride. "Itahu would be happy to see how well you've learned to use his traps."

A woman's scream brought both of their heads around as they searched for the source. Kitchi Elsu blurred into motion as a second scream sounded and Nadiemakwe was left behind to follow at his best speed. He arrived in time to see Kitchi Elsu drop the body of a black bear and then squat down to clean his bloody hands off on the fur. Nadiemakwe also saw that Mausi would be sewing Kitchi Elsu a new breechcloth to replace the one the bear had torn off during their fight.

A quiet sob pulled Nadiemakwe toward the woman bent over a man's body. As he neared, the man groaned and tried to sit up with her help. The string of strange words from the stranger meant nothing to Nadiemakwe, but he could hear in his head that the large man was angry that he had not been able to protect his woman from the bear. She patted his face in relief, elated that his injuries had not left him dead or dying.

Kitchi Elsu had paid little attention to the man and woman he had rescued up to then, but when he heard the Croatan words, he abandoned his attempt to fasten his breechcloth to examine the woman who had spoken. Her voice was familiar and Kitchi Elsu recognized her as Wemilat's sister, the one who had prepared Lomasi for her early summer joining with Wemilat. K'El had escorted Lomasi to the Croatan village as neither Lomasi nor Wemilat wished to wait for the fall encampment. Chepi had invited him to her tent then, but he had declined, no more interested in her than he was in Lomasi. Puzzled as to why she would be in Hatteras territory, he moved closer. "Chepi?"

"Kitchi Elsu?" A smile greeted him as Chepi stood, "Thank you for saving my man! We were lucky you were here. No one else could have killed the bear so easily." As she moved toward Kitchi Elsu, the man's face became visible, blood dripping from a wound above one eye. When Kitchi Elsu saw his red beard and the strange clothing, his curiosity turned to rage. He darted forward and yanked the man off the ground, holding him in the air by the neck and growling.

"Where is my brother! Where is Itahu!"

Nadiemakwe and Chepi dragged at Kitchi Elsu's arms, pleading with him to release the injured man. Nadiemakwe kicked him and yelled, "He is not one of them, let him go! You're killing him!" Their frantic cries finally penetrated Kitchi Elsu's fury and he dropped his prey to the ground and stood over him with clenched fists. Nadiemakwe, breathless from his efforts, panted, "He is not one of the men who took Itahu away. He knows about the large canoe, but he did not travel on it."

Kitchi Elsu's face contorted in grief and he strode to a large tree across the clearing. Throwing his head back, he shouted, "Itahu!" and brought the tree down, shattering it with a single blow. Watching the tree fall, Nadiemakwe heard Chepi's gasp behind him and felt the man's relief that it hadn't been him.

. . .

"It must have been Machitehew that took your brother." Chepi had finished cleaning her man's wounds and was busily packing their camp as she spoke. "He left men behind to build a village, saying he would return after the next snows are gone." She turned to her man and spoke words unfamiliar to Kitchi Elsu and Nadiemakwe before translating again. "Luther Clark says the men did not like He Who Has Heart of Evil. Machitehew beat one of them to death with his club for taking a rock."

Kitchi Elsu looked at Nadiemakwe and he nodded, confirming Chepi's words. Picking up the ends of the heavily-laden travois, Kitchi Elsu prepared to drag Luther Clark and their packs to the Hatteras village. As they walked, Chepi explained that the men from the village had traded with the Croatan for food. After several such visits, Luther Clark had joined with her with Wemilat's consent. They had been traveling back to the Englishmen's village when the bear attacked and Luther Clark had been injured while protecting her.

The weight Kitchi Elsu was dragging through the forest did not tax his strength, but still he was silent as they traveled. His only thought was that he now knew the name of the man he would kill when the large canoe returned.

. . .

"Nay, not like that, ye bluidy savage!" The redheaded giant dropped the long club he had been wielding and crossed his arms in frustration. "Ye thrust, then cut. Ye canna let the other into range else they'll cut ye open."

Kitchi Elsu lowered the two-handed sword and frowned at Luther Clark. A glance at Nadiemakwe had him translating the puzzling instructions. Kitchi Elsu nodded and brought the weapon back up. "Again, Luther Clark." He wanted to learn how to use the heavy cutting weapon that felt so right in his hands. He had pestered his new friend for days after his wounds had healed and he had finally agreed to training Kitchi Elsu in a clearing a short distance from the village. Nadiemakwe had followed both in his usual role of Kitchi Elsu's shadow, having stayed behind with Kitchi Elsu and the wounded man when Chepi and the Hatteras left for the fall encampment.

Leaving the center of the clearing, the older man shook his head and took a seat on a log next to Nadiemakwe. "Enough for today. I'm nae a man of steel, Kitchi Elsu." Patting Nadiemakwe's leg, he nodded towards his pupil. "Does he n'ere tire? He's the younger as well as bigger and stronger than any man I've 'ere seen and the parish of Kent wasna known for small men."

