Redhand seated himself on the straw-covered floor of the barn, holding his pipe with ceremony. Ford indicated to Lori, who acknowledged with a nod. She searched through the compartments of Jangles' saddle, which was hanging from the rafters, and found Ford’s tobacco pouch. She handed it to Ford, who then presented it to Redhand in a ceremonial manner. Ebeneezer sat next to Redhand, while Lori and Devin positioned themselves on the opposite side. Due to his wooden leg, Ford was obliged to sit on a hay bale, preventing him from joining his companions on the floor. Jangles and Wakiye settled down on their haunches, and the group formed a loose circle—an assembly for a council of war.

  Redhand placed the tobacco into the pipe, and when he held it to his lips, Ebeneezer touched it with his cane. A green spark ignited at the end of his cane, and Redhand puffed until the smoke flowed freely. They passed the pipe, each taking a turn to smoke. Lori, familiar with the ceremony, knew that everyone must take a turn before anything could be discussed. She stood up and assisted Wakiye and Jangles by holding the pipe for them as they were unable to do so themselves. After they had smoked, she handed the pipe to Devin, quietly instructing him to take one puff and pass it to her father. Devin coughed slightly as he smoked but attempted to be discreet out of respect for the ceremony. He then passed the pipe to Ford.

  All the while, the wind howled outside with a relentless ferocity, an eerie, haunting sound that seemed to creep into their very souls, amplifying the gravity of the moment and casting a palpable tension over the gathering.

  “I heard a voice.” Redhand took the pipe from Ebeneezer when he had finished. “I heard it from long ago. It came from before the Hakitaw, then before the Wayahee, when the land was beneath the sea. It came from a land far beyond the rising sun. I heard it, but I did not know it. The voice was small, and no one heard it.”

  Lori listened, trying to make sense of what Redhand said. Her father leaned forward, his expression one of understanding. Maybe he would explain it later, she hoped.

  Redhand took a moment to smoke again before continuing. “The voice cried out against the Great Spirit, against the light. I listened, and three spoke as one. It said, I scar the sky, I blight the sun, I bring the darkness.”

  Lori and Ford exchanged glances, their minds echoing with the cryptic words that had crackled through the telegraph line. Ford gestured to write, and Lori pulled out her field notebook and took rapid notes with her pencil.

  Redhand looked up and closed his eyes. “I heard the voice shout in victory. Then I heard it scream like a dying animal, and then it became small, shut inside a hole, a box.”

  He remained still and silent for a period, appearing motionless as though lifeless. The wind roared outside, stronger and in angry gusts. “Then the voice cried out that it was free, and it shook the ground I stood on. It cried out that the scales and the feather and the life had failed and would be broken.”

  Redhand lowered his head and stared straight ahead. “I sat in spirit, and I looked for the voice. I saw it, the three that were one, and it forced back my head, and it poured into my mouth a bitter drink, and I was seized by a spirit.” Redhand shuddered, then he looked at Ford. “After that, I woke in the jail of the hard marshal. I do not know what happened.” He took another draw from the pipe, clearly unsettled by his own words.

  Ford sat drumming his fingers on his knee. “What do you make of it all, Redhand?”

  The old man shrugged. “It is something I know little about. I know this land, and the spirits that live here. This evil… it came from another place. It’s a magic I don’t understand.” He pointed the pipe at Ebeneezer. “It is the medicine of his people.” He then aimed the pipe at Ford. “And your people. It is of the lands beyond the great ocean.” His gaze became distant. “I know that it did not belong here.”

  Ford nodded, and Lori wondered how he could possibly understand what Redhand was saying. “I’m glad you’re out of that jail. Will you come with us to Hakitaw? I have a feeling we’ll need you.”

  Redhand and Wakiye shared a meaningful look, and the thunderbird gave a curt nod. “We will come,” Redhand said.

  “We had better leave now,” Lori said as she rose from her squatting position. “I may have been a little… rough in getting Mr. Redhand out of jail.” She put her notepad and pencil back into her shirt pocket.

  Ford gave Lori a level look. “What did you do?”

  “She knocked very large holes in the walls, set fire to the place, and shot at the hard marshal,” Redhand said casually as he struggled to stand.

  Ford cussed under his breath. “Then we should leave, now.”

  Redhand busied himself in the corner of the barn, carefully placing his simple yet elegant saddle on Wakiye. The air was thick with the scent of straw, dirt, and tobacco smoke. As she adjusted the hoist rope to lower the saddle onto Jangles, her mind raced with questions about Redhand’s cryptic words and the mysterious evil he spoke of. The lanterns' dim light flickered, casting long shadows that danced around them, mirroring the unease that settled over the group. Outside, the wind howled. Their journey to Hakitaw was littered with unknown dangers and ancient magics that defied their comprehension.

  “Dad, what was Redhand talking about?”

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  “Yes, I was about to ask you that exact question.” Ebeneezer stood on a bale of straw, his cane tapping against it. “How on earth is this supposed to be the ‘medicine’ of my ancestors? I hail from Caledonia, which is worlds away from Aegypt.”

  Ford looked at them both with a hint of disappointment. “You should know this by now. You especially, Lori.” He said no more, but waited expectantly for Lori to figure it out.

  Lori fumbled with the straps of the saddle as she tightened it to Jangles’ back, her mind racing with uncertainty. Her father’s stern expectation weighed heavily on her, making her hesitate to voice her thoughts. She nervously adjusted the saddle blanket, trying to find the right words while avoiding his piercing gaze.

