Norseman Chief (The Norseman Chronicles Book 3) by Born Jason

Author:Born, Jason [Born, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Halldorr Publishing
Published: 2012-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

Sometime later that day, Etleloo’s wife and Kesegowaase’s wife came running into the village distraught. I stood next to a great cauldron where men stood slowly stirring the heated maple sap until it would become sweet, delicious syrup. We let the women come to us, since to a man, we had experienced the hysteria of women enough to know that showing calm at whatever the trouble appeared to be was of paramount importance. I noted that they did not carry any buckets, full or empty.

Kesegowaase sat on a log, smoking his pipe and was the first to receive their story. “Husband, chief, your daughter and those of Etleloo and Enkoodabooaoo are missing.”

Kesegowaase sat quietly for two heartbeats then glanced in my direction with a raised brow. I shrugged to tell him I didn’t know where they were. “How long?” he asked.

“Some time we think,” his wife answered. “We haven’t seen them since our trip out to gather sap when the sun was still new.”

“Gather some of the women and search the area around the maples. There are some hollow trees and nooks among the rocks where Halldorr’s Alsoomse perhaps stuffed the bigger girls for future torture.” The chief laughed at his own joke and the women ran away to collect their friends, women who would show more concern than the men.

When they were out of earshot, I walked to the chief and joined him on the log. “Owoosika, you give me honor by joining me this day. Shall we share the pipe?” asked Kesegowaase, now fully grown into his role as leader of his people.

“Thank you,” I said, not wanting to offend him. I took a long drag on the pipe he offered, remembering the first time I had joined his grandfather for a smoke. My eyes closed and I held the smoke in for a short time before letting it slowly flow out so that it encircled my head, letting its connection to the spirits be made in its own time.

As perceptive as his grandfather before him, but without the constant humor, the chief asked, “Now what is it that you want to say on the matter of the missing girls.”

“Chief, adopted son, I fear that perhaps there is more here than we perceive. It is again warm with the melting snow. It is a time when we and the Mi’kmaq gather sap. I wonder if some of the enemy have returned with the break in weather to steal from untended buckets, but fell upon the girls and took them as a prize to their chief, a crime of opportunity.”

He honestly considered the idea for a moment. “That is possible. But isn’t it even more possible that your little girl and her shield have led the other two on some adventure? This has happened before, correct?”

It had, and so I did not have to answer.

Kesegowaase continued. “And if it is as you say and our daughters have been taken by the Mi’kmaq, there is nothing to do today. We will not go running back to the Pohomoosh or whomever offering them tribute, these filthy dogs.

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