Shackles of Light

by Christopher A. Nooner

  Usok’s heartbeat was weak and, around his body, the blanket that covered the bed was soaked.

  Eli slathered the Yarrow into his companion’s fur until the hound was covered in the dull brown paste.

  He pulled strips of cloth from a basket under the bed and took as much time as he thought he could spare to wrap Usok’s body like a mummy.

  Usok whined once, but he was weak enough from blood loss that it was his only protestation of pain.

  Eli’s knees popped as he stood and made his way to the basin where he washed the cauldron and his hands. The Yarrow was fresh and potent enough that he couldn’t feel the water coursing over his skin.

  When he was done he sat beside the dog.

  His mind tried to process what had happened, going over and over it. What the hell were Gneechees, why hadn’t he ever heard about them, and why had it taken Asahel two hundred years to speak to him?

  Not for the first time, his mind raged against his circumstance. Thrust into this life, he was forced at every turn to play by the rules of others; rules he, obviously, didn’t fully comprehend. It was like juggling knives in the dark. It was infuriating.

  It was terrifying.

  He growled and wished there was something to break.

  Breaking things would be nice, but first he needed to get Usok somewhere to convalesce while he figured out what was going on, and who, exactly, to break.

  Keezie, he thought.

  He stood and was forced to brace himself while the room spun around him. He realized he’d lost a fair amount of blood, himself. He looked down at the slowly closing cuts. He knew he should be concerned, but he couldn’t think why.

  He strode through the door of the hut, Usok in his arms, and began the hike to the old truck he had borrowed from Kaga and Joseph.

  Keezie looked up as the room darkened the way the world does when clouds roll with lazy abandon over the sun, heedless of who may need the light.

  She peeked out the window, sure she would see storm clouds galloping on hidden airstreams towards her. She scowled when only blue sky greeted her.

  It was warm for late autumn. That wasn’t unusual, but it was uncomfortable. She was ready for summer to be gone; ready for it to die into winter and take her memories with it.

  The light faded at the window as if it pushed through a dark drape or covering. She scanned the rest of the room. It was foggy. She rubbed her eyes but knew it wouldn’t help.

  The darkness undulated and covered the floor with a layer of haze.

  The needle dropped from her hand, forgotten. She stood and peered out the window into the front yard. A black mass writhed out from the house, greedy as it swallowed the yard bit by stolen bit.

  Keezie’s heart pounded wildly.

  Am I doing this?

  She hoped she was. Prayed she was, because the other possibilities terrified her even more.

  She had no idea what horrible things walked the world. Monsters, demons, things she had no name for; things that wouldn’t even have crossed her mind six months ago.

  She steadied herself. She hated being weak; loathed doubting her ability to face the new realities of her world.

  She needed to be doing, going, advancing her life; not succumbing to lethargy and gloom.

  I can show you a new path, little one, the taint purred.

  Keezie closed her eyes and pushed it away. Willed it down into the depths, trying with all her might to banish it to the furthest corner of herself.

  She shook her head and pressed her palms against her temples then turned from the window and the boiling black, intent on determining if she was the cause of the inky phenomenon or if it was just in her head.

  Eli would know what to do.

  She hated herself even as she thought it. She didn’t need him.

  She wanted him, though.

  More than she had ever wanted anything. He should have known that she didn’t mean it. He shouldn’t have ignored her protests.

  The black mist swirled around her, teased by her passage. She headed for the front door, not sure when she’d decided to go outside. She stepped into the front room and froze.

  A figure moved on the porch, its size and shape distorted by the oval frosted glass on the upper half of the door. Cold fear enveloped her as she realized that the mist and dark were definitely not her doing.

  The crystal door knob spun slowly as whoever was out there tested the lock, stopped, then shook it more insistently.

  Keezie’s stomach knotted. Unsure what to do, she stood still as the haze continued its whirlpool swirls around her ankles.

