Chapter 3: Embarking on a surreptitious mystical journey

The crossed branches holding the waterskin pot above the flames sagged under the weight of its burden. Steam rose from the half-filled container and dissipated into the air. Stretching out his legs, Jakal locked his fingers behind his head and reclined, resting his shoulders against the log behind him.

Gazing up at the sky vividly colored by the sunset, he sighed. "Sala, once again you prepare a meal worthy of a Gathering of Clan Leaders."

It pleased her to see him content. Jakal had been almost continuously tense since she first proposed a shared pilgrimage to the Spirit World using the sacred mushrooms she discovered near their camp. The woman knew it was not easy for him to agree to what she asked of him, and admired his courage for being willing to go through with it despite his fear.

"The meal would not have been complete without the meat you provided," she reminded him.

The man smiled at her, pleased she had thought to mention it. "It was good for a change," he admitted, allowing himself a self-congratulatory moment.

The couple sat in silence as dusk faded into twilight. Displacing the friendly, casual banter they enjoyed, a sense of nervous anticipation once again filled the space between them. Glancing down at the steaming bowl beside her, filled with the beverage that would facilitate their voyage, Sala decided it was time to get started and spare him further anxiety.

"Jakal," she began, "if you will come sit across from me, I will explain what to expect tonight and answer any questions you may have."

Rising slowly from where he was with subconscious hesitation, he took a few steps over to the place she indicated and sat down again.

The woman gave him a warm, encouraging smile. "Do you remember last night when I said that we will be going somewhere, but we also will not need to leave this place?"

"Yes." He could not forget that statement; it was one of the most puzzling things she had said in a very puzzling conversation.

"Try to think back to a time when you took the sacred journey before. Did you notice your body there?"

"Of course."

"Were you able to touch things with your hands, things that were there before you entered the Spirit World?"

"I, I do not know. I do not remember other things being there."

"Do not let that concern you," she reassured him. "Do you perhaps remember the floor you sat upon?"

That he did remember. "Yes, I do."

"Do also you remember the cushion you sat upon on the floor?"

He was getting more confused, not less. "Yes, Sala, I remember," he answered impatiently. "What of it?"

"I asked you these questions to help you understand that the Spirit World and our own intersect. The things that are here, right now — the fire, the lean-to, the river, the rocks and the trees — everything that is here also exists there."

"I do not understand. How can that be?"

"Have you noticed that every time Spiritwalkers guide our people to the Other World, we are always inside? In the Gathering Place, or a dwelling, or the Ceremonial Hut?" The woman suppressed an almost reflexive shudder that came whenever she thought of the last location.

"Now that I think of it, you are right."

"I do not know the reason for that particular practice. Perhaps it is to keep us safe, to protect us from becoming overpowered by what we experience there. A person who is afraid and does not understand may get hurt, lost or even killed. Perhaps it is also to help facilitate direct contact with the Spirits by focusing our attention on one goal." She hesitated. "And, perhaps, it is also a way to keep us from knowledge and ideas we might acquire. More openness regarding the magic Spiritwalkers use in their ceremonies might expose information to us that they wish to keep to themselves."

"What does this have to do with your assertion that our world intersects with the Other?"

"I do not want you to be ... overwhelmed by what you see and hear and feel during our time there. The experience will be very different from those you have undergone before, and I want you to understand why before we go. You know already how powerful visiting the Spirit World can be; crossing over out in the world it can overcome you if you do not know what to expect.

"As I stated before, the things of our world will be there in the next, like and yet unlike it is here. You will be able to touch things, even pick them up, but they will be both different and the same as they are here. You will be able to smell and taste things just as you do here, but you will perceive them in a different way. It is similar enough that you may even be able to move about, walk from place to place, though it can be difficult."

"How can this be, Sala? How can the Other World contain the same things that are in this one?" Jakal asked, genuinely astonished.

