The loose fabric draped effortlessly over the boy’s growing muscle. It was at once simple and majestic, hinting that the pair were much more than they seemed.
The man slid to make room for the boy on the piece of fallen tree that made their fireside bench.
The roar of the waterfall was muffled but not quelled by the wall of boulders, and only the loudest crack of sappy pine in the fire could be heard.
The man’s baritone rumbled just under the tone of the crashing water, “Is it written?”
The boy nodded. “Your name is in the book?”
The boy nodded again. The man’s breath blew from his nostrils like an impatient horse. “The Ablution has begun. Kodesh is finished. I hoped it would not be so.”
The boy looked up at the older man. “I am prepared, father.”
The man stood and drew the boy up to face him. “No one is ever prepared.” He placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and stared into his eyes for a moment. “The sacred days have begun. The season of Kodesh is finished. Seven moons must pass over you, Cleve, the fourth son, to prove and purify, to heal with blood the wounds hidden in soul and spirit, to cleanse you for the days Danawa.” The words ricocheted from the rocks and cliff, echoing back to the pair as their power sunk into the earth.
The boy swallowed, his mouth and throat dry and chalky. “I am ready.”
“So, let it be done.” The finality of the words hung heavy in the air between them.
Sethe nodded and dropped his hands from Cleve’s shoulders.
He turned and picked up his pack. He swung it onto his back, walked onto the trail, and disappeared.
Keezie wove through the shelves and tables quickly putting distance and thousands of volumes between Eli and herself.
It was irrational, but his quick rebuke cut her more than she would have liked. She wondered if it was really her at all or the damned blackness inside her.
She shook her head. No. It was Eli. If he could just get out of his own way maybe he wouldn’t be so oblivious to what was going on around him. He was so involved with taking care of everyone that he missed the reasons he should want to take care of them.
He ascribed it all to duty and refused to accept that it was love and friendship. Maybe it was easier for him. It didn’t matter, all it did was infuriate her.
Pain in her palms reached through her fury. She stopped and peered down at her hands. Her knuckles were white from the force of squeezing. Her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm.
She opened her hands and pried her fingers straight before shaking them to recirculate the blood.
She looked around at the shelves. It was oddly comforting to be engulfed in so many books.
Mampa would love this.
She was in a row that rose just above her head. Most of the shelves were covered with stacks of metal plates bound together by large rings.
If she had to guess she would say that most comprised thirty to fifty plates bound together.
Dust had settled over every visible surface obscuring the top plates and whatever language they were written in.
Must be some sense to the arrangement, she thought. There was order here, if she could just puzzle it out.
She knew from their initial foray into the shelves that the commonality wasn’t language. The languages were mixed within each stack, so that was out.
Subject? She thought that was a definite possibility, but how would she prove it?
She decided that she should find a group of shelves with actual books on them and then look for anything that resembled English.
She wandered through the plates, deeper into the labyrinth of the library. She scoured each surface for anything she could possibly read.
She walked for ten minutes when she noticed something odd. The farther she walked the thinner the layer of dust became.
Another thing stood out as well. The sheer volume of books thinned until she emerged from the book laden shelves to an area where the shelves were completely bare.
She walked into the area of emptiness and turned to look at what she had traveled through.
She cocked her head. There was a carving on each shelf. Her heart beat faster. The way it had at Mampa’s when she was deciphering his clues. She hurried to the closest one and brushed the years of dust from the grooves of the carving.
Four suns. She ran down the last aisle of books and examined each shelf. They were the same.
She turned back to the empty shelves and made her way to the far end of the first row. The carvings were newer and there were five suns on each. Four on top of one. Here was her pattern.
She raced back toward Eli making sure to look for more carvings. She counted six deep rows of books before the carvings changed from four suns to three, ten rows before it changed to two, and fifty before it changed to one.
Eli was in the first section. That’s what she decided. The books were arranged by age starting with the oldest and getting newer the deeper into the library you went.
Keezie was sweating by the time Eli came into partial view, her path twisted so that he blinked in an out of her sightline.
“Eli.” She called as she ran.
When he didn’t answer she called again.
She scowled and wondered if he was upset with her, but she kept her pace. She shot passed the last shelf that obscured her view and pulled up short, her voice stuck in her throat.
Eli’s arms were straight, his hands fixed solidly on the giant book in front of him. His body was oddly slouched, so he leaned forward over the table, but his head was thrown back his mouth open as if he were a sculpture capturing a tortured man’s final silent scream.
Usok sat on his haunches and stared at him. He swiveled his head just enough to look at Keezie and acknowledge her before he resumed his watch.
It wasn’t apparent what was going on, but it was a chilling sight. She half expected his head to twist and say, “They’re coming.”
Keezie walked cautiously to the hound, making sure to keep his body between herself and Eli’s frozen form.
Strobing colors drew her eye. Eli’s hands disappeared into the book in front of him. They were covered by torrents of color that washed over them like rapids spilling over whatever lay in their way.