Nadiemakwe smiled and using a mix of Hatteras, Croatan and English in a Scots brogue explained that Luther Clark was training the son of the sky who was the gift of Kitcki Manitou and was a man who'd risen from the dead. Stroking his heavy red beard, Luther Clark looked between the boy and the brawny young man and nodded. "Then I was right to gie him ma father's claymore. No other man could deserve it more." Clapping his hands on his knees, he pushed himself to his feet. "Right then." He picked up the club that matched the length of the heavy sword and held it ready. "Again."

. . .

The fall saw the Hatteras returning to the island to fish as always. Eager to learn how they used their nets in the sea, Luther Clark and Chepi had traveled with them. When the fishing ended and the Hatteras returned to their village, Luther Clark and Chepi planned to return to the men's village. Kitchi Elsu and Nadiemakwe would be going with them to ask the men about Machitehew's return. Neither Jacykeme nor Mausi was pleased, fearing they would lose their son again, but they knew Kitchi Elsu would not be happy until he knew what had happened to his brother and had destroyed the man who had taken him away.

"Kitchi Elsu, come and see?" Nadiemakwe tugged on his tall friend's arm, leading him further down the beach. Laughing, Kitchi Elsu let the boy pull him along, while Luther Clark followed, curious to see what the boy had found. Rounding a high dune, Nadiemakwe darted ahead to stand next to a large boulder that gleamed in the sun. "Look! What is it?"

Frowning, Kitchi Elsu ran a hand over the smooth curve. "I think I remember this." Walking around it, he stopped when he saw something that looked like a shallow hole, possibly carved in the side. Squatting, he felt the edges of the depression that he could almost recognize.

"You should remember. It's the egg that brought you from the sky." Jacykeme's voice came from behind the three clustered around Nadiemakwe's discovery. "Itahu and I found it last fishing season, just before..." His voice faltered as he recalled the last day that they had seen Itahu, the same day Kitchi Elsu had died. "He was going to show you something else he found. It had the same markings as you have." Jacykeme's finger traced the air above the tattoo on his son's chest before dropping back to his side in despair.

"Ye said that the men were picking up rocks when they found Itahu?" Luther Clark was curious about what had happened that day. "And they took the rocks and Itahu with them?"

Nadiemakwe nodded. "Yes, Itahu had been taking the *pajackok asinine* to the bluff to throw into the sea. He didn't want them to..."

Jacykeme interrupted Nadiemakwe before he could reveal what the rocks did to Kitchi Elsu. "Nadiemakwe, you should be helping Mausi with the drying racks." He frowned until the boy gasped, understanding what he had almost done. Upset at the thought that he could have endangered his friend, he ran back down the beach without another word.

Ignoring Luther Clark's puzzlement, Jacykeme gestured at the shining rock. "Kitchi Elsu, we should move this off the beach so no one else finds it and asks questions."

Rapping the side of the strange rock with his knuckles, Luther Clark shook his head, "It's no rock or egg, Jacykeme. I'm after to be thinking it's iron, like a big pot all closed up tight." Attempting to help, Luther Clark grabbed an end and tried to lift with no success. Smiling, Kitchi Elsu reached out and picked up the awkward shape easily. "Where shall I take it?" he asked his father.

"Where no one can see it."

Thinking a moment, Kitchi Elsu nodded before heading for the canoes at the far side of the island. Lashing two together, he used a net to secure the metal egg on top of them. Shoving off from shore, he swam behind the canoes, pushing them across the sound to the mainland. Once there, he picked up the egg and ran to the base of the hill he thought of as Itahu's. He had discovered caverns there while hunting with Nadiemakwe and no one else knew of them. Leaving the mysterious metal shape deep inside, Kitchi Elsu returned and reported to his relieved father that it had been safely hidden from sight.

. . .

"We thank you for the fish and corn." Fumbling over the Croatan words, Richard Lane, the leader of the men left behind by the ship, made a short bow to Kitchi Elsu. It was his great strength that had helped Luther Clark and Chepi to deliver a large sledge loaded with baskets of shelled corn and dried fish to the starving men of the small village. "We would like to give you this gift." Lane handed a bundle of red woolen cloth to the tawny giant who stroked the soft fabric and smiled at the bright color.

Exchanges complete, the villagers distributed the food and made plans for a feast the next day. Kitchi Elsu, seeing the thin faces of the men, decided fresh meat would be a welcome addition and he left to hunt. A short time later, he interrupted a discussion between Luther Clark and Lane by dropping two freshly-killed bucks and a dozen rabbits at their feet. While Lane exclaimed over the bounty, Luther Clark grinned at his young friend who had earned the answers he was seeking. He knew that full bellies would encourage the men to share what they knew about the man who had taken Kitchi Elsu's brother away.

