Pieces of Eight

by Deborah Chester

  Noel hesitated a moment, then raised his left wrist. “LOC, activate. Emergency priority access. Activate now.”

  The LOC remained silent and unresponsive. Noel thumped it fiercely. “Come on, you piece of junk, activate.”

  Deep, booming laughter from behind him made him spin around. Mondoun’s dark face hung suspended in the flames. His laughter rang out loudly, yet Noel’s companions still slept as though unaware of the danger in their midst. Mondoun’s filed teeth reflected the ruddy light of the flames. His tongue looked snake-black.

  Snakes, Noel thought, then shook himself.

  “Fight him, Leon,” he urged. “Don’t let him get to you. Count backward. Count in Greek backward.”

  Leon writhed, moaning. “Can’t,” he gasped. “Baba…”

  “Don’t call to him. Don’t listen to him,” Noel said.

  But even as he spoke he knew that Leon wasn’t strong enough. The dark side of Leon would always surrender. Already Leon’s struggles were lessening. Leon’s eyes glazed over, and some of the terror faded from his face.

  Noel didn’t let himself hesitate. Seizing a chunk of drift­ wood, he thrust it into the fire until it caught. Then holding it aloft as a torch, he hurried up the beach and followed the jungle trail to the hillside spring and beyond to the cave where Mondoun had worked his black magic before.

  A wind blew up from nowhere, gusting strongly. The torch nearly went out. Noel shielded it as best he could and kept going. Roots made him stumble.

  He squinted ahead in the faint light at the overgrown trail. Overhead the tree limbs seemed to reach down for him, snagging his clothing, poking at his eyes. Things chattered and gibbered from the branches.

  “Go back,” breathed the wind.

  “Go back,” rustled the trees.

  “Go back,” crackled the torch flames.

  In the distance a bird shrieked, and Noel nearly jumped from his skin. He stumbled to a momentary halt and wiped the sweat from his face. His heart was thudding double time. His lungs felt as though they had a knot tied in them. Goose bumps stood up on his arms and his blood felt like ice water. Yet he was hot as though he stood near a bonfire.

  Then, they came.

  He’d been dreading them since he left the dubious safely of the campfire. When he heard the faint squeaking and twittering and the leathery rustle of wings beating the air, his heart bolted into his mouth and he nearly cringed to the ground in fear.

  It was a trap. It had to be. The attack on Leon occurred to lure him up the hillside, and he’d fallen for the whole thing just as Baba Mondoun had intended him to.

  Noel squinted at the night sky, but the torchlight affected his night vision and he couldn’t see the bats. He could hear them, though. One swooped at his head. He ducked, swearing, and swung the torch at it.

  Squeaking, it flashed away. Others dived at him, and he fended them off with the torch too, sweating, his heart quaking. If even one of them lit on him and sank in its fangs, he knew he’d give way to the unreasoning terror building inside him. To hold it at bay, he shouted at them, cursed them, hooted at them.

  When they drew back, he fought the urge to retreat. Trap or not, he had to confront Mondoun once and for all, now that he definitely knew the man was here. Anything was better than creeping around the island in perpetual uneasiness, waiting for the bocor to strike.

  The bats attacked again. One landed between his shoulder blades. Panicking, Noel ran backward and smashed the creature against a tree. He heard the tiny bones crack and the thing fell to the ground.

  “Get away from me, damn you!” he shouted and ran.

  They dived at his head, but with less aggression than before. Then he was scrambling up the escarpment to the cave mouth.

  The bats vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. Even the breeze died down. All grew still and silent. Noel couldn’t even hear the insects singing in the undergrowth now.

  The cave mouth lay in darkness. No light shone from it. As he approached cautiously, Noel felt as though it contained an element blacker even than night.

  Don’t spook yourself more than you already are, he told himself. Stop imagining things.

  As he stepped inside, the air temperature dropped from balmy tropic to bitter cold. He shivered and went on.

  Five steps into the cave, the torch abruptly went out.

  Total darkness surrounded him. It was like being swallowed. His wits plunged, and he was frozen, unable to move, unable to decide what he should do next.

