Way of the Heron

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Chapter Eight

Follow The Heron's Song

Part II

Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else!

Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned. Especially in this day and age.

Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author.

Historical Note: Most of the action in this chapter happens between late April of 1868 and early May of 1868, but at the end, it follows one particular group of heron men's activities on to the winter of 1868 - 1869.

All civilized comments, suggestions or criticisms are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

And now, on with the story!

• Day 4 - April 28 -

In a camp somewhere along the lower Umpqua, at the wooded edge of an open meadow, a sleeping man awoke with a start. Phil looked up into the sky, noting the first tinges of dawn-light that were coloring the east. Then he turned to the sleeping man who shared his blankets. Moved by what he saw, Phil spoke, just above a whisper.

I watch thy grace; and in its place My heart a charmed slumber keeps, While I muse upon thy face; And a languid fire creeps Thro' my veins to all my frame, Dissolvingly and slowly...

"Hmmm... Phil?" Mark muttered as he woke up. Phil ran a large hand across his lover's broad chest, stirring the night dark hairs that grew there, but continued to lightly chant the apt ending to the verses he was quoting.

...soon From thy rose-red lips my name Floweth; and then, as in a swoon, With dinning sound my ears are rife, My tremulous tongue faltereth, I lose my color, I lose my breath, I drink the cup of a costly death, Brimm'd with delirious draughts of warmest life. I die with my delight, before I hear what I would hear from thee.

"Good morning to you too, pardner," Mark grinned.

As he said that, he rolled over and pressed his lean body closer to Phil's. The big trapper's massive arms enfolded Mark and held him with a fragile tenderness that made the cowboy ache with desire. Mark rubbed his nose in the vast hairiness of the other man's chest and breathed in his familiar, exciting scent.

"I ought to quote Tennyson more often, if that's how it affects you," Phil grinned. Then, sounding more serious, he went on. "I believe I've had a medicine dream, Mark."

"Really? What was it about?"

"I was at the cave of mysteries and saw Falling Star, or a spirit that was using his form, standing on a cliff high above me, telling me to hurry on to Port Bolon."

"Did he say why?"

"Yes, he wants me to check on someone there."

"Are you goin' to go?"

"I believe so. I have the feeling I must not ignore his request."

"I wouldn't either."

"Mark, will you come with me?"

"Of course, pardner. I wouldn't want you to ever be lonely... "

"Thank you... "

As Phil whispered that, gratitude was audible in his voice. They kissed lightly and shifted positions, grinding their bodies together. Phil became aware of a growing pressure against his belly.

"You ready again... ?"

"I can't help it," Mark whispered, looking into the trapper's eyes. "I purely love you, Phil."

"Mark... "

In response, Phil kissed his friend again, and then turned to burrow down under the warm blankets they shared. Mark began to moan softly in pleasure as he felt first Phil's hot breath and then a hotter flexile wetness wrapping itself mirifically around the shaft of his stiff cock. He moved to lay his head on the trapper's massive thigh and drew Phil's tumid length into himself with his lips and tongue, feeling the warm flesh respond and swell to fill his mouth...

In the spirit realm, the Heart Call's coruscating violet love-light slowly ebbed away. All objects there were returning to their normal, gently lambent glow, but the aethereal energy summoned by Hun Tzu and his friends had left its mark on that reality. Now the auras of everything there were somewhat stronger, showing how they had been nourished by the numinous wave of otherworldly energy.

One great oak tree in particular stood majestically at the edge of a wide meadow. Its enhanced radiance towered protectively over two weary men who held each other, lying on an outspread blanket at its wide base. A visible sexual afterglow continued to adorn their sweat and semen stained astral bodies long after their exertions had ended, but their desire had not been appeased quite yet...

"Bill?"

"Mmmm?"

"You want to... again?"

"You plumb wore me out, Leroy," Bill Axford yawned, "lemme just lay here and hold you for awhile longer. It feels real nice... "

"Okay. Between your love and the power we experienced, I ought to have enough energy now to do what I hafta... "

Again, Bill felt too relaxed and pleasant to feel curious about Leroy's words and remained silent. For him, there was only gentle breathing, two hearts beating, his warm skin touching his lover's warm skin. The warmth grew as the golden sun rose again to flood the spirit realm with its splendid light, but did not disturb the two men's intimacy. Their comfortable closeness went on for an unknown amount of time, perhaps for an eternity, for time seemed to be reckoned differently in that other world, until Leroy breathed softly in his companion's ear...

"Bill?"

"Huh?"

"Stay in your camp for another day. Help's comin'."

"I don't need any help."

"I didn't say it was for you... "

"Whatcha mean?"

As Bill asked that question, he turned his head and opened his eyes to look at Leroy. But only his camp showed itself to his gaze. Again he saw it, bathed in ordinary sunlight and swept by a cool wind from the mountains that sighed through the trees. Bill sat up at once in mild surprise and squinted through the swaying tree branches overhead at the angle of the sun.

'Damn! It's almost noon!' he marvelled, 'I ain't slept this late in months... '

"Well I'll be! Trev Barker! What brings you here?"

Matt Able called out a greeting to his friend as he entered The Trail's End, the sole saloon in False Pass. Robert Vaughn, the sheriff of the town, and his lover, Chris Barlow, were right behind him. Then, spotting the two handsome young strangers who trailed along behind as the group sidled up to the bar, Matt grinned mischievously and went on.

"Looks like someone's got their hands full."

"Don't be cheeky, Matt," Robert growled in his best no-nonsense lawman attitude. "Just give us five beers. And hold the sass."

"Ain'tcha gonna introduce me?" the saloon keeper asked in a mock-hurt tone as he drew the beers.

"Eric Vaal, Zeb Alden," Trev began, "this is Matt Able. He runs the most honest saloon around these parts."

'Probably the only saloon in these parts,' thought Eric wryly, looking around, 'I've got to admit though, it's a lot cleaner than the saloons I saw in Grant.'

As Zeb and Eric took turns shaking his hand, Matt ran an appreciative eye up and down the two newcomers. Trev noticed, and decided to play with the randy bartender a bit.

"Ya know," began Trev slyly, sipping his beer, "Matt's quite famous hereabouts. Some folks call him Eight Dollar Jack... "

Chris snorted in his beer. Robert smiled. Eric and Zeb looked at each other in mystification. Seeing their puzzled faces, Chris leaned over and whispered a quick explanation, eliciting grins from the two men.

"Do you have to tell everybody that nickname?" Matt burst out fiercely, looking more amused than upset, before turning back to the onlooking pair of newcomers, "Polite folks around here call me just plain Mr. Able now."

"I'll say they do!" came a voice from the back room. "Able and willing!"

Everyone looked to see a young man's grinning head stuck out the partially opened kitchen door. Matt instantly grabbed a bar towel and threw it at the interloper. He gave a little scream of laughter before disappearing. The wet towel's flight ended against the door with a loud splat.

"Who... " began Zeb.

"That's Ralph," Trev explained, "Eight Dollar Jack's pardner."

"You call me that again, Trev, and the next thing I throw won't miss!"

"Sorry, Mr. Able," Trev said, his apology sounding quite insincere. If Matt noticed, he did not have time to react to it, as Sheriff Vaughn spoke up just then.

"Say, Matt, did anything peculiar happen around here last night?"

Matt looked at the sentinel with startled eyes.

"From your expression, I can see something did happen," Robert observed.

"Can you tell us about it?" asked Trev.

"No! It was personal!" Matt exclaimed at once.

"Maybe we should ask Ralph," suggested Chris.

"Someone call my name?" the youth responded gaily, bouncing out of the saloon's kitchen.

"Anything odd happen around here last night?"

"Well... "

"Don't you answer that!" warned Matt.

"Whatever you say will go no further than this bar," Robert reassured Ralph.

"In a pig's eye it will!" swore Matt. "If it's one thing the heron men are known for, it's for bein' the most gossipy, nosy bunch of low, down tattletales this side of the Rockies! Why... "

"Look who's talkin'!" Chris laughed. "After the way you stuck your nose in when Robert and I first hooked up! You had the whole town celebratin' our 'marriage'!"

"Yeah, with a fancy cake and everything!" chuckled Ralph. "All decorated with dainty little guns and lawmen's stars!"

Matt tried to respond, but just sputtered in irritated confusion. Zeb and Eric took a seat at an empty table nearby. They found their companions' antics quite a floor show.

"Hush, Matt. I'm serious," Robert interrupted. "Something happened to all of us last night and we want to know if something similar happened in town."

"While you was havin' sex?" Ralph asked, his pale blue eyes wide with surprise.

"Yep," Trev said.

"Like something was spurrin' you on, makin' it better than it'd ever been before?"

"That's right."

"I told you!" Ralph said in a triumphant tone as he turned to Matt. "I told you that it wasn't just us! Why you didn't believe your own eyes is beyond me!" Ralph turned back to the others and went on, explaining. "The men who were in here when it happened just went crazy for sex, and took each other right on the tables! If you felt it too, then mebbe everybody in town did!"

"Well, we certainly did!"

It was a new voice that spoke up. The group turned to see who it was. They noticed four men and two teenagers eating breakfast at a corner table in the back of the saloon for the first time.

"We had us one hell of a good time last night, the best, eh?" Nick grinned, laying a big, dark hand on his partner's shoulder and squeezing it affectionately.

"Si," Felix replied happily through a mouthful of sausage and eggs. "Last night was mucho caliente! I tell you, I sure am plenty hungry after last night!"

"We had a good time, too, eh, Lo?"

"I never felt anything like it," the Chinese youth sighed, before kissing Alex. "And I'm glad you were with me when it happened!"

"It was something," Russ Seton agreed, "wasn't it, Doc?"

"Wow!" wondered Trev as he watched Cy Orwins blush and nod affirmatively at his partner. "If we all felt it, at Chris's place and here, then maybe the folks at Roman Rock did too."

"I think they did," Robert said. "I mean I felt something else last night, like there were others with us, sharin' our experiences. And those others seemed like they were our fellow tribesmen."

"Well, you are a tribal elder of the heron men," Chris pointed out. "Maybe that gives you more insight into what happened than the rest of us."

"It'd be interestin' to hear what Falling Star has to say about this," added Matt.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough," Robert declared. "We're goin' up to Roman Rock to find out more about this... this... whatever it was that happened to us!"

"Can we go too, Nick?" Alex asked his big brother excitedly. "Lo and me have been wantin' to go ever since you told us about the heron men!"

"I know," sighed Nick. The boys had been bugging him about it for quite awhile. "If Sheriff Vaughn agrees, and you solemnly promise to do whatever he says... "

Lo jumped up in excitement and went to Robert.

"We'll be so good for you, sheriff, you'll see!"

"Yes, we'll do anything you want!" Alex added, putting stress on 'anything' and winking for good measure.

"Well!" Chris grinned at his partner. "That's sure a hard offer to turn down!"

"A man would have to be a fool to pass this chance up," Robert agreed. "And they don't spell fool R-O-B-E-R-T! Pack what you need, boys. We're leavin' here as soon as we get some breakfast!"

Lo and Alex cheered and ran off to get what they would need for the trip. Ralph turned to go into the kitchen to cook up five more plates of eggs and sausage. And Robert looked at Nick.

"Don't worry about them, Nick. We'll look after them."

"If I'm worried about anyone, it's you," he laughed. "Those two are a handful and then some!"

"Si!" Felix crossed himself. "I will say prayers for your safe return!"

"Job? Wake up."

"What? Ohh... " the young man groaned sleepily.

The teenager's eyes vainly attempted to focus on the face of the grinning, red-headed man who stood over him. Job was surprised to see strong sunlight slanting into the cabin's window. It hurt his eyes. Uttering another plaintive groan he rolled over, burying his face in a pillow.

"Looks like you're the one who needs his rest, this time," Silas chortled, with more than a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"What time is it?" came the muffled response.

"Almost noon," Silas replied, unable to resist the urge to reach out and caress Job's exposed ass, running a randy hand over the delectable, pale globes as he went on. "I've been up for awhile already. I thought I'd better check on you before I went outside to work on the barn foundation."

"You sure sound chipper today," Job commented, turning over and stretching languidly.

"Yep," chuckled Silas, eyeing the lad's long, limp cock, lying across Job's thigh to dangle its hooded tip just beyond where the prospector could see. "I'm not entirely sure, but it might have something to do with you. That was some ride you took me on, last night!"

"Silas, what happened to us?" Job asked, becoming more alert. "There was something else here, spurrin' me on, makin' me feel so good... I dunno how to describe it!"

"I dunno either, but I do know where we can find us some answers. We'll ride for the cave of mysteries tomorrow."

"Where? The mystery what?"

"The cave of mysteries. That's where Falling Star lives," Silas explained. "He's the chief of the heron men. If anybody knows what's happenin' around here, he does."

"Why don't we leave today?" yawned Job.

"I promised Will I'd work on the barn foundation while he was gone and I'd like to do a little more so he won't have a reason to complain when he comes back."

"Why would he do that if he loves you?"

"We love each other something powerful, Job, but bein' in a relationship isn't all roses and sunshine! But you'll find out about that when you have a lover of your own!"

"Dan? Yves?"

Eben Hale called to his old friends, Dan Epps and Yves Rebour, as he pushed open the door of their isolated cabin. When he saw the door had been left ajar, Eben was concerned. He had been sent to check on the elderly men who lived there.

"Back here."

Following the response, Eben circled the cabin. He found the pair behind it, in their garden. With them was another tribesman, who Eben knew both as Sees Far and Asa Sykes.

"Hi, Eben," Dan called.

"Hello," added Asa.

"What's up?"

"Oh, we're just having a look around," Yves explained. "We had a visitor. One other than Asa here."

"Who?"

"Not who," the elder said, pointing at the ground. Eben looked and saw some enormous, familiar-looking bear paw prints in the dirt.

"Whoa!"

"It was the Ghost-Bear," Dan began. "I saw him."

"We all did," added Asa.

Yves scuffed at one of the tracks with a moccasined foot in mild annoyance. "I don't mind sharing this valley with him, but he could at least stay out of my garden!"

"It's not like he hurt anything," Dan added. "He just came up to the back door and then went back into the woods. I suppose Falling Star would call it a blessing of sorts."

"Er," Eben started, wanting to change the subject, "Tlaccotan asked me to check on you two, because of something that happened last night... " Yves and Dan both stiffened. "I see it must have happened to you too."

Dan looked at his lover and Asa as he spoke. "It was wonderful. Yves and I, well, we felt like young men again for awhile, and when Asa here joined us a little later, well... "

"I can imagine," Eben smiled. He was thinking of the intense love he and Zack had shared, before Zack had gone on a 'run', what the pair called it when they transformed into their werebeast forms and patrolled the area around Roman Rock. Eben briefly wondered why Zack had come so close to their friends' cabin, but Dan's voice interrupted his reverie.

"So we weren't the only ones?"

"The whole tribe felt it, or so it seems," Eben responded. "Tlaccotan is calling for a meeting of the elders. He asked me to tell you of it and accompany you to Roman Rock. He says he would be honored if you would share his lodge while you're there."

"Give us a few minutes and we'll be ready to go," agreed Yves for the group.

Mayati, Hun Tzu and Tolatil waited in hiding, silent and attentive. On the surface of Heron Creek, not far away, a goose hunted, plunging its long neck deep down into liquid green, seeking food, unaware that there were others nearby who were similarly engaged. It withdrew its head from the waters and sat perfectly still, just for a moment.

In that instant an arrow flew, transfixing the bird. It reflexively thrashed about in the midst of the waters, but there was no possibility it would get away. The shot had pierced its heart.

"Bravo, Tasokah!" Mayati cried as he and the others splashed into the verdant creek and brought the bird to shore. "You are an excellent marksman with the bow!"

"I must learn this skill," Hun Tzu murmured.

The geomancer pulled the arrow from the bird's body. Handing the goose to Mayati, Hun Tzu dipped the weapon into the creek to clean it. A small cloud of blood floated away downstream. As he handed the arrow back to Tasokah, Hun Tzu's eyes fell on the arrow's notched end, noting the unique detail.

"The featherings on your arrows are blue."

"I make my arrows with blue heron feathers, for luck," Tasokah admitted with a wide, winning smile. Hun Tzu was moved to speak.

How splendid he was! The hunter who met me on my way, Sending his arrows with skill and grace, And wounding my heart with his glance.

Tasokah reached up and caressed Hun Tzu's bearded cheek, a gentle reward for the apt verses.

"You sing as a heron man does," murmured Tolatil.

"It was just a poem I learned in my youth," Hun Tzu admitted. "My adoptive father, Wei Fei, made sure I knew all the Chinese classics of prose and verse. Especially those that spoke of men of our nature."

"He knew you were... "

"Yes, Tasokah. He knew because he also shared our nature."

"Shall we continue on our way?" asked Tolatil.

"Yes," Mayati began. "Let us go now. By nightfall we shall reach another camp, very close to Roman Rock."

"And tonight?" Tasokah asked eagerly. "Shall we make the Heart Call again?"

"Perhaps we should wait and confer with Falling Star, first." Mayati suggested, casting a glance at Hun Tzu.

"I agree," he replied. "The power we summoned was strong, stronger than I expected. It would not be wise to tap into such a potent force again without warning our brothers ahead of time. And speaking of warnings, the evil thing I saw through the lo-pan... "

"You saw the demon again?" asked Tasokah, in an apprehensive voice. Hun Tzu had told him and Tolatil of the things he had seen with the help of his lo-pan.

"Yes, but do not fear. When I consulted the lo-pan again, I saw other forces, good ones, moving to intercept the demon. And I saw this spirit of evil will not come any closer to the valley of the heron. The lo-pan tells me strange things I do not understand about this demon, that it is hunting for a yellow bird! However, I think your tribal elders should know of it, as soon as possible."

"Perhaps," Tolatil began thoughtfully, "we could reach Roman Rock by late tonight if we leave now and do not stop."

"Yes," answered Mayati. "I think that would be best."

The others agreed and were soon on their way to the Elxa's main settlement.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

Jeff paused at the entrance of the Purple Stables. He peered into the darkness, waiting for a response. Then he stepped inside.

The air within was cool and heavy with barnyard odors. Jeff breathed them in, reliving childhood memories of growing up on his family's farm and the things he and his brothers would do up in the hay lofts, learning from each other the pleasures their young bodies could give them... Before he could dwell for too long on the past though, he saw a shadowy form moving towards him.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm lookin' for Hiram Calhoun."

"You've found him," Hiram said, coming closer. "Say, I think I know you. You're Jeff Symms, aren't you?"

"Yes, I didn't know you knew of me."

"Only from some of the other merchants."

"Oh?"

"You do odd jobs around town."

"That's right."

"I've heard good things about you. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you about something that happened last night... "

"Last night?" Hiram asked, wondering.

"Yeah." Jeff paused, and then spoke again. "Do you know what I'm talkin' about?"

"Maybe," began Hiram cautiously, "but how do you figure I would know anything about it?"

"Before I came to Grant," Jeff explained, "I sorta drifted, spending some time in the settlements along the upper Willamette and got to know quite a few fur trappers and woodsmen there, men who had spent a lot of time up in the Cascade mountain wilderness. They told me a lot of tall tales. May I tell you one of them?"

"Sure."

"It's a story about an old Indian, a wise chieftain who lives in a remote mountain cave and sees many things in his dreams. He has many followers, men from other Indian tribes, mostly, but over the years some white men who share their nature have also been initiated into his tribe. They're called heron men. And this," Jeff said, as he reached up to lightly tap Hiram's exposed Elxa glyphstone pendant, "is their symbol."

"So you know about us."

"Only the stories I've heard, but I kept hearin' the same good things from so many different sources that I believed them. And then, when I saw you around town wearin' that stone, I figured I'd finally run into a real heron man. And if there was anyone who'd know about what happened the other night, it'd be you."

"It was wonderful, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but what was it?"

"Well I hate to disappoint you Jeff, but this stone doesn't give me second sight. All I can tell you is what I felt last night, and it felt like all of my heron brothers reachin' out to touch me, to love me, at the same time."

"So you don't really know what it was," Jeff said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Listen," began Hiram as he threw an arm over Jeff's shoulder, "why don't you and your pardner... "

"You know about Don?" Jeff started.

"You ain't the only one in town with eyes that can see," chuckled Hiram. "Don't worry though, I don't think it's public knowledge."

"I wouldn't care if it was," Jeff declared. "I'm not ashamed of the fact that I love Don, he's a good man."

"I know that, from dealing with him at the bank. You're a lucky man."

"And so are you, if what I suspect about you and Lars is true."

"It is," Hiram admitted proudly. "But listen, why don't you and Don come over here this evening, after Lars comes back, and we can all have a talk about the heron men. I suspect Falling Star would be happy to meet both you and Don."

