The Fang of Bonfire Crossing

by Brad McLelland

  Doyle suddenly screamed, “Eliza! John! Papa’s here!”

  Keech knew there was no more time. He looked back at the elders. “Where do we find it? Somewhere in the hills? I’ll go and fetch it.”

  Buffalo Woman and Doesn’t Fear Thunder looked perplexed.

  “The Fang of Barachiel is in front of you,” Strong Heart said.

  Keech glanced around. “I don’t understand.”

  Doesn’t Fear Thunder gestured toward the blaze. After speaking in Osage, he glanced at Strong Heart, who said, “The Fang lies inside the fire, the Lair of the Wolf.”

  Keech must not have heard right. A person couldn’t step near the bonfire without roasting alive. “You mean I have to face a difficult trial? Or find a way to put out the fire?”

  Strong Heart repeated the old man’s words.

  “But stepping into the fire would burn you to death!” Duck cried.

  The old woman waved a hand at her. “Peh-tseh, nohn-peh zhee-ah-pah.”

  “Do not fear the fire,” Strong Heart said.

  Before either Keech or Duck could respond, a sharp crack rent the salty air—a loud pop that sounded like the volley of a rifle. The discharge had come from behind them. Everyone in the cove turned to look in the direction of the disturbance.

  Farther up the coastline, a vibrant sparkle of light danced between the boughs of the bending tree. Another thundering crash echoed down the beach, and the flash of light widened with a horrible tearing noise.

  Doesn’t Fear Thunder stumbled forward, his mouth agape. “Hahn-kah-zhee!”

  In the distance, a hulking man stepped out of the light. It was Big Ben, and he wasn’t alone. The massive shape of the Chamelia scurried after him onto the beach, followed by a large black bird that swooped out of the shimmering gate. The Shifter crouched on all fours beside its master as the bird soared high above the ocean waves.

  Big Ben held up one arm, then let it drop with a booming command.

  “Kill them, Man Slayer! For the Reverend!”

  CHAPTER 30

  THE CHAMELIA

  As soon as the creature tore away from its master’s side, Strong Bones shouted orders, and the Protectors galloped out to meet the charging beast, pulling war clubs and lifting longbows.

  Strong Heart reined her pony back as the horsemen raced over the rock-strewn beach. “EEn-dah-tsee-dahn!” she called out to her uncle. But Strong Bones only turned to give her a swift wave onward.

  The girl whipped her head back to the young riders, her long braid lashing the air, and the sudden fear that Keech had read on her features turned quickly to resolve. She shrugged off her heavy buffalo robe, letting it fall to the sand, revealing a buckskin dress and knee-length leggings tied around her calves. Beckoning the young riders to follow, Strong Heart kicked her pony’s sides and tore out of the cove.

  Keech glanced around, realized they were trapped in a dead end, and suddenly recalled a time when he had cornered a field mouse in Pa’s woodshed. The critter had disappeared into the clutter of tools and wooden fragments till Keech had turned over a scrap of pine and revealed the poor thing’s hiding place. With nowhere else to go, the mouse sprang at his face. Panicked, he froze, allowing the mouse to scrabble over his shoulder, unscathed. Later, Pa Abner laughed at the story. With nowhere else to go, what did you expect? Pa said. Even the smallest animal will fight back when cornered.

  “Lost Causes, we’ve got nowhere left to run. It’s time to fight,” Keech called. “Let’s stand with the Protectors and save Bonfire Crossing.”

  “I’m with you,” said Quinn, “but how do we fight it?”

  Keech snatched up one of the long spears on the ground and tossed it to the boy. Duck followed Keech’s lead and grabbed a leather sling from the stockpile. “Better than a candlestick,” she said. They dashed over to mount their ponies.

  Brandishing his blade, Cutter raised a boot to Chantico’s stirrup but stopped. “What about John?”

  John Wesley growled, struggling in the nets. “I can help!”

  Keech glanced at the two elders, who were standing defiantly in front of Doyle and the bonfire. “Turn our friend loose. Please. He’ll fight with us.”

  Buffalo Woman nodded quickly. “Release him.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Cutter’s blade flashed. Strands of netting fell away, and John Wesley rolled out of the snare onto his hands and knees. He shook his spiny shoulders and peered down the beach with red glinting eyes. The backs of his arms bristled with quills, and long fangs jutted from his jaw.

