Shackles of Light

by Christopher A. Nooner

  Cleve stared at him open mouthed.

  A small giggle blossomed beside him.

  Eli turned his hot glare Keezie’s way. “That’s funny to you?” he demanded.

  She nodded. “That’s more words than I’ve heard come out of your mouth in the whole time I’ve known you. I wasn’t even sure you knew that many. Plus, I know ten times more about you now than I knew up to this moment.”

  “Keezie?” he snapped.

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.” He almost said it without smiling.

  “Shhh,” Cleve hissed. He was on his feet and two steps toward the entrance before Eli could stand.

  Eli held his breath and listened. A moment later a scream wafted into the cave.

  “Hurry, put your furs on.” Cleve commanded.

  Cleve picked up the baby, and placed him in the sling before securing his heavy fur coat around himself.

  Eli stumbled through getting his warm clothes on and found himself the last one ready to go. Usok was already gone when the three set off through the woods back out into the snowy field.

  The blizzard was gone, and with it all trace of their passage the previous day. They would have been helpless and lost had Cleve not found them.

  Eli shielded his eyes against the harsh white of the morning sun and brilliant snow. They would have to worry about snow blindness if they were out in this for long.

  A black streak ran in front of them toward a towering form. Something small circled it, darting away as the monster pursued it.

  Another black blur headed toward the distant combatants from the Northeast.

  “Stay close,” Cleve cautioned. “That’s the Piasa.” It was hard to tell, but it sounded like there was ill-concealed excitement in his father’s voice.

  Eli did his best to keep up but found himself trailing behind the other two.

  A feeling of dread wormed its way into his gut. He usually had a bad feeling about everything, but this was worse. This was ominous, but he had no idea what he could do about it.

  He bit his lip in frustration, and redoubled his efforts to keep up with Keezie and Cleve.

  The closer they got to the Piasa, the worse his gut ached. Not just his gut though, everything about him hummed. He vibrated with dark energy, as if he was an antenna picking up all the malevolence radiating from this creature.

  They all struggled to walk in the deep snow, but, for Eli, the effort was especially grueling. His body blasted through the energy his sleep had restored, and he broke out in a sweat. That was the last thing he needed, the danger of soaking his clothes through and freezing to death.

  Usok, and whatever else it was that came from the Northeast, reached the Piasa when the trio was about halfway across the plain. The two distant forms harried the creature, but it looked from Eli’s vantage that they did little more than keep it in the same basic area.

  He wondered for a good portion of the hike why the thing stayed where it was, until he realized that it was strategic. The beast had cornered its initial victim on the edge of a cliff.

  “Don’t try to kill it. It’s nearly impossible. Only repeated strikes beneath its wings can harm it at all.” Cleve called over his shoulder. “I just need it to stay in a small enough area for the Bead to grab hold and pull it in.”

  “What else is with it?” Keezie asked.

  Cleve shrugged, “Besides the hound?” He clarified. “I have no idea, but the fact that it’s not already dead means it isn’t anything to trifle with.”

  Their breath froze on the fur of the hoods near their mouths. Eli felt like he could see it grow each time his frosty breath escaped his lips. He concentrated on it to distract his mind from the numbing cold, and the frustrating weariness that threatened to drop him in his tracks.

  He was successful enough that it took both his companions repeating his name to break through his wall.

  When he looked up the others were waiting for him to catch up. He had no idea how they had gotten so far ahead. “W-w-what?” he stammered.

  “Are you okay?” The concern in Keezie’s voice was palpable.

  He nodded. “Just a little tired.” He was tired. So tired he didn’t have the energy to care if they knew or not.

  Cleve handed him a glass bottle. “Try this,” he said. “It’s not Black Drink, but it should help.”

  “It looks like a little man in there.” Keezie exclaimed as the bottle of yellowish liquid was passed in front of her.

  “Ginseng,” Eli offered as he took the bottle. His father nodded.

  He popped the stopper and took a quick swig. It had been quite some time since he had partaken of this herb, long enough that he had forgotten how he liked the earthy taste of the man shaped root mixed with wild honey.

  He took another draught and passed the liquid to Keezie. “Try it.” He prompted.

  She looked at Cleve, who nodded. She sniffed it and shrugged before tasting it. Her face screwed up and she shivered. “That tastes like sweetened dirt. Not a fan.”

  Cleve laughed and took the bottle from her hand. He turned his smile on Eli. “Better?”

  “We’ll see.” Eli was amazed at the nonchalance his father possessed. They were clearly about to engage with a world class danger, yet his attitude was calm and playful.

  “I was asking about your armor,” Cleve interjected casually. “How long have you had it?”

  “My armor?” Eli asked clearly confused.

  “The new stuff,” Keezie prompted.

  “Oh,” He was losing it, he decided, to not remember something that significant. “Couple days.”

  Cleve looked at him as if he expected him to expound.

  Eli sighed heavily. Talking was a burden. “Tomtum gave it to me in Kwanokasha.”

  “Really?” The wonder in his father’s voice was genuine. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Mmm hmm,” he answered lazily. “The breastplate of Lai-vyn. I have the sword, too.” His father’s head was shaking before he was done.

