Shackles of Light (The Mal'Ak Cycle Book 2)

by Christopher A. Nooner

  There was an awareness in the ancient tome. A power that could kill as well as heal. A protector for the powers and knowledge of his people. Knowledge that he had never been given.

  He shuddered to think what the fate of someone else would be.

  Outside his prison of pain he could hear a high keening wail. He tried to focus, to force his way out, but he was too engulfed by the force that gripped him.

  Whether seconds or hours he spent incapacitated he couldn’t tell. He was changed. How, he was not sure, but he was certain it was true.

  There was sound, life outside his own consciousness. He blinked and stood. He was amazed at how his body hummed with vibrant life.

  Usok stood protectively over Keezie. She lay akimbo on the ground like a rag doll scorned by its owner and tossed forgotten in a corner.

  Eli rushed to her side. He knelt and felt for a pulse. Her skin was cool, but not cold, and her pulse beat in a slow but steady rhythm. He checked the back of her head for blood and was relieved when he couldn’t find even a bump.

  He looked at Usok and reflexively reached a hand out to pet the smoke colored fur. The hound leaned into the gesture and placed his paw protectively on Keezie’s shoulder. He raised his eyes and eyebrows toward the table.

  Eli nodded. The hound’s intent was clear. Usok had Keezie.

  He wasn’t certain what was going on, but he trusted the dog’s judgement.

  Eli stood and turned to the table.

  The book was open. On the page to the left was the most amazing rendering of a tree he had ever seen. Its twisted and gnarled trunk and limbs strongly resembled his amulet, but beyond that the similarities ended.

  Dark red and green leaves grew in thick bunches, the depth of their color set off by white fruit that hung heavy and ripe from its boughs.

  There were no words or explanations, but on the page opposite, was a set of names branching off one another clearly delineating lines of descent. All the names were clear but written in dull iron colored ink, except one that occupied the bottom right spot in the line. It glowed red hot as if it had been burned into the page with a brand.

  Elihu Seven Crow - Donehegowa

  His name. It faded slowly to the dull iron color of the others and glared up at him in judgment.

  This was his family.

  He had gone his whole life and had never even known their names. Crooked Beak told him it had always been the way of Eli’s people to keep their identities hidden, only betraying their secret in the direst of circumstances.

  He hesitated to look back at the page, afraid that if he did he would defile their memories, somehow.

  Eli reached for the page, a little leery of touching the book again.

  His fingers found the cool surface of heavy paper and nothing else. He gently traced the line that lead to the two names above his own.

  Cleve and Singing Dove

  He let the feel of their identity roll around his mind. A small drop of saline sadness rolled down his cheek. His mother and father.

  He wondered what they had been like. Did his father feel the weight of his calling as Eli did? Was his mother happy? What was her smile like? Her voice?

  He closed his eyes and tried to picture her. There was nothing. Just as there had been nothing the thousand times he’d tried before.

  Eli blew a heavy breath between his lips and looked again at the names. There were four lines under his parents, three ended in a horizontal line, the fourth line lead to his newly added name. Did that mean he had siblings?

  He shook the thought off and traced the line up the tree, past his parents to his grandparents, Evra and Sethe. There were five lines beneath them, two that ended in the horizontal lines, two strictly vertical, and the one that lead to his father Cleve.

  Above them were Metuse and Ahish with three lines. The one to his grandfather Sethe, one that continued without a name or vertical stoppage, and the other that ended in the horizontal line. He guessed that this most likely meant death without continuation of the line.

  He looked back at his parent’s line. Sorrow seized his heart. His three siblings had died without children. He was truly the last.

  His great grandfather’s line continued up from Metuse to Ahnock and Riah. Metuse the middle of three lines that continued but had no names. Going up though both Ahnock and Riah came from Madama and Chawa. This was the beginning. He had no idea how many years separated him from these two, but, given his own lifespan it was likely thousands of years.

  Madama and Chawa’s tree was made of five vertical lines, one ended in a horizontal line, two continued without names and finally, his two progenitors.

  He was the sixth generation Mal’Ak and likely the last. He had the strange feeling that his title had been largely informal until today. He was terrified of what that meant.

  Keezie stirred on the cold stone of the library floor. Eli turned and knelt beside her.

  “Hey, you,” his voice was low and tender. “What happened?” Usok whined and leaned his head close to hers.

  She groaned and tried to sit up, but Usok’s paw pushed her gently back down. She licked her lips and shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly.” She offered. A low growl rumbled from the dog’s throat. Keezie lowered her gaze guiltily.

  “What is it?” Eli prompted.

  She raised her shoulders again. “I…” she stumbled over the words. “I…wrecked your truck.” She sat up slowly. Eli stared at her. His thoughts jumbled and rushed to get to the front of his mind. “I hit my head pretty hard.”

  Usok huffed and walked away stiffly into the books.

