Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1)

by Sandy Wright

  He began to climb, moving with agility, silent as he past clumps of brush and small boulders lying in the path. At the faint sound of voices above him, he stopped, gauging the distance to the top.

  Lightning forked into the wash next to him, the air crackling, followed almost immediately by loud peal of thunder rolling overhead. Nicholas used the sound cover to creep to the edge of the plateau.

  A dozen yards away on the other side of the plateau, Samantha lay on a large rock, and her feet were bound. Her face was turned toward him, but her eyes were closed, her hair fanned around her face in wild disarray in the lantern light.

  He caught a glimpse of black robes passing in front of the lanterns and counted the shadowy silhouettes Four. Everyone accounted for. As he watched, they formed a square around the altar facing Samantha.

  Nicholas drew his gun, crawled over the edge, and crouched behind a bush. He needed to get closer in the dim light to do a weapons check.

  Nuin kissed his palm and put it to Samantha's head in blessing but she didn't acknowledge his presence. Unfazed, he began.

  "In the name of Satan, we invoke you, Prince Nukpana. Join us through the swirling veil of time. Open wide the Lower World! Come forth from the abyss, oh demon of death and shades, descend into your Priest that he may claim your new mistress, Samantha, Dark passion's daughter."

  The wind picked up abruptly, as the thunderstorm storm con-tinued building, pulling air into the front. The storm was nearly upon them. The loose dirt of the plateau blew like tiny daggers. He squeezed his eyes to slits and put his free arm across his face. Through the dust he saw the circle of men raise their hoods against the grit, effectively cutting down their peripheral vision as well.

  Running silently through the dust, Nicholas slipped closer, ducking behind a large boulder about halfway to the altar, his last concealment. He couldn't see athames or daggers, but assumed each man had one on his belt. A large sword leaned against the end of the altar. At least I have the gun.

  The men in the circle began to chant, "Los Oscuros y Nukpana, mensajero de la muerte," as Nuin grabbed Samantha's chin and raised it. "Open your eyes, witch, and be not afraid. The path of darkness welcomes you."

  Thunder echoed through the red canyon walls and the wind howled, blowing over a lantern.

  Nicholas seized the distraction and ran headlong for the altar, pounding in the dust. He kicked a lantern, sending it flying into the base of the tree with a shattering of glass. It ignited the creosote bushes beneath, and the dry wood went up like tinder, licking the tree trunk with flames and oily fumes.

  Nicholas barreled full-force into the smallest man, sending him sprawling into the flaming bushes. With a shriek, the man struggled to stand and remove his cloak, which was in flames and tangled about his legs. Nicholas pivoted and grabbed another lantern, smashing it in the face of another Dark One. The lantern exploded, and the kerosene caught in a whoosh of fire, igniting the man's hair and dripping trails of burning oil down his shoulders.

  He became dimly aware of Nuin, still standing next to Samantha, chanting louder now, with a note of triumph. "El Nukpana. Introduzca el cuerpo de su sacerdote! Enter the body of your Priest!"

  Behind you! A sharp voice screeched in his head.

  From the corner of his eye, Nicholas saw the third Dark One raise the sword and bring it down with a scream of rage. He wrenched his body away, firing as he rolled. The man screamed, but Nicholas felt the weight of the heavy blade connect with his right thigh. It sliced through his pants and into the skin with a flare of pain, knocking him to the ground, and sending his gun skittering away into the darkness. Gritting his teeth, Nicholas rolled to one knee, and turned back to face his opponent.

  A dark stain spread on the man's side, but he didn't even flinch, raising the sword over his head with both hands for an-other blow.

  Then his eyes went wide. His arms collapsed, falling suddenly to drive the tip of the sword into the ground next to Nicholas's head. The man teetered for a long moment, propped against the sword hilt, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, until Sinclair stepped up behind him, pulled the whittling knife from his back, and pushed him over with one booted foot.

  Nicholas held the palm of his hand hard against his thigh to staunch the bleeding, but it didn't do any good. Blood seeped between his fingers.

  Sinclair squatted next to Nicholas and removed the hand he had clamped to the wound.

