by Megan Hart
Lots of them.
Above the treetops, flocks of ishkitini shadowed the full moon. Will-o’-the-wisps, Hashok Okwa Hui’ga, lit the ground in a ghostly festival of lights, outnumbering his hunters by a large margin.
An overwhelming despair threatened to slow his steps, but Tombi pushed on, heading for the sacred land of his ancestors. Nalusa knew he was in a compromised position and had gathered all his forces to even the fight.
He pictured Annie, remembered his sister and friends who were circling around the edge of the wisps, coming together to encircle Nalusa and his shadow beings. He threw back his shoulders and fingered the backpack straps holding the flute. He took comfort in possessing the ultimate weapon and that Annie was safe in his cabin.
Another fifty feet to go until reaching the sacred land border. The wisps sensed the danger; they darted across the swamp erratically, moaning with the souls of the trapped spirits. The squall of misery that combated the ishkitini screeching. Tombi drew a deep breath and focused on the human footsteps advancing along with him. All was according to plan.
He plunged forward until he was a good ten feet inside his ancestral land. It was time. Attack the wisps now, and free as many spirits as possible before playing the flute and confronting Nalusa. If he did it too early, the shadow king would cower behind his following. And Tombi wanted the chance to wrestle him, one on one. Tombi cawed, mimicking a crow.
And ran. All of the tribe rushed inward, compressing the circle’s circumference. They threw rocks, careful not to throw strong enough to hit one another. A few wisps escaped, light blinking upward, the inner hearts glowing and pulsing. If they defeated Nalusa, they would do a cleanup operation later to find and free the remaining trapped souls. But if Nalusa won, the poor souls would be trapped forever, roaming the swamps with the parasitic wisps controlling their movements. Tombi doubted any of them had Bo’s incredible will and strength to briefly take control of the wisps and communicate with the outside world.
Puffs of smoke erupted from the glowing wisp hearts—like a million sparklers waving in the sea breeze. The sparkles burned out, and the souls coalesced into pure white light that spiraled upward. If Annie were here, she could detect a symphony. At least, that was how Tombi imagined it would be—utter joy at the sudden freedom.
The screeching above intensified. A great horned owl flew directly at him, eyes aglow with murderous intent. There was no time to grab another stone and fend him off. Tombi clutched the dagger in his left hand, his own eyes focused on the owl’s breast, its most vulnerable place, housing its beating heart.
The owl would scratch first, before his knife could strike, and it would be a vicious slice into flesh, or worse, it could rip out his eyes. A quick glance around, and he saw the ishkitini bearing down on them all. Damn birds. To be defeated by these winged creatures would be humiliating.
A burst of light appeared between him and the owl. Tombi blinked and threw his right hand over his eyes to protect himself from the blinding conflagration.
It was a trapped spirit who, instead of flying up and away, had remained.
A loud screech of pain rent the night air. A smell of burned feathers and singed animal flesh clogged his nose and throat. Tombi crouched low and removed his arm from his eyes. The ishkitini lay before him—dead.
The lone light rocketed up and away, chasing its freedom with the others released. All around him, his tribe took aim and fired at the advancing ishkitini. Nearly a third of them were taken down, and the rest turned tail.
Tombi smiled in grim satisfaction. The tribe moved closer until they formed a tight circle. A few of the men were bleeding, but all looked well. Yet...
“Where’s Tallulah?” he asked, fear thickening his tongue.
Chulah stepped forward, his face haggard. “No one’s seen her in over an hour.”
“Go find her,” he ordered.
His friend nodded and left the circle, eager to ease his mind. She’s okay. She can defend herself. Tombi respected her defense abilities and sharp mind. He couldn’t worry about his twin until Nalusa was defeated.
They would never have a better time than this moment. Two of the hunters quickly gathered twigs and started a bonfire in the center of the circle. Each of them threw bundles of sage on the flames, the pungent scent that helped counter evil and allow the holy to enter.
Tombi dug the flute out of his backpack and blew on it, beginning an ancient song of victory. The notes drifted, pure and compelling, filling him with purpose and resolve.