  As Keezie stood her legs wobbled, so Eli slipped a shoulder under her arm and led her to the table. She steadied herself on it and stared at the book. “It opened.” She blurted, “I knew it!” her grin enticed one from Eli’s stubborn countenance, as well. Her grinned broadened and made his heart pound. “Your name is in it!.” Her gaze rose up the page. “Are those your parents?”

  Eli nodded and looked away, his eyes clouded with unexpected tears. He looked down at his hand when Keezie’s soft fingers covered his.

  “I didn’t know their names,” he offered. Her fingers tightened over his in solidarity.

  “I knew my parent’s names, but I never knew them.” She paused as she looked at the tree on the opposite page. “That tree…” her voice trailed off and her hand rose to touch the image. Eli caught her hand and pulled it away from the book.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to touch it.”

  “Oh.”

  She looked at him sideways. “Maybe there are some answers here after all,” she said. She stepped away from the table and made her way down the closest row of shelves.

  Eli felt a letdown when she withdrew her hand. He had missed something vital, he just had no idea what it was. That, at least, was nothing new.

  He scowled and turned his attention back to the book in front of him.

  Something moved in the forest. Pale moonlight cut through the half bare branches of birch, elm, and oak. It pooled randomly on the orange and red leaf strewn forest floor. Pine and cedar provided a counterpoint to the spots of luminosity with patches of dark shadow, creating voids of light in the forest canopy and on the floor of the mixed southern wood.

  Ammonih pushed water from his clothing with his usual intensity and watched through the dance of shadow and light for whatever it was that stalked the forest.

  He did not like the tone of the day’s events. They signaled war as sure as smoke from a thousand fires.

  He was grateful that he was in his element. He was a hunter. Animals or people, it didn’t matter. He would find his quarry.

  He was young for a brave of his people, but his attitude had always been to be quiet and positive; to listen and apply. It was the reason he excelled above the other men, even the elder ones. Like his father.

  He stopped and spat the memory of his father out of his mind like bitter persimmon. That shame burned like no other. His father a pawn of t
he Mahan. He feared that no matter what he did with his life he wouldn’t clear that oily blotch.

  He sighed. The battle wouldn’t end tonight. He would just have to do his best and pray Mother Earth and Father Ye Ho Waah would look past his father’s folly.

  He tried not to tense as movement in his periphery drew his attention. Small slips of moonlight moved faster than they should, just out of sync with the movement of the luminous nocturnal orb overhead.

  He didn’t turn his head or eyes but continued wringing the water from his clothes.

  They hid in the light.

  The creatures, whatever they were, flickered like they were running through a strobe light, but moved no further than the edge of the darkness that surrounded each bit of moonlight, where they stopped just inside the pale swaths.

  His bow lay beside him on a large boulder, the beeswax coating on the string and wood shed water and kept it serviceable. Casually, he bent over his feet, his hand grazing the latch holding the lid on his quiver just enough to spring it free.

  He knew he would need his weapon, because nothing good ever tried to sneak up on you in the night. He just hoped there wasn’t more of them than the arrows he carried.

  He straightened and swung his quiver over his shoulder, lifted his bow and in one smooth motion nocked an arrow and sent it into the bright heart of whatever was hiding in the moonlight.

  A wail of pain erupted from his target and chaos spilled like a spring tide over dry sand from the forest around him.

  Well, hello to you, too.

  There was only one way to go, forward into the moonlit patch where his arrow had found its mark. He nocked another arrow and flew onto the path that led out of the valley to the plateau above.

  He ran, his breath steady and measured, his eyes searching for the imminent threat that his pounding heart told him should be there. The trees were alive with moonlight and pale figures that surged toward him without the gait of feet touching the ground.

  He wondered at first why they each fell in behind him, until he realized they were herding him up the trail, not truly chasing him at all.

  Ammonih slowed his feet and came to a gentle stop. He measured his breath and turned to face his ghostly shepherds.

  His eyebrows raised as he took in the horde of luminous white before him. They spread from the trail into the trees, across the creek and over boulders.

  There were thousands of them.

  His eyes squinted to squeeze more depth and distance from his sight, and to make sure he was seeing truly.

  Silent they stood, staring and unblinking, each with the same lily-white face, dress, and wispy platinum hair. They spanned as far as he could see down the trail and into the forest.

  They were unmoved by wind or jostling, until a simultaneous shudder rippled through their ranks.

  A sound blew though the mass. The sound of wind sighing though a cavernous expanse. It took him a moment to realize it was a plea.

  “Save us.” They moaned. “Save us.”

  Each small hair stood on Ammonih’s body. He was frozen as he watched the small bodies shimmer and twitch. He knew he should move. He should leave the valley, but his feet would not rise from the earth.

  Trailers began at the edges of his vision, like the bright movements of light that haunt the highs of psychotropic mushrooms, or cocktails for finding the world of spirits. They grew until he could see that each small form collapsed into the next working from the outside in. Faster and more frenetic they merged as they rushed toward the center of the gathering, shaking and growing.