  Unleashing a heavy roar, John scampered away on all fours out of the cove, kicking up sand with his ragged boots and clawed hands.

  “Let’s go!” Cutter shouted.

  Keech glanced over at Saint Peter. He had almost forgotten their most important weapon of all.

  Sprinting to the Kelpie, he fetched Doyle’s pouch of bloodroot from the saddlebag. The supply felt light—the Ranger had used most of it to lay the protection down at the Moss house and outside Wisdom—but there might just be enough to get the job done. Tucking it into his coat, Keech sprinted back to Hector.

  The young riders charged after John, leaving the two elders to wait with Doyle at the bonfire.

  John Wesley glanced back at the group. “Y’all keep going! I’m gonna try to outflank it!” He bolted off to the left and slipped out of view behind a cluster of charcoal rocks.

  “Everyone, support the Protectors!” Keech yelled. “Stay behind their bows. If you can get a shot in with your weapons, strike quick, but if the Chamelia charges, circle the rocks. It might confuse its path.”

  Midway over the beach, the Chamelia pounced on top of a tall boulder. It had taken on a canine form, the bulk of its hide lined with wolfish fur, but its underbelly was still coated with slick black scales.

  Ahead of the Lost Causes, Strong Heart joined her companions, and the Protectors fanned out into a horseshoe formation—four on one side, three on the other. The riders bellowed Osage words to one another. Staring down from the rock’s brow, the Shifter released a thunderous roar that echoed up the beach.

  The Lost Causes had nearly reached the Protectors when the Chamelia barreled down from the boulder and crashed into Yellow Hawk’s pony. The horse tumbled with a terrible squeal, and the Protector careened off the saddle. The Chamelia grabbed the pony by its flanks and lifted the poor animal off the ground, then tossed it down the beach, where it splashed into the surf. Yellow Hawk rolled to his side and reached for his war club, but the Chamelia lunged before he could wield it.

  “Leh-dahn Zee!” Strong Bones yelled.

  Yellow Hawk dropped to his stomach. A nest of arrows flew as the Protectors tried to stop the monster from clawing into their partner. Dogwood shafts jabbed into the creature’s back and neck, but it batted them away as if swatting at mosquitoes. The distraction afforded Yellow Hawk a chance to dash away to his horse, which was thrashing in the surf.

  The young riders approached the melee as the Chamelia crouched. The beast looked ready to lunge again, this time at Strong Bones.

  “EEn-dah-tsee-dahn! EE-Nah-pah!” Strong Heart flung her war club. The curved wooden head whistled through the air past the ranks of the Protectors and clobbered the Chamelia’s snout. A howl erupted from the creature as two or three fangs flew from its mouth.

  “Good throw!” Quinn said.

  Strong Heart’s attack didn’t stop the Shifter from targeting her uncle. In fact, the pain only fueled its rage. It bounded across the short distance, its claws reaching for Strong Bones, but then Keech caught a flash of movement to his left.

  John Wesley hurtled down from one of the black pillars and landed on the larger beast’s back, driving the Shifter into the sand. John ripped at its furry hide. The creature rolled against the boy, but he held firm, like a feisty cat clinging to a ball of yarn.

  The Protectors raised their longbows again, a new batch of arrows ready to fire, but as the young riders rode up into their formation, Cutter yelled,
“Stop! You’ll hit John!”

  Strong Bones held up a fist, pausing the volley.

  As John continued to tear at the Shifter, their combined snarls and whimpers grew into a violent cacophony, so piercing that the shouts of the Lost Causes and the Protectors became suffocated muffles in Keech’s ears. Beneath the discord, he heard Duck call out to him. She pointed farther down the beach, beyond the skirmish, to the bending tree in the distance.

  Big Ben had stepped away from the door of light and was strolling up the beach, his arms held before him like a man in the throes of supplication.

  “What’s he doing?” Duck said, boosting her voice over John Wesley’s attack.

  “No idea,” Keech returned, “but we’ll have to keep away from him for now. We got our hands full.”

  As if to confirm Keech’s words, the Chamelia broke the vicious hold on its back, and John Wesley went flying over the sand. He smashed headfirst against a craggy rock and collapsed.