"Fallin' what?"

"Falling Star. He's the 'old chief' you've heard about, though he ain't really so old."

"Alright then. We'll see you and Lars tonight."

Somewhere in the hills to the southeast of Silas and Will's isolated cabin was a rock formation they called the Devil's Pulpit. From a distance, it looked to be nothing more than a jumbled pile of large stones. But if one followed the pictoglyphs left by previous visitors, they would find its secret.

To anyone climbing up along one particular side, and passing through the gap left when a multi-ton boulder was sundered in some primordial seismic event, there would be revealed an unexpected sight. A small oasis of grass, low bushes and trees, stood hemmed in by the surrounding rocks, like the courtyard of a castle. Bill Axford had found his way to this well-sheltered spot the previous day. Now he was relaxing before a small fire.

'I wonder how long I've got to wait here.'

Bill was pondering the parting words of the spirit of his friend Leroy Byrd, who had asked him to stay in that camp. As he mulled the request over, he slowly turned a spit. It held just two skinny rabbits that he had snared earlier. The sun was still up, but the clouds had begun to take on pale orange tints as evening approached.

Suddenly, something made Bill look up. A pair of eyes, in the wooded shadows beyond the edge of his camp's clearing, were watching him intently. Bill jumped up to his feet at once, but did not reach for his guns.

'If he'd wanted to hurt me, he coulda done it before now,' Bill realized at once as he faced the newcomer.

The shadowy figure stepped forward. He was a native, clear-eyed and muscular. There was a long scar marring his left shoulder, starkly pale against the coppery skin. His face was like a mask, holding no discernible expression, but Bill found him to be a very handsome man nonetheless.

"You are a heron man."

The newcomer stated the fact in an even voice that was as devoid of emotion as his face. Bill's hand went to his glyphstone. He was wearing his shirt unbuttoned and the dark pendant was visible. Then he saw a similar stone hanging around the native's neck and relaxed.

"Yes, I am. My name's Bill Axford."

"I am Katchikoa."

The speaker turned and stooped, retrieving two bundles of supplies and bringing them closer to Bill's campfire. Unfolding one, the skin of a deer recently killed, Katchikoa offered meat. Blood still oozed from the cuts, fresh and brilliant red in the sunlight.

'He musta killed and butchered that buck nearby, and I didn't hear nothing!' Bill mused, taking the meat gratefully. As he did so, he eyed the sturdy bow and quiver full of odd, blue-feathered arrows among Katchikoa's gear.

"Our brother Tasokah made those arrows you seem to admire," noted Katchikoa. "He makes the featherings from blue heron plumes. He believes they bring the hunter luck."

"Well, you sure had some good luck today," Bill nodded at the deermeat.

Bill went to cut more branches for spits while Katchikoa fetched his horse from somewhere outside the natural fortress and set it loose to join Bill's steed in the tall grass. It was not long before the air of the camp was savory with the aroma of roasting venison. The men sat before the cookfire in silence for some time, then Katchikoa reached out to turn a spit, and spoke.

"I have not seen you before."

"I was in the valley of the heron only for a little while, last September." Bill explained. "I met Tolatil and he... er... introduced me to your tribe's ways."

"Have you been to see Falling Star?"

"Yes, Tolatil guided me to the cave of mysteries to speak with the shaman."

"So... our chief gave you a tribal name?"

"Yes, Il-Xochitl."

"Ahh!" the native breathed in surprise. "Yes! Many like myself know of you only by name. You are the flower-in-autumn! And here you are, blooming out of season in the spring sun!"

Katchikoa smiled for the first time. It made him even more handsome in Bill's eyes, causing his cock to stir restlessly in his jeans. The native picked up a stick and poked at the glowing coals of the fire absently. Bill looked at the heron man expectantly, waiting for him to go on. When he did not, Bill spoke up.

"Excuse me? I don't understand."

Katchikoa proceeded to tell Bill about his recent medicine dream. Bill listened intently. When the heron man finished his story, Bill sat back with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Yellow bird... " Bill mused quietly, almost to himself.

"Do you think you know what it means?"

"Well," he began hesitantly, "I have a friend who's named Job Byrd, and he has blonde hair, but I don't know where he is."

"Hmm," Katchikoa pondered the new information. "If my dream is true, he may be nearby... "

"I've been wantin' to find him, because Leroy told me... "

"Who is Leroy?"

It was Bill's turn to explain. He related all he had seen and felt over the last couple of nights. Katchikoa was grave and thoughtful when Bill finished his tale.

"Your visions explain much about the odd happenings of late."

"You felt the effects of the Heart Call too?"

"All of our heron brothers did, though we did not know that the phenomenon had a name," Katchikoa answered, surprising Bill. He went on, half to himself. "And perhaps it was also felt by every man in this country whose nature is the same as ours."

"Huh!" managed Bill, trying to imagine how far the mystic energy he had witnessed had traveled.

"Your dreams are powerful and beautiful, like yourself," Katchikoa whispered.

"Thank you." As unprepared as he was for the complement, Bill managed to return it at once. "And I find you handsome as well."

"That is good," the heron man said, reaching for a spit, "for I look forward to the night, and imagine the games we might play."

Bill watched Katchikoa as he ate, strong white teeth flashing in the firelight. Then he moved to take a spit himself. He bit into the hot meat and chewed slowly, considering the man's invitation.

'Better eat hearty,' he thought. 'Looks like I'm gonna need all my strength tonight... '

Because he was anxious to find out what had happened to him the previous night, Mel made good time and pushed into Roman Rock by noon with Lou in tow. However, the heron men there knew little more than Mel or Lou did. Mel stashed the supplies he had brought in one of the outbuildings at the encampment and then suggested to Lou that he could lead him to the home of Falling Star if he wished.

Lou accepted at once, grateful that he would have another day or two of Mel's companionship to enjoy. They left Roman Rock after a brief lunch, following Heron Creek northeastward. Traveling on horseback, the miles passed quickly. They passed by one campsite that looked perfect to Lou. It lay before a pool above a small waterfall and Mel mentioned that it roughly marked the halfway point between Roman Rock and the cave of mysteries. Taking advantage of the daylight, the men continued on. Just as the sun was setting they reached another camp, sited where Heron Creek widened into a small pool.

Tidying up the deserted camp, Lou cleaned out the firepit, gathered wood and started a blaze while Mel waded into the creek, spearing fish. They ate well, finishing as twilight's shadows deepened, shading into pure night. Later, Lou stroked his companion's long black beard gently and rhythmically as they lay together, feeling the hard chest underneath, relishing a contentment Lou had no words for.

Silas straightened up and looked over his handiwork. Within a rectangle defined by taut strings, a pair of low walls were taking shape. Gaps in the stonework showed where future barn doors would be, opening to the east, west and south.

Will had shown his lover how to lay rock and Silas saw no reason for Will to complain. The unmortared stones were as tightly fitted as anything Silas had seen Will build. Still, he eyed the construct critically, looking for imperfections in the stonework as the afternoon shadows inched across the small mountain valley he called home.

'Hmmm,' Silas thought at last. 'I don't see how Will could find any fault with what I've done so far... '

"Suppertime!"

Job's voice sang out and Silas turned to see the lad beckoning to him. Job had gone out to hunt soon after Silas had awakened him. After a couple of hours, Silas had seen him return with a small sack of kills. Job had gone to work in the kitchen at once.

As he continued laying the stones, Silas had caught whiffs of the lad's cooking from time to time, all afternoon. By now his stomach was growling in anticipation of supper. After putting away his tools, Silas took a quick dip in the nearby pond to wash off the sweat before he headed for the cabin, his mouth fairly watering.

"Whatcha got for me?" Silas asked, sitting at the table.

"Well, I made up a stew with rabbit, squirrel, and possum, and found a patch of wild garlic to season it with. And I found some potatoes in your larder too, so I added a few to the mix. I call it 'varmint medley'!" grinned Job

"Smells delicious," Silas said, inhaling the pungent aroma rising from the steaming bowl Job pushed towards him. "They're really gonna appreciate you at Roman Rock. The fellas that live there keep a big pot on the fire all the time, sharin' the cookin' of whatever the hunters bring in. The catchall's been different every time I've been there, but never quite as good as this."

Job looked very pleased with himself when he heard that. He turned back to the stove and loaded two more plates. Then he brought them to the table with a mischievous grin.

"There's biscuits, and fried fish."

Silas eyed Job's smirk and the ample pile of steaming fillets suspiciously.

"You sure caught enough of 'em," he observed cautiously. "You partial to fish?"

"Well, they're for you, actually," Job grinned. "I mean I've heard that fish is good for a fella in a run down state, like when he's... well, had too much fun!"

Silas glowered in mock-menace at the lad over his supper. He had expected something like this, another sly trick. But he had to admit it was humorous.

"Job, you oughta know by now not to tease me while I'm eatin'!" Silas muttered, trying not to smile. "Sit down and have some fish yourself. You've been enjoyin' yourself just as much as I have around here lately!"

Unknown to the men, a pair of eyes burned in the falling night. Mueller watched Job and Silas dining from nearby cover, opposite the cabin's only window. As he glared at them, his thoughts were crimson and murderous, less than human, driven by an unrelenting hatred.

'I've found you at last! Tomorrow I'll... '

Instead of finishing the thought, Mueller sank his knife into the tree growing next to him. Expertly, he peeled off a narrow strip of bark, cleanly exposing the white wood underneath without marring it. After the keen blade had passed, tree sap welled up to gleam wetly in the wound.

'Tomorrow, Job. Tomorrow... '

All during that day, it happened that wherever there were two heron men, there were questions exchanged about what had happened. Spontaneously, the members of the tribe began to travel, heading for Roman Rock. There, they intended to confer with the elders and find an explanation of the erotic bliss that had touched them.

By noontime, more and more Elxa tribesmen were arriving in the encampment. It was at their tribal fane, its sacred center, where they all hoped to learn the reason for the exotic, wondrous sensations they had experienced. Though Tlaccotan could offer the newcomers little in the way of answers, he found many other, less spiritual concerns to busy himself with.

As Tlaccotan was the chief elder of the Elxa tribe after Falling Star, it was natural that he took charge. The influx of men during the day quickly filled the lodges and Tlaccotan directed latecomers to camps set up in the surrounding woods and meadows. He and Tavani organized hunting parties, as well as recruiting cooks, to make sure no one went hungry.

Despite the heady mystery that had drawn such a throng to Roman Rock, a rather gay atmosphere quickly came to dominate the impromptu gathering as the returning heron men encountered old friends and met new ones. As the festivities went on into the night, it was not immediately noticed when another four men came up the path from a spot beside Heron Creek where those who had come by canoe would beach their vessels. Their rapid trek over at last, the foursome spread their blankets out beside a firepit dug under the leafy boughs of a great maple tree some distance from the tribal fane. Soon they were coupling and twining lovingly by the light of a low campfire and a nearly full moon.

Hun Tzu held Mayati, whom he thought had quickly fallen asleep, and listened to Tasokah's low, whispering moans of pleasure. The moonlight showed his neighbors' blankets moving rhythmically. Tolatil's upper body was touched with a ghostly silver, propped up stiff-armed, whispering words of love as his hips pistoned, sinking into Tasokah, pulling out, and driving in again... Hun Tzu's cock was hard and aching to be touched, but he made no move to do so, not wanting to disturb his partner.

Mayati stirred then, silently, throwing back the blankets, curling downward, resting his head on Hun Tzu's belly. The geomancer felt his rigid wand being pulled into a numinous realm of heat and moisture and sweetness. It was his turn to writhe and moan in ecstasy as his partner's tongue and lips brought him to orgasm, the essence of his love leaping forth, nourishing his lover.

Mayati continued to milk and swallow, until Hun Tzu's soft manhood fell from his mouth. It lay supine upon his belly, glistening wetly in the moonlight. The heron man turned to straddle the pale, lightly furred chest of his bedpartner at once, precum oozing from the native's dark, stiff member, drops of savory cockjuice falling, trailing glistening strands that tangled themselves in the hair on Hun Tzu's chest, then in his beard. Moon-touched, it looked like liquid nacre, the consistency of honey. Hun Tzu looked up at his aroused partner and opened his mouth.

"I love you," he said, simply and with a sincerity that came from the depths of his man-loving soul.

Then he took the native's cock into his mouth, gently, completely. Mayati gasped and groaned as his hips moved, seeking his release as Hun Tzu slurped and tongued his most sensitive flesh. Mayati found he could not hold back for long and came hotly, filling Hun Tzu's mouth with his burning seed, which the geomancer drank down gratefully. Mayati fairly collapsed back into their shared blankets and almost as soon as they had pressed their exhausted bodies together again, the pair fell asleep.

"Mel."

"Yes?"

The man realized he was having a medicine dream when he opened his eyes and saw he was elsewhere. It was not the first time he had visited the place the Elxa called the spirit realm. He looked about himself, at the tall grass that gently swayed in the breeze, growing around the brilliantly violet blanket he found himself lying upon. A nearby myrtle tree whose leaves fluttered like the wings of excited birds sheltered two men, as naked as Mel was. Mel studied the pair, but did not recognize either.

One was a wiry white man, long haired and bearded, with a generous growth of body fur the same pale blonde color. The other man was Hispanic, but of a distinct type Mel had encountered earlier in his life, when he lived in the southern part of California. The face was oval, the eyes large, dark and alert, the nose thin, slightly aquiline, the mouth and lightly bearded chin firm. The face of a man of character.

He was undoubtedly a purebred Castilian, a member of that quasi-noble class who owned vast ranchos and elegant haciendas throughout the American southwest. Many of them were finding themselves dispossessed by the tidal wave of settlers from the east, losing their lands and their way of life. These proud families had eschewed intermarriage with the natives, preferring to marry among themselves or arraign for Spanish ladies to come to the New World to be their brides, so that their Asturian blood might remain pure.

The pair moved towards Mel as he looked them over. The Hispanic man spoke again. Mel realized his had been the voice he first heard.

"Hello, my brother," he began. "We have a request."

"Tell me. I'll do whatever I can."

"Rise in the morning, as early as you can, and push on to the cave of mysteries. Lou must meet with Falling Star as soon as possible. His vision quest may serve to save the life of one of our brothers."

"Of course. I'll do as you say. May I know who you are?"

"We are heron men who have shed our mortal bodies and live here, now. I am Blue Badger... "

"I've heard the stories about you," Mel interrupted, a bit in awe of the legendary chieftain.

"Then you know of the mystery I discovered and was unable to pass on to my heron brothers. But at last another has come who comprehends the forces I discerned. He will lift our tribe to another level of power... " Blue Badger paused and shook his head. "Forgive me, I did not mean to speak of this now, for time is short and there are more important things to deal with." He gestured to his companion. "This is Leroy Byrd."

"Hello," he smiled.

"Leroy has a great task to accomplish, one no heron man who has tasted death has ever done. I and others here will support him, but Lou's spirit quest will help him even more in his endeavor. So be swift, my brother, and bring Lou to Falling Star as quickly as you can."

"I will do it, I promise... "

"...promise what?" Lou whispered in the dark.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Mel breathed back as he opened his eyes and saw he was once again in the starlit camp with Lou. The men kissed, shifted and settled back into a warm, restful cuddle. Sleep took them again into its gentle embrace.

• Day 5 - April 29

Lou awoke abruptly from a deep, dream filled sleep. The shock of the sudden transition from sleep to awareness was followed by confused thoughts, and Lou frowned to himself in irritation, unable to recall what he had been dreaming about. But his annoyance vanished when he remembered where he was and who was with him.

Mel was pressed up against his side warmly, his head pillowed by Lou's left shoulder. His left arm lay crooked across Lou's chest, the hand wedged firmly below the armpit, clutching tightly and securely. The man's long, black beard prickled against Lou's chest pleasantly, as did another lengthy part of Mel's anatomy, making itself known in a different way down lower, along Lou's thigh.

The feeling was wonderful. Lou moved a hand slowly down his bedmate's side, reliving the passions of the night past. He halfway hoped Mel would awaken for a reprisal of that joy.

But the steady, peaceful breathing continued. And, as Lou waited, the call of nature came to him, and grew insistent. Reluctantly, he gently freed himself from his partner's embrace.

Rising from the blankets they shared, Lou stood up in the semidark of a newborn morning. He glanced at Heron Creek curiously, wondering at the change in its appearance since yesterday afternoon. Banks of heavy mist were hovering over the rippling stream, rising and thinning as they drifted away from the whispering waters.

Only a few stray wisps of fog stood between Lou and his need as he strode naked to a nearby tree and pissed. He sighed, feeling sweet relief deep in his loins as a steaming amber stream blasted against the ragged bark and foamed its way down to the ground.

The blank pleasure of that moment was replaced slowly with something more profound. Lou felt influenced by the comfortable silence of the early morning, or perhaps, the beauty of the land itself. It might even have been due to the company he had been keeping lately, with men whose inner strength allowed them to be gentle, whose love for themselves allowed them to love others so freely.

Whatever it was, it seemed to whisper to Lou out of the drifting mists, out of the trees around him, out of the memory of every caress given, every kiss received, in the recent past. It was a wordless welcome. A welcome home.

There was a part of Lou that had never felt at home anywhere. A part connected to the desires he had always had, the ones society thought wrong and judged bad and unthinkingly condemned him for. A part connected to a deep and profound loneliness he had felt all his life, an ache, an unfulfilled yearning for... something he had no name for.

Not just physical love, the ruttings, the friction, the release, no, although he had spent many years pursuing such things and learned their worth in the process... Lou glanced at Mel, still asleep, felt the simple pleasure of knowing the man was nearby, and suddenly thought, yes... yes, the deep bonding, yes, the quiet, peaceful knowing and being known, yes, the touch that could not be given by anyone else, yes...

He understood it then. This was the place where Lou could find those things, heal the open wounds of his spirit, balm them with a love worthy of the name, join hands with other men who had gone through what he had gone through and understood his need, labor and journey and play with them, trust them... This was his home...

The connection to the land that he felt empowered him. Lou turned, viewing his surroundings again with new eyes. He realized he was looking at his true home and was moved to murmur softly to the misty morning.

Here I shall find my spirit's rest Here I shall find my heart's ease...

Lou paused in surprise, wondering at what had come over him. But as soon as he had begun to ponder it, the inspiration was gone. Try as he might, he could not think of an ending to the song he had begun, but it did not bother him too much.

Lou gazed again at Mel, wondering if he could be the one, the companion who would make his joy complete in this land. Then Lou remembered Mel had a lover already, a man named Larry, in Port Bolon. The discordant thought shattered the magic mood he had been in and Lou turned his eyes away from the sleeping man, distractedly.

He walked towards the edge of the fog-shrouded pool formed by a widening of Heron Creek. Lou could hear the rushing of the water as it pushed through a crack in a moss covered boulder, the obstruction that made the pool. The water was moving, running away to a distant sea. He stuck a toe in the water experimentally, and was pleasantly surprised by its warmth.

Looking around, Lou finally spotted what he half-expected to see. A steaming rivulet joined the creek on its opposite side, the overflow from one of the many hot springs in the valley of the heron. He smiled at the sight.

Lou waded in, then dunked himself in a deep spot. There was not room enough to swim, but he could float on his back, letting the warm water cradle him. He was feeling very relaxed when a bit of color bobbing in the water caught his attention.

"What's that?" he muttered to himself.

He took the object out of the eddy it had been caught in and examined it. It was a twig, perhaps seven inches long and almost an inch in diameter. It had been dyed a bright yellow first before a narrow strip of its bark had been carefully removed, creating a white spiral that twisted around and down its length.

Lou was about to go back to show the curious object to his companion. As he started to go, he saw Mel approaching the pond. The man had just woken up and was still stretching and scratching himself as he neared Lou.

"We have to go soon, Lou," he yawned. "I had a medicine dream last night. We have to get you to Falling Star as quick as we can."

"Is that what woke you up last night?"

"Yes... What have you got there?" Mel asked, spotting the colored bit of wood Lou held.

"I just found it in the water."

"It's a talking stick," Mel said as he joined Lou in the water and stifled another yawn at the same time. "The heron men use them to communicate with those who live along the river."

Lou studied the unlikely-looking bearer of news.

"What does it mean?"

"That one's a council stick. Falling Star is calling for a gathering of the Elxa tribe at Roman Rock, in a few days. I see now why we have to hurry, so you can see the chief before he leaves the cave of mysteries."

"Okay," Lou replied. "Too bad we don't have time to fool around in this pool though. The water feels good."

"But not as good as you," murmured Mel, kissing his companion as he put his hands to work.

