Shackles of Light

by Christopher A. Nooner

  Each Elder guarded a piece of the powerful talisman, as well as utilized that portion of its power. Each kept his or her part secret and showed it only at the appropriate time to their respective heir. Joseph wasn’t sure that anyone truly knew what the complete totem was or how to use it.

  He felt sick as he searched the Elder’s bodies. He had to go slowly and explore each item on each body with intense scrutiny, feeling for power and connection in every instance.

  He listened for harmonies of that connection and fretted over whether he felt them or not.

  In the end he settled on an uncertain agglomeration of items that he prayed were linked. A tiny wooden sparrow, a giant tau marble, an ammolite salamander, a wishbone earring, a glass vial full of porcupine quills, a copper bracelet, a stone that he could only think of as a meteor rock, and a sterling silver eye with a turquoise pupil. He obviously had more than the four pieces, but he wasn’t able to center himself enough to be sure of his choices. If the ones he took were correct he only lacked Kaga’s piece. He thought he had seen it once, and knew the old man only carried it on important occasions, or dangerous ones.

  He took a moment longer and removed Laura’s leather satchel to keep the trinkets in. He regretted doing it but didn’t see a real choice.

  It was a different thing than taking the pieces of the Great Totem. They were his by right, as was the burden that he was, now, the only remaining Tribeless. He spoke softly to her spirit and asked forgiveness.

  The powers were a mystery and he wasn’t sure anyone living, or recently dead, knew what the combined effect would be. He didn’t even know how to access the magic each one stored.

  Not that it mattered. He had to safeguard the totem. It was his responsibility and no one else’s.

  It was no secret that The Mahan wanted the Tribeless gone for centuries, but the power necessary to make that happen was another matter altogether.

  That made this massacre even more surprising and frightening.

  His squeezed his fingers into a tight fist. He could feel his missing hand. He glanced down and shook his arm, angry at the lingering phantom.

  He grimaced as he thought of the next phantom he had to face. It wouldn’t be easy to deal with the loss of his mentor.

  He threw the satchel over his shoulder and said goodbye to his people and Blue Hole.

  The Sanctuary was now their grave. It was perfect at least; towering pines, brilliant water and the lingering essence of their power to wrap them in the forever of death. Maybe he would bring Kaga here to rest with them.

  He wiped his eyes and walked.

  The red eyed sun peeked over the horizon as he reached the Oldsmobile, and was not quite at its zenith when he turned north toward Evening Shade.

  He wasn’t sure where he would go once he secured the last totem. He had no idea how far behind his friends he was or where they might be, but his belly grumbled.

  He was on a mission, but still pragmatic. He knew his body needed food, whether it was convenient or not. Jack and Elsie’s place was on the way, so it made sense to make that quick detour.

  Plus, Jack would want to know about Kaga. They had known each other for better than a normal lifespan.

  Despite his pain and hurry, his mouth watered copiously as he turned left into the tiny town.

  The smell of roasted maize and squash reminded Eli of his childhood. His one time of true innocence, long days of running through tall sweet grass until the sun’s fading light chased him back to the village with his companions. Days before Kish and the Hatak Haski massacred everyone he had ever known. Days before he knew what The Creator had in store for him.

  “Eat,” Tomtum urged, as he nudged at the bowl in Eli’s hands.

  Eli nodded and placed a piece of warm squash to his lips. The sweetness was balanced perfectly by the savor of salt and cracked peppercorn. His eyes closed, and his instincts took over. His body’s need for sustenance overcame all thought save the ravenous hunger. He devoured maize and squash and roasted sweet onions, his hands and mouth greasy with juice and the salty oil of churned butter.

  His parched lips and throat reveled in the cold purity of the water he washed it down with.

  When he finished, his stomach was tight and full, but the tiredness that usually came with such fullness was kept at bay only by his need to learn and understand his current situation.

  “We have a gift for you, Mal’Ak,” Chukka’s voice cautioned that there was more to his offer.

