Chapter Twenty One

In the beginning, there was only darkness and emptiness.

The Gods were there, but they were alone - their existences spent in contemplation. Things continued in this fashion for a very long time. At last, Coyote got bored of contemplation. He tricked the other Gods, and talked them into making a world.

The Gods worked very hard to make a world - except, of course, for Spider. Now, Spider is a very lazy God; therefore, it can be no surprise that he was sleeping when Corn Mother came to enlist his aid.

"Wake up, you lazy creature," She chided him. "The world is almost finished, and you've done nothing!"

Resentful for having been awakened from a wonderful dream, Spider opened only one of his many eyes.

"Away, you nag!" he grumbled. "I have only been saving my energy for all of the marvelous things that I plan to create."

"You're in luck, if that's the case," Corn Mother beamed. "We were just about to create First Man, and I thought that you might like to help."

Now, Spider is a lazy god, but he is also crafty. He knew that he would need a marvelous excuse to avoid having to help to create First Man. Luckily, he managed to think of one quickly.

"I'm afraid that I'm much too busy to help you create First Man," he replied. "For you see, I was just getting ready to hang the Sun up in the sky."

"Oh, well, that's too bad," murmured Corn Mother. "Still, I'm sure that the Sun will be positively magnificent."

Corn Mother departed, and Spider prepared to get back to his nap; first, though, he would need to make his excuse convincing. He spun a bag of silk, and with it he attached the Sun to his back. With it in place, he began crawling up the dome of the Sky, until he had reached the top. Once he was there he spun a thread of silk, and with it he dangled the Sun from the top of the Sky. The work was very hard, and Spider was exhausted from his labors by the time that he descended from the Heavens. When he reached the Earth, Corn Mother was waiting for him.

"What a wonderful thing!" she exclaimed. "It truly is marvelous, just as you promised."

Satisfied that his excuse had worked, Spider gave a weary smile.

"I'm glad that you like it," he purred. "How is First Man coming along?"

"Oh, that old thing?" said Corn Mother. "We finished him weeks ago."

Grumbling, Spider returned to his web to sleep; Corn Mother smiled to herself, having tricked Spider into doing the most difficult job of all. But she may have made a mistake, because Spider did a shoddy job of hanging the Sun in the Sky. Even now, the thread that holds up the Sun is fraying; Spider must return to the Sky to repair it every so often, or it will break and the Sun will fall. And - since Spider is such a lazy God - it falls to us to remind him of his task...

Michael Evans found a lump growing in his throat as Dancing Bird sat, his eyes closed, solemnly reciting the litany that would wake Spider from his slumber. Watching the old man invoke the intercession of his Gods - here, so far from Western civilization and all of its trappings - it was almost possible to imagine that events such as this one were still commonplace on these moonlit plains.

The wonder and mystery of the occasion were lost on Buck, who'd spent most of the ritual fidgeting anxiously.

"Is he almost done?" Buck finally whispered to Evans.

Evans shushed Buck; Dancing Bird momentarily opened a single eye and glared at the two of them, his chant not wavering for a moment. After a few more minutes, the shaman's voice trailed away into silence. An expectant hush fell over the men; at last, Dancing Bird spoke.

"It is finished," he said matter-of-factly. "My part has been played."

Buck blinked.

"What, that's it?" he gawked. "It's as simple as that?"

Dancing Bird scoffed.

"Hardly," he said. "Your task yet remains."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buck snarled. "I'm not much for chanting, if that's what you..."

Buck trailed off as the stars disappeared from above, followed by the moon. Within moments, a swirling darkness had enveloped the group. The campfire sputtered briefly, and then winked out of existence.

Buck leapt to his feet, swearing. The three men now seemed to be standing upon a level plain of what looked like volcanic glass. A brackish mist swirled about them, making it difficult to see more than perhaps twenty feet into the distance. Strange shapes loomed in the fog. Buck gaped.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

Dancing Bird had made a career of suffering fools, and felt that he was overdue for retirement. His gaze managed to express contempt on an astounding number of separate levels.

"Well?" he drawled. "You didn't think it was going to be as easy as that, did you?"

Evans' face mirrored Buck's confusion.

"I sort of did, actually," Evans mumbled.

Dancing Bird sighed wearily.

"Haven't you been paying attention?" he demanded. "I have done my part; now you must do yours."

"And what does that entail, exactly?" Evans asked timidly.

Dancing Bird sniffed impatiently.

"As I mentioned, the two of you are - apparently - a man of great strength, and one of great compassion. The ceremony is also a test, you see. It falls to the two of you to prove that the Earth is worthy to continue existing."

"What, really?" Evans stammered.

"So it would seem," replied Dancing Bird.

The shaman sat, and then gave a small wave.

"Good luck with that," he said, without much enthusiasm.

Buck's face was buried in his hands; when he spoke, it was from between his fingers.

"Would you please, for the love of God, just tell us what we're supposed to do?"

Dancing Bird grinned.

"Gladly," he cooed. "You, Buck, have to fight and conquer that which you most fear."

"Is that all," Buck deadpanned.

Dancing Bird nodded enthusiastically, his grin having grown somewhat more horrible. Evans' eyes bulged; Buck gave a resigned sigh, and then gestured vaguely.

"Allright," he mumbled. "Let's get it over with."

Dancing Bird gave an unsettling laugh, and the looming shadows surrounding the three seemed to resonate with the hollow sound of the shaman's laughter. The mist swirled, congealed, and began settling into a shape. At last, the smoke parted, and a man stood before the trio. He was dressed from head to toe in black. His skin was pale. His eyes were black, and not just the parts that should've been.

The man blinked, seemingly surprised to have found himself here, and then glared viciously at Buck.

"Can this wait?" rasped the Pale Man. "I'm a little busy at the moment."