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Kuskurza: The Dark Kachinas, #2
Kuskurza: The Dark Kachinas, #2
Kuskurza: The Dark Kachinas, #2
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Kuskurza: The Dark Kachinas, #2

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Kuskurza contains "The Path to Kuskurza" and "White Indian." These stories serve as stand-alone prequels to the dark fantasy, Kachina.

The ancient cliff-dwelling Anasazi Indians left the safety of their cliff dwellings in the southwest United States centuries ago and vanished in history. "The Path to Kuskurza" tells the story of one of the last Anasazi, a young boy named Lutakawi, who chooses to make the dangerous journey back to the Anasazi world of creation far beneath the surface of this world.

However, the remaining Anasazis' hopes for a peaceful re-integration are destroyed by the oppressive Bow Clan in the world of creation. These warriors serve the Dark Kachinas and Lutakawi finds himself caught up in the war between the Bow Clan and the Sun Clan to try and preserve his people.

In "White Indian," is a western horror story. One of the Sun Clan has returned to the surface searching for warriors to aid his enslaved people in the world of creation. He is unprepared for the harshness of surface weather, though, and nearly dies in the desert.

Hank Rider, a small rancher in the Southwest, finds the Sun Clansman near death and tries to nurse him back to health. However, not only must he face townspeople who want to see any Indian dead, he must also fight members of the Bow Clan who have tracked the Sun Clansman to the surface to kill him before he can spread the secret of the world of creation.

Kuskurza also contains a sneak peek of Kachina, a dark fantasy about the ancient gods of the Anasazi.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 26, 2019
ISBN9781393682554
Kuskurza: The Dark Kachinas, #2
Author

J. R. Rada

J. R. Rada is the author of seven novels, a non-fiction book and a non-fiction collection. These include the historical novels Canawlers, October Mourning, Between Rail and River and The Rain Man. His other novels are Logan’s Fire, Beast and My Little Angel. His non-fiction books are Battlefield Angels: The Daughters of Charity Work as Civil War Nurses and Looking Back: True Stories of Mountain Maryland.He lives in Gettysburg, Pa., where he works as a freelance writer. Jim has received numerous awards from the Maryland-Delaware-DC Press Association, Associated Press, Maryland State Teachers Association and Community Newspapers Holdings, Inc. for his newspaper writing.If you would like to be kept up to date on new books being published by J. R. Rada or ask him questions, he can be reached by e-mail at jimrada@yahoo.com.To see J. R. Rada's other books or to order copies on-line, go to jamesrada.com.

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    Kuskurza - J. R. Rada

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    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    The Path to Kuskurza

    Section 1

    Section 2

    Section 3

    Section 4

    Section 5

    Section 6

    Section 7

    White Indian

    Kachina Sneak Peek

    About the Author

    THE PATH TO KUSKURZA

    1

    OF ALL THE PEOPLE OF the Cliff, perhaps only he remained alive. His people were ancient, but their time had passed or at least their time in the Fourth World had come to an end. Their enemies, the Clay Skins who called them the Anasazi, the Ancient Enemy, had gathered against them.

    The boy huddled next to the small fire burning in the center of the room. Although the room’s clay and stone walls reflected some of the heat, Lutakawi kept deer skins pulled around his shoulders for warmth. He sat with his knees pulled to his chest, more for the security of feeling his touch than for keeping warm.

    Outside the room, the wind blew hard through the valley above which the Sun Clan lived. The souls of the dead clansmen cried aloud as they sought the entrance to Kuskurza, the Third World. The living, if there were any, remained in their rooms with heavy curtains of hide across all the entries so the spirits would not mistake a lighted door for the entrance to the underworld.

    At the base of the mountain, fires could be seen where the Clay Skins waited. They could not yet scale the sheer rock walls, but neither could the hunters in the Sun Clan reach the ground to hunt or fetch water. Those who did were set upon and killed. Supplies had been stored up for such a time, but the dried meat and vegetables were nearly gone, and the water urns were empty.

    Lutakawi looked at the deer hide that covered the doorway to the outside, wondering if his grandfather would return or if his voice was among those howling through the valley. He had seen the look on his grandfather’s face when he had said goodbye to Nahoni. Nahoni did not think he would return.

    His grandfather had left this morning. How many more would be gone when the sun rose again? Was he the only one left in the pueblo?

    Since the coming of the Clay Skins from the north country, only the brave or the foolish had ventured into the valley. Lutakawi’s three older brothers and father had died in battle with the warrior Clay Skins, and they had carried his older sister and mother away. The Sun Clansmen were not warriors, though some among them were hunters. Most of the Sun Clansmen tended the land as they always had, even before they came to the Fourth World. But the savage Clay Skins caused some oldest Sun Clansmen to think the Bow Clan had finally followed the Sun Clan into the Fourth World to punish them for leaving Kuskurza. Except the Clay Skins had skins of red like the river clay, not white like the Bow Clan.

