Chapter Twenty

Nightfall had come and gone. The desert, so bland by day, actually managed to effect a certain ethereal splendor with only the eerie light of the moon to illuminate it. This particular evening was lent a special loveliness by a freak meteor shower; say what you might, the sight of a third of the stars falling from the sky was fairly spectacular.

In the plain below, a tiny campfire struggled feebly to push back the encroaching shadows. Three men sat in a circle around the fire, their faces ghostly in its flickering light.

Michael Evans and Dancing Bird had spent the better part of an hour getting reacquainted, and Buck was beginning to fidget. They'd both lapsed into the shaman's language at some point, and he was increasingly falling prey to a paranoid suspicion that they were talking about him. At last, his patience snapped.

"Look," he grumbled. "I'm sure you two have a lot of catching up to do, but shouldn't we be getting down to business?"

Evans seemed taken aback, as if he'd forgotten about Buck entirely.

"Your friend has a point," Dancing Bird commented. "You still haven't told me what you're doing here, Michael. You didn't come all this way to pay a social visit, I suspect."

Evans shook his head.

"Isn't it obvious?" he muttered.

Evans gestured vaguely towards the sky above; Dancing Bird looked obligingly upward, appraising the spectacle with a grim smile.

"Ah, yes," he remarked. "Magnificent, isn't it?"

Buck was beginning to lose patience.

"Look, could you try to focus for a second?" he growled. "This is kind of serious."

Dancing Bird seemed almost surprised, or at least he pretended to be.

"Is it?" he replied distantly.

"Well, of course it is," Evans exclaimed.

"If you say so," Dancing Bird murmured.

An expression of profound confusion made its way across Evans' face.

"Look, I'm not sure that you understand," he explained.

"Don't I?" mumbled Dancing Bird.

Evans finally began to lose his temper.

"Perhaps I've failed to impress upon you the gravity of the situation," he growled. "There is apparently a rather large wolf attempting to drink the world's oceans. The only thing stopping him, as I understand it, is the fact that they are currently boiling. This is not to mention the fact that there are - at last count - more than a dozen different gods and monsters fighting over who will get to eat the sun. It's unlikely that any of them will have the chance, as that particular celestial object is amongst those that would appear - against all scientific reasoning - to be falling out of the sky."

Dancing Bird gave the impression of having grown increasingly bored throughout Evans' diatribe.

"And what do you think that any of that has to do with me?" he asked innocently.

"Cut the crap," growled Buck. "You've gone and skipped your little ritual, haven't you?"

Dancing Bird shrugged again.

"Superstitious nonsense," he answered blandly.

Evans coughed pointedly.

"I suspect that there's quite a bit more to 'superstitious nonsense' than meets the eye," he said, "given the fact that the world would appear to be ending."

Dancing Bird's indifferent attitude disappeared, replaced in an instant by a shockingly fierce expression.

"And why shouldn't it?" he barked.

Evans stammered, somewhat taken aback.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" scoffed Buck.

"Well?" Dancing Bird demanded. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. Now seems like as good a time as any."

Buck's brow knotted.

"Not really your decision to make, is it?" he grumbled.

"Isn't it?" Dancing Bird replied evenly.

There was an uncomfortable silence before the shaman spoke again.

"This Earth, like me, she's getting old," he murmured distantly. "Getting tired out and used up. Maybe she's ready to die, hm?"

Dancing Bird seemed lost for a moment in contemplation, and then another fierce expression stole across his face.

"There is also the question of revenge, of course," he rasped. "For the fate of my people."

Buck and Evans both gaped. After a moment, Dancing Bird's face relaxed again.

"In any case, I don't see why it ought to be any of my concern," he mumbled. "It seems foolish that an old man such as I should be the world's only hope."

Buck's jaw had begun to clench rhythmically; his hand seemed to be gripping the handle of his revolver, perhaps unconsciously. Finally, he gave Evans a furious glance.

"Talk to him, will you?" Buck pleaded.

Evans stared back at his associate, and then looked away into the shadows.

"What's there to say?" Evans muttered. "I think..."

His words were choked off mid-sentence by what sounded like a sob; when he spoke again, his voice was husky.

"I think maybe he's right," he finished.

Buck stared dumbly.

"Wait, what?" he demanded. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Evans sniffled loudly, obviously struggling to control himself.

"Look, you don't understand," Evans choked. "I've seen cultures die, Buck. Dozens of them, probably. Hundreds or thousands of years of history and beautiful tradition, just wiped out overnight. I've seen a lot of good and decent people squashed underfoot for the sake of advancing this thing we call civilization."

Evans shook his head slowly.

"And what good is any of it?" he demanded. "I know you, Buck. You don't like the modern world any more than I do. But people like you and me, we don't get any say in the matter. It'll just keep expanding - this mindless, devouring, impersonal thing - until it's swallowed up the whole world and turned us all into machines. Until there's nothing worthwhile or human left."

Evans shrugged.

"If that's all that the future holds," he asked morosely, "then what good is it?"

Evans fell silent, still shaking slightly. Buck stared back and forth between Evans and Dancing Bird, his mouth hanging open. At last, he spoke.

"I can't believe this," he snapped.

Buck sprang to his feet, livid with anger.

"We come all this way, and now you're gonna give up just because this old snake has a chip on his shoulder?"

Buck now had the full attention of both Evans and Dancing Bird. He'd taken his gun from its holster without realizing it, and was now waving it around in a fairly unsettling fashion.

"Look," Buck snarled. "You two ladies wanna have a talk about your feelings, that's great. Really, it's adorable. But you're gonna have to do it some other time, because right now we've got more important things to worry about."

Buck put a hand to his temple and winced; the other - with his revolver still in it - was still gesturing towards his increasingly uncomfortable companions.

"Maybe you're right," Buck muttered, "and the world's ready to die. Well I'm not, you understand?"

Buck finally seemed to notice the fact that he'd drawn his pistol; his mind cleared somewhat, and he decided to capitalize on the fact. He cocked the hammer, and took aim at Dancing Bird.

"So," Buck said flatly, "it's about time to make a decision. You gonna help us or not?"

Dancing Bird gave Buck a slightly contemptuous glare, and then sniffed.

"Of course I am," he grumbled.

Evans jolted upright.

"You are?" he choked.

Buck seemed somewhat deflated.

"Oh," he stammered. "Good..."

Evans stared uncomprehendingly at Dancing Bird.

"What made you change your mind?" he asked.

Dancing Bird cracked a very small smirk.

"I haven't changed my mind," he said blandly. "I never said that I wasn't going to help you. Just that I wasn't happy about it."

Buck's hand fell numbly to his side as both he and Evans gawked at the old man.

"The way I see it," Dancing Bird continued, "it's not as if I have much choice in the matter."

"Don't you?" Evans mumbled.

Dancing Bird rolled his eyes.

"The gods have forced my hand, it seems," he explained. "I am a man of great wisdom - at least in theory - but I could not have performed the ceremony by myself. Two others are required: a man of great strength, and a man of great compassion."

Dancing Bird glanced into the shadows at the edge of the firelight, where a small canine beast was crouching. It appeared to be grinning at him.

"How very convenient," Dancing Bird sighed, "that the two of you have managed to find me here."

The shaman pondered this thought for a moment, and then rose to a businesslike posture.

"And there you have it," he said smartly. "We might as well get started."