  “No. That is not the Breastplate of Lai-vyn. Can I see the sword?” There was something in his voice; something, besides the declaration that the armor was not what he thought it was, that perked Eli up.

  He dug clumsily under his furs and pulled the sword out. He handed it to his father, who took it with solemn reverence.

  “I never thought…” Cleve’s voice trailed off. He held the sword quietly for so long that Eli wasn’t sure he was conscious. “This is Qerach, Asahel’s twin. Fire and Ice.” When he looked up his eyes were wet. “You are wearing the Plate of the Garden. It was the first father’s. My grandfather, your great grandfather Metuse, was the last to wear it. I saw it once when I was small.”

  Eli leaned forward, blood pumping hard in his ears. “My uncles stole it, and it was never recovered. They thought it contained the Mal’Ak’s power. They were wrong, it only helps channel it.” Cleve barked a sharp laugh. “If those little scoundrels thought this was Lai-vyn’s they are slipping. That stuff is worthless. This?” He pointed the sword at Eli’s chest, “This is priceless.” He turned the hilt toward Eli and handed it back to him. “Let’s get this over with.” He gave his son a lingering smile and turned back to the Piasa.

  There was energy in Eli’s step, whether from the ginseng and honey, or the excitement of discovery. He didn’t really care which. It was something positive, something unexpected and beautiful.

  He contented himself with daydreaming about his ancestors and watching Keezie sway as she walked in front of him.

  He was so absorbed he was surprised when they stopped again. The Piasa loomed in front of them. It was a beast out of nightmare. It was a bird, he thought, its wings were folded tight against its back, but the tips brushed the ground.

  It stood thirty plus feet tall, taller if you counted the massive antlers that grew from its bat-like head. Its hind legs were the legs of a hawk or eagle, its talons sharp and as large as Eli’s forearm. It had a set of upper legs that resembled the legs of a lion
or tiger.

  Usok baited the monster from the front, he snapped, bit, and just managed to dodge each swipe of the terrible claws. He guarded a dark crumpled form in the bloody snow.

  There was blood spattered on the snow around it, and the black tattered cloth of its clothing waved in the wind of the battle like a war banner.

  The snow for twenty feet around them was packed hard from the circling and the weight of the devil bird.

  Just past them the earth fell off abruptly. The demon had cornered its unmoving victim against a cliff.

  Another creature was harrowing the Piasa from the back and sides. It seemed familiar, and after a squinting through the brightness of the snow, he realized why.

  Eskeilay. The demoness fought with viciousness and precision, she moved and taunted the Piasa as if she, too, were protecting the hapless creature on the ground.

  “Keep it occupied,” Cleve commanded. “This will only take a couple minutes.” His voice was positively merry.

  Eli wasn’t sure what he could do that wasn’t already being done by Usok and Eskeilay, but he pulled Qerach and shuffled forward until he stood on the hard-packed snow of the battleground.

  The bird was mesmerizing. Its feathers shimmered between metallic copper, close to the color of Keezie’s hair, and a forest green. Its bat-like ears twitched, and its nostril slits flared as it chased the dog and cat.

  It turned toward him when he broke some unseen marker of its territory and shrieked. He felt his eyes roll back. He fought to stay conscious and upright. He ended up on one knee.

  “Sorry!” His father called. “Forgot to warn you about that!”

  Eli regained his feet and scanned the area to make sure Keezie was okay.

  He panicked when she wasn’t where he thought she would be. His distraction earned him a hard cuff that sent him crashing to the ground. The world spun. He staggered up and backed away.

  Eli stepped outside the circle of packed snow and trekked as fast as he could around the perimeter searching for her.

  Halfway around he saw her. She was face down in the snow. "No!" he plowed through the powdery white until he knelt beside her. "Cleve!" he called. "Father!" when he didn't answer.

  He turned her over expecting blood or a bruise but found only frozen saliva on her lips and cheek. The skin of her face was a pallid blue and she wasn’t breathing.

  "No, no, no, no,” He muttered. Why do you keep taking the things I love? "Father!" the scream tore his throat and set him coughing. He shook her. His frustration mounted like the hot core of the earth pushing against the surface searching for a way out.

  Alight with anger he looked up to see what was keeping Cleve from answering his call for help.

  Eli’s stomach sank. His father was trapped. On one side was the Piasa, on the other was Kish. Behind him on two sides was the cliff.

  Asahel burned in his father's hand. He danced agile as possible while fending off Kish's silky attacks, but the furs slowed him considerably.

  Eli almost yelled at him to discard them but remembered that he was beneath them. His father kept them on to protect baby Eli.

  Beside him, Keezie gasped and shuddered.

  He exhaled and looked down. Her skin was already regaining color, and her eyes were open wide and wild.

  "Hold still," he told her. "I'm not sure what happened to you."

  "A man,” she whispered.

  He nodded in understanding. "Kish."

  Anger blossomed anew. He helped her sit up, and then rushed to his father's aid.

  Eli and Cleve attacked in tandem, their blades nipping and chasing their impossibly fast foe.