Lou got the idea and they scrubbed each other by running their hands all over each other's bodies. Agreeing to skip breakfast, the men pulled their clothing on over damp skin and readied their horses to ride. Soon they were far from the campsite, the bulk of Zoraxte looming above them as they neared their goal.

Job bustled around the cabin naked, fixing breakfast. Silas sat sleepy-eyed at the table, just as naked and enjoying the bright sunlight that shone through the window and warmed his skin He watched the lad move about with a faint smile. Silas had meant to get up early, but Job had made it difficult for the man to leave the bed they shared.

'That young'un's gotta ass that won't quit... ' Silas thought as he yawned and stretched, feeling the rough floorboards under his bare toes as well as a deep, pleasant lassitude in his loins.

He grinned in appreciation when Job brought him coffee. Leaning back, he reached into a bin behind his seat. Silas pulled out a bottle of whiskey and dribbled a little of the pale brown liquor into his cup. It was a little extra kick he liked in the mornings.

"That sure looks tasty. Can I try some of that?" asked Job.

"Ain't you a little young for hard liquor?"

Job grinned at the man and recited.

You say I'm too young, You say it's too hard, When it comes to drink...

But I'm not too young for you, And you're not too hard for me, When it comes to man-to-man love!

"Well I'll be! You can sing!"

"You're a pure inspiration to me, Silas," laughed Job.

"I'll always remember that I was the first man you ever sung to," Silas murmured.

"I... I'll remember it too," managed Job after an awkward moment or two.

A blush colored Job's cheeks as he spoke those words. Silas was moved by Job's reaction, by the thought that this lad who had seen and done so much in his young life had just discovered a new sort of virginity to give away. To his surprise, Silas felt Driller twitch and begin to grow, filling with a renewed desire for Job...

"Okay," Silas said, pouring a shot of whiskey into Job's coffee. "I guess you do deserve a reward for a song like that."

Job picked up the steaming cup and sipped from it. Silas watched, waiting for his reaction. Job nodded vigorously as he swallowed.

"That's just as tasty as it looks."

"That's not all that's tasty around here," Silas smiled, pushing his chair away from the table to show Job his hard pecker. "Look what you've gone and done to me, by runnin' around the cabin nekkid like that!"

Job's answer was to immediately straddle Silas' lap, facing the man and lowering his ass onto Driller. The heron men's special salve still coated his innards from earlier lovemaking sessions the pair had shared that morning, keeping everything slick and ready for more fun. Silas' stiff phallus slid in easily to the hilt, provoking rapturous feeling for both men.

Finding himself so happily impaled, the pleasure Job felt - a pleasure that was enhanced by Silas himself, for whom Job had conceived a love like that he had for his cousin Leroy or the heron man they had met in Maury City, Bill Axford - was indicated by his long rod. It swiftly swelled and rose to press and rub against Silas' crimson furred chest as they moved together on the chair in their shared journey towards joy. Silas divided his ardent kisses between Job's lips and the tip of his impressive phallus, nibbling on the long foreskin and thrusting deftly into it with his tongue to caress the swollen glans hidden within.

When the lad gasped, teetering on the edge of the ultimate, Silas skinned the prepuce back with his lips and subjected the sensitive, naked tip to a powerful suctioning and tongue lashing. Job cried out in a passionate pleasure that bordered on pain as Silas swallowed the younger man's seed gratefully. Job's sphincter tightened in a series of sweet pulsations, driving Silas towards his release as well. Gripping Job's hips firmly, Silas growled fiercely around the spurting rod that gagged him as he shot his burning spunk deep into Job. Once their breathing had returned to normal, the pair reluctantly disengaged and turned their attention back to mundane matters like breakfast.

"So you think we ought to go and visit your friend Fire Wolf, to find out if he's seen or heard anything about Job?" Bill asked quietly, almost in a whisper.

He and Katchikoa lay wrapped in each other's arms. The native made an affirmative sounding grunt but stayed where he was. Bill did not feel much like moving either. The previous night had been a busy one for them and both men were feeling too comfortable, too languidly spent to abandon their amorously entwined position just yet.

After eating, Job left the cabin in high spirits, still without his clothing. The sun was already high and warm on his skin. He thought happily about the romp he had earlier with Silas, feeling a sweet, residual tingling in his asshole. He petted Alice, reaching over the corral fence to scratch an ear, and whispered.

"Gotta ride today, girl. We're gonna go see the heap big heron chief!"

Alice snorted softly and her eyes widened. In the large, dark, shiny orbs Job could see the reflection of movement behind him. Thinking it could only be from one source, he began to turn and speak.

"Silas? Wha... "

A stunning blow and black oblivion greeted Job...

Lou and Mel rode hard and reached the cave of mysteries well before the sun had risen above the treetops. Zeke was the first to see them coming and was glad to see the familiar face of his heron brother Mel. But as his gaze alighted on Mel's companion, a great bubble of sadness seemed to rise spontaneously up out of his heart, and a tear formed and fell.

Sensing something was wrong, Falling Star came outside and saw the newcomers. He looked at Zeke and reached out to touch the tear that hung on his cheek, at the edge of his short brown beard. The shaman embraced Zeke tenderly.

"Gently, Nizano, my son... "

"Do you feel it?"

"Yes. This stranger who comes is our brother, yet he cannot hear our music and it saddens you."

"Yes."

"Strengthen yourself. I will need your assistance when we send him on his vision quest."

"Now?" he ejaculated. "I thought we were leaving for Roman Rock!"

"Last night I had dreams that told me his spirit journey must begin as soon as possible."

"But we have to be going soon," objected Zeke, still surprised. "You called for a tribal gathering. The others will be waiting... "

"We must do this first, Nizano," Falling Star said in a grim voice as he studied the face of the man who followed Mel. "Believe me when I say the life of one of our brothers depends upon it."

Silas was putting the finishing touches on a letter he was writing. He tried to cover everything that had happened to him over the last three days. He did not go into detail about Job, but did write: "...that's boy's a real handful, and in more ways than one!"

He was leaving the note for Will, in case his partner returned while he and Job were at the cave of mysteries. Folding it carefully, he scrawled his lover's name on the outside. Placing it in the center of the table, he stood up, took a last look around, and left.

Pulling the door firmly shut behind him, Silas came out of his cabin and called for Job. But there was no answer. He looked around and muttered impatiently.

"I thought I told that young'un to get the horses ready! Where the heck did Job get to? I swear... "

The prospector glanced towards the pond, and saw. For a sickening split-second of deja vu, he recognized part of the vision of his future Asa Sykes had revealed to him the previous September. For Silas, time suddenly fell apart, shattered like a pane of glass. It became a thing he experienced in disjointed images and thoughts, separated by infinitesimal pieces of ebon nothingness:

There, among the rocks...

' ...what... '

White bandages contrasted against a black-haired head...

' ...who's... '

Livid j-shaped scar marring the left cheek...

' ...Mueller!... '

The black bore of a rifle...

' ...gun!... '

Pointed right at Silas...

' ...the bushwhackin' bastard's got the drop on me!... '

Desperate twist to get away...

CRACK!

Agony tearing across his left side...

' ...I'm hit... run, Job... '

Fingers gripping the wound, slippery with sudden crimson wetness...

' ...can't die... can't leave Will... '

The ground slamming suddenly into his face...

' ...Will... my trapper man...'

Taste of dust...

' ...I love you... so damn much... '

Intense pain rising to drown everything else out...

' ...Will... I don't wanna leave you... '

Blackness closing over Silas...

' ...not yet... please... '

Then nothing at all...

Despite the warnings Mel had received from the spirit realm, he had not expected to find Falling Star anxiously awaiting Lou, ready to begin his initiation into the Elxa tribe. As the shaman and his apprentice took Lou away, Mel saw to their horses, unsaddling them and setting them loose to graze. Then he retired to the stone and timber guest cabin nearby to wait.

Conducted through darkened, rocky passageways, Lou soon found himself sitting before a small fire deep in the bowels of the earth, within a chamber whose walls were covered with an amazing variety of colored drawings. As Lou studied those strange glyphs, it seemed to him as if the illumination provided by the flames was somehow confined and compressed, as if the light were being resisted by the spelaean blackness natural to the cave. Falling Star was seated opposite Lou. The heron shaman's assistant, who had been introduced to Lou as Nizano, sat nearby, listening along with Lou to the shaman's softly spoken words.

They were all naked and the cool air of the cave stirred the hairs on Lou's body, almost, but not quite raising gooseflesh. He tried his best to concentrate on what Falling Star was saying, but Lou found Nizano's good looks were a considerable distraction to him. Nevertheless, the shaman's last words overcame Lou's aroused libido and focused the man on what lay ahead of him.

"More will happen here than just your induction into the Elxa, Lou." Falling Star informed him. "You may find the experience unsettling, but I believe one of our brothers' lives depends on this ritual, and what you do in it."

With those ominous words, the medicine man stood up and moved away, vanishing into one of the numerous side tunnels that opened onto the painted chamber. Nizano handed the somewhat stunned man a pipe, telling Lou as he did so to smoke all of its contents. The pipe did not contain tobacco. Lou found the unknown herb quite odd-tasting - sharp, heavy and sweet, producing a thick yellowish smoke as it burned - but he finished it as he had been asked to. Nizano took the pipe and retreated somewhere out of Lou's line of sight, as Falling Star had done.

Lou wondered again what was going to happen. He tried not to worry, telling himself he was safe there, among friends, but he had to will his body to relax just the same. After a few minutes, a drum began to sound softly, a monotonous beat from somewhere behind Lou, reverberating in the cool recesses of the cave. Then a chant started up as Falling Star began to sing to the spirits that protected the heron men. Lou could not understand the words spoken in what he assumed was the Elxa's dialect, but they seemed to mesh in a dulcet manner with the drumbeat.

Lou's eyes returned to the scores of esoteric symbols daubed on the walls of the chamber. The dim firelight that flickered over the images made their alien forms and unknown meanings even more mysterious. Lou gazed at them, not knowing quite what to expect.

Slowly, gradually, Lou felt his attention being strangely drawn to an oddly shaped crack in the rock wall. He scrutinized it, curiously, wondering why he did so. Then, without any warning, the fissure opened in a completely illogical manner, gaping wide. At the same time, Lou found himself falling, falling into that huge, yawning crevice, falling headlong into fantastic, extradimensional abysses of cold fire and tangible color.

After a nightmare of vertigo, Lou felt solid ground of a queer sort under his bare feet again. It felt quite distastefully cold and gritty to him and Lou shivered as he stood up. The man looked around himself in utter shock and mounting confusion. The painted chamber he had been sitting in barely a moment before was gone and he found himself stranded in the midst of an entirely different world.

A wilderness of bizarre rock formations now lay spread out around him. The strangely shaped masses of stone stretched away to the horizon in all directions. Everything looked barren and sterile, a wasteland of naked rock, shaped by forces unnameable and archaic. The air was dusty and hot, holding a foul, unsavory scent that sickened Lou.

Lou looked up. The sour light that lit the lifeless, unclean landscape around him emanated from a myriad of wicked, irritating stars, illogically black. The flickering ebon points formed hateful, repulsive constellations that writhed garishly across the dome of an impossibly lighted and colored sky.

The overall effect produced by the horridly astriferous sky was that of a perpetual, menacing twilight. The dark, noisome stars gave off a harsh, eldritch radiation. It fell on the barren realm like a toxic rain, inimical to normal life. Lou's skin crawled as the non-light prickled it in a nearly indescribable, quasi-greasy way.

By the poisonous illumination of those evilly winking points of anti-light, Lou saw his new surroundings were absolutely desolate, a dead and alien world. And apparently uninhabited. Nothing could possibly live in such an unforgiving and degraded place, or so it seemed to Lou. Then he heard the noises.

Low theroid sounds, indicative of a pack of animals, came unnervingly to Lou's ears. The noises, indistinct gruntings and snortings, unseen feet padding along, sharp claws scraping in an irritating manner on barren stone, all conspired to disturb the vilely tainted atmosphere. Lou backed into a hollow at the base of a nearby rock.

His refuge stood like the cracked and eroded pillar of a ruined pagan temple, pointing its broken tip upward toward the unforgiving sky. Lou froze, hoping the creatures, whatever they were, would not sense him and pass by. Somehow he knew that they were dangerous hunters of men, and not just of any men, but men whose natures were like his own.

Lou could hear the hidden skulkers snuffing up the corrupt air and held his breath in suspense, concentrating on staying still. But he started uncontrollably when a sudden yelp of alarm sounded. One of the stealthy beasts had just caught the scent of prey on the dull, foetid breeze, and Lou knew the scent was his own.

In the distance, Lou could see the prowling creatures moving towards him. They looked somewhat like dogs, but their forelimbs were longer than their hind legs, and their bodies were covered with coarse, spotted, orange-brown fur. An odd memory flashed in Lou's mind, of an illustration he had once seen in an old schoolbook. He recognized the beasts, even though his rational mind rejected the identification at once.

'Hyenas?! In Oregon?' he marvelled.

By now the pack had spotted him and the beasts silently slipped in among the rocks on all sides around Lou, cutting off any possibility of escape. As the leader of the pack sidled closer to Lou, the man cried out in alarm.

"Falling Star! Help me! Help me, please!!"

Lou's voice echoed forlornly and in vain among the bizarrely shaped rocks. No answer came to him. No answer he wanted to hear, that is.

"That meddling do-gooder can't help you now! You're trespassin' in our world, heron man, and we kill any of you we can catch!"

When the leader of the pack turned to face Lou, the man saw with a thrill of unbearable horror that the hyena had an obscene parody of a human face, and not just any face. It was his old partner's face, 'Pete' Peterson's face. The abomination's animal tongue hung pendulously down from slack human lips and dribbled glistening saliva disgustingly. Sharp, nonhuman, yellow teeth flashed confidently in their power to maim and kill.

"No... " Lou half-moaned, fighting to keep his terror from overwhelming him completely.

"You walked out on me, Lou," the daemonic thing began, croaking forth its words in a monstrously vile and irritating approximation of human speech. "I'm gonna make you pay for that, pay slowly and painfully... "

Lou tried to repeat 'no' again, but he was too frightened to speak. The hideous beast shuffled closer, licking its lips in anticipation of toying with its prey and making it suffer before the thing killed it. Then it paused, as if suddenly uncertain, snuffing up the air in Lou's direction.

"Wait a minute! You're not a heron man!" the eldritch creature announced at last. Its red-orange animal eyes glowed daemonically as they stared into Lou's own, like a cobra trying to mesmerize a helpless bird.

"You're wrong! I am!" Lou burst out, almost hysterical. "I am a heron man! Falling Star said... "

"He doesn't know you like I do. Do you think he'd want to have you in his tribe if he knew about what you did to that banker in Sacramento three years ago?"

"No! Robbin' him was your idea. I never thought he'd catch us at it and you'd go and kill him!"

"Men are hanged every day for bein' an accessory to murder," the man-faced abomination smoothly reminded Lou.

"I didn't do it! I'm not guilty! I... Aaaaargh!"

Lou shrieked when he realized what was happening. His left arm began to twist and shrink, his hand shriveling into a hairy paw. Lou screamed again in mind numbing terror of the animal foreleg that suddenly hung from his shoulder, jerking spasmodically.

"And what about that guy Ross you robbed in Port Bolon, hmmm?"

"You made me do that! You said... aaaaah!"

"You're just the same as me, Lou, the same as all of us here," the gross Peterson-hyena said, grinning evilly as it watched Lou's other arm morph, transforming into another hyena limb. "You belong right here with us, huntin' and killin' the weak of our kind, the foolish men who think their 'special natures' can really mean anything or change any part of the cold, cruel, harsh world we live in, a world where only the strong and ruthless survive and flourish!"

"You can't do this!" Lou cried desperately. "You're not real! This is all a trick of some sort!"

"Let me tell you what's real. Remember Mel? Remember that night in the grove when you made love to him? Remember how you didn't feel the wave of heron love magic when Mel did? All the heron men felt the Heart Call, except for you, which proves you ain't a heron man!"

"No... aaaaargh!"

To Lou's unrelenting horror, his back bent unnaturally. His legs shrank and he was forced to fall on all fours. A sandy-brown coat of coarse hair covered his body and in a few moments he stood face to face with the grinning Peterson-thing, transformed into a nearly identical creature. Lou moaned in the grip of despair.

"Now you're one of us, Lou. But cheer up, it's not so bad, we have our fun too," the fiendish thing murmured softly, turning to present it's hairy rump to Lou. "C'mon and fuck me. I know what you like. And afterwards I'll do the same to you, and we'll be even again. And then you can come back home to me in Douglas City. We'll go out together to find us some more cute lads to add to our boy-brothel, like we used to. You know you'd like that, sweet talkin' them boys into bed and trainin' them to be good whores for us. You always did enjoy your work... "

Lou licked his lips in uncertainty. Was the Peterson-beast right? Had Falling Star known all about Lou's previous life of larceny and made the decision to abandon him in that awful world, to be with his own evil kind, forever?

Then, as he felt his tongue sliding over sharp, strong teeth, Lou remembered what Falling Star had said, that another heron man's life was riding on what he did. He could not give in now, be the cause of more chaos and death. Lou knew what he had to do.

Without warning, Lou lunged at the right hind leg of his beastly tempter. He bit with all his might, feeling bone crunch sickeningly between his jaws. The shocking taste of hot, unnatural blood spurted and flowed sickeningly across his tongue.

The Peterson-creature threw its head up and howled hideously, a keening cry of pain, rage and shock. The other hyenas that had continued to skulk just beyond Lou's range of vision answered that call of distress and came running, quickly surrounding Lou. He released the animal that had failed to tempt him and it bounded away on three legs, swearing.

"I'm not like you anymore, Pete, not now, not ever again!" Lou screamed after him, flecks of blood flying from his mouth with the force of his outcry.

"Kill him!" the crippled leader spat back to the pack. "He's no good to us anymore!"

Lou immediately hunkered down, his rear against the oddly shaped rock. The noisome pack lay in a rough semicircle before him. He could see that there was no escape.

At last, one of the ghastly hyenas moved. It leapt from its place, an enraged blur of fur, claws and fangs, seeking Lou's throat. Lou tensed, waiting for its body to slam into his, for his last, hopeless fight to begin, but the invidious creature never reached him.

From somewhere behind and to the right of Lou, an arrow flew to intercept the loathsome beast. The impact stopped the thing in mid-leap and it dropped heavily, instantly dead. Lou could see the steel point of the arrow that had transfixed the thing's rib cage, how it had passed through the heart and protruded bloodily from the other side.

'Blue featherin's!' Lou thought, looking at the arrow's still-quivering end. "It can't be... "

The noisome pack erupted in pandemonium as it caught sight of the archer who had appeared as if by magic to menace the vile beasts. Lou looked too and saw an Indian standing nearby. He wore an Elxa glyphstone and sported a magnificent pair of spirit wings that coruscated an eldritch aura of pale, golden light, protecting him from the corrosive, unnatural environment, as well as the evil emanations from the black stars above. Lou remembered what Mel had told him about the spirit wings, but he was more surprised by his unexpected recognition of the native archer.

The foul hyenas surged en masse towards the enemy intruder in a mindless killing frenzy. But like some ancient pagan god of hunting, the native fired arrow after arrow, effortlessly, accurately, and with preternatural speed. Before the noxious pack finally broke and fled, more than half of them lay dead, their hearts pierced by the bowman's blue feathered shafts.

As what was left of the pack disappeared into the vile and hateful stone wilderness, the archer came closer. Lou cowered before him, still in a disgusting animal shape. He was afraid the man would kill him and a little part of him admitted it would be no more than what he deserved for the crimes he had committed in the past.

Lou shut his eyes, waiting for the end. A hand came and touched his face, gently. Lou dared to look up, into Tasokah's clear black eyes. Lou remembered what he had been told, that the spirit helpers of the Elxa sometimes appeared in the borrowed likenesses of others, and realized it could not be Tasokah.

"Stand up," the spirit ordered in a voice that sounded ominous, like the muttering of distant summer thunder.

"I can't, I'm an animal," Lou answered miserably.

"You are a man, my brother," the image of Tasokah said firmly. "Stand up and be a man."

Lou tried. To his surprise, his body uncurled from a squatting position easily. As he rose, Lou felt a curious sensation, as if something had slipped off from him and fallen behind him. He looked and saw an empty hyena skin lying on the rocky ground.

He looked at his hands, his human hands, in unutterable happiness. Lou had his own body again. He reached out and touched the shoulders of the man standing in front of him.

"Thank you... " he choked, tears of joy and relief running down his cheeks. "You've saved me... "

"No, you saved yourself by choosing to do the right thing."