  "It missed the artery," he yelled over the wind. He stripped the belt from his pants and cinched it above the gash, tugging it tight. "Stay here, don't move." He disappeared into the darkness toward the altar.

  A shrieking gust of wind swept across the plateau, staggering Nicholas. Hail the size of marbles dropped from the black clouds, and were caught by the gale wind and whipped sideways to become frozen projectiles. Through the gale, he heard Samantha scream.

  Pulling his coat over his head with his good hand, he crawled toward the charred cloak discarded in the center of the circle, darting glances over each shoulder as he advanced. Nuin still stood over Samantha. But the cloak's owner had disappeared.

  Chapter 60: Captured in Rock

  Nuin stopped chanting, and his face contorted in pain. While the storm raged outside, within the circle boundary the air hung still and heavy, as if waiting. I too waited, tensed and ready to move at the first opportunity.

  A dark shape rose from the ground below Nuin's feet and swirled around him. The temperature plummeted and I could see the icy puffs of my panting breath. I sat up on the stone and untied the rope from my ankles, never taking my eyes off the mist-like form swirling around Nuin, entering him through every orifice. His head bulged and split, growing to three times normal size, and shaggy hair like porcupine quills sprouted from his skull. His face flattened, with dark crevasses for eyes, and his mouth stretched until the corners split and bled, and filled with yellow fangs. The contours of his body filled in as well, until he squatted on brown and yellow-scaled haunches, whipping his forked tail from side to side. It curled over his back like a scorpion's, and pointed stingers were attached to each fork.

  I screamed and scrambled off the boulder, putting the make-shift altar between us. "You are not real," I sobbed, backing to the edge of the circle.

  "But yes, lady, I am real," the demon growled, "made solid by the flesh of those sacrificed before you." He hopped around the altar in my direction, his yellow eyes following me as I also edged around the stone to keep it between us.

  "Do you like my form? Oh! No? Do you lust for the Priest's original body? Did you think I would inhabit his vessel without changing it, molding it for my comfort?" The creature giggled, an unsuitable and terrifying sound when coming from a ten-foot creature. "Behold my stinger, lady. Like the scorpion, I use it to paralyze my victims before mating with them. Shall we try it?" He giggled again. "We can have sex once. A pity you won't survive long enough for a second time."

  I looked around frantically for help and saw Nicholas crawling through the shrieking wind, dragging one leg and clutching the sword. If I ran and the creature followed, Nicholas would try to attack, and he wouldn't stand a chance.

  Wrenching my eyes off of Nicholas and back to the demon before me, I pushed my panic aside. Don't break the circle. Keep it contained. I bent slightly and pulled the Phurba dagger from my boot, keeping it against my thigh and out of sight.

  The words from The Sinister Tradition flashed in my mind, and now I understood the order of the instructions. I had to con-front the beast by naming it, and bring it fully into this realm before it could be banished.

  I ran a finger inside my bra and felt the slim vial of potion. "Art thou Nukpana, cannibal demon?" I asked.

  The creature turned its spiky head to examine me, the yellow eyes sharp and intelligent.

  "I have many names, lady. Greed, lust, power. Death. Which one do you prefer?"

  "I prefer your true name," I said with a calmness I did not feel.

 
The demon opened its mouth wide and roared, a hideous sound like a horde of screaming voices and anguished souls. Then it snarled a command in an impossible, layered voice: "I am Prince Nukpana! Submit to me!"

  I shook my head grimly. Keeping my hands below the altar and out of sight, I opened the potions vial and spread the contents over the point of the dagger. I rolled the Phurba between my palms, point up. I circled the stone altar, trying to lure the creature as far from Nicholas as possible. It moved with me, never breaking eye contact, lashing its tail stinger back and forth in total concentration as it stalked me.

  I waited until it crept so close I could make out the creases of its face, see the spittle on its teeth as it panted. Then I began to sing under my breath, "From ancient times, this power came, for all to fear and non to reign."

