The god below
Silver Spring stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Passaic river valley. As he stared out at the valley below, he thought of his last conversation with the Soul Walker; Oak Bark.
As was typical of his infrequent chats with Oak Bark, he had left their meeting by the shores of the Passaic river, feeling somewhat confused. Oak Bark’s answer to his question as to whom would emerge triumphant in the upcoming battle between his Tribal Nations warband and the massive Aztec force now taking up almost half of the expansive river valley below was “why does any of it matter?”
Of course, such a vague and non-definitive answer had brought up an immediate sense of rage in his heart. But he had somehow managed to keep his disappointment from being obvious when he bid the old Soul Walker goodbye.
And now, as he stood here, looking down at the hundreds of thousands of enemy warriors in the valley below, he smiled. He smiled because, as he almost always had to admit, he had to give Oak Bark credit for his wisdom. Though at first, Oak Bark’s “why does any of it matter?” response had seemed like a useless answer, upon further reflection it had turned out to be the best advice he could have been given. Afterall, if the upcoming battle may not matter in the larger scheme of things, especially in the infinite struggle for Balance as mandated by The One, then whether he savors a sweet victory or tastes the bitterness of defeat should not be his main concern. His main and only concern should instead be to remain focused on doing his part in maintaining The One’s Balance here on sacred Mother Earth.
This newfound freedom over whether to seek victory at all costs, had freed his mind from focusing on the small and petty aspects of commanding a warband, any warband, but especially one such as the large warband, which now followed him into the field of battle. His mind was moving much more swiftly by not being over-burdened by thoughts about victory or defeat, or by what defeat would mean for the people of this valley and the wider lands all beyond.
His thoughts were on the here and the now. Not the tomorrow that would come after the bloody struggle ahead. Tomorrow, and all of the days that would follow, were a matter for The One’s Balance to sort out. By doing their part to maintain the One’s Eternal Balance, he and his warband had already won, so simple really.
His clarity of thinking had made him see that to fight the horde of Red Crow’s Tlalocan-bound undead below, with its cohort of Jaguar, and Eagle warriors, and even the mighty Ayar and Quetzocoatl, which he could see behind the enemy lines, was folly if fought as if both forces were of equal strength. They were not. The Tribal Nations warband was easily outnumbered three to one.
Today’s battle would not be a direct head-to-head clash. He would not send his warriors rushing forward seeking glorious victory and hoping that their superior fighting skills would win the day. The only guaranteed result of such a head on collision between the two forces would be for every one of his warriors to be overwhelmed by the masses of Tlalocan-bound undead, which formed the core of the Aztec warband.
No, today’s battle would instead be more like when the sparrows mob a swooping hawk. His Seneca archers would move swiftly through the sides of the larger Aztec warband. His Mohawk warriors would choose choke points on the battlefield where they would actually outnumber their foe. The marauding wolves, which always accompanied his forces, would race far behind the Aztec’s main force and harass their supply lines. In such a way, by pecking at the Aztecs from many directions, but never head on, as the sparrows do in order to drive away the much larger hawk, the Tribal Nations warband would see that the enemy would become bogged down by its own over-large size. Multiple brutal, swift, and focused attacks would prove decisive. He knew it would frustrate Red Crow from accomplishing his main primary objective. And now that he knew what that main objective was, he had the ultimate advantage.
Red Crow was here because this was sacred land, and because buried deep below the valley stretching out into the horizon, with the Passaic river at its heart, was rumored to be an actual god. Or perhaps the soul of that god. Which of these was the case he did not know, and possibly, neither did Red Crow. He knew this, because Running Fox, his most trusted Medicine Man had seen it in a Soul Walker’s journey. Running Fox saw through his soul’s eyes the aura of power which laid under the valley. So much power could only be flowing from a god itself.
Red Crow was here to build altars in praise to the god buried beneath them all. The ultimate reason for doing so was not even known by Red Crow or his cohort of Tlalocan Priests. Was the goal to harness some of the power of the god through human sacrifices on the altars? Was is to awaken the entity below? Did Red Crow even know whether the god interred within the valley was of the Everliving or the Everchanging pantheon? Most likely none of this mattered to Red Crow, because he had been sent here to do his master Cizin’s bidding. And Red Crow always unquestionably did so. No one questioned Cizin’s motives. Not even the mighty Red Crow.
He, Silver Spring, mighty warrior of the Tribal Nations, felt good now. He felt joy. His soul filled with a hunger for the struggle to come. He had no doubt that he would now play his part in maintaining the Eternal Balance as The One mandated it.
His reverie was broken by the scream of a flying hawk. He looked up at the sky, and there he saw a red-tailed hawk being harassed by a dozen sparrows. He smiled again. Surely, he had been sent a message from The One. The Balance would be kept. And Silver Spring would do his part to ensure it was so.
This is the Way.
