Falls

by Melinda Kucsera

  That dark voice was chanting now and growing louder with each recitation until its strange words pounded in sync with Saveen’s heart. Something bad was happening. The crowd’s advance slowed and the hands reaching toward Sarn moved like weeds caught in a current.

  “We need to get out of here. Can you wake your father?”

  “I can try.” Still aiming his slingshot, Ran backed toward the unconscious Sarn.

  Saveen shoved one man back and swatted a second but a third, holding a shard of glass, wormed past him. A wall of green light jumped in between the teen and a surprised Ran, and the glass shard bounced off the shield. The teen staggered as a metal ball struck him between the eyes.

  “Saveen, back up. The magic wants you to come here.”

  “The magic wants me to do what?”

  But the voice drowned out Ran’s reply with its harsh grating.

  “Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  Sinners’ Last Call

  “This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh,” intoned the Adversary as he spread his arms wide. Echoes of his chant sustained it, and he built on them, layer by layer until it was a polyphonic braid. The underpinning was ready, now it was time to add to the melody and give this spell teeth.

  “Come, sinners, with prideful eyes. At my side, thy time is nigh. Sinners tell father your lies. At my side, thy time is nigh. Gluttonous dears, swallow the despised. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. Envious ones, decry the sly. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. The slothful beside me sigh: come, sinner, thy time is nigh. I dwell in greedy hearts on high. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. The sorrowful testify: come, sinners, thy time is nigh. When lusting loins rise—come, sinner, thy time is nigh. Come, sinners, let bloody hands lie. Sing my battle cry: come, sinner, thy time is nigh. This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  As the Adversary sent out his call, he pulled a dark thread from his spirit form and wove it like a cat’s cradle between his skeletal fingers, changing the pattern and the pitch of his voice for each group of sinners he summoned.

  “To you, I call, sinners all, afflicted by the seven deadliest sins of all. Come one, come all, we’re all sinners enthralled, so pile your sins of the flesh ‘til they fall. Yes, pile your sins of the flesh ‘til they fall. Into my spirit, come one, come crawl all.”

  The tunnel rang with his summons, bouncing the echoes of his dark melody through the Lower Quarters. “Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.” Part of his essence peeled away, and his shadow raced after the echoes of his summons. “This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  As the Adversary sent out his spirit to collect those who belonged to him, he listened for the double-stop harmony of a doubly-gifted mage but heard only the drone of thousands of mortals whose small lives were interrupted by his call. No matter, that mage would come, thanks to the thorn he’d implanted.

  The Adversary tossed a pawn into the air. It spun three times widdershins as the worst sinners shuffled into the cavern. Your move, Queenie.

  Ran took aim at the toothless woman bearing down on Saveen and repeated his request. “Just step backward so Papa’s magic can protect you.” He fired off a shot then tugged Saveen’s pant leg to get his friend moving. But he pulled too hard, and Saveen toppled.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to trip you.” Ran crawled over his friend to get a better view and came nose to whiskered nose with a silver-eyed rat. “Rat Woman? Can you help us?”

  She turned and darted into the crowd, biting and clawing her way through it, panicking people. But she was one rat, and there were many more people. They recovered from their shock and pushed to the front again. Arms were everywhere, reaching, clawing, grasping and pulling on the people in front of them, making the crowd look like the seething monster they’d faced earlier.

  Ran swallowed the fear choking him and raised his slingshot. Rat Woman did what she could. Now it's up to me. I wish Bear was here.

  The bright bubble of green light surrounding him pushed forward until it encompassed his downed friend then it bowed inward. Why was it doing that? Make the bad people go away. Ran poked the shield, and it rippled.

  “I’m okay.” Saveen sat up and squeezed Ran’s shoulder.

  He nodded and fished another metal ball from his pocket but held on to it instead of fitting it to his slingshot.

  A rhythmic metallic scraping startled Ran. “What was that?”