“Is he okay?” she whispered. She was relieved when Usok’s chuff answered her, it was more comforting than it had a right to be.
She wasn’t sure how, but she felt certain the dog had answered her affirmatively.
They stood silently watching the scene in front of them, until the colors slowed and faded. Eli’s hands peeled from the parchment leaving pulsing and fading handprints behind, until they too disappeared.
Eli crumbled to his knees and would have fallen backward onto the cold stone floor had Usok not been there to catch his weight and hold him until, with a spasm, he woke and inhaled a hard, sucking breath. His arms flailed wildly and struck the table hard.
He groaned as he righted himself and tried to stand.
Keezie hurried to him and helped him sling his arm around her shoulder. She wobbled under his weight but managed to keep her balance. She helped him turn so that he could lean against the sturdy table.
“You okay?” she asked.
He stared at her for a moment. His face blank, eyes empty. He smacked his dry lips and stuck his tongue out as he tried to clear the cotton dryness from his mouth. He nodded and blinked slowly.
“I think I may be in deep shit.” He finally muttered. Keezie laughed and he smiled faintly.
“You’re just now coming to that conclusion?” she quipped.
Joseph felt odd comfort in the muted colors and bare limbs of fall. He loved the way his headlights revealed the leafless branches and dark voids created by the pines.
He had spent the better part of the last hour remembering Kaga. Joseph’s life had never been normal. He had been placed with the old medicine man when he was very young. Just old enough, in fact, to carry out small tasks and listen when he was
told not to do something.
It was the old way, and the old ways were dying. Kaga had shown him countless examples of the modern world seeping into and replacing the sacred ways of their people. Insidious, they devoured the old with the shiny wrappers of the new and improved, only to wither and die taking the knowledge of the ancients with them. He promised Kaga that he would maintain the old ways and pass them on intact and whole.
He remembered the first time he had gone to meet The Tribeless. He was ten. He had spent the whole trip in terrified silence after Kaga told him of his terrible companions.
He was less terrified now, but the prospect of facing the Elders without his mentor was daunting.
His fellow apprentices weren’t any better. They kept to themselves, skulking in shadows and watching their masters from the edges of the forest that surrounded the small deep pond and campfire. He had doubly felt like an outcast or interloper at each of the meetings he had attended, because Kaga was the only member who insisted on living in the world and not sequestered behind the wards of Blue Hole.
Joseph maneuvered the big car around the switchbacks leading up Mt. Magazine, eager to be off the winding road and onto the top of the wide plateau the locals called a mountain.
He wondered if the car would make it down the logging road that led to the hidden home of the Tribeless.
Rain consistently uncovered large boulders and trees routinely fell across the road, making it difficult to travel except on foot.
Joseph missed the turn, overgrown as it was, and had to backtrack a few miles until he found it.
He turned the car onto the scrubby trail heedless of the saplings and briars that had grown through at least the last summer.
Sticks screeched against the metal undercarriage and across the paint of the body.
Even driving slowly, the car bounced and bumped enough to bang him against the steering wheel and door.
Twice he had to brace his hand on the seat to stop from being pitched violently into the passenger’s seat.
He was forced to stop and walk at what he guessed was a mile or so before the trail ended at Blue Hole. A massive fallen tree blocked the car from passing.
The tree was large enough, in fact, that he found it easier to go under rather than climb over it.
The forest thickened from there and closed in even further around the logging road. He was thankful for the bright moon and her pale light.
He walked in silence of thought, absorbing his surroundings in a way he hadn’t since he first walked this path.
He abandoned his feet to find their own way, focusing instead on a late cloud of Giant Swallowtail butterflies roosting on a dense bush that encroached on the trail. They slowly flicked their brilliant wings.
Blue Hole was sanctuary for more than just the Native People. It was sanctuary for all.
He twisted and turned in his mindless march until the trees began to thin and the soft flowing meadow before Blue Hole crept under his boots.
He smiled at the tiny purple flowers covering the drying ground. He quickened his pace. The water was close enough to smell.
He saw Skah first, the old man’s body was torn near in two and distorted from being only halfway through its transformation from man to Hellbender form.
Joseph became more frantic as he searched the area around the brilliant blue water of the sanctuary, hoping desperately that they weren’t all gone.
He found Begay lying face down in his own blood, then Dancing Storm and Summer Redtail. It took him longer to find Aleshanee and Bucking Horse.
He was numb and shook uncontrollably when he stumbled over Laura Black Dog’s body. He didn’t even attempt to get up. It was no use. They were all dead, and he, Joseph White Bull was the last of the Tribeless. He was all alone.
Keezie’s words assailed him. Her mouth moved faster than his mind could follow. He felt trapped in the sluggish ether of the book’s memory, not able to pull himself through the denseness of the experience.
