The Skrayling Tree by Michael Moorcock Read Free Book Online Page B

ally with some knowledge of this world.
    I reflected on my peculiar luck, which again had brought me into another’s dream. I had been attacked by that wind, I was
     certain. An aerial demon. An elemental. Ayanawatta was supremely confident. No doubt, since this was his final spirit journey
     and he was back in his familiar realm, he had defeated many obstacles. I had some idea of what the man had already endured.
     Yet he bore the burden of that experience lightly enough.
    A current in the lake took our canoe gently towards the farther shore. Resting, Ayanawatta slid a slender bone flute from
     his pack. To my surprise he played a subtle, sophisticated melody, high and haunting, which was soon echoed by the surrounding
     hills and mountains until it seemed a whole orchestra took up the tune. Crowds of herons suddenly rose from the reeds as if
     to perform their aerial ballet in direct response to the music.
    Pausing, Ayanawatta took the opportunity to address the birds with a relatively short laudatory speech. I was to become used
     to his rather egalitarian attitude towards animals, his way of speaking to them directly, as if they understood every nuance
     of his every sentence. Perhaps they did. In spite of my fears, I was delighted by this extraordinary experience. I was filled
     with a feeling ofvibrant well-being. In spite of Ayanawatta’s company, it had been ages since I knew such a sense of solitude, and I began
     to relish it, my confidence growing as I was infected by his joyous respect for the world.
    By evening we had reached the reedy mouth of a river on the far side of a lake. After we drew the canoe ashore, Ayanawatta
     pulled some leggings and a robe from the pack. Gratefully I put the leggings on and wrapped myself in the blanket. The air
     was becoming chilly as the sun poured scarlet light over the mountain peaks and the shadowy reeds. The sachem carefully restarted
     his fire and cooked us a very tasty porridge, apologizing that he should have caught some fish but had been too busy recounting
     that disappointing meeting with Hawthorne. He promised fish in the morning.
    Soon he was telling me about the corrupt spiritual orthodoxy of the Mayan peoples he had visited on an earlier stage of this
     journey. Their obscure heresies were a matter of some dismay to this extraordinary mixture of intellectual monk, warrior and
     story-teller. It all turned on certain Mayan priests’ refusal to accept pluralism, I gathered. Any fears I had for Ulric were
     lulled away as I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
    In the morning, as good as his word, the Mohawk nobleman had speared us two fat trout which, spiced from his store of herbs,
     made a tasty breakfast. He told me a little more of his dream-quests, of the stages of physical and supernatural testing he
     had endured to have reached this level of power. I was reminded of the philosophy of the Japanese samurai, who at their best
     were as capable of composing a haiku as of holdingtheir own in a duel. Ayanawatta’s dandified appearance in the wild suggested he cultivated more than taste. He was warning
     potential enemies of the power they faced. I had traveled alone and understood the dangers, the need to show a cool, careless
     exterior at all times or be killed and robbed in a trice. As it was, I envied Ayanawatta his bow and arrows, if not his twin
     war clubs.
    After we had finished eating, I expected us to get on the move. Instead Ayanawatta sat down cross-legged and took out a beautiful
     redstone carved pipe bowl, which he packed with herbs from his pouch. Ceremoniously he put a hollow reed into a hole in the
     bottom of the bowl. Taking a dried grass taper from the fire he lit the pipe carefully and drew the smoke deeply into his
     lungs, then puffed smoke to the Earth’s quarters, by way of thanks for the world’s benevolence. An expression of contentment
     passed over his face as he handed me the pipe. I could only follow his example with some