  Saveen shrugged, but he’d heard it, and it had rattled him too. He adjusted his headscarf, which had slipped during the unfolding drama.

  The crowd froze as that sawing noise grew louder. It almost sounded like words, but none Ran had ever heard.

  “What’s a ‘sinner?’” Ran spat out the sour tang filling his mouth. Those words tasted like spoiled meat.

  “I don’t know.”

  “They’re bad words. Don’t try to say them. Don’t listen either.” Ran covered his ear with his free hand.

  A man in the front ranks froze. He had broken, blackened teeth and a sooty face contorted by a rictus of pain. The man’s eyes rolled back until the whites showed as he turned and shouldered his way through the people bunched up behind him.

  A kerchiefed woman replaced him. She reached out for the light pouring out of Papa’s eyes then she spasmed and her eyes rolled back. Her desperate hands dropped to her sides as she too turned and shuffled away. Another woman tried to stop her, but she slammed the heel of her hand into the woman’s throat and she crumpled.

  “Why are their eyes all blank?” Ran pocketed his slingshot and hurried to Papa’s side. He couldn’t see the woman who fell. The crowd hid her. Something bad was happening and it made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

  One by one, the rest of the crowd swayed to the beat of that discordant chant. Some peeled off from the group and followed the man with the broken teeth, but others remained, staring at nothing Ran could see. At least some were going away. That was a good thing, right? Ran pushed the question aside.

  “What just happened?” Saveen covered his ears as he rose.

  “This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  The evil chant was inside Ran’s head now, and he winced. It was too loud.

  Pain etched Saveen’s face. He bit his lip as a tear tracked down his cheek. It glistened in the glow of Papa’s eyes. That sawing sound changed to many chains clanging. Ran covered his ears too as it echoed then he turned as he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

  The green light pouring out of Papa gathered into a blinding man-shape.

  “What are you doing?” Ran asked the magic, but the green man just shook his head. “Why doesn’t Papa wake up?”

  The Magic Man extended a hand and pulled Papa to his feet. He hung there, unconscious and pale. There was something in the shadows. Was it a person crouched by that fold of rock? Ran squinted at it as the thing moved then he stumbled backward.

  A black man-shape rushed toward them, but the magic’s light didn’t reveal any features. “I’ve got you now!”

  His head was a flat black ovoid when he collided with a winged woman. Auntie Sovvan appeared next to Papa. She shoved the shadow-man in the chest driving him backward, but he split in half and each half spawned another shadow-man. They both rushed toward Papa and his magic. Auntie Sovvan pulled a sword from her hip sheath and swung it. She caught one shadow-man, but the other got past her. It slammed into Papa and his magic. They merged—the green man and Papa—in a blinding flash. When Ran could see again, Auntie Sovvan was gone, and the shadow-man had Papa in a headlock.

  “You’ll meet my master,” said the shadow.

  “No!” Ran shot the shadow with his slingshot, but the ball sailed right through his head instead of bouncing off it.

  The shadow man laughed until Papa’s hand connected with his face. Black lines covered Papa’s left hand, and they dispersed the shadow-man on contact.

  The
Son of Man adjusted the cross He bore. Its heavy beam weighed Him down, but He was used to carrying the world’s balance on his shoulders. Under his sandals, the ferry rocked as the queue shuffled forward.

  Clad in white, J.C. fit right in with the disembarking crowd. To keep from baking on this hot, sunny, June afternoon, nearly everyone wore light-colored garments and some type of head-covering, preferably with a brim since there was no shade on the ferry. Sunlight coruscated on the fat ribbon of the River Nirthal, making everyone squint.

  Since Shayarins historically came in all heights, weights and skin colors, no one gave his brown skin a second glance. If you were a mundane, non-magical human, you were accepted.

  If you weren’t, then you might have a problem depending on where you lived in Shayari’s enchanted green miles. Some parts were more accepting of magic, mages and magical races than others. But this wasn’t a sightseeing trip, so J.C. turned his mind to the mountain sulking amid a lush meadow. Where are you, my Adversary, and what are you doing?