He watched her eyes enlarge as his hand covered her mouth. He laughed despite himself, which only caused her eyes to widen further.
“Slow down,” he begged. His hand dropped, the effort of holding it there too great. “I can’t think,” he said in an attempt to explain.
Her lips peeled back in a snarl. “Why are you such a creep?” she hissed.
“I’m sorry.” He hurried, “I’m not right.”
“I know that, you idiot,” she countered. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
He blinked. “I mean.” He stopped and looked around as if something in the room could help him. He pointed to the book. “I can’t think properly yet.”
“What? You can’t ever think properly.” She spat.
Eli sighed and sat on the floor. “Can you start again please? But slower, this time?” he begged. His fingers gently rubbed at his temples. He knew her mind was quick with puzzles, and if she was this excited she had most likely worked something out.
Keezie stared into his eyes as if she were trying to burn a hole through his tough skull. “I said, I know how the books are organized.”
He sat up straighter and re-focused his attention on her.
“The books are arranged by sections denoted by suns.” She swept her arm out in an encompassing gesture. “This is the first section and the biggest. The next section is two suns, and not as big. In fact, the sections get smaller and smaller until the fifth one, which is completely empty.” Her smile was back.
“Are you saying there are five sections, total, and each one is marked with suns?” he asked.
Keezie nodded enthusiastically.
“The last, or fifth, section is empty?”
She nodded again.
Eli looked at the book and then around at the shelves, his tired mind working through the implications. He looked at her again. “The reason there aren’t any books in the fifth section is that I haven’t put any there. I am the fifth son,” he explained.
Her eyes locked onto him, “What does that mean?”
He shrugged and looked away from her, “I have no idea.” He closed his eyes and rubbed them aggressively. “I have no idea what it means, how it helps us, or if it helps us.” He paused. “I do know that I don’t have any idea where to start with these books, and I do know we don’t have time to waste here any longer.”
Keezie sighed, “Is that all you know?”
“I’m lucky I know that much,” Eli answered as he struggled to his feet. He leaned against the table and shook his head to clear it.
Movement down an adjacent aisle caught his eye. Usok trotted toward them, his tongue lolling from his mouth.
Eli turned to face Keezie and smiled.
She stepped to him protectively, “Are you okay?”
“Am I bleeding?” he asked as he ran his hand over his face and through his hair.
“No, but you were grimacing like you were hurt.”
Eli snorted and pushed away from the table as Usok passed him headed for the outer chamber. “That was a smile,” he said over his shoulder as he followed the hound out of the library.
Eli noted the temperature change as soon as they turned onto Grand Isle Drive.
He watched, in his periphery, as Keezie rubbed her arms in response to the sudden chill.
Ammonih’s note at the Way Hut had been hasty and vague but was clear about where they were to meet. The scribbled words only increased Eli’s feeling that the situation was worse than they understood.
They were walking willfully into a trap of unknown origin and design.
The vision from the book still haunted him. He couldn’t shake the vivid images and felt unequipped to deal with the information and knowledge. He had seen his father. His grandfather. Heard their voices. He knew their words had been important, but like most things in life the important lessons were buried by the human tendency to focus on the visceral rather than the intellectual. Couple that with his pointed lack of inherent knowledge and he was in deep over his
head.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He knew the last thing they needed was for him to get lost in his own head.
Trees cast long shadows over the road in more places than not. That increased the feeling that the world had been overtaken by an arctic winter.
A black cloud of buzzards overhead swirled and swayed, moved by some unseen force to keep even the smallest ray of warming sunlight from breaking the spell that covered the neighborhood.
Frost spread its icy fingers over each patch of shaded earth he could see. It crept up the bases of trees and completely swallowed the scrub brush and brambles.
Eli guided their stolen car around the Northeast corner of Grand Isle Drive. As the turn straightened out he saw the sign for Casablanca ahead on the right.
“There,” Keezie directed as she pointed. Eli grunted and bobbed his head.
He pulled the car to the side of the street and killed the engine.
“It’s so cold.” She punctuated the statement by vigorously rubbing her arms again. “I wish we could have spent more time in the library.”
Eli’s brows pulled down tight over his eyes. “It would have taken more time than we could spare.” He yanked the door handle and stepped out into the cold street. He shut the door quietly, after Usok padded softly down, and motioned for her to do the same.
They walked the short distance to Casablanca Drive. They had to walk with careful steps on the semi slick surface of the pavement.
Ammonih stepped from the trees, eliciting a tiny squeak of dismay from Keezie. Eli scowled in quick rebuke, which earned him a middle finger and a mouthed ‘sorry’ from her.
Ammonih closed the distance with three long strides and motioned them to go back to the car.
Eli raised an eyebrow but complied. He rolled his shoulders, relishing the lack of pain and stiffness. It was almost unfair to whom or whatever may stand in his way.
“It’s taken the people of this neighborhood. Every single one,” Ammonih offered.
Shackles of Light Page 7