. . .

"His name is Sir Lionel Grenville, but I think your name for him fits just as well. He is not a good man." Sitting at the fire after the evening's meal, Lane answered Kitchi Elsu's questions while Nadiemakwe translated when needed. "The young man he took back on the ship, what you call a big canoe, was his son, Alex." Kitchi Elsu's restless movements betrayed his distress as he learned about Itahu's other life, before they were brothers. "Sir Grenville had thought Alex died when he was knocked off the ship into the water, we all did. It was a surprise to see him alive, although he looked very ill when they left for England."

Nadiemakwe had difficulty translating what England was to Kitchi Elsu, but he finally understood it was too far away for him to travel there in a canoe. Kitchi Elsu's frustration must have been apparent, because Lane hastened to assure him that Machitehew would be returning soon. While Sir Grenville was here, he had found something he thought was very valuable and he would be back for more. After more discussion, it was decided Kitchi Elsu and Nadiemakwe would return to the Hatteras and Luther Clark would come to them when the ship returned. While they waited, Kitchi Elsu could use his speed to visit them often and help them hunt for food.

. . .

Delayed by a serious illness that had sickened most of the Hattaras and left too many dead, Kitchi Elsu's second visit to the Englishmen in mid-spring found him walking through a deserted village. He called out several times and was finally answered by a thin cry issuing from one of the rude cabins constructed by the Englishmen. Entering the dark single-room hut, Kitchi Elsu was shocked by the rank smell of unwashed bodies and rotting food.

"You came back." The hoarse voice from a corner of the room succumbed to a rattling cough. Deciding he couldn't help anyone without light, Kitchi Elsu sped back out to locate wood he could use to start a fire. A single blow from his fist knocked down the adjoining cabin and he put the kindling to good use. Thrusting the end of a pine log into the flames, he ended up with a usable torch that he took back into the first cabin along with water he'd fetched from a nearby stream. With the addition of light, he could make out the features of the speaker, and was horrified to find it was his friend, Luther Clark.

After thrusting the end of the torch into the dirt floor, Kitchi Elsu hurried to help Luther Clark sit up enough to be able to drink from the pottery cup full of cool water. After a few sips, he pushed it away and tried to speak. "Lane...killed...weroance. Powhatan. No more food. All...left...ship. Ship...not Grenville...other." Pressing more water on the gaunt man, Kitchi Elsu tried to get him to rest, to no avail. "Chepi...sick...stayed...she died." A coughing spasm bent him over and the small amount of water he'd managed to swallow spattered on the dirt, along with a splash of bright red blood. A rattle warned of Luther Clark's approaching death. Kitchi Elsu had heard that sound all too often in the last few weeks to be mistaken.

"Rest, friend." Kitchi Elsu laid Luther Clark's wasted body, which was once strong enough to wield the claymore of his ancestors, back down on the filthy pallet. The end was swift, a few more bubbling breaths and then nothing. Kitchi Elsu was left alone once again. After searching through the rest of the cabins, he used his torch to set them ablaze, cleansing the earth with flame. Luther Clark's body burned with his possessions, a fitting tribute to a brave man. Standing with his arms crossed, waiting until nothing remained but ashes, Kitchi Elsu held vigil over the failed colony and his friend.

. . .

A warm spring and early summer brought some respite to the Hatteras who had suffered through months of the coughing sickness. Most of the oldest and youngest were taken to the burial ground, as well as a surprising number of the healthier men and women. Kitchi Elsu had left to visit the Englishmen when it looked like the illness had run its course, only to return to find Mausi and Nadiemakwe feverish and coughing. Jacykeme was worn to the bone from battling to keep them alive with mustard poultices and cool water baths and Kitchi Elsu feared he would join them if he did not rest.

Taking over their care, Kitchi Elsu used everything Mausi had taught him about medicinal herbs and keeping the longhouse clean and well aired. Mausi recovered quickly and was soon able to offer help with Nadiemakwe. His cough did improve, but there was something else wrong that prevented him from returning to full health. He often complained of headaches and that the noise from the other Hatteras' thoughts made the pain even worse. Only Kitchi Elsu's thoughts remained a secret. Nosebleeds became commonplace and Kitchi Elsu carried Nadiemakwe to and from the stream for bathing several times a day.