As the spirit responded, he kissed Lou. Though Lou knew it was not Tasokah, the man embraced Tasokah's image and returned the kiss with all the love and gratitude he had in him. Then he felt an odd sensation creeping up and down his spine and pulled back to look at his companion.

"Do not be afraid, my brother," the spirit who looked like Tasokah crooned, as his gorgeous spirit wings curled to touch and stroke Lou's back. "This is my gift to you... "

Lou felt as much as saw his spirit wings sprout, a lacy, fragile looking network of translucent filaments. They shimmered with subtle, kaleidoscopic colors as he waved them, convincing himself that they were actual parts of him before turning his attention back to his savior. Lou was sure by then that he knew why the spirit had taken Tasokah's form.

"Tell Tasokah," he whispered, "that I love him. I understand it now, how right it feels to be with him, like when we first met, but better, because now I know what he does, about the Way of the Heron... tell him I promise I'll always be good to him, always."

The spirit looked at Lou with a touch of sadness in his eyes before pulling away from him gently. The archer turned to kneel before one of the hyena corpses. Lou was confused by the spirit's reaction and glanced at the human face of the beast as the image of Tasokah took something from it and placed the object in Lou's hand.

"Give this token to Mel. It will sadden him much. You must stay with him, Lou, love him, comfort him in his grief. And remember the face of this one, too."

As the spirit said that, he indicated another hyena corpse. Lou studied its human face and as he noted the hook-shaped scar that marred its left cheek, he saw a small yellow bird escape from under the dead thing's paws. It fluttered up to perch on the archer's shoulder and regarded Lou with large, curious eyes, blue and quite unbirdlike.

"But... " Lou began, "I thought Tasokah and I... "

"Perhaps it shall be as you wish, if those of our tribe who still live in the flesh have the courage and the insight to use the power brought to them by the man from beyond the western sea. Tell Falling Star that if he allows the wise one's magic to merge with the song all heron men carry in their man-loving male hearts, many things will become possible that were not possible before. But in any case, for the time being, take care of Mel."

"I will," Lou said, in a pained voice. "But can Tasokah and I ever be together... as lovers... ?"

"You are as one reborn, my brother," the spirit said, without acknowledging Lou's anguished question. "Go, live and walk in the Way of the Heron like a man."

At that moment the image of Tasokah vanished like morning fog stricken by strong sunlight. A wave of exhaustion suddenly crashed over Lou and his legs gave way. Black oblivion swallowed the man as his dreaming body slumped slowly over onto its side, to rest on the floor of the cave of mysteries.

The unrelenting blackness that shrouded the man - for eternity, or so he had expected - slowly began to dissolve and fall away. From out of the surrounding darkness, indistinct light appeared. Little by little, it grew and brightened.

There were faint noises as well. Like the ones he had heard the time he stood on an Oregon beach and listened for the sound of the sea in a shell cast up on the shore. Tiny indistinct sounds. But these swelled until they became words, pounding urgently in his ears, until they could not be ignored any longer.

"Silas! Fire Wolf! Can you hear me?"

He opened his eyes and saw a stranger. No, not a stranger. Silas forced himself to focus on the anxious face and remembered. It was the man from the vision he had been sent, three days earlier.

"Il-Xochitl... " he breathed.

"Yes, alias Bill Axford," he exclaimed in relief. "You're gonna be okay, Silas. The bullet just grazed your side. We came as soon as we heard the shot."

Already the memory seemed sort of funny to Bill, the frenzy that he and Katchikoa had experienced when the sound of the gunshot came to them in their nearby camp. Scrambling to don their clothing and find their weapons all at once. Leaping on their horses and spurring off, hell for leather through the forest, tree branches tearing at them like demonic hands as they rode off, towards Silas' cabin.

But what they found there was not funny at all. Silas lay stretched out on the ground next to the door of his cabin, left for dead by an unknown assailant. While Bill tended to him, Katchikoa circled the area and found a fresh trail.

The heron man took off immediately into the woods, after telling Bill to stay with Silas. The look of anger on the native's normally impassive face told Bill that Katchikoa would not need any help to deal with whoever had attacked Silas. Bill almost felt sorry for the bastard, imagining what was in store for him.

"What... ohhh... "

Silas moved and regretted it at once. Pain danced wickedly in his left side as he looked around. He was in his cabin, on the bed, bloodstained bandages wound tightly around his chest.

"I had to use some of your whiskey to sterilize the wound," Bill smiled apologetically, bringing a nearly full bottle to Silas' lips, "but I saved the rest for you. For medicinal purposes of course."

Silas drank gratefully. One gulp, two... Then he remembered.

"It was Mueller who shot me!" he choked and coughed.

"Mueller?!" ejaculated Bill.

"Yeah, and we gotta find Job... "

"Job's here!?"

"Yes, and Mueller's probably got him!"

"That damn polecat!" Bill spat. Now he did feel sorry for Mueller, because if Katchikoa did not get him, Bill swore he would, and he had no intention of being gentle with him. "Katchikoa's trackin' Mueller down now," he informed Silas.

"No... Mueller'll kill him... "

"He'll have to see Katchikoa first, which ain't likely," Bill said, coaxing Silas to take another drink. "First off, Mueller doesn't know Katchikoa's after him, and when it comes to bein' stealthy, that fella musta wrote the book about it!"

Job moaned through gagged lips as he came to. He was looking up, at the leafy branches of trees, swaying above him in the wind. Then he saw something move, out of the corner of his eye.

"Hello, Job. Welcome back to the land of the livin'. Or in your case, the dyin'."

'That voice!'

Job's body jerked and bobbed, but did not move. Tight, rawhide cords cut painfully into his wrists and ankles, holding him spread-eagled and at an angle, his legs higher than the rest of him. There was a rope around his neck as well, cutting into his throat below his jaw, holding his head in place. Job continued to struggle anyway and Mueller laughed at his futile attempts to free himself. All the while, he fingered a peculiar knife, a type usually employed to skin animals.

"I got a lot to repay you for, Job. By now half the state knows about my god-damned dildo! I'll have to leave, go back east, if I'm ever to have any peace now. But first, you're gonna feel more pain than you ever thought was possible."

The man touched Job. It felt like a venomous snake had sidled up against him. Job's struggles became frenzied.

"Let's see, where shall we begin?" he asked, speculating as he ran a hand slowly across the desperately twisting torso. "I could peel your nipples off with a flick of my wrist. Or maybe I should start with your face. I could make sure whoever finds your body would never be able to identify you, let alone think you was ever handsome."

The sadist ran the flat of the blade across Job's belly.

"I could cut you open and pull your innards out, but that wouldn't be the end. Feel that rope around your neck? When I'm done carvin' you up, you'll still be alive enough to hang. I can hardly wait to see you up there, chokin' to death, your skin and innards hangin' off of you in strips, and I'll leave you there to rot, let the maggots and the crows have what's left."

Job felt cold metal against his balls.

"One slash of my knife and you'd be a steer. Or maybe I'll cut this horsecock of yours open, see what's inside. Oh, by the way, we're all alone out here now, so don't expect anyone to come and rescue you. I watched that hot sex show you put on this morning with that red-headed peckerwood you was shacked up with, though his kitchen window. I gunned him down when he came outside to look for you."

Job tried to cry out his friend's name through his gag. Hot tears of grief for Silas started from his eyes as he was cut by the evil pimp's words more keenly than any blade could have. Mueller chuckled pitilessly at Job's distress.

"You liked him, eh? Well, he's dead now, just like your cousin, so save your tears. You're gonna need them for yourself soon enough. But I'll start easy on you."

Mueller stripped off his clothes. He manoeuvred between the suspended vee of Job's twitching legs, grinning at his evil handiwork as he stroked himself to full erection. The boy's ass was hanging at just the right height for the sadist to violate and defile.

The lad clenched for all he was worth, but could not stop his captor from forcing his way in. The rapist went in dry, hoping to hurt his victim more. But Job's insides were still slick with a mix of the Elxa's wondrous salve and Silas' spunk leftover from earlier that morning. It saved him from injury, for the moment.

"Oh, yeah... " Mueller shuddered, sinking in past the spasming, juicy sphincter.

He began to pound himself wildly into the struggling lad. Against his will, Job felt his own cock responding, lengthening. Mueller laughed when he noticed what was happening. He grabbed the big cock and began jacking Job off.

"I still turn you on, eh?" he hissed. "Okay then, this'll be the last time you ever shoot off, so enjoy it."

Job tried to hold back, concentrating on the ugliest things he could think of, but it was no use. His hormone-charged adolescent body, with the almost priapismic sex drive typical of his age group, betrayed him. Jets of semen were soon arcing over his taut, straining chest and splattering hotly against his face. He tasted his own seed ruefully.

Mueller laughed again and dropped Job's cock. The outsized member lay heavily on the lad's abdomen, drooling a puddle of sticky whiteness that filled his belly button to overflowing, the excess slowly running off to drip from his side. From that point on, the pimp addressed himself to his own pleasure. The minutes passed agonizingly, but at last the captive felt a hot, liquid warmth blooming abruptly inside him.

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna slice up that sweet ass of yours," the rapist panted while continuing to grind his still-stiff cock in the lad's rear. "I've got a feelin' I'll want to fuck it some more, before I finish carvin' up the rest of you."

At last, Mueller pulled out. He skinned the slimy scum off his dick and slapped it into the boy's asscrack, to keep it slick and ready for future assaults. Then the bastard wiped his hands clean on Job's balls before he retrieved his knife and moved to kneel by the lad's side.

"I've decided to start with your face."

As he hissed the words, his blade came down, flashing. Then it stopped, inches above a cheek. A hand was suddenly gripping Mueller's wrist, holding him back.

Job stared in overwhelming shock at the owner of that hand, as did Mueller. Leroy Byrd pulled the knife-wielding hand away. At the same time he reached out with his other hand and touched the vile sadist's chest lightly, just over his heart.

"Right there." He whispered determinedly, his familiar voice loud amid the stunned silence of the moment.

"No... it's not possible... you... you're dead... "

That was all Mueller could manage before an arrow flew into the clearing. It buzzed by so close to Job's face that the lad could feel the rush of air against his cheeks as it passed. It struck Mueller in exactly the same place Leroy had pointed to.

The arrow slammed through his body, its point exploding bloodily from his back. Mueller stared stupidly at the vibrating, blue-feathered shaft that had transfixed his heart, then at Leroy, and then at nothing as his eyes rolled up into their sockets. He fell heavily, blood foaming from his mouth in a ghastly manner as his last breath escaped.

"Our friend Bill is nearby, Job. It was his love that gave me the power to save you," Leroy whispered to his cousin, his form fading slowly away, like a mist exposed to sunlight. "Let Bill love you and take care of you from now on... "

Leroy Byrd vanished. A few seconds later Job heard someone crashing through the undergrowth, hurrying towards him. An Indian Job did not know burst into the clearing, his knife in his hand, ready to fight. An Elxa glyphstone bobbed from a loop of rawhide around his neck, telling Job he was a friend.

A glance sufficed to tell Katchikoa that Mueller was dead, so he turned to cut Job's bonds. Soon he was holding the shaken, naked youth. Comforting him with gentle words and strong, bronzed hands and arms.

"Hoo, now, young one, do not be afraid, you are safe... "

"But Silas... " Job choked.

"Silas is safe also. The evil one only wounded him slightly. He will recover."

"He's alive... ?"

"Yes, young one. But tell me, I thought I saw another white man here. But he seemed to vanish before my eyes like a spirit... "

"That was my dead cousin, Leroy... "

That was all Job could say before he broke down. He gripped the Indian's body and sobbed against Katchikoa's dark, hard chest, feeling his rescuer's hands stroking his back rhythmically in sympathy. It was partly relief, knowing Silas and he were safe, that wracked his body, as well as another, sadder feeling, like he had lost Leroy for a second time.

When Lou woke up, the fire was almost out. The dim, ruddy glow of the dying embers barely cut through the spelaean darkness around him. He turned his head and saw a spot of bright, clear blue sky gleaming wholesomely through the jagged mouth of the cave of mysteries, far, far away.

The sight of the friendly, natural sky relieved and revived him. Lou attempted to rise, struggled to reassert control over his benumbed body. At once a pair of hands shot out of the blackness and gripped him firmly, steadying him.

"Careful," Nizano's voice warned, keeping Lou from rolling into the smouldering firepit.

"Have you been here... the whole time?"

"I was waiting for you to wake up."

"How long...?"

"Half an hour, perhaps."

"Half a...? But it felt so much longer than that!" Lou paused and lifted a hand to his forehead. "I feel weak."

"It will pass. You just need rest, that's all. Come."

Nizano picked the man up bodily and carried him a few steps to a pile of buffalo robes and blankets. He put Lou between them and followed, sliding up next to the exhausted man. Lou tried to return the hug, but was still too feeble to move much.

"Damn, Nizano!" Lou whispered regretfully. "Here you are with me, both of us nekkid, and I'm all done in!"

"Rest now, my brother. Your strength will return."

Reassured, Lou relaxed into Nizano's arms and was at the point of dropping off to sleep again when he felt something in his clenched hand. He fingered it, realizing it was a ring, the object the spirit who had taken Tasokah's form had given him in his medicine vision. Too tired to think more about it, Lou somehow summoned the strength to place it beneath the closest corner of the blanket before the blackness claimed him once more.

In the area around Roman Rock, the uneven landscape provided many secluded spots, as if it had been especially created for the amorous rendezvous of the heron men. One such special place was a sunwashed meadow that gently sloped to the southwest. In its midst, a scarlet blanket had been spread out.

Around its brilliant edge nodded contrasting sprays of delicate blue. The spring blossoms of lupine and larkspur, swaying in the breeze. Contented beyond words, Mayati lay with his head in Hun Tzu's lap. The men's clothing lay abandoned in an untidy pile nearby and a few passing clouds tempered the sun's warmth on their skins.

The first butterflies of the season were out. Some had wings of a dull yellow hue, as if they had been cut from ancient satin. Others were smaller and faster, colored a radiant, iridescent blue.

They flitted about the men lazily as Hun Tzu whispered softly, reciting the love poems he had learned from the Chinese classics. Gazing at the native's face, Hun Tzu felt as if he truly understood the emotions that had inspired the poets' words for the first time. Mayati listened, breathing in the sweet perfume of the new blossoms carried on the wind, as well as the musky scent of his companion, and sighed deeply with pleasure as Hun Tzu whispered a new poem, inspired by the love they had shared the previous night.

I love the moon That lights our bed And transmutes your love Into liquid pearls, Falling, Like drops of honey, Falling, From a broken comb, Falling, Your sweetness, Yours! Flowing into me...

My heart is ravished! My mind perplexed to no end! To know you one night, Is to know you a myriad of nights, No one night the same, As any of the others...

Mayati turned his face into the warm, softly furred belly and inhaled, getting a stronger whiff of the subtly arousing musk of his companion. He allowed his mind to drift back in time, to remember his first meeting with Hun Tzu. He found it hard to believe it had only been three days before.

He recalled the rabbits first, turning over a low campfire, exhaling delicious aromas. He watched the meat cooking, listened to the juices popping and sizzling as ruddy drops oozed from the carcasses and fell onto the glowing embers below, the only sounds to be heard. Mayati had been alone in his camp not far from the banks of the lower reaches of Heron Creek.

The last light of day was just then departing, leaving vast, gorgeous patterns of pinks and oranges and purples across the western edge of the sky. The Indian glanced upward, admiring nature's art. On an impulse, Mayati picked up his flute and played a short tune to the sky, as lively as the fancifully colored clouds.

He smiled as he set the flute aside and gave the spit another turn. The air was still, heavy, as if in anticipation, and Mayati breathed in deeply, content in the midst of such solitude. And yet not content, thinking of his friends, of his brother heron men.

Unconsciously, Mayati reached down and scratched at the sand with a finger. He thought wordlessly, a medley of images running through his mind, of those who had loved him, their faces, their bodies, their passions... The sound of a twig snapping startled the native and he looked up, into the almond shaped blue eyes of a beautiful stranger.

A glance towards the creek showed Mayati another canoe, drawn up on the sand while he was so lost in thought. The man knelt, his hand stretching out, pausing tentatively over the symbol Mayati had so absently drawn. A curling glyph that looked like a stylized bird.

The same sign decorated the sides of the newcomer's canoe. The stranger looked up from the glyph and at Mayati. He spoke.

"Is this the sign of those whom I seek?"

Mayati looked into the man's strange blue eyes again, probing with his shining black orbs. He felt the newcomer's inner nature, his heart, calling tenderly to his own, spirit reaching out subtly to spirit in hope. He responded, softly.

"It is... my brother. Sit with me and share my meal."

Mayati thought again of that wonderful evening, how the men had talked, sharing in Hun Tzu's joy at reaching the homeland destined for him, predicted long ago by his geomantic art. Learning from each other, from whispered words, and from gentle caresses... He returned to the present, reaching up to stroke Hun Tzu's lightly bearded cheek as he ended his poem. Mayati answered in a loving murmur.

Your glance, expands my heart...

Your voice, exalts my spirit...

Your touch, quickens my soul...

Knowing you, Knowing your love, Has taught me what it means to live...

Their lips touched, and no more words were needed.

Sometime later that day, Lou awoke alone. He soon noticed Falling Star and Nizano sitting together by the fire, talking quietly in the Elxa language. The heron elder was smoking his long, ornate pipe, and gestured with it to Lou when he saw the white man had awoken, beckoning to him. Lou rose from the blankets, pleased to feel the heavy, unnatural fatigue that had cumbered his body earlier was gone, leaving him refreshed and alert. As he sat, the shaman asked what he had seen in his vision.

Lou related his experiences to Falling Star and his apprentice, leaving no detail out. Lou was a little surprised at the clarity with which he remembered his medicine dream. Everything he had seen and heard and felt seemed to stand out in stark relief in his mind.

Eventually, Lou got to the part where the spirit who looked like Tasokah had given him the ring and spoke of the potential power a newcomer had brought to the Elxa tribe. The shaman's eyes widened in surprise at that, as well as in some other emotion Lou was not sure he understood. As Lou finished, the medicine man extended his hand.

"Give me the ring, Lou," Falling Star requested. "And be sure to say nothing about what you saw in your vision quest to anyone, especially Mel."

"Why? Do you know what it means?" Lou asked as he turned away to retrieve the gold circle from beneath the blanket and hand it over.

"Yes," the heron chief replied. "And because it concerns you, I will tell you, but you and Nizano both must not repeat it to anyone else, for the time being."

"I promise," they agreed together.

Falling Star nodded and took a pull on his pipe before beginning.

"Lou, the spirits that guide our tribe have apparently decided that you and Mel should be lovers. But Mel already has a partner whom I know he loves deeply, Larry, who lives in Port Bolon. Larry has not heeded our calls to him, to visit us and learn our ways. I fear the spirits have rejected him and have dissolved the bond between him and Mel by killing him."

"But, surely," Lou objected uncertainly, "what I saw in my medicine dream couldn't possibly have had an effect on anyone other than me... could it?"

Falling Star glanced at his apprentice. Nizano appeared attentive and expectant. The Elxa shaman smiled indulgently at the white man as he turned back to him and replied.

"Then how to you explain the presence of this ring, Larry's ring, bought for him by Mel? I recognize it, because it was I who suggested the design when Mel asked my opinion. He wanted something unique to give his partner."

"But why would the spirits do that to Mel? I know he'll be crushed when he finds out about his pardner. He loves him something fierce!"

"He will not find out," the shaman said calmly, after taking another inhalation of fragrant smoke. Nizano looked curiously at his mentor as the bluish fumes from his pipe made hazy arabesques in the still air. Lou was somewhat more demonstrative.

"What do you mean?" Lou exclaimed. "Sooner or later he has to... "

"Ordinarily," Falling Star interrupted, raising his hand, "there is no appeal from a verdict of the spirits like this one. All I could do is comfort Mel's grief and bless your union with him. But now it may well be that we have the ability to change the spirits' decision."

"You mean... with the power summoned by the Heart Call? But if Larry's really dead, then how... "

"Believe me, Lou, when I tell you that the power of love can do anything."

Falling Star paused after saying that. His face betrayed a sudden wonderment, as if a new thought had occurred to him. An idea that suggested new dimensions to the subject they were discussing.

"Yes," the heron shaman went on a bit distractedly, almost to himself. "Anything." After another moment or two, his eyes flickered back to encompass Nizano as well as Lou. "Do not hold preconceived notions or doubts or expectations about this, my brothers. Just let love be, and miracles can happen."

"I... I'll try." Lou replied, as Nizano nodded slowly.

As Lou spoke, he tried to comprehend the many and manifold possibilities that the Elxa elder was implying. But his unavoidable skepticism audibly tainted the words he uttered. Falling Star chose to ignore them and turned to pick something up.