"I do not know the answer to that, Jakal," she answered honestly. She decided then to make her first admission. "You guessed correctly that my first visit to the Spirits' domain was with the mother of my mother. We did not have as much time as we wished to discuss our journey..." The woman took a moment to regain control. "But Mala thought perhaps the Other World appears similar because it exists very closely to ours, almost as if it is shifted just a little bit from what we can perceive under normal circumstances."

An idea suddenly formed in her mind. "Think of it this way. We cannot see in the dark, not very well, without fire or the moon or the stars to light our way. Without them, we are almost blind. But the owl hunts in the night and sees our world very well in the dark, far better than we do. If we had eyes like the owl we too would be able to see in the dark. Use of the sacred magic is like giving us the eyes to be able to see the Spirit World."

"I think understand now, or at least as much as I can without seeing it with my own eyes. Thank you."

Sala was glad to see the man's tight muscles relaxing a little. She decided to move on to the next important piece of information he needed to know before they departed.

"There is something else you need to know. We will most likely be able to look into each other's spirit, see each other very clearly. We may even exchange a piece of our spirits, and when we return the pieces we received may remain within us. That is what happened to Mala and me; I still hold a part of her spirit even after all this time. It is ... very profound, a very intimate experience, Jakal. I thought you should know that. I will understand if you no longer wish to go with me."

Jakal was moved, both by what she described and the fact that she told him this up front, giving him the opportunity to change his mind. She had been very candid with him about what to expect, he thought. Actually, the way she described the Other World roused his curiosity and he was beginning to look forward to the voyage. The anxiety and doubt he had been feeling since the night before fell away and was replaced by calm.

"I thank you for your openness and honesty," he responded, reaching over and clasping one of her hands in his. "You have explained things very well. I do not have any more questions. I have no more doubts. I am ready to go when you decide it is time."

It was now the woman's turn to be moved, in her case by the unquestionable trust he had just demonstrated, and she squeezed his hand in silent thanks.

Sala drew from beside her the beautiful bowl the Tracker had carved for her just the day before. Placing it on the ground in the space between them, the object was filled with a fragrant mixture of herbs and crushed berries in addition to the sacred magic.

"We will begin now," she informed the man who sat across from her. "First I must appeal to the Spirits."

He nodded silently.

She placed her hands on either side of the bowl but did not lift it from the ground. Instead, she lifted her eyes to the darkening sky.

"Great Spirits of the Other World, we come here before you to ask for your assistance. I, and the man who sits before me, wish to travel to your realm this night. We seek answers that can only be discovered in your World. We seek to know and understand each other better in a way that can only be learned in your World. And we seek whatever wisdom you deem fit to bestow upon us.

"We humbly ask of you two things. First, that you will permit us safe passage, both as we travel to your World and when we return to our own. Second, that you will welcome our presence during our stay."

Sala lowered her eyes and looked into Jakal's. She had a sudden inspiration. "Is there anything you wish to say to the Spirits, Jakal?"

He started; he was not expecting that particular question. "I, I was not expecting to have to say anything, Sala. I do not know what to say."

"Speak only from your heart," she encouraged. "The Spirits will understand the meaning, even if the words do not come out exactly the way you intended. This is your journey just as much as mine, and you have the right to speak to them as you deem fit. You are not required to say anything; I only wish to give you the opportunity."

The man sat for a few moments thinking. "Very well," he said at last. "I tell you now, it will not be as eloquent as your appeal, but it is the best I can do under the circumstances."

The woman smiled at him warmly. "That is all any of us can do. Begin when you are ready."

Jakal looked up at the sky, trying to figure out how to begin. Speak from your heart, she said; all right, he would start there.

"Great Spirits of the Other World," he began, following Sala's lead, "as the woman before me just said, we seek to visit your realm this night. I would like to add to what she asked of you. Spirits, this woman needs to know if she can reveal to me heavy secrets her spirit carries. Please help her to see clearly into my spirit so that she will know if I am worthy of her trust."