  A veiled girl with appreciative golden-brown eyes watched him, and a fine-boned middle-aged woman in a rose gown smiled shyly as he joined the queue. He nodded to both women.

  Did these good people see—a thirtyish man on an errand or a savior come to save their souls? Did you know the enemy is under your mountain?

  J.C. searched their dark eyes. Everyone in Shayari, except the magic-touched, had brown eyes.

  No, they didn’t know a spiritual war was brewing in their home. He sighed and shuffled a few feet closer to his goal—Mount Eredren. Its bent cone sparkled in the sunlight playing on its snow-capped peak.

  “Have your papers handy if you’ve goods to sell,” announced the ferryman as he walked the deck. “There’s a fellow on shore who needs to see ‘em.”

  Three other ships lay at anchor. One belonged to the Seekers, but He’d deal with that misguided order another time.

  The Adversary was the greater threat to the men and women stepping one by one onto the narrow gangplank. At least this one had guide ropes for the unsteady to grab onto. A stout woman helped a teenage girl onto the gangplank then it was his turn to disembark.

  She had a horsey face, but her eyes were kind, and the hand she extended offered to help him. He accepted because aid freely given should never be spurned.

  “Take care. That first step’s a doozy. There you go. It’s all downhill now. Thank you for traveling with us.”

  J.C. smiled his thanks then strode down the plank, which jiggled with every step. Grooves kept it from becoming slick where the tide washed over the bottom third. Thank you, Father, for them.

  A youth loitered at the other end of the plank, checking things off on his clipboard and writing the occasional note. Sweat beaded his face and ran into his eyes. “Do you have anything to declare?” he asked.

  J.C. shook his head. “I’m just visiting.”

  “Enjoy your visit.” The young man nodded, added a tick mark to his checklist and waved him on.

  Rocks slipped and slid under J.C. as he walked toward the two lines of menhirs. They encircled the meadow and the mountain in its middle.

  A fell voice whispered on the wind, “come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  And its evil power sent sparks skipping between those menhirs, activating the protections left behind by a vanished race. Those Litherians had built their constructs tough.

  Ancient power wove between them, cordoning off the meadow. J.C. touched the shield, and it bowed under his hand. He could break it but doing so would leave the people of this mountain vulnerable, so he retracted his hand.

  A face appeared in its light. A heavy brow leaned hard on a pair of emerald eyes.

  “You’re not invited. Only the invited may enter,” it said as the shield became permeable, allowing a woman to pass.

  Of course, she couldn’t see the shield. All her attention fixed on the crate she carried and its clinking cargo. It was half her size. Inside, lay something breakable—pottery maybe—and she was determined to deliver it, undamaged, to its new home. But she didn’t possess a drop of Litherian blood. So even if she’d had a hand free, she couldn’t have helped him cross.

  She froze between the two circles of menhirs as its spells scanned her from head to toe, recognized her as a resident and let her pass. After a moment’s pause, she continued without any recollection of the stop.

  J.C. scanned the beach for another likely prospect, but not a single person within sight or sensing distance was descended from the ancient race of distrustful mages that built this place. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see beyond the spells weaving between the two circles of standing stones. Their shields blurred the mountain they protected.

  People milled about the beach or sat on boulders to take in the sun or the view while they waited. Some snacked while others dozed or smoked pipes.

  “Yes,” said the youth waving to the three squat houses occupying the beachhead. He raised his voice, so he cut across the conversations buzzing around him. “The next ferry to Jacora arrives in forty-five minutes. Its first stop is Racine, twenty miles downriver. There are refreshments in that hut there. They cost a copper a cup. Tell them Will sent you. Any other questions? No? Good, you there. What’s in that barrel?”