"This is for you."

Lou took the object Falling Star offered him. He saw it was an Elxa glyphstone strung on a loop of rawhide, and smiled. Lou slipped it around his neck and felt the weight of it resting against his chest, making him feel proud and good.

"What about the yellow bird I saw?" he asked, remembering it suddenly. "What does that mean?"

"As I said earlier, I believed one of our brothers' lives hung on the outcome of your spirit quest. I believe now that his life has been spared, the one who was represented by the yellow bird. You will understand it soon, once you have met and spoken with your heron brothers at Roman Rock. Do not worry, I believe it is a very good sign."

"There's one thing else. When I saw Tasokah's image, does it mean... that we'll be together as lovers?"

"As you know, what you saw was a spirit, one of the mighty ones who protect our tribe. He took the form of Tasokah, in order to speak to you more easily. But the fact he appeared as Tasokah tells me of the bond that has developed between you and he. Seek out Tasokah and speak to him of your vision, my brother. If he holds love in his heart for you, he will certainly reveal it to you."

"Very well," Lou nodded. "I will."

"Your spirit quest has cleansed you of your past and you are as one newborn. Your name among the Elxa shall be Om-yomac, which means 'defier of demons'."

"Om-yomac," Lou repeated, liking the sound of his new name.

"Gather your belongings, my brother," Falling Star told him, rising from where he sat, "for we must leave for Roman Rock as soon as possible."

Leaving Lou to dress, the shaman tapped the spent bowl of his pipe into the firepit, slipped it into a pack of supplies he had ready to go and picked it up. Nizano followed as Falling Star climbed the slightly sloping passage up and out of the cave of mysteries. Nizano went to the guest cabin that stood nearby to get Mel and ready the horses to ride. While he was alone, Falling Star turned to look upwards, at the rock ledge high above the cave entrance that held the native gravesite of his late friend, the Elxa elder Xaculi.

"The power of love can do anything," he mused, repeating the words of the spirit who had appeared to Lou in the form of Tasokah as he gazed at the spindly-looking sky-cradle, deep in thought. "Well, my old friend, we shall see. We shall most certainly see... "

"Silas!"

Job cried out for his friend as soon as he burst into the cabin, Katchikoa trailing right behind him. Silas lifted his right arm from the bed in a wobbly welcome to the naked lad. Then Job's heart leapt as he spotted the man who was sitting nearby.

"Bill!"

They hugged and kissed. Then Job sat down on the bed next to Silas and fussed over his blood-stained bandages. Silas reached out unsteadily to tousle the lad's pale hair.

"I'm okay, young rabbit," he grinned foolishly, dropping his hand into Job's lap and grasping the youth's impressive cock. "Again?"

"What the... " began Job, catching the scent of liquor.

"It's for the pain," grinned Bill, who had obviously had a few himself.

"I don't believe it!" Job said incredulously, staring at the nearly empty whiskey bottle Bill flourished. "Mueller was fixin' to carve me up like a Christmas goose and you two just sat here gettin' drunk!"

"Just for medis... medisceenal purpos... for the pain," Silas managed.

"Is Mueller dead?" asked Bill.

"Yes," Katchikoa answered.

"That calls for 'nother drink!" cried Silas happily, as he grabbed the whiskey bottle away from Bill and toasted the group. "Here's to ol' what's-his-name! May the dry-gluchin' bastard roast in hell forever and a day!"

He tipped the bottle back and swallowed. Job glared disapprovingly at Bill, who gave a shrug and belched. Katchikoa took the opportunity to slip quietly out of the cabin.

"White men... " he sighed, shaking his head sadly as he went to see to the horses.

Eric woke up from an afternoon nap in the bunkhouse at Roman Rock, all tangled up in a mesh of limbs. He managed to extract himself from Zeb and Trev's clutches, and left them groaning and turning to one another for warmth. Eric cast a wry grin at the indolent pair, pulled on his clothes and exited the cabin.

He strode to the nearest tree and pissed, sighing as the pressure on his bladder was relieved. The sounds of many voices mingling into a low hum reached Eric's ears. Though he could not see it for the trees, Eric knew that not far away from where the bunkhouse stood, Heron Creek widened into an ample pond. It was a popular place for the many men who had recently arrived to wash and meet. Then Eric inhaled a stray wiff of fragrant smoke. It set his stomach to growling at once, calling rudely for food. He turned and went to see what was cooking.

He already knew that in the midst of Roman Rock there was an ample iron cooking pot set upon a carefully constructed base of unmortared stones. The horseshoe shaped stonework supported the great cauldron securely and allowed easy access to the firepit below it. Every day, a self-appointed cook added whatever ingredients were available to the simmering kettle, creating a sort of perpetual pot luck meal.

On this particular afternoon, Eric saw Hun Tzu presiding over the steaming cauldron, stirring in more items and frequently tasting the results. He was also talking with another heron man, a particularly handsome one Eric was sure he had not seen before. As Eric approached the pair, Hun Tzu pointed and Eric caught the last of their words.

"I last saw Tlaccotan over there, Eben."

"Thank you, Hun Tzu," the other man replied as he turned to go the way Hun Tzu had indicated.

Eric had seen Hun Tzu before, the evening his group had reached Roman Rock. Hun Tzu and his three companions had arrived at the Elxa settlement earlier, and an ad hoc council was soon formed to listen to the geomancer's explanation of the nature of the power that had touched so many and how it had been summoned. The sheriff of False Pass, Robert Vaughn, who had been one of Eric's traveling companions, was also an elder of the Elxa tribe. His arrival had been welcomed by everyone at Roman Rock, not only to help Tlaccotan provide leadership, but also to join the council that was listening to Hun Tzu.

Eric was not sure he had understood all of the concepts that Hun Tzu tried to explain at that meeting, but he was sure he was not the only one. Though sheriff Vaughn realized the geomancer's news was important, he and Tlaccotan decided not to let Hun Tzu conduct another ritual for the time being, despite its obviously beneficent impact on the Elxa tribe. None of the heron men doubted that what Hun Tzu had done was good. The Elxa were already using the name Mayati had bestowed on the phenomenon: the Heart Call.

Cautiously, Robert, Tlaccotan and most of the others thought it best to wait until Falling Star's opinion of the matter could be obtained before attempting the Heart Call again. A rider was appointed to journey with the group's tidings to the cave of mysteries. But before he could leave Roman Rock, talking sticks were discovered in Heron Creek, announcing the coming of Falling Star and the calling together of the tribe for a general meeting. This piece of news calmed the gathering considerably.

Knowing that the Elxa's great shaman would soon be among them personally was a great relief for the group. Which was good, for the number of heron men in the camp continued to grow. More and more were coming, seeking the meaning of the blissful power they had felt two nights before.

Hun Tzu noticed Eric's approach. He lifted a hand in greeting and smiled. Eric returned the gesture.

"Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon to you," Eric returned. "What's cooking?"

"I do not think this hodgepodge has a name, in Indian or English or Chinese," he admitted with a smile.

"I was just wondering, were you born in this country, or are you from China?"

"China. From the city of Foochow."

"I hope you don't mind my curiosity. Having lived by whole life in New Hampshire, I haven't met many Chinese."

"No, I do not mind. Besides, growing up in Foochow, I did not meet many redheaded white men either, so that should make us even." Hun Tzu and Eric smiled at each other.

"You speak English well."

"I was educated well. As you may have guessed, my father and, as I've been told, my mother's father were both sailors from America. I never knew them, or my mother, she died when I was born."

"I'm sorry... "

"Well, as things turned out, fate was quite kind to me. As the half-breed son of a common whore, well... my life in China could have been so much worse... " Hun Tzu sighed, turning back to his task.

"What happened?"

Hun Tzu threw another handful of chopped wild garlic into the cook pot and stirred it before answering.

"I was adopted by a sein-sheng, a master of various subtle arts, such as geomancy, astrology, and others. Wei Fei was also a master of the lo-pan, a sort of instrument that can detect and measure many things the eye of man does not see. He told me the story many times of how the lo-pan informed him of my birth and how he found me with its aid.

"He said I was destined to be the son he had never had. Wei Fei taught me all he knew, and made sure I could speak, read and write English as well. For the lo-pan told him, as it did me once I understood how to use it, that my destiny was to come here, to this beautiful country, to dwell with these gentle men who conjure with the love of their bodies, living as their natures bid them, a nature I share.

"When Wei Fei saw his death approaching, he put me on a boat bound for America. You might think it was premature of him, but believe me when I tell you that all the prejudices I have encountered in your country because of my race amount to little besides the fierce hatred of the native Chinese for half-breeds like myself. Even if I had wanted to stay and try to pass as a native, my blue eyes would have always betrayed my 'barbarian blood' to anyone I met. I and others like me are living symbols of the despised round-eyes' incursions into China, literal reminders of the Europeans' rape of our ancient civilization.

"Although I had been adopted by Wei Fei, any respect I had was only out of deference to him. We both knew that I would have never been allowed to inherit his property. In fact, a lynching was more likely to be my fate than anything else after his death. So it was for the best that I got out while I could."

"And, once you came to America, you found the heron men with this lo-pan?"

"Yes. Here, stir this, please."

As Hun Tzu said that he handed the long ladle to Eric, and then turned to pull something out of his backpack. Eric lifted the dipper to his lips and sipped the hot, pungent liquid. A melange of flavors smote his tongue pleasantly.

"Good?" Hun Tzu asked hopefully.

"Yes, very," said Eric as he picked up a bowl and filled it from the pot. "Is that ivory?"

"Yes. This is the lo-pan I spoke of."

"But it's so yellow... "

"This instrument is very old," Hun Tzu said as he ran his fingers over the disk's delicately engraved surface reverently. "It is said that an emperor of long ago ordered it to be made from the tusk of a monstrous, demon elephant that he had hunted and killed."

"It had to be huge, to grow a tusk big enough to make that from!" Eric agreed. "Is that a compass set in the center?"

"Yes. Depending on how it is manipulated, one can read signs in the heavens and follow the invisible pathways of telluric energies that flow below our feet. There are unseen forces all around us, that influence us. The wise man knows them, acts with them, and lets them carry him towards success in all he does."

"Did that make the... the Heart Call, as the heron men are calling it? What I felt... it seemed like some sort of magic... "

"Magic," Hun Tzu repeated slowly. "Yes, I suppose it might appear like that, but I am merely using my understanding to tap into the hidden energies of this land. The more knowledge a man has, the more magical appear his accomplishments.

"But to answer your question directly, no," Hun Tzu said, moving to put the tablet away before filling a bowl for himself and sitting next to Eric. "The lo-pan merely showed me the right time and place to make the love-music with Mayati, but even I was surprised by how successful we were, though I should not have been. Confucius once said:

When two people are as one in their innermost hearts, They shatter even the strength of iron or bronze.

When two people understand each other in their innermost hearts, Their words are sweet and strong, like the fragrance of orchids.

"If two in love can be so powerful, we can expect much, much more from the entire Elxa tribe, a tribe of many men, sharing one nature, one heart. Add to this the telluric forces that pulse so strongly beneath the valley of the heron and even I have trouble imagining the limits of what we might accomplish, if we work together."

"It's hard to describe, the way I felt the night you summoned that force. I've never experienced anything like that before. I hope we'll be able to try the Heart Call again, soon."

"I will have to talk with Falling Star when he arrives. Then I will take another reading to learn when the next favorable time will be for the entire Elxa tribe to make the Heart Call together. I too hope it will be soon."

Following Hun Tzu's directions, Eben found Tlaccotan and relayed a message he had for the heron chief. Robert Vaughn, the sheriff of False Pass was with him as well. A Chinese youth who was with Robert tugged at his sleeve as Eben and the heron chief spoke.

"Can Alex and I go swimming?"

"Sure. You remember where Chris and I camped, right?"

"Yeah," answered Alex, turning to go. "C'mon, Lo!"

The teenagers crossed Heron Creek, looking for the big hot spring they had been told about. It flowed into a pondlike widening of the main stream, keeping it warm year around. That body of water was crowded with heron men, washing, swimming and generally having fun. But Alex and Lo wanted to soak and relax awhile in hot water.

They found the spring, but also found it was occupied. Six boys, all younger than Lo or Alex were playing there. Three of them were white and looked like brothers, all black haired and blue eyed. The other three were natives, lean and tawny-skinned. All were playing with each other's stiff dicks.

"Oh!" one of the boys said when he spotted Lo and Alex, doffing their clothes.

"Can we play too?" Lo asked, slipping into the water.

"Sure," the oldest of the white boys said. "I'm Jed Cooke. Those are my brothers, Jael and Joel."

"I am Three Elk," one of the native boys introduced himself. "Those are my friends, Running Water and Walks Softly. They do not understand English as well as I."

"I'm Alex and that's my pard, Lo," the black youth grinned, showing off his impressive hardon to the group before he got in the water. They were fascinated by the size of Alex's endowment no less than by his skin color. "We don't need to talk to have fun!"

"No... " Three Elk murmured, coming over to touch and stroke Alex's hard penis in an almost reverent manner. "Your rod is the color of white man's candy!"

"You mean chocolate?" grinned Lo as Jael and Running Water began touching the Chinese youth. None of them had ever seen a naked man of Lo's race before, either. "Well, I think Alex tastes sweet!"

"It's a beau, ain't it?" Alex encouraged Three Elk. Jed came over to join him in his exploration of the black teenager's body. "And it ain't even full grown yet! You oughta see my big brother's pecker! He told me all the men in our family were hung like bulls!"

"It's real nice," muttered Jed, just before he knelt in the water, slipped the loose foreskin back and sucked the dusky rose colored head of Alex's cock into his mouth.

"Damn... " Alex hissed, as he felt Three Elk move behind him and slip his spit-slickened erection into the black youth's ass.

With two sets of hands and mouths to each teenager, Lo and Alex's first eruptions came quickly. The two youngest boys, Joel and Walks Softly, continued playing with each other as they watched their comrades coax the newcomers into shooting their sperm. While the older boys recovered, they all traded stories of how they had gotten to Roman Rock. Three Elk explained that he and his friends were members of the Wasnai, a tribe whose lands lay to the north, in the upper Willamette valley. They had come with his brother, Thunder Cloud.

"I'll have to thank Thunder Cloud for lettin' you come, otherwise we wouldn't have met!" smiled Alex as Three Elk and Jed continued to stroke his body.

"What's that?" Lo asked, pointing. The others looked and saw a ropelike garland of colorful flowers stretched between two trees not far away.

"Oh," giggled Joel, "that's a shanshasha."

"A what?"

"It is a sacred place where the heron men go to make love." Three Elk explained. "Thunder Cloud told me that the love they make there raises energy that the Elxa medicine men use to make good magic."

"What're we all sittin' here for then?" asked Alex. "Let's go in there and find us some full grown peckers to play with!"

"Thunder Cloud said we were too young to go into the shanshasha." Three Elk frowned.

"Yeah," pouted Jael in shared disappointment.

"Oh?" Alex looked at Lo. "You wanna go with me, pard? Mebbe we're old enough!"

"Sure!" Lo agreed as he glanced at the shanshasha again. "Look!"

The boys all turned their heads. A naked native man had just appeared at the entrance of the sacred grove, along with a big, beefy, blonde white man. They kissed gently and parted. The white man went back into the shanshasha.

The native turned towards the hot spring. He was broadly muscular and his plump, soft cock swung in an eye-catching way as he walked. His bright black eyes took in the bevy of boys as he neared them.

"Ah!" he smiled. "May I join you young rabbits?"

"Sure!" Alex grinned back. He introduced himself and his friends as the man slipped into the water, sighing as he relaxed in the liquid warmth.

"I am called Ho'va," he smiled, not objecting as the boys surrounded him.

"Why are we too young to go into the shanshasha?" demanded Jael.

"Don't be rude, Jael," Jed scolded. "It ain't Ho'va's fault if you're only eleven!"

"But I know what they do in there! I could do it, too!"

"Ah, little one," Ho'va smiled, reaching out to caress Jael's side. The boys saw it and took it as permission to touch Ho'va in return. As the small hands explored the fully grown body, Ho'va went on. "I am sure you know what sex is, but do you know what love is? The deep, good feeling of belonging to another, of wanting only to please him, and of expecting nothing in return? That is what you must make in the shanshasha, Jael, not just gruntings and moanings and shooting your spunk!"

The other boys laughed at Ho'va's words as Jael responded.

"I love my brothers, and my paw and his pardners, my pop and dad... "

"I do not doubt it. But did you know that if you went into the shanshasha, you could not refuse if a big man like my friend Sun Bear wanted to fuck you?"

"That huge blonde guy we saw you kiss?" Jael squeaked. Ho'va nodded and Three Elk chuckled.

"One so big would leave your behind stretched open, so that when you bent over, others could see all the way up into your stomach and know what you had for supper!"

"Content yourself with your young friends' cocks for now," Ho'va urged, once the others' laughter had faded. "Well," he reconsidered, provoking a new round of giggles as he noted Alex's stiff pole, "maybe not his... "

"Could I go in the shanshasha?" Alex asked as Ho'va reached out to caress the hard, dark flesh. The teenager moved closer to make it easier for the man.

"You are as big as some men I have seen there... "

Ho'va leaned over and took Alex's cock in his mouth. As he pleasured the youth, he felt hands stoke his nipples, his balls, his own swiftly hardening manhood. The boys indulged their curiosity, finding out what a man's body felt like, what pleased it...

Job stayed with Silas while Bill and Katchikoa went to bury Mueller. The native heron man paused to pull his gory arrow from the corpse before kicking it into the hole the men had dug. Seeing the questioning look in Bill's eyes, he explained.

"I must give this arrow to Falling Star. A weapon that has slain a demon is very strong medicine."

Bill nodded and the pair turned back to finishing their somber task. Afterwards, as they led the dead man's horse to the cabin, the heron men discussed what to do next. Though Silas' wound seemed not to be too serious, Katchikoa suggested they err on the side of caution and journey to Roman Rock. The healers there would see to it that Silas was tended to properly.

"I agree with you," grinned Bill, "especially seein' as we'll soon run out of pain killer!"

"Firewater is not good medicine!" the native smiled wryly back. "Fire Wolf's head may hurt more than his side when its effects finally wear off, I fear!"

With his injuries well bound up, Silas was able to ride. Once his friends got him in the saddle, he made a gay companion on the first leg of their journey to Roman Rock. That is, as long as the liquor's effects lasted.

There were many jokes and telling comments made about the state Silas was in as the heron men traveled. Silas responded to the slights by loudly objecting and insisting that none of his faculties were impaired. But his slurred protestations only served to confirm his companions' suspicions.

Hun Tzu got many complements that day for his culinary skills. But the main topic of conversation around the campfires continued to be the mystery energy the geomancer had raised with the Heart Call, which had catalyzed the heron men's lovemaking. Eric listened to these discussions during that day, finding out how common the feeling had been. Unconsciously, he reached to hold Zeb's hand as they sat side by side.

"Hmm," Zeb murmured, looking beyond the circle of Elxa with whom they sat. "More newcomers."

Eric looked to see two men, an Indian and a white man, leading their horses and loaded pack mules into camp, headed for the stable. Eric studied the man who brought up the rear, the one with long, dark brown hair and bushy beard, feeling oddly uncertain why he did so. Trev, who sat on his other side, noticed Eric's intent stare and leaned over to him.

"That's your uncle, Will Dern."

Eric got up at once and headed towards the stable. He waited outside while the two men saw to their horses and mules, studying them, trying to remember. It seemed like a long time had passed since his beloved uncle had left New Hampshire to go west, right after the war ended. Eric was pleased to see Will was healthy and still as handsome as he remembered.

"Greetings, young one," the first one out of the stable said to Eric. "I am Red Hand."

"I'm Eric Vaal."

"I have heard of you," the native said, looking the young man up and down in open admiration.

"Eric!?" Will yelled, coming forth and grabbing the young man, crushing him in a bear hug.

"Uncle Will!" Eric gasped, squeezing back as hard as he could.

"Let me look at you. Damn! All grown up now!"

"And good-lookin' to boot," a red-headed heron man added unexpectedly. He was standing further back in the gloom of the stable, grinning as he looked on.

"Of course he a looker, Greg! We're related!" laughed Will. "And who's this?"

Eric looked to see Zeb, whom he had not noticed following along, standing quietly nearby.

"This is my partner, Zeb Alden."

"I'm glad to meet you," Will said, embracing the blond man warmly. "How was your trip?"

"Better than we could've imagined. Especially a couple of nights ago," Zeb answered.

"Do you know anything about what happened to us?" asked Eric.

"Not much, but I'll tell you what I know."