Sala sat looking into the bowl in front of her, watching the plant matter it contained floating in the potent tea they were about to drink. Her throat constricted at the simple elegance of the Tracker's request. She was already beginning to feel that she could trust him, and they had not even started on their sacred voyage.

"I am sure the Spirits will take what you have asked for in mind, Jakal," she said at last. "Your words were more ... eloquent than you give yourself credit for." She paused. "Are you ready to consume the beverage now?"

"I am ready."

The woman lifted the bowl to her lips. She took a draught of the minty, fruity brew and swallowed. Good, she could barely taste the mushrooms' bitterness. She held out the container to her companion.

Looking down into the liquid impregnated with floating bits of herbs and berries, his fingers touched hers when he accepted the object she proffered. Following her example, he took a big drink from the bowl. At the taste of it his eyes widened.

"Sala, this is delicious. Never has a sacred beverage tasted so ... agreeable. How did you do it?" Jakal asked in pleasant surprise as he handed the vessel back to her.

"Oh, I just added plants that taste good together. As Mala once said, 'just because the Spiritwalkers have us consume the beverage tasting so foul does not mean we cannot enjoy it.'"

The man smiled with some amusement. Mala was clearly someone who strongly influenced Sala's personality, he thought. Her daughter's daughter turned out much like her.

Slowly they passed the wooden bowl back and forth, draining it swallow by swallow, until all that remained were the herbs and berry skins. While they waited for the magic's power to take effect, they moved to sit side by side against the log lying on the ground near the campfire, talking and watching the flames lick the night air.

The fire began to radiate a distinct, glittering blue aura that followed the movements of its source as two dancers moving in concert. The flames undulated and twisted around themselves, squeezing their colors into long, separate strands. The strands wove together as a woman plaits her hair and just as quickly unbraided, waving like meadow grasses.

"Jakal, I am crossing into the Spirit World," Sala announced, trying to keep her voice steady. Though she projected calm for the sake of her companion, she did have her own fears. She had done this only once before and it had been many years ago. Furthermore, the mother of her mother had guided the experience. She had never been responsible for another's spiritual journey before.

She heard the deep mellowness of his voice traveling toward her from far away. "I am with you. I see it too," he answered, his large hand enclosing over hers.

Looking for the source of the voice, her eyes met Jakal's. Large black pupils obscured much of the blue in his eyes. His face glowed radiantly in the light of the campfire. Each flicker slowed to last many moments, with each permutation highlighting his chiseled features in an endless variety of ways. Sala was amazed to see that the man had so many different faces, yet each one was beautiful.

The woman lifted a hand to stroke his ever changing, luminous face and observed many bright colors streaming from her moving limb. "All of your faces are beautiful, Light-Eyed One," she told him softly, watching the colors shooting from her fingertips linger before absorbing into the phosphorescence of his skin.

Jakal found himself diving into dark, twin pools. He did not understand how it could be possible, but he plunged into both at the same time; somehow he occupied two places at once. How could this be? As he slowed to a stop his bodies rejoined somewhere in the endless dark in which he floated.

His every inhalation and exhalation of breath echoed against unknown walls, but he could hear nothing else. He could see nothing, feel nothing, but he knew his body existed in this mysterious place. He had no idea where he was but he felt safe here, protected. Why was he not afraid?

A voice drifted toward him, coming from a great, vast distance. Straining, the man concentrated, listening between the breaths filling his ears. He knew that voice, its sensual cadence searching until it found him at last. Enveloping his body in its soft music, it carried him toward the surface, higher and higher, picking up speed. Suddenly his body snapped back and into the dim light. He could see again.

The man felt every minute line of Sala's soft fingertips tickling his skin as she touched his face. Scanning her feminine features, he reached his own hand to the woman's smooth hair, shimmering with trapped starlight.

"Your hair twinkles as the night sky," he said in wonder, more to himself than her. "How could I have not seen it before?"

For a time the two sat in the warm glow of the rippling flames, caressing each other's face; they both knew the other's features intimately and yet were seeing one another clearly for the very first time.