  “A gift, unfortunately, that you will have to retrieve yourself,” Tubba added.

  “If by retrieve you mean steal out from under the nose of a foul-smelling Ogress and then escape the hungry fangs of a burning bloody floating head,” Tomtum muttered. The other two at least had the grace to turn red.

  “With no power and not even close to fully healed,” Eli reminded them.

  “Oh! oh!” Tomtum exclaimed, “And four or five days left to survive, if you can.” It seemed he was having fun with the impromptu game of let’s see how we can torture and kill Eli.

  Eli drew a deep breath and rubbed his temples. He decided he should see if this ‘gift’ was worth risking his now very mortal life over.

  It was almost thrilling to know that he could die if he wasn’t careful. It certainly was an element that hadn’t crept into his life many times over the last two hundred years.

  “What exactly is this gift?” he ventured. “And what are my chances of getting it without dying?”

  “Well, you need a weapon,” Chukka said.

  “And protection,” Tubba was quick to add.

  “From them,” Tomtum whispered from behind his hand. His compatriots glared at him, but his eyes sparkled and danced.

  “And?” Eli urged.

  “We wish to gift you the sword and breastplate of Lai-vyn.” Chukka’s voice was quiet and full a reverence.

  “Until you regain use of your own, of course,” Tubba was quick to mention.

  Tomtum nodded solemnly. “If you can recover them from the Ogress.”

  Eli had no idea who Lai-vyn was or why his sword and breastplate were revered by these three, but then again, there was obviously a whole world and history that he didn’t even know existed. Just another freaking thing to add to the list of things that Eli didn’t know that he probably should. On the bright side, maybe I’ll die for real this time, he thought. It was a lie though, and he knew it. He would do anything necessary to make sure Keezie was either alive or avenged. He wondered if he was up to it.

  Every movement was tired and painful. Fierce pain. He was certain he was not up to it.

  “Well, tell me what I need to know,” he growled impatiently.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Tomtum’s shrill voice bubbled. “Okay. Well, a year ago there was over a thousand of us living here. We had been hidden from the world for eons. Even the Mal’Ak didn’t know how to find us. We would bring the young Mal’Ak here at the beginning of The Ablution and return them once the choice was made,” he paused to take a breath.

  “Wait, wait,” Eli interjected hastily. “Do I need to know this right now?” He looked at Tubba and Chukka pleadingly. “Can’t you sum it up?” He avoided looking at Tomtum. He didn’t want to see the hurt on the little creature’s face.

  Chukka nodded solemnly. “A year ago, somehow, The Mahan found us. We were destroyed, but for a few. He left the Ogress and the Dagwanoenyent to hunt us to extinction and pillage our sacred temple of artifacts.”

  “There are only thirteen of us now, but we have secreted a few of the most important relics throughout Kwanokasha, the sword and breastplate among them,” Tubba contributed.

  Eli’s fingernails bit into his palms as he squeezed them in an effort to calm himself. “How do I get them?” he asked as evenly as he could.

  “Oh, well, you have to slip past the Dagwanoenyent, skirt the Ogress, scamper over a small bit of rubble and search all the Chambers of the minor oracles, because we can’t remember which one we put the
m in,” Tomtum added happily. “And then get out of the city without dying. That would be nice.”

  Eli stared at the three wrinkled creatures, his mind completely astounded that this race of the Creator’s people had survived at all. “Do you have a map at least?” he asked.

  He couldn’t help the barked laugh that escaped his mouth at the look of incredulity the three gave him.

  Chukka scowled at him. “I hope you are taking this seriously, young man,” he admonished.

  Eli raised an eyebrow, “Seriously enough.”

  Tubba mumbled something and left the room, while Tomtum beamed at him like a teacher encouraging his favorite student.

  Chukka stared him down until Tubba came back into the room carrying a rolled parchment, which he shook vaguely in Eli’s direction.