A rustle shook the underbrush a few yards away, and the grinding metal whir began, drowning out the flute music. Tombi stopped playing. A whiff of decay permeated the land. Tombi’s heart tripped, and all his senses heightened. His friends turned and stared, and they waited as one for Nalusa to appear.
Dark shadows melded into the form of a tall, thin man who stepped into their vision. He had small pointed ears and red, glowing eyes that sought Tombi.
“So you’ve got the flute,” Nalusa said in a voice that rumbled like thunder. “But you are still no match for me.”
“We’ll see about that. Seems all your help has disappeared.” Tombi lifted his hand, ready to signal for his friends to begin the attack.
“That doesn’t mean I am without power. I have something you want. Something you consider precious.”
Tombi hesitated, arm held midair. His heart skittered up to his throat. Nalusa had his sister. What else could it be? Unless...
Another rustle from behind a clump of cypress trees, and more dark shadows emerged. Two of them. A blond male and a slight woman with a familiar shock of brown hair curling down to her hips.
“Annie!” Tombi’s hand dropped to his side, and a numbed shock bolted through his body like a current. His fingers loosened, and the flute began to slip. He fisted both hands, and the cane reed almost snapped in two pieces while he willed his mind to catch up to his racing heart. Not Annie. Not Annie. Please, not Annie.
Nalusa’s deep-throated laugh jangled through the bayou. “Ready to make a deal? The flute for your girlfriend.”
“Don’t do it, Tombi!” Annie pleaded. “This is your chance.”
Hanan jerked the leather strap, and Annie’s knees crumpled, face contorted in agony.
No. What mattered most was no longer revenge. It was love. He would fight Nalusa not just for his sister’s ruined life or the tribe that was his family now. Not for his dead friend and not for the greater good of humanity, but he would fight to save Annie. He’d do whatever necessary to keep her safe.
She was his world.
“How about this,” Tombi said, slipping the backpack off his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. “Have Hanan release Annie, and we battle for the flute. Just you and I.”
Nalusa ran a hand over his long, pointed face, ears twitching and teeny eyes surveying Tombi.
“I’m a mere human,” Tombi goaded. “This shouldn’t be hard for you.”
“You are more than a puny mortal.” A fine drizzle of spit foamed at the corners of his thin lips. He pointed a finger at Hanan. “Release the girl.”
Hanan scowled but took a step backward.
Damn traitor. If he defeated Nalusa tonight, he’d show no mercy dealing with Hanan later. Annie took great gulps of air, and Tombi winced at her suffering.
He stepped toward Nalusa, fists raised, and they commenced circling one another—watchful, with deadly intent, gauging their first moves. By the bonfire’s light, Tombi saw that Nalusa’s face was largely featureless, with only a shadowy patch of skin where a nose and cheekbones should appear. His flesh was black, but patterned copper designs shimmered on his skin in the firelight, making him appear half human, half snake. Even though the eyes were human-shaped, the red embers of his pupils burned with the misery of a thousand souls.
Tombi stared harder
. Did he see human faces contorting in misery within those red eyes? He took a deep breath. Focus. I can’t let him invade my mind, or I’ve lost before the fight has begun.
Nalusa struck first, swinging a right hook, aimed at Tombi’s face.
Tombi ducked at the last possible second and put out a foot to trip Nalusa. The soul-eater danced away and regained his balance.
“Not bad,” he muttered. “You’ve been training for this fight for years, haven’t you?”
Tombi didn’t respond, waiting for Nalusa to show a moment’s loss of concentration before he tried to volley a series of punches.
Melancholy roiled over him in waves. A bitter miasma invaded his lungs, his heart. Fighting seemed...too hopeless, too futile. Who was he to think he could battle the Shadow King? He stiffened his spine and shook off the dreary thoughts.
Go for the neck. According to ancient lore, if Nalusa had a weakness, it was this one part of his anatomy.