  The shadow beyond the door was motionless. Keezie waited and hoped it would go away. Silent stillness loomed over the house intent on breaking her will and sending her whimpering into the corner. She wouldn’t. She was terrified, but she wouldn’t crumble. Not like this.

  She drew a deep breath, walked to the door and yanked it open before she could change her mind.

  The darkest eyes she had ever seen stared at her. She felt connected to those eyes. They pulled at her as if trying to devour her. She forced herself to look away.

  The eyes belonged to the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders hiding her perfect breasts just enough that Keezie hoped the locks would move. Her full lips were impossibly red, a slight sheen of moisture covered them as if she were expecting a kiss at any moment.

  Her brown skin was naked except for the buckskin that followed the curve of her hips. She was everything a woman should be.

  Keezie’s heart flipped. Her body and mind battled over her visceral response to this woman. She was perfection. It couldn’t be natural.

  Keezie licked her lips and stepped away from the door.

  The woman flowed into the house, like honey filling an empty jar.

  She purred as she passed. The sound was both magical and terrifying. Keezie jumped as fur brushed her leg. Pure terror gripped her. What was she thinking?

  A dark black shape stalked the shadows and mist. It was a panther she’d let into her house, a predator, not a woman at all.

  Her eyes followed the cat as best they could in the smoky room. The mist hid it well and twisted with the breeze of its passage making the cat seem to jump from place to place without crossing the distance.

  It circled around her. Made her turn to keep it in view. The thing crossed in front of the door and disappeared into the woman again who languished on the stairs.

  Keezie shook her head to clear the muddiness that squeezed her brain. “What are you?” She asked when she found her voice.

  The creature’s laugh filled the hollow spaces in the room. “I am Eskeilay,” She purred. “I am the goddess, little one.” Keezie kept her eyes on the woman and sidestepped toward the door.

  “Don’t run, silly girl. It’s no fun chasing things you don’t want to eat,” said Eskeilay.

  Keezie’s mouth was dry. Dry like the time she stuffed it full of gauze playing chubby bunny as a girl. Her tongue stuck to her lips and the roof of her mouth.

  “What do you want?” She asked barley able to crack her lips open.

  Eskeilay was beside her.

  Close, running her sharp nailed finger over Keezie’s shoulder. “Nothing you need.” She whispered. “Or want.” Her nail made its way to Keezie’s neck. She strained to hold back a shiver.

  She knew then what Eskeilay wanted. Knew it to the core of her. She wanted the taint. She wanted to take that darkness from her. It would be easy to give it away.

  “Yesssssss, so easy . . .” Eskeilay’s words echoed her thoughts.

  Keezie swayed. She was lightheaded. Her heart pounded in the distance. She reached for the greasy feel of the stain on her soul. It slid away and tried to hide beyond her reach.

  She steadied herself and looked for the woman, confused that she wasn’t beside her. Her sleepy gaze found her on the stairs.

  She shook her head. She should have known that’s where she was. Why had she th
ought otherwise?

  Eskeilay beckoned her. Come to me. Keezie took a step. The taint surged inside of her gripping her whole soul.

  NOOO! It screamed. Her mouth gaped and fangs burst from her gums, ripping a groan from her dry throat.

  Eskeilay roared and jumped from the stairs, her body a misty stream that slid from woman to panther. The cat opened its mouth as it neared. Its maw impossibly wide, ready to swallow her whole.

  Keezie moved, her clawed hand swatted the cat from the air. Eskeilay hit the ground and skidded, her nails dug into the hardwood floor as she struggled to a stop.

  The cat’s eyes fixed on her, ears back flat and lost in its inky coat. The panther sank down, loading itself on its haunches. Keezie locked her blazing eyes with Eskeilay’s. She knew she would die before she let the creature take anything from her.

  The cat’s ears twitched. There was something, a sound, a horn maybe, that cut through the blood pounding in her head.