Kitchi Elsu was thankful that Nadiemakwe could not hear his thoughts because he would only be saddened by the grief that he hid with smiles and jokes for the younger boy. They often spent the day away from the village, distance and silence helping the pain. The end came on one of those halcyon summer days. Kitchi Elsu had carried Nadiemakwe to Itahu's hill and they sat side-by-side overlooking the lake and listening to the birds and insects. There were only a few high clouds and the air was warm and after a time, Nadiemakwe laid down with his head pillowed on Kitchi Elsu's sturdy thigh. Loosening the boy's braid, Kitchi Elsu combed through his hair gently with his long fingers, watching tired eyes close in contentment. The boy's breathing slowed until even Kitchi Elsu's ears strained to hear it and then he was no longer there and would never feel the tears that bathed his face like the softest of summer rains.

. . .

Mausi missed the sound of Kitchi Elsu's laughter. It had faded without Itahu, but Nadiemakwe had kept it from disappearing altogether. Now it was never heard, not even when the other men joked with each other. His face grew stern as he worried about the remaining Hatteras and the dwindling supply of game. He ranged further and further inland to hunt, the lands closer to the shore depleted of the deer and rabbits that were a staple of their diet. Kitchi Elsu did not understand why the numbers had dropped so quickly, but he feared it was because of the giant wolves that ranged the forest at night, their eyes glowing green even in the absence of the moon and stars, their howls knife-edged in the dark.

After a young woman had fallen victim to the beasts just inside the village's perimeter, Kitchi Elsu began to prowl around the longhouses each evening after darkness fell. He slept little, too worried about losing another Hatteras if he was not there to protect them. Mausi confessed to Jacykeme that she feared that their son would find himself fighting something or someone strong enough to kill him and that this time he would not come back to life. Jacykeme understood her fears, but he could do nothing to stop Kitchi Elsu. The son of the sky was not meant to be owned by men of the earth.

. . .

Lingering illnesses and several more deaths from animals never seen before helped convince the Hatteras to move inland to the valley called Shenandoah. Kitchi Elsu had been there often while hunting and its rich soil and plentiful game and fish would be welcome after the lean spring and summer. Kitchi Elsu began to build new longhouses on land he cleared of trees and brush. They would be finished by the time the Hatteras arrived after the fall encampment and fishing. Kitchi Elsu knew he would be able to use his speed and strength to ensure his people would travel safely, without leaving anything they needed behind.

At the encampment, the Croatan were invited to join the Hatteras in their new lands after the fall fishing. Many decided to make the journey with the son of the sky and his people, believing Kitchi Elsu carried the favor of Kitcki Manitou. Wemilat, who might have convinced the Croatan to stay, had entered the burial grounds that spring. Lomasi and her newborn son would share Mausi and Jacykeme's new longhouse in the Shenandoah Valley. Mausi hoped the young woman and child would bring the laughter back to Kitchi Elsu in time.

. . .

Standing on the shore, Kitchi Elsu gazed out over the empty horizon. There had been no ships sighted, no sign of Machitehew's promised arrival. The fishing was over and the Hatteras were now traveling to meet the Croatan. They would reach their new home, prepared by Kitchi Elsu, well before the first snow fell. Sighing, Kitchi Elsu drew the red wool mantle trimmed with fox fur around his broad shoulders, adjusted the sheathed claymore on his back, and abandoned any hope of Itahu's return. He could delay no longer. His people were waiting to start their lives in their new home and they needed him.

***

Chapter Five

***

// October 1587, Roanoke Island, The Virginias //

Finding the colony he had left behind abandoned and burnt to the ground ruined more than one of Sir Grenville's plans. He was furious that the rocks the colonists were to gather in his absence were nowhere to be found and he cursed as he thought of his missing treasure. Expecting to use the colonists in his search for more gems, he would now be forced to put his crew ashore instead. Recalling the gem-bearing rocks that Alex had been throwing into the sea on the island to the south, Sir Grenville ordered the ship to tack down the coast and anchor just inside the bay. When they arrived, there were no signs of habitation. The beaches were empty with no native fishermen throwing nets, only a few broken drying racks left behind. Alex hid his own disappointment and was successful in convincing his father to allow him to go ashore with the first longboats.

Waiting until his father's attention was focused on the search for gem-bearing rocks, Alex made his way to the side of the island facing the mainland, trying to think of some way of crossing the miles of water separating the two. Fortune smiled on him, leading him to a large piece of driftwood, large enough to keep his head out of the water and allow him to rest as he swam to the land he could just make out in the distance. Removing his boots, he dragged the limb into the water and set out at a steady speed, trusting that he could swim the distance faster than his father could have a longboat brought around to re-capture him.

. . .

"Kitchi Elsu, what is wrong?" Mausi looked up at her son who was pacing restlessly in front of the cooking fire, his face frowning and his thoughts elsewhere. Reaching out as he passed her again, she slapped his hard calf to gain his attention. Stopping, he looked down at his mother in surprise.

"What?" Looking at his face, Mausi could see he had not heard her earlier question.

"What is wrong with you? You are walking a hole in the ground."