  All he had to do was back straight out. He didn’t have to tackle the bocor. If Leon degenerated a little more, it hardly mattered. Noel could live on one end of the island and Mondoun could have the other. As a truce, that was simple enough to arrange.

  Sure it was.

  Noel knew Mondoun would never leave them alone. And if Noel didn’t find some way to salvage Leon from the bocor’s clutches, then he would feel guilty for having failed his duplicate, and perhaps himself.

  His breath was coming so short and fast that he feared he would hyperventilate. But he forced himself to get a grip.

  “Baba Mondoun!” he called.

  His voice echoed through the passageway and into the cave beyond. Noel’s mouth had dried up. He swallowed.

  “Hey, Mondoun!” he shouted with all the insolence he could muster. “If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was yell. No need for this mumbo-jumbo business with the campfire. I admit it was impressive, but don’t you get tired after using all that energy?”

  Mondoun said nothing. But an orange glow spread through the passageway, brightening as it came. It sucked the darkness away, and when it reached Noel’s bare feet he could not help jumping aside.

  Yet it was only light, and he felt somewhat foolish at being afraid of it.

  With its illumination, he could see the rough-hewn walls of limestone now. The sandy ground curved around a bend in the passageway.

  The stick in his hand with its charred end offered little comfort. As a weapon it was less than useless. But it was all he had.

  Noel swallowed hard again, and walked forward.

  He had to duck his head to enter the small cavern. He did so reluctantly, expecting an attack of some kind.

  Nothing happened. The place looked deserted.

  Let down, Noel frowned and gazed around. The torches set in crude iron wall sconces were unlit. The fire pit held no flames. There was no visible source of the strange orange light, so soft and diffuse. On the scuffed ground lay a bunch of dried herbs, tied with a grisly amulet made from bits of animal skin and bone. Baba’s hat and wig were there too, tossed down as though abandoned.

  The cave stank of blood, herbs, and smoke. Beneath those mingled odors ran a fetid stench of decay and rot that made Noel’s nostrils wrinkle.

  “Mondoun!” he said loudly. His voice echoed around him, mocking him, then at last it faded.

  In the silence, Noel heard the scrape of a footstep behind him. He whirled, his heart thudding fast, but it was only the wind rustling through the passageway. He frowned in growing puzzlement.

  Wind? Wind couldn’t reach this deep into the cave.

  A screech as shrill as fingernails on a chalkboard sounded from above him. Startled, Noel barely had time to look up at the shadowy stone ceiling before two figures detached themselves from it and dropped onto him.

  Panic flared white in his mind. Huge bats, he thought, even as their weight bore him down. His head thudded on the ground, and he grimaced in a sick twist of pain. They were swarming across him, almost as big as he, hot and sweaty and…human.

  Realization blinked on in his brain, and he stopped his frantic struggling. They flipped him onto his back and held his arms pinned so he couldn’t rise.

  Noel stared. The two men were black and obviously some of the slaves he had freed from the Plentitude’s hold last night. Completely naked except for the amulets swinging around their necks, they held him helpless with an attitude of indifference. Their eyes were glazed
and blank. The slackness in their faces gave him the creeps.

  “Hey!” he said angrily, trying to get their attention. “Hey!”

  They ignored him.

  Noel struggled to twist loose. He curled up his feet and kicked the one on his left, knocking him aside. The other one was slow to react, and Noel yanked free. Scrambling around, he climbed to his feet to run, but Baba Mondoun’s sudden appearance from the passageway brought him up short.

  Panting, he stared at the bocor.

  Mondoun’s lips pulled back from his filed teeth. They were stained red with fresh blood. His booming laughter echoed through the cave and made goose bumps rise on Noel’s skin.

  “Cut the fun and games,” Noel snapped. “We’re all ship­wrecked on this sandbar together. We have to think about survival, not—”

  “The hour of the gods has come.” Mondoun lifted his hands and gazed at the ceiling. “They are here,” he said reverently.

  The LOC grew warm on Noel’s wrist. Startled, for he’d thought it completely inactive, Noel touched it.