  Eskeilay roared and whirled. She was gone, the swirling vapor the only evidence she had been any more than a nightmare.

  Keezie shook in the aftermath of adrenaline. Her mouth and hands ached from the protrusion and retraction of teeth and claws.

  The horn blared and cut through her daze. She thought she should look outside and see who was making such an annoying racket.

  She walked through the open door and squinted into the sunlight.

  An old truck took shape out of the light and heat waves. Eli’s truck. The slow-moving truck came to a stop. She could see the driver was slumped over, his head laying on the horn.

  She rushed from the porch to the truck and pulled open the door.

  Eli tumbled to the ground, his body completely lifeless.

  Marks leaned impatiently against the side of the Rover. Wind whistled through the bare branches of the sparsely leafed trees.

  Kish was half an hour late. Marks needed to begin soon if he was going to finish this by dusk.

  The first release hadn’t gone as planned. It was violent. Seven Crow had survived, but the damned dog didn’t fare as well. That made him smile, but he needed this one to go better.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of sweat pooling on his forehead and running down his face. He still relished the freedom from the limits of his emotions given to him by Eskeilay. He could feel pleasure and thrilled with excitement, but fear and anxiety were gone. No worry afflicted him, only impatience and annoyance. There were other benefits he was finding, but he wouldn’t let that distract him right now.

  A subtle shift in the wind snapped his eyes open. Kish leaned against the Rover beside him blocking a good portion of the breeze. The man’s long black hair fell down his back behind his shoulders. His flat face and dark brown skin made deciphering his ancestry no hard task.

  The thing that struck Marks the most was the knowledge that, at over two thousand years old, this man was the youngest of the Tukchina; the three beings that ruled The Mahan Group.

  Kish’s black leather coat was incongruous with the heat of the day. His skin was dry, and he showed no sign of discomfort.

  “Don’t destroy this one.” Kish’s voice carried open disdain as he handed over a small hammer.

  Marks turned it carefully in his hands. It was much like the other had been; its wooden handle worn, dented iron head pocked marked with rust, but solid.

  He looked down at the little man and nodded. “I wasn’t prepared the first time.” The violence of the breach wasn’t the problem, he’d held the hammer firmly through that. What he hadn’t expected was the power of the rift when it inhaled the present like a vacuum. The hammer, ripped from his hand, had sailed into the void in time back to who knew when.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  Kish blinked and turned toward the trees. “Repeated failure has only one outcome.” He promised as he walked away.

  Marks felt his anger rise. He pushed it down. Kish was the most dangerous being he had ever been in contact with and it behooved him to remember it, even if he had no fear of the man.

  Marks watched him until the shadows of the trees swallowed his form. Only then did he turn his attention back to his task.

  He reached in a billowy pocket on his thigh and removed a small red pouch. He loosened the string at its mouth and pulled out a necklace.

  Four amber beads adorned the heavy silver chain, each bead of frozen liquid gold contained an insect, each varied in size; two of which Marks had never seen before. He examined each one carefully. They were beautiful.

  “Which one should it be?” he wondered aloud as his fingers picked at the remnants of the fifth bead that clung to the metal.

  He lifted the necklace toward the sun and peered through each bead. On the far left was a beetle about the size of his thumb. The next was what Kish called an Assassin Bug, with its long torso, round spiked back and dagger like proboscis. The third had originally been the middle bead of the five. It was the largest and contained a banded hornet the size of a humming bird. The last of the remaining four was also the smallest and as hard as he looked he couldn’t see what was inside.

  He grinned as he thought of the fifth bead. It had been a moth, plain and dull, but it had unleashed a plague of Gneechees on Mal’Ak. He only wished they had destroyed the man.

  He had no idea what creatures would be freed with the destruction of the beads, but he wanted to find out as soon as possible.

  His eyes and mind settled on the beetle. It would be symmetric to take one from each side. That felt right.

  He put the necklace back into the pouch and returned it to his pocket.