Tipping his head to the side, he considered the woman he called mother and tried to find the words that would explain how he was feeling. "I'm not sure. I feel something is going to happen, but I don't know what it is. It's like nothing...I've ever had before...felt before." His eyes looked into hers, seeking understanding. "It's...calling me."

"What is?"

His eyes closed in frustration, then opened with tears shimmering in the green. "I...don't...know," he gritted out, hands clenched at his side. "I...don't...know, but...but...I need...I need to go...there."

Mausi stood to hug her giant son, her arms unable to reach around him but still holding him close. Releasing him, she stepped back, her hand coming up to caress his cheek and wipe away the single tear that had escaped. "Then you need to go." Gathering up the mantle she had proudly sewn for him, she placed it on his shoulders before handing him the sword she could barely lift. "Be careful and come back to me, my son of the sky." Smiling in gratitude, he gave a short nod and then was gone, the longhouse left empty of his presence, as if he'd never been there.

Mausi was still standing by the fire with her own tears falling when Jacykeme came inside; Lomasi and the baby following close behind. When they asked what had happened, she could only whisper, "He's gone."

. . .

Running along the forest trails, Kitchi Elsu felt his need growing stronger with each stride. He soon reached the ridge of mountains that protected the valley from the worst of winter storms and ascended the steep trace they had followed away from the Hatteras lands without slowing. Distracted by a covey of grouse that took flight almost under his moccasins, Kitchi Elsu overbalanced and fell from the rocky trail. Angered at the delay caused by his own carelessness, Kitchi Elsu found himself floating in the air, high above the valley floor. His surprise vanished as need consumed him once more and letting it control his actions, he flew faster than any bird toward the unknown, his red mantle streaming behind.

. . .

Alex glanced up from his perch on the driftwood, hoping that the mainland was closer than the last time he looked. He'd tired much sooner than he expected, the muscles he'd built in the year spent running with his brother no longer as strong as they had been. Darkness was falling rapidly and the cooling seawater was draining his remaining strength. Slipping off the branch and back into the water, he resumed kicking, unwilling to waste any more time. The longer the crossing took, the greater the chance that he would lose his freedom.

. . .

Kitchi Elsu touched down on the shingle at the edge of the sandy beach, his mantle settling in place. He'd arrived at the shore, close to where the Hatteras launched their canoes each year for the fall fishing. Night had fallen and he could see nothing that would explain why he had been drawn to that place from so far away. Unwilling to leave, he decided to build a fire and prepare someplace to sleep. He would resume his search at first light.

. . .

The quarter moon did not provide Alex enough light to see how far the shore was, but the sound of the waves striking rocks grew louder. It had become difficult for Alex to raise his head from the branch, but the sight of a fire on the beach supplied him with enough energy to kick a while longer. He hoped that a Hatteras or Croatan was tending the flames, but he knew he would be happy to see anyone who was not employed by his father. As the water grew shallow, his splashing alerted someone who stood in front of the flames, face obscured by the shadows. As Alex stood and began to stagger out of the water, a hand reached into the fire and brought out a brand to light their way as they moved to meet each other halfway.

Alex stood still and ventured a greeting in Hatteras. As the torchbearer drew near, Alex heard a strangled sound before a name burst from the hidden lips. "Itahu?"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Itahu stumbled, only to find himself caught up in the arms he had thought he'd never feel again. The torch, discarded carelessly on the shingle, flared in a tangle of dried seaweed, providing enough light for Itahu's trembling fingers to trace the symbol of his lost love. "Are you really K'El, or are you an achak, come here to lead me to the spirit world?"

A rumbling laugh gave him his answer as the brawny arms pulled him closer still. "It's me, Itahu. I'm really your K'El and I have been waiting so long for you to return to me."

. . .

Sitting before the fire, tucked between K'El legs, his back to a chest even broader than he remembered, Itahu hugged the red mantle closer, his chilled limbs warming between the two sources of heat. Exhausted from his long swim and the emotional reunion, his head dropped back to rest on a strong shoulder, eyes closing despite his effort to stay awake. He wanted to listen to K'El's story, but instead heard a soft chuckle and a quiet "tomorrow" before he lost his battle with sleep. K'El, his skin impervious to the stones and pebbles beneath him, stretched out and lifted Itahu so he was lying on his chest, covered by the mantle and warmed by K'El's body heat. It was a familiar position from happier days and soon both men slept deeply, untroubled by dreams for the first time in two years.

. . .