    The hides hanging over the door parted, and a man stepped into the dark shadows of the room. Thinking the man might be a Clay Skin, Lutakawi reached for his spear. Then his grandfather stepped within the circle of light cast by the fire.

    His skin seemed to sag. Certainly, his shoulders did.

    Lutakawi relaxed.

    The old man smiled briefly. The others are leaving. We should go before the dawn.

    Lutakawi shook his head. This is our home. Our ancestors fought to leave Kuskurza. Why should we return?

    Kuskurza. In the end, they would return to their beginnings.

    The oldest Sun Clansmen told stories of the world beneath the earth—Kuskurza. They had prospered until they forgot Taiowa the Creator’s teachings. Of all the clans in Kuskurza, the Bow Clan was the greediest and most war-like because they followed the Dark Kachinas. Taiowa imprisoned those evil spirits in a great stone tower and gave Ma´saw, one of the Sun Clan, the duty of keeping the Dark Kachinas imprisoned. The rest of the Sun Clan traveled to Tu´waqachi, the Fourth World, through the sipapu. The Sun Clan had built their immense pueblos on the sides of mountains to resemble the homes they had left below. They had learned to grow different foods from the ground and lived in the peace they had sought.

    Until the Clay Skins had come.

    If we stay, Nahoni told his grandson, we will die here. If not tomorrow, then by the next moon. There is only one place left to go.

    Lutakawi did not want to leave the pueblo. This had been his home for all of his fourteen years. Why did the Clay Skins have to come and take it from him?

    We can fight them still! he yelled jumping to his feet. He shook his spear over his head. We are strong. The Sun Clansmen survived the evil of the Bow Clan. We can survive the Clay Skins!

    Nahoni grabbed Lutakawi’s arm and pulled him back to the floor. Be silent, Lutakawi, his grandfather scolded him.

    Lutakawi blushed at his grandfather’s words. How could he treat him like a child? He was a man. He should be allowed to speak as a man.

    Nahoni smiled. You are brave, Lutakawi. You will grow to be a great warrior...if you live to become a man. Your brothers would have also been great warriors if they had lived, but there will be no victory for us here.

    Lutakawi’s head drooped. He sighed and asked, How many are left?

    A handful of families, no more. The rest are dead or returning. Even those who are left now will be gone by the dawning of the sun.

    What will happen to us in Kuskurza? Lutakawi asked.

    Nahoni shrugged. I don’t know. If the Bow Clan lives, they may make us their slaves, but we will live. Our bloodlines will continue. That is important.

    Lutakawi looked at the empty pallets his family had once slept on, and then he turned back to his grandfather. We should leave before the sun rises.

    They packed quickly. Hoes, picks, and other tools were gathered first because where there was soil, they would grow crops. The limited supply of bows, arrows, and spears were added to the pile as protection against both the Clay Skins and the Bow Clan. Pots were filled with different grains. Additional skins were handed to everyone to keep them warm through the journey.

    How long is the journey? Lutakawi asked Nahoni.

    It is no longer known, but it will be long, and so we must prepare as best we can.

    Nahoni extinguished the fire so no spirits searching for Kuskurza would be misled into the room. On the terrace outside the room, Lutakawi did not see the light from the Clay Skins’ fires in the valley. He knew they were there, though. The warriors rested easily and waited for the morning when they would attack again.

    In silence, Lutakawi and his grandfather climbed the ladder that led to the roof of their room. The roof of their room formed the terrace of another room. They climbed the ladder in front of the second room to the next terrace. The rooms went no higher than this level. Following the path across the top of the pueblo, they moved deeper into the hollow of the mountain.

    Passing an open doorway, Lutakawi could barely see someone sitting in the room. You are wise to stay and fight, Lutakawi said to the man.

    The man did not respond.

    Nahoni moved up beside Lutakawi and said, He is among the spirits. He did not stay.

    Lutakawi sighed and continued walking.

    The trail through the pueblo ended at a triangular tunnel in the rear of the mountain. The base point of the triangle was about two-feet wide, and it widened to four feet at the top. Nahoni lit a torch and walked into the tunnel. Lutakawi followed. Steps had been carved into the floor of the tunnel, but the path was still steep. At times, Lutakawi braced his hands against the walls to keep from sliding down the steps onto his grandfather. When they emerged, it was twilight, and they were at the bottom of the mountain and far from the pueblo.

    Nahoni continued following an unseen path toward the sipapu. The sun was just rising over the line of mountains when Lutakawi saw other

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