  The beast paused and cocked its huge head, appearing amused. It crouched, bunching the muscles of its muscular back legs, and sprang into the air, landing on top of the boulder. Before I could draw a breath, it crouched to pounce again. I felt the magic's rush, like a gasp of breath, building in me. The Phurba vibrated in my hand. I raised the point of the dagger toward the beast and released it.

  "Take it now, show no mercy!"

  The Phurba sprang from my hands, launching itself through the air like a tiny guided missile, striking the beast in the neck with explosive force, burying itself to the hilt in the Nuin-turned-creature's jugular, and toppling him over backwards off the altar.

  The sound ripped from Nuin's tortured body pierced the night, screamed up through the storm joining it. Not human or beast, it was the howl of evil's despair as the demon felt the blood of its new host body spurt from the wound, and the beating heart stutter as it slipped away.

  I raised my hand in a gesture of summons. The dagger pulled itself free with a slight shudder, releasing a gush of blood from the Priest's throat. It hovered for an instant to be sure its work was done, and then snapped back into my hand.

  Nuin collapsed into the mud, and a tar-like black river flowed out and over his body. The demon's face churned in the midst, screaming his defiance, and the tail sprayed drops of viscous black liquid on the ground near my feet.

  Without thinking, I stepped back.

  Drawn by my movement, the dark pool began to move and flow toward me. I backed up again.

  A quiet voice at my shoulder said, "Stand still now, no sudden movements." Sinclair inched up next to me.

  "We can't let the demon disperse. If it gets out of the circle it will leave us, and hunt for another host," I whispered.

  He looked at me with bright eyes. Straightening his shoulders, he stepped around me and into the black liquid. I gasped, watching it flow up his legs with malevolent eagerness and twine around his body and through his silver hair.

  "No!" I screamed, grabbing his hands to pull him back.

  "Let go girl." His calm voice held no fear. "Its heart is cold, a heart of hatred and death. But like ice, it can be captured in rock. Wakan Tanka, Mother Earth protects herself."

  He turned his face to the storm and raised his fists skyward, bringing them down so hard the motion brought him to his knees. The world around us lit up, crackling and flashing. A double lightning bolt formed in the clouds above Sinclair's head and crashed to the ground on each side of him. The rock between the strikes gave way, opening in a jagged fissure.

  Sinclair waited until he was completely engulfed in the dark liquid. He spoke then with the full force of his power. "We are no one now."

  The monster roared and screamed in its many voices. "I—am—Nukpana! You cannot control me!"

  "No," the shaman roared back. You are no one. You have no name. I am no one. When I depart I leave nothing behind. And you, worthless, nothing creature, you go with me!" He turned to me. "Sam, you must make your Call now! Summon the Ancestors!"

  Then he stepped off the edge of the world and into the void.

  I crawled to the edge of the gaping fissure, raised my arms to the raging storm, and screamed into the wind:

  "Drive it deep into the Earth!

  Born of greed and power driven.

  Bind for all time in Underworld's prison!"

  A tornado wind rushed across the mesa, pulling everything in its path into the lightning-struck earth. I staggered to Nicholas and threw myself across him, hanging onto the pinon tree to prevent us from being sucked into the vortex. I buried my head in my arms as hail, sand and rock crashed around us and disappeared into the hole, the sound like a freight train overhead. Ghostly shapes blew across the ritual circle, screaming as they upended the huge altar stone. They swooped through again, lifting the bodies of the dark priests into their churning wind, then whirled and dove, shrieking, into the open pit.

  The mesa was still. I waited for three shallow breaths to be sure.

  It was over.

  I raised my head, wiped the grit off my eyes, and looked around. Dawn just touched the eastern sky. The mesa top was covered with patches of thin fog, the ground steaming as the desert does after a long-needed rain.

  "Samantha, let me up." I rolled off his back and Nicholas tried to stand, using the sword as a crutch, his injured leg caked with blood and dirt. I slipped an arm under his shoulder and around his waist, and we hobbled to the open fissure.

  We saw nothing but vast darkness. I sank to my knees, tears running down my cheeks to the hit the red earth.