  Cutter cried out to him, but before the boy could ride closer, the Protectors released their second hailstorm of arrows. This time, all seven shafts buried into the Chamelia’s chest—a perfect pattern of uniform shots. The beast stumbled backward, and for one moment, Keech thought the barrage would surely work, that the creature would tumble and die.

  But like before, the arrows only infuriated it.

  Reaching with a gnarled hand, the Chamelia yanked all seven sticks from its flesh and threw them to the ground. A low rumble filled its throat.

  And then it shifted.

  The canine features melted away, and the visage became that of a towering lizard on two legs. A hideous, serpentine tongue probed the air, and its saffron eyes fixed on the Protectors, as though marking the source of its most recent pain.

  Strong Bones issued a command, and the beach became a bedlam of movement as the warriors scrambled around the rocks. At first, the scattering appeared shapeless and chaotic, but Keech soon realized they were breaking in a defensive maneuver, carefully executed. The Chamelia spun about, bewildered, as Strong Heart and the horsemen disappeared behind the boulders. Keech heard a high whistle as two arrows appeared from nowhere, burying into the creature’s hide. It tugged them loose, undeterred, and continued to search—till it suddenly pivoted toward Whipping Feather, the horseman in the otter hat, who was racing around a nearby boulder.

  The Shifter vaulted toward the movement. The Protector grabbed his war club, but before he could swing it, the beast dived with a fury and tackled him off his horse.

  Galloping into the fray, Quinn heaved his long spear. It whizzed through the air like a lightning bolt and struck the Chamelia in the shoulder. The lizard-thing glanced up from its prey, searching for the culprit. Duck rushed in beside Quinn and shot a stone from her sling. The rock battered the creature’s ear and made it flinch, but otherwise it had no effect. The beast returned its attention to Whipping Feather.

  “Keech, Cutter, a little help!” Duck shouted.

  But Keech was already rushing in on one side while Cutter approached the Shifter on the other. They encircled the beast, hooting and whistling, trying to draw it off the fallen warrior, but the Chamelia hunkered on all fours and refused to budge.

  Surprising Keech, Cutter sprang off Chantico and onto the thing’s spiny, reptilian back. His long blade drove home between the thing’s distended shoulder blades. The creature yelped.

  “C’mon, cuchillo, work your magic,” Cutter yelled, clutching the knife’s bone handle. The Shifter spun violently, trying to shake the boy like a mustang.

  Reaching into his coat, Keech grabbed the bloodroot bag. He tugged open the bag’s drawstring mouth, and a sudden whiff of tart, pungent powder struck him. Distant calls from Strong Heart filled his ears, and he glimpsed John Wesley trying to rise from the sand, but Keech drove everything else away. Dipping his hand into the bag, he shouted “Hyah!” and steered Hector closer to the Shifter.

  Still trying to loosen Cutter from its back, the Chamelia frothed at the mouth when it saw Keech approach.

  “Cut, get clear!” he shouted.

  Cutter yanked back, and his blade tore from the thing’s back. The moment he lost his hold, he tumbled head over heels across the beach. Keech swung his arm wide, releasing his hand from the pouch, and a red handful of bloodroot flew into the Chamelia’s face.

  The response was instant. The monster began to twitch as if on fire, its long lizard snout angled up to the sky. Its snake-like tongue flicked in and out.

  And then the creature sneezed.

  The force of it dropped the Chamelia onto all fours. Claws digging at the sand, it arched its thorny back and lurched, releasing three more thunderous sneezes as it tottered. The discharges shook its entire body—and mounds of grayish-white fur sprouted up and down the Shifter’s stomach, replacing the reptilian scales, as if the sneezing had turned its skin inside out to reveal a whole different animal beneath.

  Two of the Protectors, Weeping Cloud and Red Stone, seized the distraction and directed their ponies straight at the Shifter. They flung a pair of nets, hooking the ropes around the creature’s barbed shoulders. As the mesh caught, the horsemen turned their ponies and dragged the Chamelia toward the sea. A frazzled-looking John Wesley followed the men, snarling just behind the beast and loping on all fours. Led by Strong Heart’s uncle, the other Protectors leaped off their saddles and dashed over to Whipping Feather’s body. Strong Heart stooped and fetched her war club from the sand, wiping the grimy curved head across her thigh.