Too comfortable to move, Itahu drifted in and out of sleep as the sun rose. The heartbeat under his ear turned into a deep purr as broad fingers stroked along his spine, coming to rest on the rising curve at the base. Flexing, kneading the sweet flesh too long absent, large hands dragged Itahu upwards against hard, chiseled muscles until his starving mouth devoured K'El's. Nipping at full lips, Itahu's hands searched for and found the two nut-brown nipples waiting for his rude caresses, testing K'El's patience until he groaned and aligned their two aching lengths. Thrusting upwards, K'El's member wept, the slickness between them sweetening the rough strokes until he arched in a silent cry of release, Itahu following as he felt the heat and pulse against him. Their breathing slowed and Itahu's head was tucked back under K'El's chin, eyelids drooping until a distant shout carried by the capricious wind brought them to their feet.

"My father!" The discarded mantle dropped to the ground as Itahu scrambled for his breeches, stiff with salt, but fortunately dried by the fire. K'El had already donned his breechcloth and was standing at the edge of the water, looking across to the island. Tiny figures could be seen, but the distance was too great to determine their actions. "He will most likely send a party after me, if he doesn't believe I drowned."

K'El's mouth twisted in a wry grin. "You didn't the last time, son of the sea."

Nodding his head, Itahu flashed a grin of his own. "And you owe me a story, son of the sky."

. . .

A quick morning meal of fresh fish and Itahu was ready to hear how K'El had lived through his father's brutal beating and the fall from the bluff to the rocks below. Itahu's breathing became troubled as he learned K'El did die and his body was placed on a burial platform raised to the sun, where it stayed for months until he opened his eyes in the middle of a great lightning storm. Even with K'El sitting in front of him, alive and unhurt, Itahu found himself reliving the memory of his violent death, the death that had robbed Itahu of his memories of K'El for years. He shuddered, thinking that he might have been sitting here alone, no K'El to shelter him within his strong arms and saving him from despair.

K'El had still more sadness to share; Nadiemakwe's death, the sickness that had taken so many lives the past spring and the need to leave the Hatteras lands for a new home. He told of finding and losing his good friend Luther Clark and proudly displayed the heavy blade that once belonged to the laird of the Clan Clark. In his turn, Itahu reluctantly told of his young wife and the child who was not his son, both dead and unmourned. He raged at his father's attempt to conceal any evidence of the time he spent with K'El and the Hatteras, the words of a sot Itahu's only clue to his past.

As the flow of words slowed and the sun climbed higher into the sky, Itahu looked back at the island and asked K'El what they were going to do next. "I hate my father for what he's done, K'El, but I don't think I can kill him, now that I know you're alive."

Nodding, K'El agreed despite the anger he had held against Machitehew for so long. "Our people are safely away. We should return to them and leave the evil behind us." K'El's grin became feral. "Perhaps the wolves will be hungry."

Shaking out the mantle, Itahu caressed the soft folds and smiled at his brother. "Red? You always did favor the *odeimin*, eating all the fat red ones before anyone could find them."

Chuckling, K'El agreed. "Now, I'm the biggest redbird in the sky." Catching Itahu up in his arms, he grinned and rubbed his nose along soft cheeks. "Since you have no moccasins and soft feet, you'll have to fly with me."

Pushing back, Itahu shook his head, protesting. "The son of the sky may enjoy flying, but the son of the sea prefers to walk. I didn't hatch from an egg like you did."

Releasing Itahu, K'El frowned. "Jacykeme told me to hide the egg away, that it wasn't safe there, on the beach. He said...he said you found something that day, something you wanted to show me?"

Itahu took a few steps back and rubbed a hand over the back of his head down to his neck. His eyes traveled over K'El's tall, muscular form as he struggled to remember. "I remember finding the egg...it's made of metal, not rock. There was something...else." His eyes glanced over K'El's chest, only to return to the tattoo above his heart. Itahu traced the lines with a finger, just as he had done so many times before. "It was a small piece of the same metal with these marks on it."

K'El interrupted, "There is a place on the side of the egg where a piece is missing. Do you think it might be that?"

Itahu agreed. "It must be. I was going to show it to you and I put it in my pouch." He closed his eyes in despair as he realized where it was. "My father has it."

. . .

"You can't go back. I can't be without you again!" K'El's agitated pacing along the shingle was grinding the small rocks into sand. "It's not important enough to take the chance!"

Sighing, Itahu tried once again to convince K'El that he needed to go back to the ship to find the missing piece. K'El would have to stay behind, the rocks his father had gathered preventing him from boarding the ship with Itahu. "The Eluwilussit saw this, K'El. She knew. She told us, 'Death will come to you and yet you will live again in pain and grief until blood joins you once more. Small into large, the secret shines, there is no sun and so it will share its light.' You died, K'El, she saw that." Standing, Itahu stepped in front of K'El, forcing him to stop and listen. "The egg shines and my father has the small that needs to go into the large, the hole on the side." Placing his hand over K'El's pounding heart, Itahu searched the green eyes above him, pleading for understanding. "I don't want to lose you because we didn't follow the Eluwilussit's words."