  “I suppose he means the nature of this thing, the Ma’at-jer. It’s from the Eastern hemisphere, and to a Native of this land, magic and sorcery from there is from ‘those people’.” She became more confident as she spoke. “Which confirms what I thought before, that this could be the Ma’at-jer from the legend of Nekhet and the journey of Alaric. And Redhand mentioned three.” She held up three fingers. “Three, the amount of names this thing gave itself. Three spoke as one…” Lori stared off, something in the back of her mind kept tickling at the number three, some vague idea that she knew was the key to it all, but it would not show itself.

  “I’ve never understood Native thinking.” Ebeneezer shook his head disapprovingly. “Magic is magic, here or in the east.”

  “And that is why wizards and sorcerers have such a hard time here in the west. You’ve never understood the difference between the cultures,” Ford said.

  They never bothered to try, Lori thought.

  “This thing we’re up against isn’t going to respond to any chanting and singing and telling of old tales,” Ebeneezer said, hiding his contempt rather well. He twirled his cane and green light shone from its ends, shooting outward like a bull’s-eye lantern. “It’s going to take a lot of magical firepower for us to destroy it.” He let go of the cane and it twirled in the air on its own, faster and faster until it appeared as a circle of green light floating before them. “We will need powerful magic, like this.”

  Redhand murmured a chant while he adjusted Wakiye’s saddle, his old voice blending with the haunting wind's wail outside. Initially, no one paid attention; it seemed as though Redhand was just lost in his own ancient song as he worked. Lori strained to catch the words, but they were elusive, too difficult to hear. His song was a tapestry of sound, woven from the threads of his native Ruquanaw tongue, a blend of melody and spoken word that carried the weight of centuries. The barn's atmosphere thickened with the power of his tale, a story that only Lori and Ford could partially understand.

  As Redhand's voice ebbed and flowed, the green light from Ebeneezer's twirling cane began to wane. The once brilliant circle of illumination slowed its frantic spin, the light dimming until it was a mere glimmer. The magical energy dissipated into the air, leaving behind an almost tangible absence. The cane clattered to the ground, its fall breaking the spell and pulling everyone back to the present with a jolt.

  Lori picked up the cane and handed it to Ebeneezer. He examined it, puzzled by its failure. Lori remained silent, deterred by her father's stern look, but she couldn't help smirking a little. Redhand had just proven who had a greater control of magic, and he had done it with the subtlety of a gentle breeze.

  Devin managed to stand close to Lori as she checked Jangles tack. He spoke in a low voice. “I don’t get it. I know there’s a difference, but why is that? Ebeneezer’s right.” He fingered the medallion against his chest. “Magic is magic no matter where you are.”

  Lori tried to come up with a simple way to explain it. "Yeah, it's all magic. But think of magic like water. Eastern magic is like water from a river. There are lots of ways to get water out of a river, right? You could use your hand, build a dam, or anything in between. How you do it just depends on what you need the water for and what you've got to fetch it with.

  But in some places, it’s like a desert, and you have to wait for it to rain. Or dig a well. It’s different out west. Sometimes you have to dig for it. Sometimes it’s like ice and you have to do something to make it melt first. Sometimes you have to wait for the right season." Lori shrugged. “That’s not exactly accurate, but it’s the best I can come up with at the moment.”

  Devin scratched his head. “I suppose.” He shrugged. “I’ve never known much about magic anyway. Try to stay away from it.”

  “A wise policy, if you can manage it,” Jangles said.

  “I’ll have to think of a better way to explain it,” Lori said.

  The barn doors creaked open just enough to admit a single soldier. The dusty air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and the distant howl of the wind. The ruddy-faced young man, no older than Lori, stepped inside, his boots crunching on the straw-strewn floor. He addressed Ford with a crisp salute, the metal of his insignia glinting in the dim light.

  “Colonel Drake, Sir! Major Strothers told me to give you this!” He handed a slip of paper to Ford who read it at a glance and dropped his hand in exasperation.

  “Damn.” He stared off in thought for a moment, then he turned to Jangles. “Can you take off from inside the fort?”

  “Inside the fort?” Jangles snorted. “No way. There’s not enough room for me to get a good run.”

  Ford sighed irritably and spared a glance at Lori.

  “What is it?” She asked.

  “That marshal is out front, and he is demanding you be turned over to him. You, your young friend here, and Redhand.”

  Lori’s face became a stone expression of determination as she gripped the handle of her pistol and marched toward the door.

  “Hold it!” Ford barked.

  Lori stopped in her tracks, her eyes riveted to the barn door.

  “You are not going out there.” Ford thought for a moment, then said, “Get me the shotgun.”

  “You’re not going out there, either.” Jangles growled. “I’ll not allow it.”

  Ford stared daggers at the dragon, then snorted in defeat.

  The creaking barn door interrupted the standoff. The fort commander, with a stern expression and a cigar in his mouth, stepped inside.

  Ford and Lori turned to face the new arrival.

  The commander fixed them with a stern gaze before addressing them. "The marshal has encircled the fort with his ogre deputies. He's demanding your immediate surrender." He removed his cigar and gestured with it. "He may have jurisdiction. It’s being looked into. But I've stationed men on the parapet, ready to open fire if any of the marshal's deputies make a move against you."

  The group exchanged tense glances. Jangles clawed at the earthen floor. Redhand looked worried, and Wakiye’s eyes narrowed in anger. Devin absently caressed his medallion. Ebeneezer pulled his hat down tight and wielded his cane as though it were a club.

  Lori reacted by fixating on the Major’s cigar, a spark of an idea flickering in her eyes.

  "Thank you, Major, but we don't want to cause any trouble," Ford said sternly.

  “Major?”

  He turned and gave a short bow to Lori. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Can I borrow your cigar?”