Evil Awakened (The Kiche Chronicles Book 1)

by J. M. LeDuc

  “What happened to this place?” she mouthed. “Why did Kise let this happen?” Kise, she thought, her eyes opening even wider, Where is Kise?

  “Kise,” she yelled, peering up at the ceiling for a sign. “Where are you?”

  I’m in your heart.

  “I need you to be here. I don’t understand what’s happened to this place.”

  This cave is part of the spirit world, Kise answered. It’s controlled by the spirit of the one destined to become the Kiche. Your spirit controls life in this world.

  “That’s why I’m here. I came back to try and figure out if that’s my destiny. I need you to tell me. Is that the path I am supposed to walk?”

  I can’t tell you that. I will walk beside you and guide you, no matter which path you choose, but you are the only one who can make the ultimate choice.

  “How?” Pamoon fell against the cold, stone wall. “If I choose this path, then I might be responsible for others’ deaths. I don’t know if I can handle that.”

  And if you don’t?

  “I don’t know.” Pamoon crossed her arms and slumped down the wall, landing on the cold ground. “That’s the point, get it?”

  I get it, but do you?

  “Riddles? That’s all you have for me, more riddles?”

  As Pamoon stood and began wiping the dirt off her jeans, she noticed the walls for the first time. Shining her light at the petroglyphs, she studied the story depicted. “This makes no sense.” The petroglyphs showed creatures, much like the ones she’d faced in the netherworld. They told a story of a war between the demons and the Cree. A bloody war with many deaths. A war won by the demons. The last petroglyph was the worst. It was an etching of a panther with a splinter of a bloody staff clenched in its teeth. With a closer look, Pamoon saw Mike’s eyes in the face of the cat.

  “How can this be?” she yelled, her words echoing off the empty cave. “Ayas and I defeated Kanontsistonties and his demons.” Pointing to the wall, she screamed, “Mike didn’t win!”

  When Kanontsistonties was released from the netherworld, others escaped with him. Without you present, the Cree took the staff to be a totem of success, Kise’s voice trailed off as she finished her thought, but they were no match for the demons. Without the Kiche, many will die.

  “But that’s not my fault.”

  “No, it’s not. Nor is any death that may occur while you protect what is yours.”

  Pamoon’s skin began to warm and her palm began to tingle as her understanding began to grow.

  “And Mike?”

  “Mike’s spirit died in that cave, but the spirit of what he became lived past his death. With Kanontsistonties locked in the netherworld, he became the demon leader.”

  Pamoon gawked at the wall, her mind spinning at warp speed. “This is just one possibility, right?”

  Silence met her ears.

  Pamoon leaned against the wall, her palms resting on the etchings. She closed her eyes, dropped her head, and felt passion growing inside her. “I can’t let this happen,” she thought aloud. “I accept my destiny: the destiny of the Yee Naaldlooshii . . . the destiny of the Kiche.”

  With her final word, warmth shot through her hand and up to her neck. Opening her eyes, the cave was bright and colorful. The tapestry of the Spirit Mount once again hung anew, vibrant and full of life. The one of the netherworld was dark, but as she looked intently, she could see creatures hiding in its shadows.

  Turning, the ceremonial fire burned bright and warm.

  Stepping toward the fire, the smoke swirled above her taking the shape of Kise. As the Creator’s feet touched the floor of the Spirit Cave, Pamoon threw her arms around her. “Promise you’ll never leave me,” Pamoon whispered.

  “I promise. Even if you leave me, I will always be waiting for you.”

  * * *

  Standing on the Spirit Mount, Pamoon looked down at Scout and scratched the white fur behind his ear. “Will he always be white?”

  “His spirit will never change, his love is unconditional.”

  Pamoon rolled her eyes at Kise. “You could have just said, yes.”

  “I could have,” Kise laughed.