K'El's head dropped in defeat. Reaching out, he pulled Itahu into his arms and cradled the pale curve of his skull in the palm of his hand. Tasting the salt that had gathered beneath the tender shell of his ear, K'El's tongue chased the traces along his smooth jaw, his teeth testing the strength of the tendons straining between neck and shoulder. Itahu's hands burrowed into the depths of ebony locks, pulling them free of the sinew that could no longer restrain them. He held K'El closer, urging him to bite and suck until he left his mark on the skin that was like no other's, flesh that bloomed with color from his lover's fierce passion. Itahu's linen shirt and heavy breeches soon fell to the ground, providing some protection when he dropped to his knees, K'El's breechcloth no lasting barrier to his eager hands and mouth. As taste overwhelmed him, the long years that he had spent searching for a face, a body he could never find, those years fell away to leave him washed clean as though all he felt, all he was, had become new and rich with promise.

Itahu had no fear of the body he knelt to worship, he knew the strength that could fell an entire forest or crush a mountain would never be unleashed against him. That unmatched strength trembled and then shattered with a groan, the gift of sweet salt bursting over his tongue shared as K'El joined him on soft red wool. His heated length was welcomed inside, the smooth passage soothing an ache carried too long by both. All too soon, a silent arching shout signaled the end, K'El's hand aiding his own release. They didn't speak as they held each other close. There would be time for words later, when they could no longer delay their parting.

. . .

"I told you. The Hattaras village is empty." Alex spat on the deck to clear his mouth and wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve. "I only found one hunter, so I came back."

Sir Grenville raised his hand again, only to drop it with a sound of disgust. "I should have known you wouldn't have the courage, that you'd coming crawling back." His contempt for his son was undisguised, only his need for an heir saving him from a summary execution for desertion. "We've cleared the island of every rock we could find. I see no reason to linger in this godforsaken land, so after we finish hunting for fresh meat we'll set sail for England."

Alex knew this was his only chance to convince his father to land where K'El was waiting. "The hunter mentioned something about seeing the men of the village burying boxes in the ground before they left on a ship." Alex kept his words even, trying not to betray anything that would convince his father that he was lying. "Do you think it's possible it was what you were looking for when you landed?"

Sir Grenville frowned, stroking his beard as he weighed the possibilities. "Buried by the colonists. Mayhap it's true. It could be that the ship's master couldn't be convinced to carry boxes of rocks back to England." Reaching a decision, Sir Grenville issued his orders. "Barlowe, take the ship back up the coast to the colony. I want to go ashore for some hunting there." Using his cane to turn Alex's head to look him in the face, Sir Grenville made his position clear. "You'll be locked in the cabin until we get there and then we'll see if you can find these 'boxes' of yours." He jerked his head at Turner, who was waiting for his next order and indicated he was to take Alex down below. Before he turned away, he uttered one final threat, grasping the hilt of the sword at his waist and freeing it partly from its sheath. "You had better be telling the truth, Alexander. You only require your cock and bollocks to sire an heir. Everything else can be done without, short of murder."

. . .

Itahu was able to wait until the cabin door was locked behind him before he sank to the floor shaking in relief. He'd been afraid that his father wouldn't take the bait and all their efforts would have been in vain. K'El had flown him back to the island when night fell, leaving him to make his way to the campfire tended by his father's crew. They believed his story about finding an abandoned canoe to paddle across to the mainland and back, not bothering to look for themselves. His father was not so easily satisfied when Alex was brought aboard, lashing out at his disobedient son with fist and cane. Now it was up to him to find the metal piece and get back ashore.

A few hours later, he was forced to admit defeat. He'd searched the entire cabin from top to bottom and found no sign of his quarry. He'd located two different secret compartments containing gold and gems, but nothing else. He could only conclude it would be located in the only other place left to search, on his father's person. He was not going to be able to slip over the side of the ship with his prize; instead, he would have to travel back with them to the village and pretend to know where the imaginary boxes were buried. He could only hope K'El would be there too.

. . .

K'El's hands flexed impotently at the clank of the chains around Itahu's ankle. Hands tied behind his back, he was being shoved along the path that wound up to the village from the beach. He had known something was wrong when Itahu hadn't appeared on deck yesterday and only his promise to wait until Itahu was away from the thunder rocks kept him from storming aboard and taking him away. Itahu had been right about the rocks being too dangerous. Even now, K'El could tell that someone was carrying enough of it to keep him well away from the group.