  Tubba sat down in front of him and unrolled the map on the floor while the other two crowded in around it.

  It was a beautiful piece of art even though the colors had faded. The city was broken into four basic areas, divided by a large street that halved it vertically. The main street started at the eastern gate and ended in a large compound labeled The Citadel. A large square formed the town center midway from the gate to the Citadel. The northeast quadrant contained dwellings, hundreds of them. Across the street to the south were fields and gardens, as well as a large storehouse.

  To the northwest, there was water and engineering, as well as the oracle chambers. Opposite that were the healer’s chambers and baths, as well as solider and clerics quarters.

  Each was drawn in its own color and with a decidedly different hand.

  Tomtum tapped a small group of rooms that formed a sliver dividing the food storage and the healers’ baths. “We are here, in the baths. Healing baths, you know. That’s where we put you when you first arrived. The waters are specifically for healing injuries beyond the capacity and skill of our people,” he tittered nervously.

  “Why can’t you ever shut up?” Tubba demanded.

  “I can shut up. When I want. When it is necessary.”

  “Like now?”

  “Both of you shut up!” Chukka demanded.

  Eli’s patience slid away like scree loosened by careless feet. “Look. I guess I appreciate you saving my life, but I have a very limited amount of time to get this done, figure out what is happening out there, and stop it if possible.” He eyed them down, his glare enough to send their chins to their chests. “Now, where is this sword?” he asked.

  Tomtum’s hand hovered over the map for a moment before his finger descended to the oracle’s quarters. He tapped it twice. “I think.”

  Tubba sighed loudly. “You still can’t remember where you hid them, can you?”

  “I’m fairly confident I put them here.” He turned his head to stare at the wall. “Somewhere.”

  Keezie’s head swung in surprise when the bell on the door jangled. She leapt from the stool on which she was sitting when Joseph stepped in.

  She flung her arms around the big man and whooped. “You are a sight for sore eyes!” she exclaimed and jabbed a finger toward Ammonih. “This one can barely carry on a conversation.”

  She grinned at Joseph, but her smile faded as she recognized the heavy sadness in his eyes. “What happened?” she asked.

  He shrugged and guided her back to her seat where he plopped down, followed closely by a plate of fries and a couple of Jack’s amazing dogs.

  Joseph looked down at the plate and up at the creature behind the counter. Jack met his eyes and nodded, “I heard. Bad stuff.” He turned around and resumed his vigil of black and white reruns.

  Keezie waited with a patience she didn’t normally possess. His pain helped control her impulse to know and demand and pester.

  She turned back to her own plate of fries and nibbled her way through the crunchy golden morsels. She would never understand how the plain poor food here was so divine. It had to be magic.

  She watched her companions from the corners of her eyes. Ammonih, as he wiped the grease from his lips with the back of his arm, and Joseph, picking listlessly through the mound of fries in search of individual morsels that met some criteria she didn’t understand.

  She tried to watch TV, but the sheer strength of her curiosity kept her wandering back to Joseph.

  It was at least fifteen minutes before he spoke, his voice soft and raw with emotion. “All of them are dead. I’m the only one left.”

  She felt Ammonih’s head swing with hers. “Who?” she asked.

  “My people. The Tribeless.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voiced cracked with the dryness of mouth that comes from stress and emotion.

  Silence resumed, except for the rude counterpoint of the old laugh track.

  “Is Eli meeting you here?” the big man asked.

  Keezie picked at her fries, having found in that question the sadness that drove Joseph’s criteria for which fry to eat.

  She shook her head, afraid to speak. She glanced at Ammonih.

  He pushed the air from his lungs and inhaled slowly before speaking. “Pretty sure he’s dead.”

  Keezie’s throat closed with emotion and locked in a painful sob.

  She couldn’t look up at Joseph, afraid his reaction would make her cry and she couldn’t afford that right now.

  She was surprised again when Joseph didn’t ask how or insist they must be mistaken. He just absorbed it as if he’d expected it or something.