  They reveled in the beauty of the valley below, silently taking in its majesty. Their quiet was interrupted by the crowing of ravens, which grew in amplitude. Pamoon watched as the murder of ravens flew in formation towards the mount. The only spot not taken was the one in the very front.

  “Do they want me to go with them?”

  “I’m sure they’d love that,” Kise said. “But I believe they came for their friend and leader.”

  Pamoon looked down at Atahk with a sudden sadness. “She needs to go?”

  In response, Atahk flew to the top of her head, leaned down, and pecked her on the forehead before taking off to join the others.

  “I’ll miss you,” Pamoon waved.

  Atahk took her place at the front of the formation and led the ravens toward the mount. They encircled Pamoon as a sign of love and reverence, then splintered off, rejoining their formation to fly towards the valley.

  Pamoon beamed at their actions, knowing that if she ever needed Atahk or the others, they would be there.

  “Can I ask you something?” Pamoon said when the ravens disappeared over the horizon.

  “Anything.”

  “Ayas? Will I see him again?”

  “You each have your own destinies to fulfill. Depending on the paths you choose, they may be the same.”

  “So there’s a chance.” Pamoon smiled.

  “There is a good chance.” Kise smiled back.

  * * *

  Back in the cave, Pamoon eyed the cave entrance. “It’s open. I guess it’s time for us to leave.”

  Kise took her hands with her own. “This is your home; you are always welcome here.”

  Pamoon took a deep breath and squeezed Kise’s hands before releasing them. “But I’m needed out there. The demons you mentioned are still out there.”

  Kise smiled and kissed her on her neck and then the palm of her hand before resting her lips on Pamoon’s cheek. “They are, but they are no match for the Kiche.”

  “How do I find them?”

  “You don’t. Like any evil, it comes looking for you.”

  Pamoon nodded and then hugged her friend one more time. “Riddles,” she said. “My life is one big riddle.”

  With Kise’s laughter echoing from behind her, she and Scout walked out of the cave and into the Misty Woods.

  Epilogue

  Campfire

  April 3, 8:00 p.m.

  * * *

  Pamoon, Scout, her friends, and their families all stood around the campfire surrounded by White Eagle and the Cree tribe. She and each of her friends said a few words about Mike and then tossed something they considered precious into the fire. The idea was to send their love into the afterlife for Mike to hold on to.

  When they were done, Powaw and the elders chanted and danced around the flames. It was the ceremonial dance of the fallen warrior. When the ceremony was complete, they all headed back to the reservation.

  As Pamoon picked up her jacket, she pricked her finger on a thorn bush. “Ouch.”

  Bobby handed her a handkerchief from his back pocket. “Here, use this.”

  “Thanks,” she said, pressing it against her finger. “When did you start carrying one of these?”

  Bobby shrugged. “It’s something my grandfather taught me. He said you never know when you’ll need it. This is the first time I actually needed it,” he smiled.

  Pamoon removed it from her finger and looked. “The bleeding stopped. I’ll wash it.”

  “That’s okay,” Bobby smiled, taking it from her. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Come on,” Pamoon said, walking toward the others, “let’s catch up to everyone.”

  * * *

  Bobby’s nostrils flared as a slight breeze blew causing him to catch a whiff of Pamoon’s blood. Turning away from everyone, he brought the cloth up
to his nose and breathed deep. A low, soft, guttural growl rose deep in his chest. His eyes changed from oval and brown to amber and crescent-shaped. Saliva dripped from his lips; his tongue swept his mouth, licking the blood from the handkerchief.

  * * *

  “Are you coming?”

  Pamoon’s voice snapped him from his trance. Blinking, his eyes returned to normal and he stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket.

  As he neared, Scout growled and pawed at the dirt. “It’s okay, boy,” Pamoon said. “There’s nothing here to be afraid of.”

  Bobby went to take her hand, but a brisk wind knocked it away.

  “Whoa, what was that?” Bobby said

  “I don’t know,” Pamoon lied, a warmth rising within her. She felt a warm, gentle breeze caress her left hand, her cheek, and gently warm her lips. Ayas. She beamed. I thought you left.