Hidden in the trees, he watched the men stop in the center of the destroyed village and wait for Itahu to point out the location of the boxes that didn't exist. Glancing around, Itahu finally indicated a cleared area on the opposite side of the village from K'El's hiding place. The crew began to dig with Sir Grenville supervising closely with his hand on his sword and swinging his heavy cane, leaving Itahu untended. He began to edge towards the trees, trying to prevent his chains from betraying his movements. A stumble over a charred piece of wood ended his escape attempt, his father's head coming up at the sound of rattling chains. He closed the distance to Itahu in rapid strides and brought his heavy cane around to crack against the closest leg, just below the knee. Itahu cried out in pain and fell to the ground, unable to protect himself from further injury with his hands tied.

A roar was Sir Grenville's only warning as K'El surged out of his hiding place, determined to rescue Itahu. He was brought up short, his weakness making it clear that Sir Grenville was the one carrying the rocks. Drawing the claymore from the sheath on his back, K'El circled around the two, hoping to maneuver Sir Grenville far enough away so that he would be able to pick Itahu up and run. Sensing K'El's goal, the older man stood over Itahu and drew his sword, holding it to Itahu's throat. Looking down at his son, he prodded him with the sharp tip. "Tell your friend that if he comes any closer, I'll take an ear off."

Understanding the threat, K'El raised the claymore and advanced once again, hoping to engage Sir Grenville until the sword sliced into Itahu's neck and drew blood. Sir Grenville sneered at the savage that dared to challenge him before resting the sword on Itahu's face. A trickle of blood ran down Itahu's cheek like a crimson teardrop.

K'El grip on the claymore tightened, his shoulder muscles clenching as he struggled against his need to rush forward, knowing Itahu's life was in the balance. He felt his strength draining whenever he closed the distance separating him from his enemy, his speed failing him because of the rocks Sir Grenville carried. Unable to move forward, unwilling to retreat, K'El felt his rage build with no outlet, heat rising from straining muscles held in check. He glared at his enemy with a hatred he'd never felt before, his eyes stinging and burning. A haze of red shimmered in his sight, blurring his view of Sir Grenville as the heat in his blood boiled and seethed. It continued to build until with a roar K'El released his rage and cast a spear of flame from his burning eyes. Sir Grenville dropped his sword as he became a pillar of fire screaming above Itahu. The crewmembers, all of whom had stopped digging at K'El's first outcry, took no action without orders and simply stood watching as the burning man writhed in silence, his voice taken by flame.

Staring up in revulsion, Itahu knew he had to destroy the man who had fathered him. The cuts he'd made meant little to Itahu, the only thing that mattered was saving K'El. Itahu gathered his strength and prepared to topple Sir Grenville, but then shrank back as an inferno erupted above him. Watching spellbound as his father was engulfed in flame, Itahu felt his hatred and fear burn away. Avoiding the collapsing body, Itahu rolled away from the remaining flames and toward his new life.

Finally able to reach Itahu, K'El snapped the chains before picking him up and carrying him further into the woods. He set Itahu down on a log gently so that he could free his hands and examine his injuries. They were already healing rapidly and Itahu insisted on returning to the village, meeting the crewmembers at the edge. Stepping forward, K'El raised the claymore. Without a word, they turned and left the village, returning down the path to the longboat and abandoning their employer with no compunction. The flames had died by the time Itahu returned and he stirred the ashes with a long stick, seeking the metal piece. Finding it with little difficulty, Itahu picked up the piece and wiped it off on his shirt. Limping slightly, he returned to K'El and allowed him to lift him in his arms, tucking his face into K'El's neck as they left the ground.

. . .

Torchlight flickered on dripping walls and daggers of rock as K'El led Itahu deep underground. The passages twisted and redoubled on them until Itahu could not be sure he could find his own way back, to return to the sunlight. A glint signaled that they had reached their destination. K'El brought the torch closer to the indentation on the side and Itahu nodded. Reaching into the pouch at his waist, Itahu extracted the marked piece of metal and handed it to K'El. Signaling Itahu to move away, K'El began to position the piece on the egg only to have it move by itself and settle into place. Backing up, K'El took Itahu's hand and they stood side-by-side, spellbound as a bright light began to illuminate their faces.

// Today, somewhere in the United States //

"I just found an interesting article. An archeological dig on Roanoke Island has located a number of artifacts from the earliest settlement. They claim the most valuable item they found is a man's signet ring with a lion intaglio." When there was no response from the next room, the tall, dark-haired man reading the newspaper got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen to show his find to his companion. "Did you hear what I said?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention, *nuttah*." After an apologetic kiss, the bald man seated at the kitchen table pointed to the printout in front of him. "I've been working on some possible names for our new identities now that we're back from France. We'll be living in an old Scottish castle that some fool brought over and rebuilt in a place called Smallville." He chuckled as he explained. "It's in Kansas of all places."

"So we're going with Scottish?" Leaning over Itahu's shoulder, K'El pointed to the first set of names on the list. "Clark Kent and Lex Luthor. I like the sound of that."