Jakal wasn't sure how, but suddenly they stood watching the sheet of falling water collide into the otherwise calm pool, every drop held suspended in the air for a moment before crashing forcefully to the surface. The resulting foam drummed shockwaves across the pool's skin, warping and bowing the points of light it held within.

Sala turned her eyes upward and gasped at the brilliant magnificence of the night sky. Never had she beheld so many stars. "Jakal," she whispered, full of awe, "the blackness blazes with light."

Following her pointing finger, his mouth dropped open in amazement. Since the time of their ancestors, their people used the pictures in the sky to help them measure the passage of time; they learned long ago that the stars always moved the same way, season after season, year after year. The man knew a great many of the pictures and the stories of their meaning, but he could not even begin to describe the infinite, shimmering splendor revealed to them this night.

Time shifted again, and they found themselves walking along the riverbank. Jakal knew this river was clearly the same as the one in their own world; it was as wide as theirs, curved in the same way. Even the trees flanking either side of it were familiar.

But it also was not the same at all. The water swirled and bubbled, flowing gold, then silver, then pale green, twirling and changing color endlessly. As it undulated on its way downstream, the river whispered and giggled, playing like children. The trees breathed and murmured secrets to one another, their branches dancing to the rhythm of the brushing leaves.

The torch he held flickered in time with his steps as his soles padded along the soft earth. Jakal turned to the woman at his side. The stars in her hair twinkled as she walked and small clouds of a fine sparkling mist hung in the air with her every breath. "You were right, Sala; this place is very much like, and yet so much unlike our world."

"It is like things are ... more, here," she agreed. "Brighter, more colorful, more alive."

"You sound like a Spiritwalker," he commented, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. It was foolish to speak his name aloud while they visited this domain; in many ways the Other World was the Spiritwalker's territory, and they were infringing upon it. He did not know if the shaman had the ability to see them here, but if he was listening Jakal had just brought attention to themselves.

Sala's breath drew in sharply. I wish he had not said that, she thought, though she said nothing, understanding he already regretted the slip.

"Come, Jakal, let us watch the river play and then lie with me while the stars sing to us," she said instead, taking his hand.

Her feet splashed lightly across the rocks of the stream onto the green grass on the other side. Sala looked over her shoulder and beckoned for the man to follow her. Despite the woman's effortless passage, Jakal found the rocks slick, his steps clumsy. But finally, he reached the opposite bank, just in time to see the black hair of his companion disappear into the thick mist before him.

Why had she not waited? The Tracker tried to call out her name, but felt no sound leave his throat. He urgently needed to find her; she needs my protection, he thought. Though he could see nothing, he plunged headlong into the gray fog.

He ran ceaselessly in the vast, blank abyss. Suddenly, he saw a flash of black; her hair. He stretched out his hand across the expanse, trying to reach her before losing her again.

All at once he stood next to her, the mist drifting around them. Relieved, Jakal looked down to ask why she had run away and was startled to discover Sala no longer standing beside him; instead, she was lying on the ground, completely still. Fearful, the man crouched down to see if she still lived.

With relief he saw that her chest rose and fell with her breathing, as if she were sleeping. Yet her eyes were wide open, staring up into the void. Why did she not move? He saw a tear form and slide down the side of her face before it disappeared into the soil cradling her head. He reached out tentatively to see if he could rouse her. Though her lips did not move, finally she spoke to him.

"Jakal," Sala said, touching his shoulder as he lay on the grass. "You have been asleep."

He shook his head to rouse himself. Sitting up, he asked, "How long have I slept?"

"Not long," she responded, smiling at him, her face shining lustrously. "But in that short time you seemed to be dreaming; you were mumbling and moving your body. I thought perhaps the Spirits wished to share special knowledge with you and were using a dream to convey it. I felt it wise to let you keep dreaming for a time. Did you dream well?"

"I am not sure," he answered. "It was a very strange dream, and it was about you."