  He opened the back of the Rover and pulled out the tools he would need to prepare himself and the area for the next release.

  He whistled as he dug the trench that would surround him during the ritual.

  It took all Keezie’s strength to put Eli back in the truck. Her clothes were drenched from her exertion in the muggy heat. She chewed her lip and worried at the way he lay tumbled over Usok. She could see his chest rise but was afraid the hound wasn’t breathing at all.

  She checked before she climbed in the driver’s seat and its breath had been faint, but it was there. Now, she wasn’t sure.

  Angry red lines covered every visible inch of Eli’s skin. There were freshly closed wounds, but they were not healing well or fast. She had seen him plow through injuries that would kill anyone else, so whatever he had gotten into must have been horrible.

  She glanced at the map wedged between Eli and the seat, she hadn’t been back to Kaga’s since she left Nisquasi, but Joseph had marked it, so she could find the old man or Eli if they were needed.

  She tried to keep her focus on her passengers to keep from thinking about Eskeilay. She wasn’t sure what it all had meant, but she was certain of two things. One, whatever was inside her was powerful enough to attract very bad things, and two, it did not want to come out.

  Greer’s Ferry passed by on her left. She spent many a summer day out on that lake, diving off party boats and laughing at Mampa when he poured salted peanuts into cold bottles of RC Cola. She bit her tongue to keep the tears away. She missed him, and it snuck up on her sometimes.

  A car honked as she drifted over the double yellow lines taking a curve too wide. She jerked the wheel and waved an apology.

  She turned the radio on to drown out her thoughts. She had about an hour before she turned off Route 92 to 167. Plenty of time to get lost in Depeche Mode and The Cure.

  Plenty of time to wonder if she would make it before Eli and Usok died.

  She hoped he was, at least, at peace.

  Helam laughed as Seven Crow shook the water from his hair and ears. He reached down into the stream for the heavy iron bar that served as his training sword, wary this time of the older man’s foot, he kept his eyes up and watched for the push he thought might tumble him into the water again.

  “Always watch.” Helam reminded him.

  “I know.” Seven Crow snapped.


  “Then why are you wet?”

  The boy circled away from his teacher onto the bank.

  “Why can’t I fight like Coriant with axes or Horan with a bow?” he complained.

  “Why can’t I? Why can’t I? They ask the same thing about you. Why can’t I fight with a sword like Seven Crow?”

  Helam’s eyes bore into his pupil, making the boy feel stupid and young. “You know the answer.”

  Seven Crow kicked at a sprig of grass, taking his time with his argument. “What if I don’t want to be Mal’Ak? What if I never take up the sword?”

  “Do you think your enemies care what you want?”

  Seven Crow shrugged. “I don’t care what they want,” he stated flatly. He yelped and brought the heavy iron bar up just in time to catch Helam’s powerful stroke.

  “You should,” his teacher said, after the ring of metal on metal faded from Seven Crow’s ears.

  The longer she drove, the more and more shallow Eli’s breath became. She was starting to think she wasn’t going to make it to Kaga in time to save him.

  She was pretty sure Usok had died three songs ago.

  She stared at the road and tried not to think about that.

  The sun would be down soon, but she switched the headlights on just to be safe through all the twists and turns. She thought she was just about to the junction now and that would leave her less than half an hour away. She laid her hand on Eli’s shoulder and pretended she could give him the will to hang on just a little longer.

  Marks stood in the middle of his ten-foot ward and surveyed the clearing with satisfaction. The lines were deep and strong.

  There were two, one inner, just big enough for the small anvil altar and himself, and an outer that would house the rift; even though it had taken him longer than he wanted to dig the trenches, and line them with salt, it would be worth it when that void opened.

  He didn’t want anything to go wrong this time.

  He retrieved the pouch with the necklace and set the beetle bead on the small silver anvil that sat in the exact center of the ward. He bent down and picked up the ancient hammer and held it over the amber.