  Silence fell over the trio once again. The pressure in her head drowned out the laugh track and made her feel like she was drunk and spinning on the stool.

  “I have to go back to the house. There is something I have to get.” She jumped when Joseph’s baritone voice broke the dizzy spell.

  “Might be Hatak Haski there,” Ammonih offered. “Couldn’t get to the Way Hut.”

  Joseph pursed his lips and drew his brow down as he thought. “Doesn’t matter. I have to do it.”

  Ammonih grunted. “Best go in the back way then.”

  The Nvnehi warrior gulped the last of his peach soda and tossed a coin on the counter. The strange creature handed him a stack of what looked like comics. “Thanks,” he muttered and stuffed them hurriedly into his pack.

  She looked down at her own food and found more of it gone than she remembered eating.

  That was the way of things since she’d met Eli. The world changed while she wasn’t looking and dragged her whole life along with it.

  She followed Ammonih’s example, gulped her soda down, and prayed Eli wasn’t one of the things that was gone from the world.

  The three of them stepped out of Jack and Elsie’s and back into the real world.

  There was a chill in the air. It was subtle, but it was there. Autumn was settling in and she wouldn’t get to enjoy the lazy afternoons that had been the staple of her life since she was small.

  It was fitting. Her old life was dying off and soon there would only be memories left to enjoy.

  The taint stirred in her belly as she slid into the passenger’s seat of Joseph’s Delta 88. She bit the corner of her lip and hoped she would still be able to enjoy them when this was all over.

  If it was ever over, she corrected herself.

  Eli’s head continued to pound. He wasn’t sure if it was from his injuries or the convoluted dialogue. He leaned toward the conversation. It hadn’t yielded much more than the fact that the city had been carved wholly from stone deep inside a mountain.

  The three tiny beings eventually broke into a squabble that resembled puppies fighting over a bone.

  He stood alone at the door from the healing chambers into a hallway that would take him into the heart of Kwanokasha. From there he would have to find his way to the oracle’s chambers without disturbing either the Ogress or the Dagwanoenyent and hope that Tomtum really had put the sword and breastplate there somewhere.

  He drew a deep breath and cracked the door open just enough to peek down the hall. It was empty, save for a lonely whistle from somewhere in t
he open spaces of the city.

  He stepped into the hall and listened for movement. There was nothing, not even the sound of his own footfalls.

  He wasn’t sure he would be capable of running even if he did hear or see something; or rather, if something saw or heard him. His muscles and joints were not only stiff, but his body throbbed with a regularity that he decided must be tied to his heartbeat.

  The walls were identical to those in the rooms he had seen. Dark brown rock with no adornment of any kind. Not even an attempt at adornment from what he could see. It was strange with what little he knew of its people. They loved opulence. Especially Mamat. That cruel little beast certainly loved his things. The oracle’s chamber was lavish, with his crystal throne and tile mosaics. Even his tiny skull had been decorated with symbols of power.

  Not here, though. Here there was nothing but silent brown rock. There were, however, small canisters of light that were so efficient they were easily dismissed by the mind as natural instead of intentionally placed sources.

  The scale of the place was impossible to tell from the map, but out here he could see that he’d misjudged the size. This small hallway was easily forty feet long. That meant he had, probably, a half a mile to go to reach the area Tomtum had indicated on the map.

  A half a mile in his condition might as well be ten.

  He was numb. He’d wondered and dreamed, his whole life, about who he really was, and what his family had been like. The stories he had concocted paled in the light of the truth.

  He knew he didn’t understand it all. His mind fought the implications of some of it, his heart against others.

  There was only one thing he did know, he had to get back and find Keezie. Dead or alive.

  He needed to deal with his feelings for her. Needed to confront her with it, or deal with her death.

  He wasn’t sure which terrified him more.

  The hall ended on the right before it did on the left, causing him to pull up short to peer around the corner.