Falling Star reined in his horse when he saw the deserted camp that stood roughly midway between the cave of mysteries and Roman Rock, beside Heron Creek. He gazed off to the northwestward, across the open grasslands that stretched away in that direction for a few moments, thoughtfully. Then he dismounted and led his scar-faced sorrel pony to drink. The three men who followed him did the same.

While Nizano and Lou set up the camp, Mel and Falling Star went hunting. Before they returned, Nizano busied himself spearing a number of fish in the pool that swirled above a waterfall. The smell of the cooking filets greeted the returning hunters as they shared the burden of their success, a young buck.

It was a lot of food for four men. Lou wondered about it, but since no one else seemed to notice he refrained from commenting on it as he helped prepare their supper. A couple of hours later, Mel touched his shoulder and pointed. In the afternoon light, Lou saw four riders approaching from the northwest and a fifth horse trailing behind, carrying a saddle pack of supplies.

Will, Eric and Zeb decided to bivouac in a clearing away from the crowded Indian campsite. In the evening, as they sat around a small fire, they talked, getting to know one another. Will explained the plans he had made to the young men.

"The land hereabouts is literally up for grabs, under the homestead act," Will began. "And the white members of the Elxa tribe have been worried that people might move into the area who don't think like us."

"What about the Indian heron men?" Zeb asked.

"It's very difficult for them to understand the white attitudes towards land ownership. They can't imagine one man ownin' a piece of the Earth, which nourishes all men. But given the way most whites carry on, ignorin' and/or killin' the natives when they want land, well... like I said, Silas and I and the others are worried."

"Have you talked to Robert about this? He's an Elxa elder. Maybe he'd know what to do."

"Yes we have, Eric, and we've agreed on a plan."

"What is it?"

"We're goin' to get the members of the Elxa tribe to put in a series of land claims that'll give us ownership of this whole valley, from Diamond Lake and the upper Umpqua right up to the land around the cave of mysteries, basically, the entire watershed of Heron Creek."

Will gestured at the nearby stream. Eric and Zeb knew by then that it flowed down from the Elxa's sacred mountain, Zoraxte, past the cave of mysteries, through Roman Rock, and eventually fell as a waterfall before meandering to where it joined the upper Umpqua River a few miles further on. Eric remembered bathing at those falls that afternoon, his excitement at the sight of his uncle's naked body and trying his best to hide the hardon it had engendered. Again, his cock twitched in his jeans at the memory and he shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

"A day's ride east of here, following the trail to the cave of mysteries that parallels Heron Creek, there's the loveliest piece of mountain meadowland you ever saw," Will went on, "perfect for keepin' a small herd of cattle and some horses. We'd hoped you two would help us give runnin' a ranch a try. We don't expect to get rich at it, but Silas and I ain't gettin' any younger. Sooner or later, we'll have to give up our wanderin' ways. But we'll still have to eat, so we thought up this business."

"Where would we live?" Zeb asked.

"We'll pick out a site in the woods on the edge of that meadow I spoke of and help build you two a cabin. Nice and big, so Silas and I can stay there when we visit. And maybe a barn too. We got all summer. Shouldn't take all season. And now I feel like pissin'."

Will stood and Eric jumped up to join his uncle. The older man, for some reason, chose to go a little further than he had to in search of a tree. Eric was nervous as they pulled their cocks out and watered the roots of a big hemlock.

"Is there something on your mind, son?" Will asked softly.

"Well... I... I'd like... I mean... "

Will looked at his nephew with amusement in his eyes.

"Does this have anything to do with that boner you had when we went swimmin' earlier?"

"You noticed?"

"Something that big ain't exactly hard to miss," he snorted.

"Uncle Will... I don't know how to say it... "

"Try, son. You can tell me anything. I love you."

Eric sighed, and spoke.

"You don't know how much I wanted you to say that to me when I was a kid. For those two years after you left, I'd beat off night and day thinking of you touching me. I guess I was in love. And... I want to know if you feel like what I was imagining all that time. But if you don't want to... "

Will bent closer and brushed his lips across Eric's ear, turning slightly to show his nephew his rising cock.

"I'd like that. A lot," he breathed huskily. "But let's talk to your partner first. If Zeb's agreeable, I'd be pleased to satisfy your curiosity. All night long, if you want me to, son... "

"Don't worry about me falling asleep too soon!" Eric chuckled. "Besides, from the looks Zeb's been getting from the other heron men around here for most of the day, I don't think he'd lack for company if he asked for it!"

Buttoning their pants, they turned to go back. Will put an arm around Eric and the young man relaxed into it, feeling a slow flame of anticipation igniting within him, burning sweetly. The thing he had dreamed of for so long would soon be a reality.

It was late when Silas woke up. The nearly full moon bathed the camp with a clear, silvery light. He could easily make out the other three bedrolls laid out for some distance around the firepit.

The effects of the whiskey had long since worn off and Silas' head no longer throbbed. The pain in his side was back, but was more tolerable now thanks to the starflowers Falling Star had given him, some put in his food and others used to make a sort of poultice to lay over the wound. Katchikoa lay beside Silas under the blankets, breathing regularly, a warm and comforting presence.

He heard a noise, a low moan that sounded familiar. Job was out there, somewhere, getting reacquainted with his old friend and new protector, Bill Axford. Silas closed his eyes and tried to relax back into sleep.

'It's a good thing Bill took over for me... ' thought Silas wryly. 'I'm not sure I could've kept up with that young'un for much longer... '

• Beltane Eve -

As the first light of a new dawn broke over Roman Rock, it illuminated the rough bark siding of a longhouse where so many recently arrived visitors lay asleep. One stray beam found a crevice and slipped through, lancing down through the darkness to fall upon Hun Tzu's face, awakening him. Knowing the source of the warmth beside him, he turned his head slowly, wondering at the tender feelings aroused in him when he saw the look of peaceful repose upon Mayati's face.

There was something else there as well, something delicate resting on the strong, beautiful visage: a hint, a touch of vulnerability, that moved Hun Tzu deeply. He thought of the man's wise touch, of his gentle passion, and sighed inwardly. He began to move carefully, not wanting to disturb his partner's rest.

Silently, Hun Tzu retrieved the lo-pan and a native garment Mayati had given him from his pack before he rose from the blankets he shared with the heron man. The longhouse in which they slept was crowded and he had to step carefully among the still, gently breathing bodies on his way out. The dim, early light had not yet begun to drive away the fog that hung heavily over Heron Creek, and drifted lazily in grayish wisps through Roman Rock, obscuring the details of the native camp.

Hun Tzu donned the breechclout before the longhouse, tying the cincture loosely around his waist and threading the soft strip of deerskin between the rawhide cord and his skin, adjusting his genitals in the soft pouch it formed. He greatly enjoyed the novel form of clothing Mayati had introduced him to, the sensations the scant garment engendered. His almost-entirely bared skin tingled pleasantly in the coolness of the morning air, and Hun Tzu felt more open to the invisible forces around him, the powers he honored who guided his path.

'This is just one more reason I have to be thankful to you for, my friend,' he thought, an image of Mayati burning sweetly in his mind. 'Or, dare I hope, more than that, more than just a friend? Are you the unique companion I have waited for, longed for... ?'

Hun Tzu let the unfinished thought drift away, along with a passing wisp of fog, and buoyed by a growing hope for love he began to walk through the morning mists, shivering slightly at the feel of the icy dew under his bare feet. He moved away from the camp, into the woods along the banks of Heron Creek and a little ways up the trail that led to the cave of mysteries. The unseen sun barely illuminated the pale vapors as they twisted in a serpentine manner around the tree trunks and climbed into the branches above, muting all color.

In that place, there was no sound other than the muted murmur of the flowing waters of Heron Creek, no movement other than the slow, random meanderings of the milky haze, swirling languidly around his body. It seemed to Hun Tzu as if all animal life had fled from that place, leaving the man alone in a ghostly garden, tended by indolent spectres. He lifted the lo-pan above his head, murmuring an improvised prayer to the spirits who watched over his new home.

Here stand I, A supplicant from afar, Bowing before Your ancient powers:

The majesty Of your snowclad mountains, The power Of your rushing waters, The glory Of your sky-touching trees...

Accept me into your circle Of loyal retainers. And make me worthy To live in such a land as this, Lush with every blessing A man could imagine...

Help me to know Your ways, Your hidden powers...

And help me To help My newfound brothers.

Hun Tzu lowered the ancient, yellowed disk, and began to conduct a reading with it. The man turned the mystic instrument this way and that, aligning the compass marks and noting the features of the land as they related to the markings on the lo-pan. He scrutinized the inscribed characters that spread out in concentric rings from its center, noting and weighing the correlations and contradictions in his mind.

He soon detected a strong personal energy emanating from somewhere ahead of him, further up the trail. From what he had been told, he guessed its source was the Elxa's tribal shaman, Falling Star, who was on his way to preside over the recently called gathering of the heron clan. Casting further about himself, Hun Tzu sensed another, greater power.

He detected a movement of energy beneath the ground. And this invisible, aethereal river was coursing beneath the very path he stood upon. It seemed to be flowing from the direction of Zoraxte, the sacred mountain of the heron men.

In China, such phenomena were called 'dragon currents'. They were analogous to the 'ley lines' of England. And then there were the 'fairy paths' of Ireland. Legends were plentiful about the woe that betided any who were foolish enough to disturb those paths or who blocked them by building a house or a barn across one.

Under the surface of the Earth, all over the world, the power of the planet pulsed endlessly along unseen, subterranean arteries. Those who knew how to locate and tap into the obscure, telluric flows could wield subtle powers. They could find water, or minerals, or indeed, anything else hidden within the Earth.

Using the lo-pan then as a sort of dowsing rod, Hun Tzu followed the energy stream's flow, and it led him back into Roman Rock. The geomancer was pleased to find an upwelling, an 'artesian well' as it were, of invisible earth energies. The 'hot spot' would serve the heron men well when they tried to conjure the magic love music again.

Hun Tzu was only a little surprised when he located the point at which the tellural essence surged to the surface. The 'hot spot' was at the site of the campfire where the communal meals were cooked. Since his arrival in Roman Rock, Hun Tzu had spent a lot of his time around that area, an occurrence that his master Wei Fei would have said was not a coincidence. He concluded his instincts must have drawn him to that spot.

The place where he had presided as cook the previous day was set between the colorfully decorated council lodge and the ornate totem pole the heron men had raised opposite their meeting house. Hun Tzu looked about himself and wondered. No doubt the person who had originally established Roman Rock, perhaps the mysterious Hunts-by-night himself of whom so many stories were told, was sensitive to those subtle energies, for all its constructs were centered around the power spot, which was itself centered in the Elxa's ceremonial fane. In Hun Tzu's opinion, another non-coincidence.

It would be a perfect place to try and make the Heart Call again. But when, he wondered, would the time once more be favorable? Hun Tzu consulted the ancient tablet and was pleased to discover that all the signs he read pointed to that very evening as being the most propitious time for the attempt, when the newly full moon stood at its zenith.

As if to confirm his findings, an errant ray of sunlight burned through the fog and fell on the ivory tablet. For a moment, Hun Tzu was startled by how vividly the colored ideograms stood out against the aged, yellowed material, as if the secrets they guarded burned within them. Then a gentle touch on his shoulder brought the geomancer around.

"Is all well with you, my brother?" asked Mayati, his black hair and copper skin stark against the background of drifting white.

"Ah, it is now," Hun Tzu answered, returning the caress and adding a lingering kiss.

"Uncle Will?"

Will turned his head. He smiled at his nephew, reaching out at the same time to caress a red-bearded cheek. He sighed, thinking of the love they had made that morning.

They both lay naked out on a sloping meadow, their skins still damp with the sweat of their amorous exertions. Wildflowers nodded gently in the breeze all around their outspread blankets. The morning sun had long since burnt through the fog to shine warmly on their bare bodies.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Eric breathed gratefully, "for last night, and today... "

"I was my pleasure," began Will. "And anytime you want to sleep with me again son, all you have to do is ask."

Eric sat up and ran a hand slowly and lovingly across his uncle's chest and belly. He thought again of the previous night, when he had felt that belly fur crushed against his backside. When the long, slow strokes of Will's cock moving sweetly deep in his vitals had made him come without touching himself, a sensation he had never before experienced, not even with his lover Zeb.

Eric's fingers teased and ruffled the thick brown fur as they moved ever downward. Eventually they found their way to the base of Will's relaxed manhood. Soon he felt the warm flesh respond and swell under his touch.

There was no need for Eric to ask permission at that moment. Without a word, the younger man allowed his head to fall to his uncle's crotch, seeking the taste he remembered from the night before. Gently, he began a communion as old as mankind itself.

Perhaps it was the original act of holy worship. Eric and Will could have been the spiritual heirs to some archaic priesthood, one that piously adored the living avatar of creation that all men possessed, the erect phallus. In primordial male sanctums, which the foot of woman had never defiled, they would pay tender homage to the symbol they had chosen to represent the principle of life, forever resurrecting itself when touched with love, the archetype of eternal life...

Like Eric, they would genuflect reverently before erect, living altars and sing silent hymns of praise with their lips and tongue. Consuming rigid flesh, drinking the living waters that surged from it, imbibing an immaculate essence of life and power and maleness, and giving the same miraculous fluid back to their fellow devotees, a sacred ritual of touch and sweat and heartfelt gasps... The older man sighed heavily and relaxed, feeling delicious, incredible warmth wrapping itself slickly and expertly around his sex.

Will felt his most sensitive flesh being drawn into a velvet universe of liquid heat, into a magical space that attracted all sensation to itself, becoming for a time the focus of all things. An ageless rite, a convocation of gentle masculine spirits summoned and presided over by their loving desires. Male power building up and exploding outward, in a timeless, eternal cycle of gathering and release that would never end as long as there were men who loved men. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, forever, for all time...

Falling Star arrived at Roman Rock later that same day, along with the combined party that followed him. After a raucous welcome, the heron shaman immediately closeted himself with Hun Tzu and a few of the wisest of the Elxa elders. While the council was being convened, Lou lost track of Mel in the crush of the crowd. After a bit of fruitless searching, he decided to see to his horse.

The sudden influx of visitors had overwhelmed the corral the heron men had built behind the council lodge, and Lou walked ol' Joe toward a group of cabins screened from Roman Rock by the trees along Heron Creek. He had glimpsed them earlier, the last time Lou had been in the native encampment, and he knew there was a small barn somewhere near the structures. He hoped one of the white Elxa whom he had been told lived there might have a place he could hitch and feed his horse.

The barn there was likewise full, but Lou did discover a odd sort of stable, sheltered by an awning of skins stretched over a wicker frame and attached to the side of one of the smaller cabins. There seemed to be no one around, only a black horse nibbling at a pile of hay thrown down against the side of the building. Lou hitched his stallion in the space beside the other horse and stepped over to the nearby door.

Even as he knocked on it, Lou was surprised by the unexpected, sharp scent of alcohol that hung in the air. There was no answer, so the man touched the latch and let himself in. The odor he had detected was much stronger inside the small cabin.

Lou saw a still hissing softly in one corner. It was set up on a base of rough stones, mortared together with river mud. Two other walls of the same type and size, forming something like half a cube, kept the low fire under the still confined and insulated from the wooden walls of the cabin, which seemed to be meant for the storage of various odds and ends.

Lou could see a couple of bags of corn and other brewing supplies set about. A row of tall, clear bottles were set against the far wall, most of them filled with a pale brown liquid. Lou gave a low whistle.

'Well I'll be! A distillery!' he thought. 'Roman Rock sure is full of surprises!'

Lou licked his lips and almost reached for one of the bottles. Then he caught sight of a tin cup sitting on a windowsill and took it instead. The dribbling end of the still's coil emptied into a large jug, but Lou intercepted the flow and waited patiently, until he had a half cup full of newborn moonshine.

He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Lou gasped as the warm, potent liquor burned its way down his gullet. But he had to admit to himself that he had tasted worse as he finished the rest and replaced the cup.

The opposite side of the versatile cabin did duty as a tack room. Lou went out and unsaddled his stallion, bringing the horse's accoutrements back inside. Besides his gear, it seemed to Lou that at least four other harnesses lay or were hung along the wall.

There was a large bin heaped full of hay set up opposite the door. Lou helped himself to an ample armload of its contents before he left. Adding it to the heap before the horses, he took a last look around and figured he would check back later on ol' Joe.

He walked away from the group of cabins slowly, following a faint path that wound amid the trees. It led him down to Heron Creek. Lou rolled a cigarette as he went and thought absently of taking a swim.

When he reached the stream, lusty sounds of uproarious laughter and tumultuous splashing came floating up to his ears and echoed in the shade of the trees. It was coming from a pool Lou knew was downstream from where he stood. He paused to light his cigarette and inhaled.

He knew that, like every other place in and around Roman Rock at the moment, the pool was crowded. Not feeling in the mood to socialize, Lou turned upstream. He hoped he could find a quieter spot for a swim further on.

As he walked, he thought again of his medicine vision. The things he had seen, the explanation of them, given by Falling Star. About Mel, and about Tasokah.

In their hasty journey from the cave of mysteries to Roman Rock, Mel and he had not had much time to talk. It was evident though that Mel was happy for Lou. It showed in his smile, the way Lou caught the heron man looking at him as they rode. Lou was thankful Mel had not asked about his experience, mindful of his promise to Falling Star not to tell anyone about it.

But even if Lou were allowed to tell Mel what he had seen, how could he do it? He could not abide the thought of doing anything that would cause his friend unhappiness. He hoped Falling Star knew what he was doing.

And what if the Elxa shaman was wrong? Lou thought of his dream again, of how the spirit he had met had told him to go to Mel, to love him, as had Falling Star. Lou did love Mel, and knew he could and would be good to the man if he had to, but the medicine dream had strengthened the bond he felt to Tasokah and Lou now yearned for the native in a different way.

He blew smoke and tried to imagine living with Tasokah, as if conjuring a vision of the future from the insubstantial, curling fumes. He could see them building a cabin, having a small garden, taking turns hunting, trapping during the winters. Being alone together, touching, exploring their feelings for one another, their depth, their connections...

Then a new thought occurred to Lou, causing him to grin wryly to himself. He tried to conceive of Mel living with them as well, in a sort of tripartite bonding of all three men. He racked his mind, trying to remember if he had ever heard of a polyamorous menage like that in the Elxa tribe before.

Lou remembered something he had been told about three heron men who lived on the northeasternmost edge of the Elxa's lands. A triad who ran a small farm and shared the raising of three orphaned boys, who seemed to be future heron men themselves, or so it was rumored. That three men could cooperate to make a home together was encouraging to Lou. He considered that Mel and Tasokah and himself could do that, as they had all shared similar experiences, had come to the valley of the heron in search of themselves, and had found the tender knowledge there that freed the men's spirits.

They were compatible as heron men, and that went a long way. Why could they not go the rest of the distance, and share a special, tripartite bond of love? Lou began to realize how deep the Way of the Heron could be, holding many possibilities, much unsuspected potential...

Lou's reverie ended as he came to a sharp bend in the course of Heron Creek. The water at that point was backed up behind a massive slab of mossy granite jutting up from the ground, blocking the path of the stream. Seeing no one else around, he stamped out his cigarette butt, removed his clothes and waded into the small pool.

Lou found the cool, refreshing water was much deeper in that place than he had first judged. He ducked himself under and came up snorting and shaking his head. Then he found a place where he could sit. A spot that allowed the waters to lap at his chin.

Sighing in relief, Lou leaned his head back against the great rock that dammed the creek. Blank-minded, he observed his surroundings: more mossy rocks that lined the waters' edge, the new aspen leaves fluttering above him in the breeze, a lone orange dragonfly whirring by on translucent green wings. It was a tranquil, calm world and Lou wondered idly if it could be any better than it was now.

Lou felt utterly at ease. Even when he spied small bubbles rising from the stream, he did not wonder where they were coming from, or why they seemed to draw closer to himself. Then he felt skin brushing against the insides of his legs as a man surfaced before him, holding onto Lou's knees for support.

"Tasokah... "

The heron man answered Lou's unsurprised, breathy murmur with a full, lingering kiss. It was one that let Lou know without words how happy Tasokah was to see and touch him again. Under the surface, Tasokah's hand rose to touch the glyphstone hanging about Lou's neck.

Tasokah smiled beatifically. The gesture and the look in Tasokah's eyes at that moment were as eloquent as the most gracefully spoken welcome to the Elxa tribe that could have been. Lou took the supple bronze body in his arms and gave in to the flood of desire that welled up inside him, bursting forth, beyond his power or Tasokah's to deny...