  My place is by your side.

  Pamoon closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of birch, never wanting to exhale.

  “There is the world of the flesh, and there is the Spirit world.

  When the flesh is gone, the Spirit forever remains.

  Their voices speak to those who know how to listen.

  Wisdom is born in the heart, and then spoken.”

  —Wolf Clan Song

  The adventure continues!

  Read on for an exclusive excerpt of Spirits Collide, Book Two of The Kiche Chronicles…

  1

  Calling

  December 25, 6:00 a.m.

  Life along the valley floor of the Blue Ridge Mountains, deep in Cherokee territory, stilled to the point of stagnation. The constant chirping of birds, rustling of rodents, and movement of game seemed non-existent. Maybe it was it was the sun breaking over the horizon, or maybe nature understood the reverence of the day, but most likely it was the cool, musky wind that began to blow moments earlier.

  Here among the maple, oak, fir and pine trees, the scent of white birch was rare, especially in the middle of a desolate basin where the wild grasses withered and browned due to winter’s awakening. All who called this valley and its surrounding mountains home, stopped and stared at the wind that now blew in the middle of the glen. The wind swept in a circular motion, picked up the earth’s moisture, and blended its ingredients until all eyes looked upon a small funnel cloud. The faster it spiraled, the richer the birch scent. As nature watched, the swirling juggernaut solidified until it took the shape of a man. When the winds mellowed, the twister unwound, and the figure, now more flesh than air, pointed his feet and lightly touched down.

  The morning dew, frosted over from the remnants of the cold night air, would have chilled an ordinary man, but this being was impervious to temperature or weather. Even in late December, he wore nothing but a pair of buckskin pants; his torso bare—his chest and arms etched in muscularity, scarred from battles won and lost—his face painted in streaks of white and ash. As the wind ceased, his hair, soft as silk, thick as wool, fell past his shoulders. Its black gloss mirrored by the rising sun caused curious onlookers to blink away from the intrusive reflection.

  The newcomer breathed a peaceful sigh felt by those who stayed hidden in the surrounding trees and brush. The animals who called this valley home, stepped out from beyond their hiding places and bowed in reverence to the one in front of them.

  * * *

  Ayas, the young brave known as the Wandering Spirit, stood in the center of the small valley and eyed his surroundings and those who prostrated themselves in his presence. With a pursing of his lips, he blew a thank you which reached all as a gentle kiss of a breeze. Ayas lifted his arms, his palms open to the sky, and let nature know to rise. The animals—big and small—rose but continued to line the rim of the mountainous bowl.

  Ayas took his time walking the perimeter of the valley, inspecting the forest, petting his new friends, and getting used to his legs. As the wandering spirit, he spent most of his time as wind, his spirit-identity. It was only recently, that he had been allowed to take his human form. As he walked the periphery, he thought back to a time, not very long ago. Back to when he first laid eyes on Pamoon, or as he referred to her—Omiyosiw—the beautiful one.

  After being exiled from the Spirit World over a century ago, he had been summoned to the Spirit Cave by the Creator, Kisemanito. At the time, he thought he was being forgiven for his lapses in judgement many years earlier and would finally be allowed to walk with the ancients in the Spirit World. He soon discovered his disappointment.

  Kisemanito had requested his presence because She had a job for him. If he agreed, he was to watch over one whose destiny was far greater than his own. One with the powers of the Yee Naaldlooshii, the skin walker; one who would one day transform and become the Kiche, the Sky Spirit Goddess, if she continued to walk the path the ancients had decried.

  His job was simple, or so it seemed, watch over her while she was in the woods which lined the reservation. Keep her safe, but do nothing that would or could change her path. Her free-will must remain intact and her decisions must be hers and hers alone.