The woman looked at him in surprise. "If you will forgive me for asking, would you be willing to share it with me?"

Jakal described the perplexing vision he had seen. The beautiful light emitting from Sala's face dimmed like a dying fire as she looked at him in shock.

The Tracker's face began to darken and lose its form, and she felt an increased sense of foreboding. His figure faded into the night and she stood in the meadow, completely alone. Sala cried out his name, filled with unknown dread. Where was he? She was afraid; she needed him. But he did not answer her pleas.

Suddenly she was face to face with the Spiritwalker. He stared at her with a maniacal smile and pointed to something in the distance. Sala did not want to look; she was too fearful. The man's eyes flamed and he seized her arm, gripping it so tightly she could feel the bruises forming. Yanking her around, he forced her to see. It was the Ceremonial Hut. Knowing that he intended to take her there, she cried out in terror and tried frantically to break free.

The Spiritwalker laughed at her futile attempts to flee. Flipping her around to face him, he grabbed her roughly and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Then he dragged her by the hair toward his ultimate destination.

"You are my Intended, Sala," he reminded her. "There is no sense in resisting it. You are my mate in this world and the next. Never forget that."

Jakal was trying desperately to break the woman from her trance as she screamed and thrashed, struggling to escape as he held her arms to keep her from hurting herself.

"No! Stop! Please, no! I beg you! NO!" she screamed in terror.

"Sala," he called, willing himself to keep his voice calmer than he felt. "It is only a dream. Sala, it is Jakal. You are safe. I will not let anything harm you."

A soothing voice spoke in Sala's ear, promising her that help was on the way. She felt herself disintegrating and the Spiritwalker lost his grasp of her hair as she escaped a terrible fate. When her body coalesced Jakal's face, his blue eyes filled with worry, appeared before her.

"Sala, you are safe," he reassured her gently. "I am with you."

The man saw her face start to relax with relief only for it to change just as suddenly into a grimace of pain as she began to sob, curling her body in on itself. As if he had been burned, he jerked away the hands holding her arms.

"Sala, I am sorry. I was afraid that you might hurt yourself," he explained earnestly.

The weeping woman blindly reached for the man beside her and the safety of his embrace. Filled with confusion, he held her close as she burrowed her head into his chest, wetting it with her tears.

"Jakal," she began when her grief had started to dissipate. She found the warmth of his skin comforting as her cheek lay against his chest. "I would rather drown in the river than become the Spiritwalker's mate. I cannot allow him to touch me, hurt me ever again."

"Hurt you?" He had to know.

As a river bursts forth roiling and wild after a heavy rain, Sala unleashed all at once the burden she had carried for so long alone. She told him about the secrets Mala learned from the old Spiritwalker, and how after he died her mother's mother passed on that knowledge to her.

She spoke of her suspicions about Mala's unexpected, excruciating death that followed mere days after, shaking with fear, she warned her granddaughter to reveal to no one the wisdom she possessed. She described watching the Spiritwalker as he worked, and what happened when he caught her. Finally, and most importantly, she revealed the brutal rape she endured and the threats he issued that night after the shaman proclaimed Sala his Intended.

Jakal's eyes grew wider and wider as her incredible story progressed; filled with rage, he could contain himself no longer.

"What beast commits such abomination?" he spat, his face dark and seething, fists clenched angrily.

He believes me! Sala started to weep again, this time from relief.

"Do you see now why I resist this joining?" she finally responded, her cheeks wet with spent tears, her eyes pleading. "Do you understand now why I cannot, will not mate with him?"

Looking down at her tear-streaked face, Jakal gently wiped the water from her flushed skin. "I am sorry, Sala," he replied tenderly, embracing her against his chest, stroking her hair. "If I had known, I would not have pushed you to return. I would not have come after you in the first place. Forgive me."

"You could not know," she acknowledged, feeling secure in his arms. "And I am not sorry you found me. There is nothing to forgive."

They sat in silence.

"What is to be done, Sala?" Jakal said at last. "What do you think we should do?"