  The young riders gathered their ponies around Strong Bones and the others. No one appeared to be scratched or bitten by the Shifter other than Whipping Feather, who lay in the sand unmoving. Keech prayed the fellow would collect a breath and stumble to his feet, but nothing happened. The Protectors spoke solemn words over the man as Strong Bones placed a hand on Whipping Feather’s head.

  Keech shook with rage. The Reverend Rose had taken life yet again. He stripped his hat off.

  The other Lost Causes bowed their heads in respect.

  “That takes care of the Chamelia,” whispered Quinn, not wanting to disturb the warriors’ mourning. In the distance, John Wesley and the two Protectors hauled the monster into the wash. “Now to stop its master.”

  Keech swiveled around. To his dismay, he saw no sign of the outlaw. He had tried to keep Big Ben in his sights, but the battle with the fiend’s pet had been a powerful distraction.

  “He’s there!” said Duck, pointing.

  Big Ben had traveled well past them. He had marched halfway down the beach toward the cove, completely around the skirmish, undetected. Now his hands twirled in formless circles, summoning a cyclone of sand that whipped about his boots. The swirl of wet grit formed a fierce cocoon around his mountainous body.

  “He’s going for the bonfire,” Keech said.

  CHAPTER 31

  THE HARVESTER OF DOOM

  Four Protectors, including Strong Heart, mounted back up. Strong Bones shouted something in Osage to his niece, then the three men galloped down the beach toward the outlaw. Hanging back with a frown, Strong Heart glanced at the young riders. “Uncle says we need to help the elders. They can’t stand alone against the bad man.”

  “We’re with you,” Keech said.

  The girl kicked her pony back into motion. “Follow quick!” she said.

  Keech and the other young riders fell in, riding side by side, galloping just behind her, occasionally parting to steer their ponies around thick boulders.

  Strong Bones and his two companions soon surrounded Big Ben. Yellow Hawk and Big Moon released a series of arrows, but the sand tornado swatted the shafts away, scattering them to oblivion. Strong Bones and Yellow Hawk tried to approach on foot, their war clubs held high, but neither man could gain ground.

  “They’ll never hurt him that way,” Quinn said.

  “Doyle’s the only one powerful enough to stop him,” Keech said. “We need to get the Fang and heal him.”

  “No, we shou
ld attack him head-on,” Duck said.

  “We’ll face him soon enough,” Strong Heart said. “For now, circle around and head to the bonfire.”

  Still following the girl, the young riders trotted their ponies toward the steep cliffs, giving Big Ben and his windstorm the widest berth possible. As they passed the scuffle, Big Ben’s cyclone whipped Strong Bones off his feet and slammed him into a boulder.

  Seeing her uncle fall, Strong Heart cried, “Hahn-kah-zhee!”

  Keech looked her firm in the eye. “Go help your uncle. We’ll stand with the elders.”

  Clutching her war club, Strong Heart reined her pony and hurried toward the battle.

  Suddenly, a nerve-shattering din thundered over the shore.

  Keech turned back to look and felt his heart plummet. The Chamelia stood on its hind legs in the distant surf, ripping away the nets that Weeping Cloud and Red Stone had thrown. Both Protectors had tumbled off their horses. One lay unmoving in the shallow water while the other crawled away from the beast. Nearby, John Wesley struggled through the ocean swell, closing in on the Shifter.

  “John!” Cutter yelled, then turned back to the others. “He’s alone with that thing!”

  “Stay on course,” Keech warned.

  But Cutter swiveled Chantico back toward the ocean. Despite Keech’s plea, he kicked his heels and galloped across the narrow beach, zigzagging through the boulders to get back to John Wesley.

  “What’s he doing?” said Quinn.

  “Getting himself killed,” Duck answered.

  Keech called after him to no avail. He could see that Big Ben blocked the boy’s path to the ocean, but at least the Protectors were still surrounding the outlaw, distracting him with a flurry of attacks.

  For one moment, Keech thought Cutter might make it past, but as the boy steered Chantico around the battle, a wall of whipping sand blasted him off his saddle, tossing him onto the ground.

  Big Ben shouted to the sky in fanatic praise. “Reverend, thank you for the Prime! Your faithful servant will see your destiny fulfilled! You shall rise again in the Palace!”