  Ayas agreed to Kisemanito’s offer hoping it would put him back in her good graces. Hoping it would elevate his status in the Creator’s eyes. Little did he know at that moment that he would fall in love with Pamoon, the one he swore to protect. But he did. His heart belonged to her before his eyes had a chance to blink away her beauty.

  As he continued to walk the valley, he remembered the last time he held her. It was after their final battle with Kanontsistonties, the demonic Flying Head, and its hellish brood. She was unconscious but alive as he delivered her to her family who had feared the worst. Her uncle, the Cree chief, had asked him to stay, but he refused. In Ayas’ mind, he had done the unforgiveable—he had changed Pamoon’s destiny by interfering. The chief tried to tell him that all destinies are changed when two people come in contact, be it as brief as bumping into someone on a side walk or as deep as falling in love. At that time, the chief even told him how his own life mirrored Ayas’ and how he had found his way back to Kisemanito, but Ayas was too broken, emotionally and physically, to listen.

  It would be months before Ayas had the fortitude to call upon Kisemanito in prayer and ask for forgiveness. In a dream, She told him that by thinking of Pamoon’s safety before his own, he had been forgiven of his self-pride and hubris: the reasons he had been banished and forced to live his eternal existence as a wandering spirit. When he asked if he was allowed back in the Spirit World, he was denied. Kisemanito gave him permission to enter the Spirit Cave, the gateway to the Spirit Realm but no further. He acquiesced, bowed, and thanked Her for the mercies he’d been granted. The one thing he wanted most, the ability to walk with Pamoon in the natural world was also denied. He was granted the ability to watch over her, but not to be with her in human form. When he asked why, Kisemanito’s answer was swift. Pamoon was young and had to discover her talents and powers on her own without interference. She was afraid his presence would hinder Pamoon’s development. Kisemanito reminded him that Pamoon was just sixteen years young and that even though he appeared to be just a couple years older, in truth his years were many.

  So, here he was, a young brave on a mission. A mission to protect the one he longed for. He wanted nothing more than to feel her embrace, her soft lips on his, and to smell the scent of jasmine which wound through her tresses. But his destiny was his own. A destiny that with time would hopefully intersect with Pamoon’s.

  His thoughts back in the present, he finished walking the circumference of the valley, satisfied that this was the right place, and once again stood in the middle of the open space. Ayas closed his eyes, held his arms out from his torso, and breathed deep, causing the scars on his chest to redden as his muscles stretched. He then puckered his lips and blew as he spun in a slow, deliberate circle, his eyes on the horizon. The wind he created rustled the skeletonized trees, ridding them of the few leaves they still bore, and extended far beyond the valley and its accompanied mountainous peak
s until it reached its appointed destination.

  He stood, eyes closed, never moving, barely breathing as the sun rose and fell, as the moon took its place in the night sky, and as daybreak began anew. That’s when he heard the fluttering of wings and the distinct whistle of the Golden Eagle. Opening his eyes, he witnessed hundreds of them perched in the nearby trees. He whistled a message to all, who in turn bowed their beaks and took flight to their destinations.

  2

  Rebirth

  January 1, 2:00 a.m.

  The frozen bluff bubbled in a soft boil as a low-pitched grumble seeped from the mouth of the cave, causing the mountain which slumbered in winter’s peace to wake prematurely.

  Heavy icicles hung like stalactites from the top of the maw, masking the opening. The glacial daggers spider-webbed and cracked with the ever-increasing vibrations until they severed from their stout anchor and dropped like lightening from the night sky, revealing the ancient crevasse. Inside the cave, the earth sloped downward until the ground leveled off deep below the surface. In the far recesses of this hidden world, the murmur heard on the mountain roared a ravenous growl. This forgotten, frozen wasteland trembled with the ferocity of molten lava about to erupt.

  And erupt it did.

  As centuries of old dirt and rock gave way, the stone and ice inside this cavern splintered, no longer able to contain its wicked secrets any longer. The slivers and fissures in the earth’s crust cracked open with each angry tremor until they melded together, forming a gaping hole.