TSD excerpt

THE SHAMAN’S DAUGHTER

Prolog

Mahala sat quietly at the edge of the Chowan River as it etched its way through the rough terrain of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them, she gazed love struck across its fast moving-waters to the far side where her heart lived.

   She had given it long ago to Calumet, first son to Chief Lone Eagle of the Kankakee tribe. She was not without a heart, however, as Calumet had given his to her on the day they met. They were children then, young and innocent to the ways of their tribesmen. They knew only that when their eyes met across a meadow filled with the vibrant yellows and browns of wild black-eyed Susan’s that their love would live forever.

   What worry could they have of the ongoing feud between their people? What matter did it make that neither Chief Lone Eagle nor shaman White Tail, Mahala’s father, would allow them to marry? They would start their own tribe. They would brave the fierce world together, without the security of family and friends if it meant that they could be together.
By the time they had reached the age of handfasting, or marriage as the white man called it, the young couple had learned well the harsh realities of their lives. The Kankakee and Siouan tribes had been enemies so long that neither side remembered why they were at constant odds. But one thing was certain. The two tribes would never let the feud die. Not unless something drastic happened to force them together.

   Mahala and Calumet believed their proclamation of love would spur the two tribes to make amends. They had woefully misjudged the effect their compelling love would have on their fathers however and were forbidden to ever see one another again. Mahala was determined though and desperately in love. She could not live without Calumet and he could not carry on without her.

   Three days after her father had sworn her to obedience and vowed that his daughter would never be wed to a Kankakee, Mahala set out after dark in the small deerskin canoe her father made for her. At the same moment, on the opposite side of the Chowan River, Calumet snuck through his sleeping village to the river’s edge where his tribe’s canoes were tied. By the time the magnificent full moon had reached the apex of its nightly journey across the sky the two lovers were together on Mi ni' tik island.

   The island was mid point in the powerful river and was a small paradise of wild flowers, several towering trees and magical herbs gathered and grown by the shaman of each tribe. It was there on that small island that Mahala and Calumet vowed everlasting love to one another. With the Great Spirit and the creatures of the forest as their only witnesses, the two swore to never let the feud of their tribes keep them apart again.

   But when the moon had finally laid his weary head to rest and the sun peeked over the sparkling Blue Mountains, Mahala and Calumet awoke to a great thunderous noise. Instinctively, each searched the shoreline of their tribes, trying desperately to determine what had their people so upset.

   The drums echoed throughout the forest, both tribes calling their warriors to battle. Mahala called on her woodland friends, the birds, to tell her the news of their tribesmen. Each young tree on the island slowly filled with birds of all kinds. They twittered away, relaying the words of the lovers’ people in a language only Mahala could understand.
“They have stolen my daughter!” Shaman White Tail yelled. “She has great power; we must not let her fall into the wrong hands!” He continued inciting the tribesmen with his warnings.

   “They sent that witch to seduce my son!” Chief Lone Eagle bellowed to his people on the other side of the river. “He is to be your next chief. Would you let this treachery go unchallenged?”

   The young lovers were aghast at what they were heard. Through the trees, along each shore, they could see their people gathering weapons. Their people seemed to be rallying for battle over their disappearance and it seemed there was little they could do to stop it.
“Use your power Mahala,” Calumet urged. “You’re the only one that can stop this before blood is needlessly shed.”

   Mahala closed her eyes and seemed to slip into a deep trance. As she did, all of nature began to slow to a stop. The people of both tribes’ noticed it. They grew silent and still like the air around them. The trees stopped swaying, the birds stopped flying, all the creatures in nature stopped their perpetual growing and ageing. The constant rippling-waters of the river had ceased their ever present whoosh of noise and the tribesmen on both sides came to the water’s edge to witness the magic. Everything was still. In the silence all eyes were drawn to Mahala.

   “Great Spirit, please enlighten our people. Show them the way to our hearts,” Mahala mumbled in her trance. Suddenly the rushing-water of river stopped. Then gradually receded to expose two stepping stone footpaths from either shore to the small island where the lovers stood watching.

   When it was finished, Mahala opened her eyes and motioned to her father to come to her. Calumet did the same with his father Chief Lone Eagle. The moment they reached the island nature sprang back to her perpetual motion and all things where as they should be.
“I was right! My daughter has been stolen by the Kankakee,” shaman White Tail bellowed when he had reached the island.

   “It was the magic of that witch that caused this. She has put a spell on my son. The Siouan will pay dearly for this,” Chief Lone Eagle warned.
“No father. We’re in love,” Calumet argued.
“We have promised ourselves to each other and called on the Great Spirit to take notice,” Mahala added.

   “No! I will not have it!” shaman White Tail wailed before beginning an ancient chant. Before Mahala could react the deed was done. At her side, where her true love once stood was now a strong and sturdy tree of oak, towering above the river and the tribes on both sides.

   “Father what have you done?” Mahala cried. Chief Lone Eagle only stared in horror at what used to be his son. Without another word Mahala turned and threw her arms around the tree of Calumet and began the same chant her father had used. Within minutes she stood along side her love in the form of a weeping willow tree, her tears shown in the hanging branches that entwined among the strong limbs of the oak.

   Shaman White Tail tried everything to undue his daughter’s powerful magic, but he could not. When he had failed, he turned to Calumet and changed him back into a man in hope that Mahala would follow. But she did not.

   Calumet was terribly distraught that he could not be with his love. He begged shaman White Tail to turn him back into an oak tree so that he could live out his life next to his love. shaman White Tail agreed.

   The two tribes were so filled with sorrow over their loss that they vowed never to let such a thing happen again. From that day on the two tribes lived in peace. Mi ni' tik island became a holy place and much magic was created and stored at the lovers’ feet. The two trees grew uncommonly tall and strong and have lived in love from that day to this.

~*~