Nalusa lunged, swinging wildly with his right fist. Tombi pushed at the advancing arm, spinning and hammering Nalusa in the back of the neck with his right elbow. Numbness shot through his right arm. A stinger injury. The Shadow King’s neck muscles were as heavy as cement, muscular and flexible beneath a wall of sinewy muscle.
So much for ancient legend.
Nalusa staggered, but at once regained his balance and threw a few fake jabs, obviously trying to find a weakness in Tombi’s defense. Tombi stayed alert. He wanted to shake the numbed right arm and get the blood flowing, but to do so would clue in Nalusa on his injury. He couldn’t let that happen.
Time for a little testing of his own. He threw a fake punch but overcommitted, leaving the one side of his body open and vulnerable. Pain exploded in his right hip, and he was thrown to the ground from a vicious kick. Didn’t take Nalusa but a nanosecond to react to an opportunity. Tombi rolled a couple of yards and leaped back to his feet, body semi-crouched and fists up in the defensive position.
That had been close, a near thing. It was believed that if Nalusa grabbed a man, there was no escape. His strength was equal to a thirty-foot boa that could constrict and crush muscle and bone.
Nalusa advanced and delivered a barrage of left and right punches. Tombi’s quick reflexes deflected each one, but the assault still weakened his strength. His hip ached, and his right arm still tingled. No doubt his enemy realized this and was toying with him like a broken-winged bird being bitch-slapped by a hungry cat.
At last, Nalusa seemed to grow impatient. He scowled and drew his arm back and then forward, ready to deliver a killing blow.
Tombi turned to the side at the last possible second, which left his opponent startled and off balance.
There would never be a better chance.
He gathered all his strength and power and kicked Nalusa in the head, knocking him to the ground.
Nalusa stood and slowly smiled. “No one has ever lasted more than a minute fighting me. Finally, I have a worthy opponent.”
Despair again threatened to engulf Tombi’s mind. He’d delivered his best move, a kick that would have killed any man. Yet, his enemy shook it off. Nothing had worked. Not the sacred relics in his medicine bag, not Annie’s charms and not his years of training for this fight.
Annie’s scream ripped the air. Ripped his heart.
Tombi spun around, ready to rush to her defense. A giant hand clamped on his left shoulder bore down, guiding him to face forward again.
Scalding pain ripped the front of his chest, and the scent of blood assaulted his nose. His blood. Dazed, he glanced down and saw shredded flesh. How had this happened?
Nalusa laughed and licked a bloody finger that sported long, razor fingernails as lethal as the ishkitini’s talons. “Mmm...delicious.”
Chills prickled his arms and chased down his spine. He’d been warned that Nalusa’s saliva was poisonous, no matter what form he appeared in. Now that venom was invading his bloodstream, would spread to every inch of his body. He had to stop this. Had to get to Annie. In desperation, he opened the medicine bag belted at his waist and removed a blessed bottle of tannic acid mixed with spring water from their sacred land.
He poured it over his lacerated chest, praying for the best.
The pain stopped immediately. Tombi tossed the empty bottle aside. “Fight’s not over yet.”
Nalusa’s eyes flashed, the banked fires of his pupils flamed. Enraged, he swooped down and grabbed a large branch and charged.
The loss of blood had left him dizzy, but Tombi clamped his jaw shut and stiffened his shoulders. If he failed tonight, he’d have to trust that his friends would carry on the fight against evil. That Annie would go on to live a long and happy life. That his death held some meaning and purpose.
* * *
Shrill screams echoed in Annie’s brain like the death throes of a wild cat in a canyon. Only the raw burning at the back of her throat clued her in that it was her own voice.
Blood. So much blood. It seeped and oozed from Tombi’s chest in crimson ribbons. She’d tried to scream a warning, but all she’d done was make it worse for Tombi.
“It’s almost over now, bitch.”
A thousand needles of fire prickled the back of her scalp as Hanan jerked her to her feet.
“And we can continue where I left off last time.” His arm went around her stomach, and Hanan shoved her against his hard body. “But this time, it’s going to hurt so bad,” he whispered in her ear. “You are going to pay for what that hawk did to me. It will be long and painful, and when I’m through with your body, I’ll kill you.”