  “There are many forms of power,” Mondoun said. “Not all are such as you command, hongoun.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You command the future. You have barred me from it. But I have another servant now.”

  As he spoke, Mondoun stepped aside. Leon stood behind him, a pale, glassy-eyed Leon who entered like a sleepwalker.

  Noel’s heart sank. He stared, disbelieving. “You made a zombie of him.”

  Mondouo’s smirk widened.

  “But he’s able to protect himself. He has abilities—telepathy and—”

  “Always you seek explanations from the land of what seems to be rather than from the land of what is,” Mondoun said. His resonant voice dropped to a near whisper. His eyes gleamed fanatically. “Look at the shadows, hongoun, and believe.”

  “No!”

  Despite himself, Noel took a step back. He was conscious of the two zombies at his back, however. The cave was growing hotter, uncomfortably so, although there was no visible source of heat. Sweat beaded on Noel’s forehead.

  Mondoun reached out and sketched a pattern in the air with his fingertip. Noel could not stop himself from watching, half expecting to see smoke hover there, yet he saw nothing.

  He struggled to keep his wits, to not let himself become trapped by another of Mondoun’s spells. “What do you want from us? What do you want with him?”

  Mondoun swung his head back and forth, slowly, rhythmically, like a cobra head swaying before its intended victim. “He is but your shadow. To possess him is to command a wraith. You, however, have the power of the future. I would have that power.”

  “It doesn’t work,” Noel said. “The LOC is damaged.”

  “You lie.”

  “I don’t. See for yourself—”

  “Noel.”

  The whisper seemed to come from nowhere. It made Noel start and forget what he was saying. He glanced at Leon, who still stared at nothing. Yet it was Leon who had spoken his name in a desperate plea.

  A grimace crossed Mondoun’s face. For a moment he looked uncertain, even fatigued. Then he scowled furiously and barked a command that Noel’s translator did not recognize.

  Leon didn’t blink, didn’t move, but he turned paler. Watching him, Noel felt a surge of unwanted compassion. If Mondoun wasn’t stopped, they’d both be zombies, held prisoner with hypnotism and some kind of awful concoction made from toad poison and God knew what else. No, thanks.

  “Forget it, Mondoun,” Noel said crisply. “No deal. I don’t have any power to share with you, and I wouldn’t even if the thing worked.”

  “Noel.”

  “Silence!” Moundoun roared. He turned on Leon and struck him, but his hand passed right through Leon’s chest as though Leon was only a hologram.

  Even Noel blinked, confounded. Then he realized what was happening and stepped forward in alarm.

  “Release him,” he said urgently. “Mondoun, let him go now.”

  “He is mine,” Mondoun said.

  “You don’t understand. He’s disappearing, ceasing to exist in this dimension.” Leon had once before been sucked into the time vortex, with disastrous results. Noel wasn’t going to let that happen again. “You’ve got to let him go. If he passes through, we’re—”

  “Do not command me!” Mondoun shouted. “Ignorant one, do you not yet know with what you deal?”

  “Let him go!” Noel shouted back. “Leon, fight it. Fight to stay here. If you reenter the time vortex, you’ll—”

  “Cease!” Mondoun said. “He is mine. He listens to me.”

  “He’s vanishing. Once he disappears completely, that’s it. He won’t come back.”

  Mondoun cocked his head and regarded Noel for a long moment. Leon by now was so transparent Noel could see through him. His fingers had vanished completely. The mist of nothingness crept up his legs.

  Desperate and frustrated, Noel rammed his fingers through his hair. “What will make you listen?”

  “You.”

  Noel blinked. “What? I don’t undemand.”

  “Come to me of your own free will. Surrender to me, Noel Kedran. Cease to fight me, and I shall have no need of your shadow.”

  Noel recoiled. Sacrifice himself for Leon? That scuzzy, unprincipled, sociopathic good-for-nothing duplication who was unwanted and unneeded, who had done nothing but cause trouble since he came into existence?

  Noel, help me.

  Leon’s cry was only in his mind now. Noel heard it clearly, however, and was astonished. For the first time they communicated mentally, and Leon’s fear traveled straight into him.

  I don’t want to die.