  Where my tears hit, misty glimmerings of light rose from the steaming ground, flickering and fading, moving with rhythmic grace. A light became a shape, the shape of an old woman. I recognized the face I had seen in my mind so many times.

  Wakanda Ondear had returned.

  The rocks and boulders lifted off the ground as if weightless, and more shapes rose from the indentations beneath them to hover over Sinclair's grave. The steam above the fissure increased, and Sinclair's weathered face shone in the white fog. He looked at peace, ready to take his place among his ancestors.

  The Ancients danced with his spirit, twisting and turning in small circles, over their sacred ground. On the last of the storm's breeze, I heard the winds singing praise of Sinclair. In the stones, and in the clouds, I felt the heart of the earth beating. Teach the people, make them remember. Wakan Tanka, as above, so below.

  As silently as they had appeared, the Ancients sank back into the earth. One last peal of distant thunder rolled hollowly through the desert. When it was over, the fissure in the earth disappeared, swallowing up its secret. All that remained was a long crack in the dusty soil.

  Chapter 61: Wakan Tanka

  Nicholas required twelve stitches and a pint of blood. The next two days he was sore, weak, and mad as hell at the doctor who insisted he stay in the hospital overnight.

  We'd won. Sort of.

  "I killed someone." I sat beside his hospital bed, clenching and unclenching his hand so hard the numbers on the monitor recorded EEEEE. "I know how it feels to end a person's life, to use my power to destroy." I lifted my face to his. "Now there's darkness in my magic. How do you live with the knowledge? It makes me sick." In fact, I'd spent most of the last two days rotating between sitting at Nicholas's bedside and hugging the side of the toilet bowl.

  "You won't ever be the same Samantha," he said. "But remember, Nuin killed my mother and grandmother, and ate from them, for God's sake. That psychopath actually wanted to raise a demon. He invited a demon in, and it used him for its own purposes…as it would have used you. Dark magic is addictive, and using it sickens the user, gives him a false sense of power, infallibility." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Believe me, I know. Luckily, the two of you stopped him before he could cause even more harm."

  The sharp pang of guilt under my breastbone retreated some-what. I would always wish I could have done more. Sinclair had told me he had a penance to pay, and he certainly paid in full. My hands shook when I thought about him. I let go of Nicholas and buried them in my lap. I too would pay my penance, in my own way and in my own
time. I wiped my cheek on my sleeve.

  Nicholas squeezed my damp forearm. "He was very brave, and very wise. At the end, he made the right choice. I shall treasure the memory of him. He did what few have the strength of character to do."

  I cried again, this time without shame.

  Standing Bear had asked and received permission for all of us to attend a crossing over ceremony for Sinclair. Even Kamaria attended, her fractured shoulder in a sling. The police had issued an assault warrant out for Lilith, who had pushed Kamaria off the balcony. But she had disappeared. Her apartment was stripped bare.

  We stood to one side as the tribal elders offered their prayers, drums, and sweet-grass, and left a single eagle feather at the site. "Gentleness is one of the greatest attributes of the warrior," Standing Bear concluded. "Great Spirit, guide our warrior to the highest reaches of the universe, so he can bring back news to us in our dreams."

  Nicholas and I left Standing Bear on the butte. He would remain there for the next forty-two hours in a private wake for his friend.

  "What will you do next?" I asked Nicholas as he drove us back to the house in Jerome.

  "There are people waiting for us at home," he said. "They are to help me prepare my report for the Council of Elders, which I am to take to London." He paused. "You should come with me. They'll want to meet you."

  I shook my head.

  "No. I'm done, Nicholas. As far as I'm concerned, my debt is paid."

  Nicholas pulled in the driveway and turned off the car. I found no surprise or disappointment in his eyes.

  "I'm going to resign." His tone was husky, a little unsure. "Quit the Council." He twisted in his seat, facing me, knee to knee. "I've done such terrible things. To you especially. I've done whatever it took to win, regardless of the cost. All to protect our community, to enforce the Council's rules. Because I'm an Orenda. Because it's expected of me."

  He took my hands, but dropped them abruptly, as if he'd touched snakes. He was trembling when he again gathered up my hands.