Eventually, Tasokah led Lou to his temporary home, a wickyup hidden from the pool by a low ridge. Lou threw his clothing down next to the Indian's gear and lay with Tasokah on a large blanket of rabbit pelts stitched together, a voluptuous softness spread out before the wickyup's entrance. As their bodies came together, Lou could not help but whisper, using the same words he had spoken to the image of Tasokah in his medicine dream.

"I will be good to you, my love, always... "

"Southwind."

Will opened his eyes when he heard the softly spoken word. Eric was asleep next to him, a smile shadowed on his bearded face. Will looked and saw Red Hand standing nearby.

Raising a finger to his lips, Will got up. Silently they walked a few paces away from the nest of blankets he and his nephew had shared. Then the heron elder spoke.

"I have come to tell you Fire Wolf is here."

"Really? Where's he at?"

"He is in the bunkhouse."

"What's he doin' there? Why didn't he come lookin' for me?"

"He could not, my brother, for weakness. Fire Wolf has been wounded."

"What?! I've gotta see him... "

"Wait. It is not a serious injury and he is being well taken care of. Fire Wolf asked me to tell you what happened to him, because talking tires him, and he knew you would want to know everything."

"I do!"

"Then let us sit, and I will tell you."

Soon thereafter, as Will approached the bunkhouse, he wondered as he heard uproarious laughter coming from within. The door was ajar and he paused to peer inside curiously before he entered. He saw his lover, shirtless, with bandages wound around his crimson-haired torso, lying on a bed. Tavani and four other white men stood around him, all convulsed with laughter.

Two of the latter were known to him. They were his Elxa brothers Sun Bear and Laughing Wolf. Of the two he did not know, he was sure the older one was the man he had seen at the cave of mysteries, when he had journeyed there last September, whose Elxa name Nizano had told him: Il-Xochitl.

"Here's another story," a blond youngster was beginning, who Will soon learned was named Job Byrd. "One time there was a couple of friends who'd had a few too many at the local tavern and were headin' home late at night. One of the men was a big, strappin' fella, over six foot, while his buddy was crippled in one leg and had to walk with a cane. And he was half-blind to boot.

"Well, on their way home they came to a bridge. The big guy felt the need to piss, so he pulls out his cock and lets fly in the creek. His buddy, who couldn't see too good durin' the day, let alone at night, sees the big man's tool a-hangin' and a-shakin' over the railin' and gets all excited.

"'Snake!!' he yells and brings his walkin' stick slap down on his friend's pecker, as hard as he could."

Job's listeners howled and grabbed their own cocks as if they had been hit, in sympathy for the big man.

"That's just what the big fella did. He gave a screech like a rabid wildcat and started jumpin' around on that bridge like a flea on a hot griddle, holdin' onto his talleywhacker with both hands.

"The little fella realized what'd happened and figured he'd seen his last hour. The big guy was strong enough to break him in two, and nobody'd deny he had a good reason to do it after something like that, even if it had been an honest mistake. But the big man was too drunk to realize his friend's error.

"'Hit him again, Tim!' he roared. 'The bastard bit me!'

"They say the big man never did find out the truth of the matter, but word of it got out somehow. For months thereafter, whenever the local boys got together and had a few drinks, somebody'd always end up shoutin': 'Snake!' And someone else'd holler back: 'Hit him again! He bit me!' And they'd all laugh like fools!"

Despite the pain in his side, Silas laughed until tears came. When he had recovered somewhat, he saw his lover standing in the doorway, laughing almost as hard as he had been. Silas started to get up, but Will saw and came over to him in a flash, falling into the bed and pressing his partner's head back into the pillows with a strong, joyous kiss of reunion. Neither of them noticed the others discreetly exiting the cabin, leaving the two alone together.

Outside, the four men paused together. Zack grinned wryly to himself as he watched his lover engage Job in some casual chitchat. Tolatil came up to let Bill and Job know he had found a place for them to camp and they left to go see the site.

"I know what you're thinkin'."

Eben looked at his lover. He had just waved farewell to Job and had a questioning look on his face. Zack chuckled.

"What?" demanded Eben.

"I know you're attracted to blondes, my love," Zack murmured, leaning over to kiss his man. "Job's a handsome one, and I won't mind if you want to get to know him better... "

Eben grinned sheepishly, but was saved from having to reply when both the men saw Red Hand beckoning to them. He conducted them before Falling Star, who had taken a break from the council discussing the recent fantastic events. He had a special task for the extraordinarily gifted pair. The heron shaman explained himself, astounding his listeners with what he believed the Heart Call was capable of accomplishing.

Soon thereafter, the lovers were following Heron Creek as they headed for the cave of mysteries. The magic that could make them werebeasts also empowered their human bodies. They would cover the intervening miles quickly and without fatigue. Eben especially was eager to go, buoyed by hope and awed by Falling Star's unbounded ambition. They both dared to think that soon they would meet up with an old friend again.

The Elxa elders talked among themselves in council for the better part of that day before it was decided to try making the Heart Call again. Besides the favorable reading Hun Tzu had received from the lo-pan, there was another bit of information that made the coming night seem especially potent. Robert Vaughn pulled an almanac out of his back pocket and showed the group that an eclipse of the moon had been predicted for that very night, the last night of April.

"Beltane," murmured Nizano, recalling something he had read in one of the old books kept at the cave of mysteries.

"What did you say?" Red Hand asked.

"It will be Beltane tomorrow. It was a sacred holiday to the old pagans of Europe. The ancient folk celebrated the triumphant return of the sun and the power and promise of summer it brought with it. The holiday begins at midnight."

"What effect might these happenings have on the ritual?" Mayati asked Hun Tzu.

"It sounds as if many different cycles are coinciding. The point of their meeting tonight is an end and a beginning. Perhaps we stand on the brink of a new chapter in the history of the heron men," offered the geomancer.

"If we are successful, it will indeed be a new beginning for the Elxa tribe," Falling Star stated. "The power Hun Tzu has shown us can do much more than deepen us into the physical act of love, however pleasant and exciting that is. We must learn to control and direct this power we wish to raise. Let us prepare for the Heart Call."

Later that evening, in a general announcement to the tribe, Falling Star asked his fellow heron men to try to direct the energy of love that they would raise to him and Red Hand as they made love, making their bodies the nexus of the ritual, for there were tasks that the heron shaman had to accomplish. He could not explain what his purpose was at the present time, but asked his brothers to trust his judgement for the time being.

The heron men's confidence in Falling Star was unquestioning and they all agreed to his request without dissent. At Hun Tzu's suggestion, all those who could play the flute or keep time on the drum were to sit near the upwelling of earth energy he had found that morning, in the center of the Elxa's ceremonial fane. The rest would sit around beyond the musicians with their lovers or friends. All would go naked and be prepared to open up to the possibilities of the Heart Call.

As the evening deepened into night, the moon rose, full and bright. By its light the heron men gathered around their ceremonial fane. Falling Star and Red Hand spread a blanket out close to where the musicians sat, on the southern side of the great circle, next to the tall and gayly decorated totem pole.

They, the agreed-upon focus of the rite, sat facing the low-burning central fire and waited. The group quieted when Hun Tzu and Mayati signaled their readiness to begin leading the musicians. Falling Star rose and spoke to the hushed crowd in his own tongue and those who understood whispered a translation to their fellows who did not:

Our spirits are rooted in the Earth So deep, so deep...

Our limbs intertwined hold us So close, so close...

Earth's energies rise up Through us, through us...

For a time we shelter Life itself, life itself...

Then, transmuted by our love, This living energy reaches for The stars, the stars...

Once Falling Star had finished his short oration, the ritual began. The shaman remained standing, pressing his back into the totem pole as Red Hand knelt before his lover and took the long, dark cock lovingly into his mouth. Mayati and Hun Tzu lifted their instruments and began to lead the other flute players. The tune they had chosen was a familiar one to their brothers, the song of the heron.

Tasokah sat among the drummers. He softly beat out a rhythm in tandem with a gentle chorus of gourd rattles that did not overpower the flutists. Once again he felt the sweet aching in his soul beginning anew, as he had the day he discovered Hun Tzu and Mayati playing their flutes together on Heron Creek.

As the music began to have its effect, the men in the outer circles turned to their partners, their friends. Eric and Zeb kissed tentatively and, like the others around them, they thought lovingly of Falling Star and Red Hand as they touched, visualizing sending them the forces evoked by their lovemaking. Those couples who better understood what they were being asked to do imagined their spirit wings unfurling and meshing, forming bubbles of subtle energies around their bodies, lenses to focus and transmit the power of their love to Falling Star. The Elxa shaman began to feel the tender offerings of the tribe reaching him, building up within him, expanding...

Falling Star also began to be aware of the numinous energy that spewed up out of the Earth, from the power spot under the communal firepit Hun Tzu had detected earlier, at the very center of the Elxa's ceremonial fane. To the heron shaman's mild surprise, he could feel the primal power flowing, erupting upwards. Then, even more unexpected, was the sensation of the spot moving. It gravitated slowly towards Falling Star and Red Hand, sliding mysteriously beneath the Earth to where they made love, as if they were magnets, attractive to the Earth force.

Soon, the telluric essence centered itself beneath the totem pole Falling Star leaned against as his lover continued to fellate him. The elemental power shot up through Falling Star's feet, legs, belly. It enveloped Red Hand's slowly bobbing head, rose through Falling Star's spine to burst from his shoulders and the crown of his head. Those who were not too far into their own lovemaking to see it gasped as the gorgeous spirit wings of Falling Star and Red Hand became visible. Scintillating, lavender tinted, gossamer pinions, curling in to touch and mesh and form a delicate looking cocoon of eldritch purple light around the pair, lovely to behold, pregnant with the potent possibilities of love.

The coruscating energy continued to rise, coursing up the totem pole at Falling Star's back, emerging subtly changed by its intersection with the bubble of violet spirit-light burning around the shaman and Red Hand, generated by their deep love for each other. A nexus that was further nourished and strengthened by the energies raised by the lovemaking of the other heron men around it, the power of their orgasms directed lovingly towards Falling Star and Red Hand. Those pulses of orgiastic power came slowly at first, then quickened as more and more couples passed their points of no return.

The energy moved upward in languid, sensuous waves. Planetary pulses of subtle power that stirred the hairs on Falling Star's body as it rose through the shining ovoid of violet spirit-light around the coupling lovers and changed, taking on the same pale purple tint. The subtly altered earth energies reached for the starry sky, once again building a numinous column of gorgeous spirit light, higher and higher...

All the love energy generated by the Elxa tribesmen was concentrated on Falling Star and Red Hand. Their joined bodies, physical and subtle, became a sort of lens, transforming the earth energy as it passed through them, influencing the tellural force with the love they held for each other, and for all their brother heron men as well. The shaman was not the only one who saw the forces thus evoked take on a lavender cast as they enveloped and flowed up through his body, climbing to tower protectively above him, full of unknown potential...

As the tellural essence continued to rise inexorably, using his body as a conduit, Falling Star found the effect of its passage was almost unbearably tender and sensual. He began to feel as if he were making love to the Earth itself. The waves of orgasmic energy coming from his heron brothers spurred his passion on, as did Red Hand's talented tongue. He felt the excitement grow, a brittle sweetness building low in his loins, ready to burst like some exotic, overripe fruit.

The time had come to attempt his purpose. He visualized the places, the persons, and the tasks to be accomplished, locking his will on that which had to be done. Amplified by the power that coursed through him, he urged Red Hand to release him and he took himself in hand, fisting himself over the edge.

Falling Star came in great leaping spasms, some of them reaching the firepit several feet away to splash and sizzle, awing those who were still watching. His tremendous orgasm triggered the lavender energy, directing it outward, towards the goals the shaman visualized. And the numinous power obeyed.

Falling Star found himself astounded by the speed of the amorous energy. Or rather, its lack thereof. Time and space seemed to mean nothing to the mysterious numinous power as it leapt to its purpose, accomplished it, and returned, somehow assuring the heron shaman as it did so that all of his desires had been completely fulfilled.

At the same moment Falling Star had achieved orgasm, the expected eclipse began, another coincidence that did not go unnoticed. The bright night slowly darkened, until the moon was a deep ruddy hue, like the lees of old wine. Pale violet energy built ever higher from the Earth, until it seemed to kiss the dark violet disk of the moon.

In a sense, the energy flow had itself reached climax. Sensing that it had more to give, Falling Star seized the moment and imagined the health and well-being of the entire Elxa tribe, as well as the fertility and protection of the entire valley of the heron. His were not the only eyes that watched in wonder as the pillar of lavender spirit-light changed, becoming an aethereal, sparkling fountain.

The subtle power mushroomed, spreading out at its apex, broke up and began to fall back to Earth, like a beautiful rain of glittering purple-white sparks. Tiny bits of joy floated and swirled on the night air like a swarm of otherworldly fireflies as the moon brightened and regained its full splendor. A gay blizzard of subtle snowflakes showered down on the land and the coupling men around Falling Star, carrying a mystic balm that brought peace and healing to their minds, bodies and spirits.

Thanks to the power the tribe had raised, their shaman looked at Roman Rock with new eyes. He saw many spirits of departed heron men exulting in the numinous rain. Two of his predecessors, Ikukua, the medicine man of the Elxa when the tribe had first been led to the valley of the heron, and Blue Badger, who had believed in the existence of a love-energy like this, were dancing a frenetic victory dance together.

Leroy Byrd was there too, sitting near where Job and Bill were making love, reaching out to caress his friends with luminous hands as they coupled. They were unaware of his presence, but Falling Star saw him, and smiled. Then the shaman knelt to kiss Red Hand, to lie with him on their blanket and return the love his partner had so freely given.

Soon, the music began to thin. The drummers, rattlers and flutists faltered, laying aside their drums, gourds and pipes to embrace and make love to their comrades. In their heady need, they reached for warmer, fleshier instruments to play upon.

Hun Tzu and Mayati sounded the last notes of the love music that had guided the ritual before turning to each other in their own need. Falling Star smiled serenely as Red Hand came hotly in his mouth, sending another burst of erotic energy into the mystic maelstrom the heron men had conjured with the love of their bodies. Afterwards, the heron elders cuddled and held each other within the focal spot, feeling the little prickling wavelets of erotic energy continuing to come to them from their brothers all around. The surrounding heron men's orgasms touched their souls, playing them as if they were aethereal instruments, evoking the song of the heron hauntingly in their man-loving male hearts as the tribe's collective lovemaking lasted far into the night.

• Beltane And Beyond -

"Silas?"

The gentle voice prodded Silas to awaken. He yawned, stretching and scratching himself, feeling the tightness of the bandages wound around his chest and the comfortable warmth of Will's body lying beside him. He turned his head and looked into his partner's eyes. Silas could almost see the love that animated them...

"Red Hand said your bandages should be changed in the morning, my love, and it's late already."

Silas looked up and saw irregular spots of deep blue sky, shining gloriously through the dark green mesh of intervening tree limbs and leaves. He sat up when he saw the two men who shared their camp. Zeb was sitting by the fire, reheating a leftover from the previous night's feast and Eric dozed peacefully nearby. He was lying face down and exposing a beautiful ass to the morning sunlight. All were naked, and Silas' heart skipped a beat as he ran his eyes over Zeb's muscular, dark blond furred body. The previous night, he had not had the chance to see it so clearly.

"G'morning," he drawled, as affably as he could.

Zeb grinned at him in reply and Silas' cock twitched. Will had already begun unwinding the bandage when it occurred to Silas that something was missing. With a shock he realized he was no longer feeling any pain in his left side and told his partner about it.

"Really?" Will asked skeptically, removing the last loop of fabric. "How's that possible? Red Hand said... "

Will fell silent, causing Zeb to look up. Silas saw their eyes widen in surprise and looked at his side as well, where he had been grazed by the rifle bullet. The wound was gone and Will ran his hand wonderingly over the spot where it had been, feeling warm, unscarred skin and firm flesh underneath his fingers.

"How... " began Zeb, flabbergasted.

"The ritual... " Will breathed. "The power that we felt, it musta healed Silas' wounds... "

Trev yawned and stretched. He turned to cuddle with the native who lay next to him, an old friend who had shared love with Trev during the ritual of the Heart Call and afterwards, sleep in their blankets as well. As Trev rubbed himself against the broad, warm back, reliving the joy of the previous night, his companion also stirred.

After a few moments, Trev felt the man's body stiffen. With his back still to his bedmate, Wiscoup'a's hands rose and stroked his face. He got up and went to kneel beside the pond they had camped beside, a slight widening of Heron Creek.

Trev sat up, wondering. He looked and could see Tasokah's wickyup nearby. He and his friend Lou were awake as well, but conversing softly. The white man rose from his blankets and the cool morning air wrapped itself caressingly around his naked body as he stepped over to his erstwhile bedmate and put his hands on the man's shoulders, in gentle concern.

"Wiscoup'a?" he murmured, "Are you alri... "

Trev's voice died in his throat as he saw the reflection of his heron brother's face in the water. Wiscoup'a's whole, unscarred face, as handsome as he had ever been, before Blood Wind's vile magic had disfigured him. The native reached out, almost touching the wavering mirror of water.

"Trev," he breathed. "Am I dreaming?"

Trev knelt and turned Wiscoup'a's face to his. He stroked the smooth, unblemished flesh, looking into two bright, black eyes. He shook his head in amazement.

"No, not unless I'm dreamin' too... "

Wiscoup'a's eyes fell and his breath caught. Before Trev could ask what the matter was, Wiscoup'a reached out to cup and cradle Trev's genitals in his hands. Trev looked down and watched in shock as the native's dark fingers gently probed, stretched and tugged on his miraculously restored foreskin, testing its reality.

Lou took over then. He stroked himself, watching the long piece of skin that he remembered having slide back and forth over his glans without uncovering it. He experienced pleasurable sensations he had not felt since he had been a teenager, before the orphanage managers had decided to circumcise him and all the other boys under their care.

His cock grew to its full hardness, but still the tip was sheathed in the sensitive skin, clinging to the round knob as Trev fisted it. Wiscoup'a eased Trev onto his back and sucked on Trev's balls as the white heron man's passion grew. When Wiscoup'a saw that his friend was close, he shifted his head to hover over the tip of the man's penis as Trev gripped himself and gasped.

"Oh, God... I thought I'd never feel like this again... ahhhhhhh... "

As Trev's uncut meat erupted, Wiscoup'a caught the white spurts deftly in his mouth, before taking the prong in. He sucked the last volleys down, then pushed his tongue under the new skin, lapping at the plump glans. Trev panted as he shook in pleasure that bordered achingly upon pain.

"Wiscoup'a... " he gasped.

The native took pity, releasing Trev's cock to embrace and kiss his friend on the grassy bank of the creek. Trev hugged and kissed back hard. Both men felt joyously whole again, after having had parts of themselves taken mercilessly by uncaring forces, against their will, seemingly without any remedy.

On a whim, Trev shifted his body and the pair rolled into the water. Wiscoup'a and he arose to stand dripping and laughing as they embraced again in ecstasy. Their neighbors' attention was finally attracted by all the curious activity.

"Is something wrong?" they heard Lou ask as he approached.

"No, Lou," Wiscoup'a smiled, turning to look at him.

"Your face! What... How... "

"It was the Heart Call!" Tasokah breathed in awe, joining them. The other three understood at once.

When Tavani had awoken that morning, he had automatically reached across the blankets he shared with Tlaccotan to caress his lover's face, to initiate an early morning bout of love-making. Tlaccotan sleepily took the proffered hand and kissed it. But the heron chief felt something was amiss, an oddly different feel to his partner's fingers as they touched his lips, something that roused the native to full wakefulness.

Tlaccotan sat up and looked at Tavani's hand, his eyes filling with silent wonder. The red headed man looked also and froze in shock. The finger he had lost long ago in a sawmill accident was back.

Those four tribesmen proved not to be the only ones so favored by the beneficent energies the Elxa had invoked through the Heart Call. As the morning progressed, other tribesmen with lesser injuries than the ones Tavani, Wiscoup'a, Trev or Silas had suffered found themselves whole once again. These miracles awed the entire the Elxa tribe.

Those four in particular, and all the other healings that had happened overnight, were eventually brought to the attention of the tribal council. Falling Star ordered all the details to be written down, so future Elxa would never forget what the Heart Call had wrought among them. But even those amazing feats of healing were destined to be eclipsed by events yet to be revealed...

Falling Star surprised many of his fellow tribesmen by his decision to remain in Roman Rock during the days following the eventful and powerful rite the tribe had observed. He was not idle. Much of his time was spent in conducting spirit-quests for those who wished to make such a journey.

None but Lou, Nizano and Red Hand guessed what it was Falling Star was waiting for. The Elxa shaman looked daily for portentous news, hoping to hear if the ambitious purposes he had set for the love-power the heron men had conjured and unleashed through the Heart Call were truly accomplished. Falling Star believed they had been, but he still wanted to witness it with his own eyes.