  I’m sorry. I can’t help you, Noel replied.

  I need you, brother.

  I’m not your brother!

  Help me. Don’t leave me out here between the time streams.

  I can’t help you.

  I’m afraid!

  Leon had nearly dissolved now. Only a vague outline of his body remained. His eyes held naked despair.

  Noel could not bear it. Yet he could not do what Mondoun asked, either. He could never do it.

  “Come to me,” Mondoun whispered. “Join the Congo and the dark—”

  “No!” Noel launched himself bodily, tackling Mondoun and bringing him down. Mondoun had a longer reach and despite the disadvantage of having been taken by surprise, he squirmed free of Noel’s grasp and thrust Noel off.

  Noel hit the wall with a grunt and threw himself again at Mondoun. The bocor fended him off, but the physical struggle obviously distracted him. Leon flickered back into view, and the two Africans called out bewildered questions in their own tongue.

  Mondoun snarled a word that took physical shape and hovered, burning with tiny flames, in the air.

  Noel scooped up a handful of dirt and flung it at the word. The flames extinguished, and the word vanished. Dismay crossed Mondoun’s face. Noel drove a punch deep into his stomach, and the black man doubled over, wheezing.

  Leon popped back into existence, and crumpled to the ground. One of the Africans screamed, then the orange light vanished, and they were plunged into darkness.

  Noel grabbed desperately at Mondoun, but the man twisted in his grasp, hissing like a python. Noel found himself slammed back against the wall so hard the breath was knocked from him, and Mondoun jerked free.

  “You will regret,” said Mondoun’s voice, sounding exhausted and furious. “You will see Baba’s revenge. I will call the pirates back to this island, and they will roast your tongues from your skulls. They will nail your feet to planks and hang you upside down until you scream for mercy. They will—”

  Noel followed his voice and pounced blindly. He connected, and Mondoun cried out as Noel shoved him into the wall.

  “Drown him in the spring,” Leon said, still gasping for breath.

  Mondoun sprang free and although Noel did his best to follow the man through the passageway, he blundered in the darkne
ss and could not retake the bocor. By the time Noel burst, panting and sweat-soaked, outside into the cool air, there was no evidence of where Mondoun had vanished to. The jungle rustled and twittered with purposes of its own. Noel listened but heard no crashing progress through the undergrowth. Mondoun could be long gone by now, heading for another hiding place on the island, or he could be lurking nearby, waiting for the chance to attack again.

  Noel felt suddenly uneasy. “Leon, come on,” he called in a low voice. “Get out here. Let’s return to camp.”

  Leon took so long to appear, Noel was ready to abandon him. When he did finally emerge from the passageway, he was carrying the herb bundle with the amulet tied around it.

  Exasperated, Noel snatched it from him and threw it away. “Leave that stuff alone!”

  “It was just some weeds,” began Leon defensively. “Smelled better than whatever used to live in there.”

  “Never mind,” Noel said shortly. He could not shake off the worry that Mondoun had other tricks lying in wait for them. “Let’s get back to our camp.”

  “Not so fast.” Wheezing, Leon leaned against a tree. “Let me catch my breath.”

  “Will you come on?” Noel said impatiently. “The sooner we’re back, the sooner—”

  “Sure,” Leon retorted. “And what’s so safe about the camp? He reached us there. He can reach us anywhere. And why didn’t you use the LOC to break his concentration? That electromagnetic field would be strong enough, if projected externally, to—”

  “The LOC doesn’t work,” Noel said.

  He listened to Leon’s silence and felt the unspoken reproach. Noel’s throat felt choked, his eyes hot. He’d been avoiding thinking about the implications, but if he went on explaining, then the facts had to be faced.

  Leon cleared his throat. “I thought that was a lie to fool Mondoun.”

  “No.”

  “You serious?”

  Noel’s temper snapped. “Yes, of course I’m serious! You think I’d joke about something as vital as the LOC?”

  “Vital for you maybe.”

  “Oh, right,” Noel said. “Don’t even start in on your usual whine about how underprivileged you are without a LOC of your own. Just be glad I saved your hide from dissolving in the time vortex.”