  Will charged after a man rolling a metal drum. No one else approached the standing stones or their cordon or looked likely to anytime soon. God, my Father, will provide all that I need. Though, it couldn’t hurt to stretch his legs a bit.

  J.C. strode around the outer circle of menhirs toward the enchanted forest. Perhaps there’d be more foot traffic over there since the forest bordered the meadow on three sides. If not, there was another ferry due in under an hour.

  The Litherians had once occupied all the mountains in the western parts of Shayari. Even though they were a race of misanthropes, they’d left more than a few heirs lying around, and those descendants would be attracted to a mountain-turned-city.

  “Come, sinners, thy time is nigh,” sang the Adversary.

  The menhirs oscillated at just the right frequency to reduce the compulsion, but not counteract it. So it was more of a suggestion when it reached the people waiting for the next ferry, and none acted on it.

  Clever, very clever, those Litherians knew their mage-craft.

  A fiery figure appeared in the rainbow moiré of the shield and followed J.C.

  “I’m not the enemy. I won’t call someone out just to invite me in.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they have free will. I would never do anything to violate that. I’ll wait for someone to come and invite me in of their own accord or for you to drop your shields.”

  The golem shook its head and faded into the rainbow-hued light weaving between the stones. “I can’t do that.”

  “Unless the conditions change, I know. You’re as bound to your purpose as I am to mine.” Salvation without choice was no salvation at all. So, J.C. walked and waited. Someone would come, hopefully soon enough to make a difference.

  To Your Dark Father Fly

  Sarn staggered into a wall clutching his throbbing hand. There was a black hole in his palm and inky lines radiated out from it. He stared at it. What the hell is happening to me?

  Gentle fingers turned his hand so the invisible angel standing next to him could examine the wound. Cold lips touched his ear followed by her voice.

  “The Adversary must have infected you with his taint when you fell earlier. He was close by. Our talk ended so abruptly, it knocked me for a loop. By the time I was myself again, you were under the mountain.” Sovvan paused and Sarn slid down the wall. His legs refused to hold him up anymore. Every word she spoke leeched more of his heat and strength.

  “Who or what is this ‘Adversary?’”

  “It’s too complicated to explain now. Sarn, listen to me. I’ll do what I can to slow this.” Sovvan shook his affected hand. “Thank God mom baptized us. She gave me a base to work from. I won’t be able to talk to you again. It drains you too
much because you don’t have the right gifts for it. Sarn?”

  He could hear her but not see her, and even that was becoming difficult. Ice was crawling through his veins numbing everything.

  “I hear you, Auntie Sovvan,” Ran said from somewhere nearby. “I see you too.”

  “You—but that’s not possible.”

  Ran shrugged and his shoulder bumped Sarn as he examined Sarn’s hand. “Something bad’s happening to Papa.”

  “Yes, but we’ll find a way to fix it.” Saveen laid a hand on Ran’s shoulder and squeezed it.

  “Yes, we will. But you must stay away from the Adversary. He—oh God, he’s coming. Run!” Sovvan shouted then a fireball struck Sarn and every muscle unfroze as the drain on his resources ceased.

  Saveen helped Sarn up.

  “What’s happening?” Sarn blinked at the receding crowd in confusion. He couldn’t see what had spooked Sovvan. “Where are they going?”

  Ran shrugged. “They’re not right, Papa.”

  “Not right, how?”

  “They’re all wide-eyed and staring—well most of them. There are some people trying to turn them.”

  “What do you mean—"

  A scream broke through the white noise of the crowd, cutting Sarn off mid-sentence and he flinched. As that scream attenuated, more and more lumir crystals screamed for his touch, his light.

  Kindle us, they shouted, and their demands reverberated off every wall as more people turned around and marched in the opposite direction as if called. Soon the tunnel was filled with people going the wrong way. They were a wall of bodies shoving everyone and everything in their path out of their way. They squeezed Sarn and his charges to the edges of the tunnel as they hurried in the opposite direction. A voice danced at the edge of hearing.