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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

But it was in time. The spirit was still with him in the lodge.

Calvin waited for a few seconds until he could breathe in the new heat, then pushed himself fully up and slowly resumed his cross-legged position in front of the hot rocks.

He closed his eyes and spoke in a croak. ‘Thunder Spirit. I thank you for your presence. I am your unworthy servant and I offer this tobacco to you.’

He put the pipe to his soaking lips, blinking to see through the salty sweat, and puffed four times, sending a prayer up with each cloud of smoke. The beating increased in frequency until it became one continuous deep humming throb, then Calvin’s eyes rolled back in his head, his arms falling limply to his sides.

He was at one with the Thunder Spirit now.

Safe and secure, Calvin Bitterhand was wrapped in the awesome power that was generated from the very air itself, the pain of his body forgotten as he floated in the spirit’s caressing, encompassing crystal web. He would not be able to sustain this for long and there was much to know, but, oh, the luxury of being without pain was so beautiful. If he could just sleep for a few moments in that soft place, surrounded as he was by the vibrations of sweet health and goodness, and the proximity of such irrepressible life-force. But no. He jolted as his will reminded him of his mission, scolding his flesh with a spasm, and he retuned his mind to the request he sought from this powerful spirit. It responded with a shiver. He could feel it was in readiness to answer him.

‘Thunder Spirit. Is it the spirit I fear that I seek?’

The web that held him, shifted, and he was rocked gently within it. ‘The same.’

His own voice answering, but the words were not his own. ‘And the keeper is the boy?’

‘He is.’

‘Will the keeper accept me?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he does not accept that he is the keeper.’

‘Then what is my part in this?’

‘To tell the truth.’

‘How, if he will not hear it?’

‘You must tell it so he has no choice but to listen.’

The language Calvin spoke in his out-of-body state was an ancient tongue, the oldest form of Cree, and his questions sounded stiff to his own ears.

‘Will the keeper succeed if he knows the truth?’

No answer. That sparkling crystal web was starting to tear, and he could feel gravity beginning to work on the body he had forgotten he owned.

‘Will he succeed, Spirit?’

Nothing.

‘Answer me, I beg you.’