  Twice when Asahel came too close for comfort Kish scattered into a fine mist or vapor, and the fiery blade passed through without harming him.

  Slow as Eli was, he was soon covered in a series of bloody slashes, which forced him to retreat slightly to rethink his attack.

  Cleve was a master, even burdened with a babe on his chest, his movements were crisp, clean, and deadly. So skilled was he with his blade that Kish's focus was compromised enough for Cleve to plant a boot squarely in the little man's chest and send him reeling to the cliff's edge.

  Eli leaped forward but wasn't quick enough to take advantage.

  Kish squared and snaked his thin blade between the two men. "It's been long enough that I'd forgotten how skilled you are with that damned blade, nephew," Kish's voice was thin and dripped with vinegar.

  The statement gave Eli pause. His father was Kish's nephew? His stomach turned. All the pain and destruction that man caused Eli, and he was blood? He felt his vision receding as the heat of battle madness took hold of his mind. No, not now! He pushed. He tried to calm himself. He shook as he fought himself.

  Kish laughed, like he always laughed, at Eli's confusion and pain. "So much you never knew, little Seven Crow. So many you couldn't save." Kish wiped his mouth and motioned with his chin. "Like her. Does she even know what you are? What you've done?"

  "Does she know what you want with her?" Eli demanded.

  "At least I'm not lying about it. Like you are." Kish smirked as if he were privy to a joke about them only he could hear. "Does she know you killed her grandfather?"

  Keezie screamed, her face distorting with her pain and rage. "Shut up! You shut up!" She demanded.

  "Look at him," Kish suggested. "Ask him."

  Eli felt shame overtake his walls, felt the world begin to shake. He turned and found her looking at him. "Keezie,” he started, but he could tell she knew. She could see it in his eyes. "It isn't what you think,” He pleaded.

  "Keezie,” Cleve cautioned. "Don't listen to him. His words twist and turn until even the sound of them can't be trusted."

  "I hate you!" She screamed. "You took him from me, and I loved you!"

  The blackness housed in her seeped out. It contorted her face; her body shifted. Changed. It turned his stomach until he thought he would wretch.

  She faced him fully and dropped into a low squat. Her mouth opened beyond human capability, like a snake that had unhinged its jaw to swallow something whole.

  A blast of power streaked from her, focused solely on Eli. It picked him up and tossed him a hundred feet past the edge of the cliff.

  He could hear her wail, and Kish laugh as he fell.

  The swath of destruction laid by the clashing behemoths was impressive by any standard. Ammonih was just glad that Joseph was taking up all the thing’s time and energy. He was also glad that they were in a remote area.

  The two had leveled acres of timber. He couldn't even imagine what they would do to a town.

  After his initial shock at seeing his boyhood nightmare, Ammonih scoured his memory for anything that might be of use in dispatching this demon.

  He vaguely remembered something about its wings being vulnerable, so he spent the next few hours trying the theory out with precision-placed shots to different parts of the wings. All to no avail.

  It wasn't as if the creature was armor clad, its feathers just absorbed the arrows, and after they had filtered through the layers they dropped harmlessly to the ground.

  It was convenient, at least, for retrieving the shafts. He did hate losing his carefully crafted tools.

  The Piasa battered Joseph in an equally fruitless effort, its claws and teeth found it impossible to penetrate the stone giant.

  But Joseph’s hammer fisted blows did little to ruffle or loosen its copper feathers.

  So, the fruitless exchange continued, harming only the trees and routing indignant animals from their nests and roosts and burrows.

  He could tell the monster was frustrated. It certainly wasn't used to something just as vicious and indestructible as itself, but Joseph was tiring; his swings were slowing, and his roars were fading.

  The Piasa sensed a weakness and wrapped its talons around the thinnest part of Joseph's neck and shoulder and flapped its gargantuan wings as it tried to lift the giant from the ground.

  Ammonih launched a barra
ge of arrows in hopes of distracting the bird. That failed, so he launched another.

  As they struck the Piasa screamed and sagged in the air. It looked around wildly for the source of its pain.

  Ammonih almost whooped, which would have given his position away.

  It was one arrow, just one. Right beneath the socket of the wing joint. That one stuck. That one was the key.

  That was where he would kill it.

  Eli thought it strange that he could hear Usok's growl, and gnashing teeth just before the wind of his fall drowned out all other sound.

  It was not the way he expected to die.

  Thrown over a cliff by the woman he loved. He did love her. He knew it, and the knowledge made him crazy.

  One more thing he'd failed at. He would never get to explain to her what had happened. She would always believe he had destroyed a good man, depriving her of a loving grandfather.

  He wasn't scared of dying. He was mad, furious even. All his tortured life he’d sought answers, and now that he had a chance to get them he was going to die, smashed against rocks, or drowned in freezing water, or impaled by an unlucky pine.

  It was impressive how cold the air was. It jerked and tugged and found its way beneath his heavy furs. It was so frigid that he decided it would be a mercy to smash to bits.

  His fur billowed like a parachute, and the weight of his armored body pulled it completely off him. That, of course, exposed him completely to the cruel and callous wind.