"I do not know right now," she answered. "If you do not mind, I would prefer to speak of it after we return to our world. It seems as though discussing it in the Spirit World gives it more power. I do not wish to spend our remaining time here terrified that the Spiritwalker will return to take me away again."

The Tracker hugged her tightly. He too experienced a heightened sense of anxiety talking about such dark things here. It seemed to call those things to them. "I understand. How do you wish to spend our remaining time, brave, beautiful woman?"

"Let us return to the camp," Sala suggested. "I want to share my body, share my spirit with you in this place. I have looked into your spirit this night and you earned my trust; now I wish to return the gift. Besides, everything else here in this World is greater; I would like to see if it applies to pleasures of the body as well."

Jakal smiled at her subtle humor, a sign she was feeling more relaxed. Gently cupping her face in his hand, he turned the woman toward him and kissed her with great feeling.

With their arms around each other's waist, the couple walked leisurely back to the camp. Along the way they stopped many times, touching and exploring bodies as they stood in awe of the Spirit World's beauty.

When they reached the shelter the couple immediately stripped off their garments and crawled inside. The space was as cozy as always, but the furs were far plusher, silkier than they were in their world.

Sala sat on Jakal's lap, her legs encircling his waist, and they brought their mouths together again and again with short but passionate kisses, marveling at the energy that hummed between their bodies with each contact. The woman began stroking her lips slowly from side to side as she rubbed them against her companion's, her sensitive skin memorizing their outline and shape. Lightly drawing his head to hers, she caressed his entire face with her pillowy petals, the landscape of all his masculine features fixing in her mind.

As she smoothed her lips over the surface of his skin, Jakal shivered from the luscious sensation her delicate touch sent coursing through him. Though it was almost completely pitch black within the structure, with only the tiniest slivers of the fading firelight squeezing into the small gaps where one piece of leather met another, Sala's face and body began to shine ever brighter from within with an otherworldly light.

Pushing her gently away from his face, the man whispered in awe, "Sala, I can see you clearly in the dark. A radiance comes from within you and surrounds your body like the light of the moon. Are you of the Spirit World?"

Her luminous hands moved toward either side of his invisible form, examining the curves of his muscular arms. "In a way we are all of the Other World, Jakal," she explained, her low voice echoing mysteriously with an authority powerful and feminine. The man felt he should be afraid of her but somehow he knew she was benevolent. "I believe what you are seeing is my spirit. Earlier this night I saw you in a way similar to how you describe. I cannot see you in the blackness now as you do me, but my spirit is drawn to yours, allowing my body to 'see' you, even when we are not touching. We can perceive another's spirit in many different ways."

"Is this how it was with Mala?"

"It is ... similar, but not the same. Mala and I had a different relationship from the one we share, so we saw one another's spirits in other ways as well."

Sala's glowing body moved toward him in slow motion. After reaching him she slipped her tongue into his mouth, kissing him deeply until his nerves vibrated, singing with the gift of her touch.

Placing her hands on his shoulders the woman pushed him back to toward the furs. "Lie with me, my Tracker," she instructed him quietly. "I wish to pleasure your body with mine."

The lush furs cradled him as he made contact with the ground. Straddling his body on her hands and knees, Sala lowered the top half of her incandescent form toward him. She rubbed her sensuous lips on his skin as she did before, only this time all over his neck and under his chin. Once again he shivered from her gentle caresses, and gasped with unexpected pleasure when she suckled an earlobe.

Lifting her head, the woman reached out and examined Jakal's arms and chest with her fingers, fondling each and every muscle, committing them to memory. Inflamed by the subtly rolling landscape of his tight figure, Sala lowered her head again to his body.

Instead of her lips, this time she used her flattened tongue, seeking to take as much of him in, taste as much of him as possible. She licked his skin from his collarbone to below his navel and back again in long, wide strokes. Her own sex fluttering, the woman slipped her fingers between her legs and sighed, finding herself wet and swollen.