“You’re crazy.”
Hanan took one of her arms and pinned it behind her back. “Shut up and enjoy the show. Tombi was a fool not to join Nalusa. He’s paying for it now.”
Annie’s gaze swept the ring of warriors and their grim, set faces. Couldn’t they see Tombi needed help? Damn their pride and honor. I have to do something.
Annie closed her eyes and took long, shuddering breaths, willing the noise and the smells and Hanan’s painful grasp to fade. She pictured herself falling down a long, dark tunnel, falling, falling...to a safe, quiet space where none could intrude. Help me, Grandma Tia. I beseech the saints and all that is holy and good, be with me. Help me escape Hanan and help Tombi. Don’t allow evil to soil this sacred land and destroy the one I love. I ask for a sign.
A strong cadence, a marching music, lifted her out of the tunnel, speeding Annie back to present reality. Tallulah was near.
A thud, like the sound of a cracked egg, vibrated along her spine. Hanan’s arm dropped, and he fell backward.
Annie whirled around and instinctively cowered.
Tallulah shoved Hanan’s back with her foot, and he rolled lifelessly beneath her. “Good riddance,” she muttered.
“Forget him. Tombi needs our help.” Annie tugged at Tallulah’s shirt, desperate to save Tombi.
Tallulah shook her head. “No. I was behind the trees and heard the deal. Nalusa and Tombi, one on one. We wait.”
“To hell with that.” Annie turned, but Tallulah grabbed her arm and held her.
“No. My brother must win it on his own merit. You can’t dishonor him and our people.”
Annie’s eyes sought Tombi’s, looked for some reassurance that he could win.
Tombi staggered like a drunken sailor; blood ran in rivulets down his chest. It didn’t look as if he could win anything in his condition.
Annie sank to her knees and prayed. One more request. By the power of all the elements and roots and all the magic of the bayou and the saints...protect my love. Shield his mind and body with a golden aura that Nalusa cannot penetrate.
She hardly dared open her eyes, afraid of what she might find. If Tombi died...the sun would set on her happiness. Once, her only wish was silence, but Tombi had helped her ach
ieve so much more, had opened her eyes to love and possibility and what it meant to live a life of courage and honor.
Be brave now. Be there for him if the end is truly near. Annie took a deep breath, preparing for the worst, and opened her eyes.
Light as vivid as marigolds surrounded Tombi’s body. Her spell had worked like nothing she’d ever before even thought to attempt. Awe and hope flushed out the pit of dread she’d fallen into.
Nalusa snarled and bared his teeth; the grinding noise of metal whirred from within his thin body, sounding like the wailing of thousands of souls trapped in hell. His eyes flashed, red and crackling like fire.
Music as pure as harps and flutes played a symphony from Tombi’s golden aura.
Nalusa thrust his right hand at Tombi, attempting to cut into his flesh once more. The long, gnarly fingers extended and sizzled upon contact with the light. Nalusa screamed and jerked his hand to his chest, as if he’d been burned.
Tombi’s brows knit, and he turned, seeking understanding. Annie scrambled to her feet, and he gazed directly at her and nodded. Thank you, he mouthed.
Before she could respond, Tombi whirled back around to face Nalusa and charged, throwing his weight onto Nalusa. They fell to the ground, Tombi on top. His hands encircled Nalusa’s neck, and his thumbs bore down into the soul-eater’s windpipe.
She couldn’t watch. Annie looked down at the ground. The metal grinding noise slowed, decreased in volume. And stopped.
Was he dead?
From behind, Tallulah cheered, and the other hunters joined in. Tallulah put a hand on her shoulder and gave a little shove. “You can open your eyes now. It’s over. Did you have something to do with that light?”
Annie opened her eyes. Nalusa had been reduced in size until his height only reached Tombi’s hips. A thick cord was knotted around his neck, and Tombi, whose aura had dimmed until all that remained was the suggestion of a yellow haze, held the end of the rope.
“I...I thought Nalusa was dead. What’s happening?”