The first of these two great tasks was revealed when Zack and Eben returned to Roman Rock. They were accompanied by another man whose features shocked those who caught glimpses of him before he entered the lodge where Falling Star was staying. Strange rumors circulated in the camp, but no one saw the man again, as he kept to the lodge and was seen only by Falling Star and his immediate circle.

Then one day, three white men rode into Roman Rock. Big Otter and his lover, Dark Fire, had gone to Port Bolon, in obedience to the medicine dream that had come to Big Otter, and they had ended up bringing back Mel's partner, Larry. The men's arrival did not excite much comment. Nizano was with Falling Star when the news of their coming was brought.

"Do you remember what I told you about Larry?"

"What Om-yomac saw in his vision quest? Yes."

"Larry's old self is dead," the shaman went on. "I will send him on a spirit quest today. I want Red Hand to assist me with this task. Please find him and send him to me."

"I will."

"And one more thing. Tell Tlaccotan I wish to call the tribe together in council tomorrow. There are things that they all must know before I return to the cave of mysteries."

Mel came as soon as he heard his partner had arrived. The dark brown haired man fell into Mel's arms and they just kissed and hugged for awhile. Then, going aside under a nearby tree to have a talk, Larry told Mel about the incredible thing that had happened to him.

He had been alone at their cabin, on the outskirts of Port Bolon, settling in for the night, when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Larry lost consciousness and knew nothing until he had revived three days later, finding Big Otter and his partner, Dark Fire, laying him out for his funeral. The town doctor, who had declared Larry dead, was aghast, and blamed what had happened to Larry on a rare condition called catalepsy, a total suspension of all signs of life.

Phil and Mark were relating their versions of this unusual event to their friends as well. As the stories circulated in the camp, Lou eventually heard them. Wondering, he sought out the one Falling Star had given the Elxa name Akapomac, meaning 'Dead-man-alive'.

Some days before, Lou had become acquainted with Job Byrd and learned all that had happened between him and the deranged pimp Mueller. To say Lou had been taken aback by the story would not quite have described his feelings. The confirmation of the things he had seen in his vision quest, like the hook shaped scar on Mueller's face, were disquieting proofs of alternate realities and forces Lou had not imagined existing only a month before.

But that, and the experiences Lou had shared with the Elxa tribe during the Beltane ritual, had prepared him somewhat for what he halfway expected to see when he found Larry. Indeed, he recognized the man's face at once. It was identical to the visage of the beast-thing that had been slain in Lou's medicine vision, and from which the ring had been taken. The conclusion Lou's mind came to was inescapable: if Larry had really died, then Falling Star must have used the love energy raised by the Heart Call to...

"No." Lou muttered to himself incredulously, his rational mind still unable to wrap itself around the concept of Larry's resurrection in spite of all he had seen and experienced in the past few days: the things he had learned on his journey to the valley of the heron and been shown in his spirit quest, not to mention the explanations Falling Star had attempted to give him. "It just couldn't be... " he managed.

But just then another memory came and sliced easily through Lou's dense skepticism. Again, he heard the words of the heron shaman, a soft sibilant murmur echoing in his mind, nourishing his faith in the love energy that was the root and source of the Elxa tribe's power, binding it together. The same power Falling Star had tapped into during the rite of the Heart Call. A quiet, reassuring affirmation: '...the power of love can do anything when you open yourself to it, my son. Miracles can happen... '

"Falling Star!" a voice cried as the heron shaman took his seat amid the gathered crowd, all seated in a large circle within the sacred ceremonial fane.

"Falling Star!" many voices responded.

"Hear me, my brothers," the shaman began as the shouts died away. "A few days ago, when we made the Heart Call, I asked you to trust me with this new power that Hun Tzu has brought us knowledge of. Now I can tell you what I accomplished with it, during our rite.

"When I sent our brother Om-yomac out on his spirit quest, he had a vision of someone being slain. When he told me about it, I knew the person of whom he spoke from the description he gave. He also brought a token that had belonged to the dead man back with him from the spirit realm."

Falling Star held up a oddly decorated gold ring. Mel and Larry, seated nearby, recognized it at once. Mel had given it to Larry before he had left Port Bolon that spring to go to the valley of the heron.

"I thought it was lost!" Larry exclaimed, taking the offered ring.

"How did you... " began Mel. Falling Star went on.

"The spirits that protect the Elxa had sentenced Akapomac to death, but with the help of the power raised by the Heart Call, I overturned their verdict. I channeled the energy of our rite across the many miles to Port Bolon, restoring him to life."

Those words caused a rippling of gasps and other muted signs of incredulity to pass through the gathered crowd.

"I must tell you now that Akapomac is not the only brother of ours who has returned from the dead."

Falling Star called and the man who had been escorted to Roman Rock by Eben and Zack emerged from the nearby lodge he had been waiting in. He went to take a seat next to the heron shaman. He was recognized by many of the onlooking heron men.

"Xaculi!" Heyoka gasped, echoing the astonishment of many others as the Elxa elder who had died not so long ago gazed calmly out at the staring crowd.

"Yes, my brothers," he responded. His softly spoken words went out to the hushed crowd. "I have returned from the place all men eventually go, but my memory of the experience is unclear, as if it had been a dream. I bring back no grand revelations of the life beyond, except to assure you that it exists and it is good. Nevertheless, I am very glad to be back, here, among my brothers."

Eben, who was sitting next to Xaculi, hugged the man. The gesture said what he and all the others felt. They too were glad to have the beloved elder back with them, despite the logical objections of many of the onlookers, who had trouble believing death itself had been conquered by their collective efforts,

"I have been told what the white doctor in Port Bolon has said," Falling Star continued, "and it is best that he continue to think that Akapomac was the victim of an unusual condition, lest outsiders not of our nature invade our refuge, seeking knowledge of this new power we wield.

"So now you know, my brothers. With the Heart Call we can accomplish miraculous things. But from this day forward I charge everyone in the Elxa tribe to keep these mysteries a closely guarded secret, never to be spoken of except with another tribesman."

Falling Star fell silent and a murmuring sound of agreement spread throughout the crowd. Then other subjects were brought to the group's attention and discussed. Judgements were rendered and plans approved, before the assembly of heron men turned their attention at last to a huge tribal celebration of sports and ribald song and feasting that lasted long into the star-studded night.

A few days later, a group of travelers reached one particular waterfall on Heron Creek that marked the halfway point between Roman Rock and the cave of mysteries. As soon as Hun Tzu saw the sparkling cataract that fell from the warm, swirling pool above, his spirit knew his new home would be somewhere nearby.

As a master of feng-shui, the geomancer recognized the crystalline falls at once as another power spot, and a highly propitious place to build, surrounded as it was by copious upwellings of invisible earth energies. As he confirmed his suspicions by taking a reading with the lo-pan, the others noticed. Mayati asked what he saw.

"It is a dragon, salivating silver and gold," Hun Tzu said cryptically, nodding at the water falling over a moss covered, upthrust of pink granite. "A place of great power. This is where I wish to build my home."

"Well," Will began, gesturing towards the grassy fields that fanned out to the northward from that point, "this is where we thought would be a good spot for our ranch. Silas and I and our young friends will be here for awhile, buildin' them a cabin. If you help us, we'd be happy to return the favor."

"Of course, thank you," returned Hun Tzu.

"Didn't you say you planned to build a barn of your own, near your cabin?"

"Yeah, but that can wait until you and Eric are properly housed, Zeb," Will answered.

"It's not as if we don't have a lotta potential help," added Silas. "I'm sure our fellow heron men will pitch in from time to time."

"What do you think, Tasokah?" Lou asked. "Should we build our cabin around here someplace?"

"Yes, my love. Having neighbors such as these would complete our happiness."

Bringing up the rear of the group, Bill glanced questioningly at Job. The lad grinned and nodded vigorously, a visual 'Okay!'. Together, the group moved to the nearby campsite, around which they would make their home for the next few months.

The weeks stretched languidly by, and by degrees the area around the campsite, named Heron Ranch by the men who formed the new community there, shaded into a glorious summer. The ten men worked and hunted and played together, forging strong bonds of friendship. When the days turned hot, they worked in breechclouts or unclothed altogether, sweat streaking the suntouched skin over their straining muscles and flattening body fur, aware and glad of the visual pleasure their tanned nakedness gave to their comrades.

They would wash and swim in the warm waters of the pool above the waterfall. And then relax, sunning themselves on the flat rocks scattered conveniently all around the waters. One day, Tasokah observed that his companions were becoming as dark skinned as he and Mayati were.

They carved out a garden along one bank of Heron Creek, above the pool. While the young plants matured, the men turned to the bounty all around them for sustenance, learning from their native brothers as they hunted and gathered wild plants. In the evenings they shared their food, sitting around a campfire at each day's end to talk or sing or make slow love.

Shame became a concept unknown to them. Eric revelled in his freedom from hated convention, often taking his lover by the fire, knowing his pleasure, and Zeb's, gave pleasure to those who watched. And more often than not their companions would feel the beauty of the act and turn to their own partners, yearning for the special caresses that only lover may give lover.

Sometimes, one or more of the men would leave, to visit friends at Roman Rock. Or follow Heron Creek upstream to the cave of mysteries, to see Falling Star. Then they would sit in the cool cavern by his small fire, studying the odd, colorful glyphs on the rock walls and listening to the words of the wise shaman as he spoke of spiritual mysteries, of the inner natures of man-loving men, and the potentials their love held, possibilities the Heart Call had made plain to them all.

By mutual agreement, the heron men in council had decided to hold a Heart Call every full moon. But since it would be too onerous for the scattered tribe to gather monthly at Roman Rock, it was thought that smaller circles could gather wherever convenient to make the love-magic. The nature of the Heart Call would allow the energy raised by these dispersed groups to unite and spread its spiritual balm over every member of the tribe.

Often, the men of Heron Ranch just wandered where their fancy took them, exploring and familiarizing themselves with the surrounding countryside. And of course, others visited them. During that summer, it seemed many of the inhabitants and visitors at Roman Rock were dividing their time between that place and Heron Ranch.

With the assistance of the many Elxa braves who visited Heron Ranch over the course of that amazing summer, the men's log houses went up in an unhurried manner. Hun Tzu's cabin rose a stone's throw beyond the cascading torrent below the pool, on a rocky patch of ground that the trees could not colonize. As the walls rose, the geomancer watched with delight as dark mosses spread themselves across the logs, almost in a loving manner, clothing the structure in a soft, living skin.

On the opposite side of Heron Creek, beside the trail that ran between Roman Rock and the cave of mysteries, Lou and Tasokah found a site shaded by huge hemlocks and tall firs. Eric and Zeb, Bill and Job, all decided to build the furthest from the water, at the far edge of the surrounding woods. There, the trees thinned and gave way to a vast mountain meadow, a rippling green sea of grass rising and stretching away to distant hills marking the northern watershed of Heron Creek.

They decided to dig a well, not wanting to have to carry water from the creek during the coming winter. Job cut some willow branches and surprised his comrades by dowsing for water, as one of his uncles had taught him. Hun Tzu confirmed the spot the young man chose with the lo-pan and they did not have to dig far before they hit water. Hun Tzu began to look at Job with more interest, thinking of the lad as a possible apprentice in the subtle arts he practiced.

They built a spacious barn with a corral as well, and began to reap the tall, lush grass, laboring naked in the sun throughout the golden, hazy days. In July, Mark, Chris and Greg came to them, driving a dozen head of cattle and four horses, as well as bringing a branding iron, specially made by Lars, the blacksmith in Grant. Soon, the animals all bore the sign of the heron as a brand.

Turned loose to feed in the verdant grasslands, the cows waxed fat and the horses grew sleek and fast. By August, the animals were all healthy and there was a large barn full of hay waiting for them, more than enough to content them during the long winter. Silas and Will left at that time, to return to their own home, finish their barn and put in supplies for the winter. Their leave-taking provided an excuse for a celebratory feast that was spoken of for long thereafter.

As the days shortened, the Elxa braves who visited were usually just passing through, many turning north from Heron Ranch to take the trail that led to Lemolo Lake, to help their brothers who lived near there. Phil and his partner, Mark, were building a cabin of their own near the lake, while Will and Silas completed their barn. A wagon road from the east side of the lake to False Pass was also under construction, giving the men of the town ample opportunity to socialize with their brothers who chose to live in the traditional native manner in the valley of the heron.

The work was completed well before autumn ended. Visitors from Roman Rock became fewer, until gradually, they ceased. Preparations for winter fully occupied those who lived in the wilderness valley. Under the guidance of Mayati and Tasokah, the men of Heron Ranch hunted and fished, preserving the present bounty of the land for future use.

Meat was hung and dried in a smokehouse: strips of venison, elk, and bear, fillets of fish, dozens of turkeys, geese, grouse and ducks. Skin sacks were filled with nuts and berries preserved in goose fat. Herbs were gathered, dried and carefully put aside. Mayati rendered bear grease and showed his companions how the wondrous Elxa salve was made, producing enough of the stiff, fulvous lube to keep them well and happily supplied for the foreseeable future.

The eight men settled in for the winter. Zeb and Eric, Bill and Job, Tasokah and Lou in their new homes. And Hun Tzu was joined in his cabin by Mayati, who decided to abandon his home of several years along the lower reaches of Heron Creek to live with his flute-brother, as he called Hun Tzu.

As the nights turned colder, and the mornings revealed crusts of paper thin ice along the edges of the creek, the men double checked their ample woodpiles and added to them while they could. The flocks of geese flying south in huge vee formations seemed to call 'Hurry, hurry!' as they passed overhead. The first snowfall found them as ready as native experience and ingenuity could make them.

The animals grew their valuable winter coats, for which the men set traps. They caught beaver, fox and, occasionally, mink and otter. The task of preserving the hides became a communal effort. As the men worked, skinning, scraping and soaking the animal furs, Tasokah and Mayati took advantage of the time the group spent together to teach the others the Elxa language.

The gray winter skies brought storm after storm. Soon the snow lay in great powdery dunes, shaped and shifted at will by the wind, heaped against the log walls of the cabins and the barn. Well-traveled trails appeared, connecting the isolated buildings, becoming veritable trenches with time as the snowpack grew.

At odd intervals, the sun would rise in a sky unbelievably clear and blue, shedding its too-brilliant light in vain on a frozen, crystalline world. In that illumination, the wind would come and sift snow the consistency of powdered sugar, making little ice devils that sparkled surrealistically as the gelid spindrift spun and swirled across the frozen landscape. Wrapped warmly in their greatcoats of fur, hooded and mittened, the men of Heron Ranch saw to the chores and tended the animals while wondering at the changes in the land wrought by winter.

During the long, cold nights, the couples would come together before their blazing hearths. Holding one another, making slow love in warm, plush nests of blankets and furs. Expressing and exploring the extent of the tender feelings they held for their partners, each made their personal progress gently and determinedly along the Way of the Heron.

And sometimes music would come to them as they coupled by the light of their fires. It penetrated with an almost mystical ease through the white drifts that lay so thickly around the snowbound cabins, though those frozen blankets seemed to muffle all other sounds. As they loved, Eric and Zeb, Job and Bill, Lou and Tasokah, would hear the haunting music of two flutes playing.

Hun Tzu and Mayati produced a profoundly moving soul-song. One that emanated from their hearts, from what they held in their hearts, for each other. Each note floated like a snowflake on the gelid air, recalling to their listeners the aching bliss of summer.

And hearing an echo of that carefree season, of the times when clothing could be discarded at will and love might be made in fields of wildflowers under warm, friendly skies, the men deepened into their partners' love. They would plumb the depths of the wordless song each held in his own man-loving male heart. And consider the tender mysteries they found there, the wellspring of their very beings, that which made them the men they were.

Each had overcome great obstacles. A lifetime of outside pressures and inner doubts had been resisted and defeated by listening to what their own hearts told them, by being open to the truth about their man-loving natures, and by being willing to learn from other men like themselves. It was a path few men like them had the good fortune to find and recognize and follow, but it had led them at last to a life of love and power and freedom in the valley of the heron.

EPILOGUE

On a warm July night, two months after the initial, momentous Heart Call, Felix and Nick retired to an isolated spot in the woods near False Pass. They spread out a blanket by the silvery light of an ebullient full moon, preparing to observe the monthly Heart Call agreed upon by the members of the Elxa tribe. But the pair had a specific intent, a wish they hoped to be made real. They had spoken of this to their friends in False Pass, and as those men also began to make love, to summon the effulgent, matchless power of the Heart Call, they thought lovingly of their friends, Nick and Felix, and of the accomplishment of those men's desires.

The power Nick and Felix raised with their love meshed with that summoned by other couples throughout the heron country. A living force, gently attuned to the desires of man-loving men. Again, all involved felt a pure essence of Love touch their souls, deepening their feelings towards their lovers and friends.

After the strong love they had shared, and an easy time of rest in one another's arms, Felix and Nick rose, gathered their blankets and headed back into town. Everything was still and peaceful as Nick went into their home. Felix paused for a few moments on the front porch to take a piss.

Vapor wafted off his arcing stream as it flew to spatter the gravelly ground. As he finished, a sound made him look up. A shadowy figure, of a horse being led by a man, had appeared at the far end of the street.

Felix stood watching, waiting for the man to come closer. The strong moonlight was revealing and deceptive at the same time. Felix could tell the man was thickly muscular and had longish dark hair and a bushy beard, but not much else. It was not until the man was quite close before Felix could see his face clearly. Each recognized the other at the same time.

"Felix?" the man asked, stopping in surprise.

"Bo!" Felix almost leapt off the porch and into the man's arms as he cried the name. "Bo!" he repeated before their lips met. The kiss was urgent, joyous...

"Oh, God, I thought I'd never get here!" hissed Bo as he hugged Felix fiercely to him, tears of joy in his eyes. "I had such a struggle to get back to you!"

"Hush, amigo, you're home now, and me and Nick ain't ever gonna let you go away again, never!"

"Nick... Is my brother okay?"

"Yeah, and Alex too," Felix whispered, "We all still love you... Damn, this is a miracle! We prayed for this tonight, that you'd come home, and our friends here in False Pass also, along with us... "

"Don't tell me y'all got religion while I was gone!" sniffed Bo, smiling as he wiped his eyes, teary with happiness.

"No, it's just that the heron men have discovered something wonderful, the Heart Call, a power... but it's a long story Bo, and it can wait. Come inside. Our bed is waitin' for us."

"Lemme put my horse away first... Huh! Speakin' of needin' to put things away... "

Bo's fingers had found Felix's dangling cock. Felix had forgotten to tuck himself away after taking his piss. Bo knelt and took the limp length into his mouth, unable to resist doing what he had dreamed of all during his trek. As the tube of tasty flesh thickened and plumped up in his mouth, Felix gasped and pulled away.

"I want you badly too, Bo," he panted. "So badly I can taste it. But please, not here in the street... "

"Okay." Bo said as he stood up and hugged Felix. "I love you," he hissed fiercely.

The pair kissed again and went to take care of Bo's horse, seeing it was properly bedded down in a stall with plenty to eat. Then it was Bo's turn. They entered the bedroom Bo used to share with his lovers and saw Nick standing naked at a washbasin, his back to the door as he splashed his face.

"It's about time you got back," he muttered, thinking he was speaking only to Felix. "I'm ready to cuddle with you, buddy!"

"Me too, Nick!" Bo choked, feeling his eyes tearing up again as he embraced his brother from behind. "Me too!"

"Bo! My God! Is it really you?" Nick cried as he turned and became lost in a deep kiss with his brother.

Felix lost his clothes and moved to help Nick strip Bo. His kinship with Nick was shown in his thickly muscled body, covered in a thick pelt of dark brown fur. Like his brother, a generous length of peckermeat hung between his legs, rising along with the other men's cocks, getting ready for a long session of lovemaking in the wide and comfortable bed the trio had shared in the past.

Bo felt complete again as Nick slid his ample cock up his brother's ass. Bo gasped for Felix. At once the handsome Hispanic straddled Bo's heaving chest and fed him his brown skinned tool, this time not intending to remove it until he had fed Bo his nutjuice. As Bo felt his aching manhood gripped in Nick's greasy hand, being stroked towards the first of many releases he would have in the course of that night, he gave himself over to his lovers' passions completely, ebulliently rapt in the knowledge that he was finally home, with his own kind, man-lovers, in the place he was meant to be.

THE END

the end of part II

of Follow The Heron's Song

the eighth chapter in the series

'The Way Of The Heron'

by C. T. Creekmur

comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur

"All Rights Reserved"

submitted to www.nifty.org 1/22/2009