  He tried to move, to turn, to run. He was riveted with no choice but to watch.

  Faster and faster they moved, each merge caused a large being to grow from the mass.

  Finally, the whole of them could be contained in his line of sight. Building and growing into an enormous version of the tiny beings that had flowed from the forest around him. In an instant the merge was complete, and a giant pale girl stood in front of him, towering over the trees.

  Heat radiated from her like a forge trying its hardest to melt him where he stood.

  She opened her mouth, her voice rose to an urgent moan, her surface brightened and surged with the light and heat.

  Ammonih raised his arm to shield his face from the brightness and smelting fire of the creature, afraid that he would not survive the intensity of its presence.

  The moan became a wail. A wail that shook his body.

  “Save us.”

  Her voice tore at his ears and mind.

  He closed his eyes, but it burnt through his lids and into his retina.

  His scream filled the empty spaces of the creature’s, rising until his voice failed and his body collapsed onto the rock-strewn path.

  The cacophony of the girl’s scream rose to coincide with the thrum produced by her shaking body.

  “Save us!” She bellowed.

  With effort the giant pulled its mouth shut and looked up into the night with eyes that bulged like little moons. Her body shook with renewed violence, the air moving leaves and scorching trees with its horrible friction.

  It drew one last deep breath and exploded outward into the darkness. Each glowing piece shot into the night and faded like a galaxy of falling stars, until only black night and the early autumn chill remained to cover Ammonih’s motionless body.

  Eli started as he turned his attention back to the ancient tome that lay open on the heavy table. The book was open to a scene that spanned both pages.

  The medium resembled a mosaic made of close fitting and colorful, but broken tiles. The image was a waterfall and pool surrounded by old forest. A creek burbled off into the background.

  A man waited beside it for a boy who dripped water as he stepped from the depths.

  Blue water sparkled on the page, green leaves shimmered in the forest. Their brown skin glistened with vibrant life.

  Eli reached out to the page, unable to stop himself from touching it. He marveled at the softness of the material, the quality of the thing.

  Whether it was vellum or paper or something else entirely was beyond him.

  It struck him that there was so much lost in time. Knowledge that was not easily, if ever, retrieved.

  The modern world may have cars and phones and radios, but the artisanship of whomever created this book was gone and nothing this majestic would ever be created again.

  This knowledge, this ability to create something that remained perfect thousands of years after its creation, had been supplanted by breakable plastic noisemakers that wouldn’t last a decade.

  He wondered what else was gone that the world had no idea was missing. What was gone that he would never know. That was the irony. That was the tragedy.

  The world would never know.

  He traced the waterfall with his fingers, and dragged them around the edge of the pool. He felt that if he closed his eyes he would hear the pounding water and feel the spray on his face.

  He looked at the man. He was a warrior. Strong and built for quickness. He wore amour.

  Eli leaned in to peer at it closer. He let out an excited whoop and looked up smiling to share his find with Keezie. His smile faded a bit when he couldn’t spot her among the shelves and books.

  He looked back down to be sure.

  It was his armor. It had a little more shine and a little more detail, but it was his. He wondered who this was. Grandfather maybe? Or Great grandfather? His face was severe, and his muscled body was scarred from his jawline and neck down his left side.

  Eli frowned. How was this possible? Did they have individual powers? Or was it something malignant and evil with the power to harm Mal’Ak permanently? If it was, he never wanted to meet it.

  He turned his attention to the boy. He wore a warrior’s knot at the top of his head and buckskin around his hips. He might have been fifteen or sixteen, it was hard to tell without seeing his face.

  Eli wanted him to turn so that he could see. He wanted to see the face that
could be his father’s.

  Unexpected tears welled in his eyes and dropped to the dry pages beneath his face before he could wipe them away. An errant tear struck the page. It beaded and bounced before it rolled toward the trough between the pages.

  He placed the blade of his hand in front of the tear to guide it off the page and was swept away into a whirlwind of ancient memory.

  Water crashed and roared, spilled and foamed. It misted the air around them with fine cool spray. Leaves bowed with the weight of water until large crystal drops fell lazily to the slick rock.

  The unburdened leaves bobbed up and down before they settled to once more collect misty droplets.

  The boy shivered despite the heat as a light breeze blew across his damp skin. Goose skin rose from his ankles to his wrists and caused him to shiver harder. He stepped hesitantly from the edge of the pool testing each placement of his feet to insure the slick rock didn’t send him tumbling.

  Water gathered everywhere, even adding its sheen to the armor that the man wore. His face was stoic, almost grim as he watched the boy. He raised his hand and beckoned him to follow before he walked around the tumble of boulders and disappeared.

  The boy’s shoulders slumped as the man passed from sight. He wrapped his arms around himself and again picked his way over the rocks to follow the man.

  Colors swirled in Eli’s vision and sent waves of nausea through his stomach. He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.

  A groan slipped from his throat as he fell back into memory.

  The boy dried himself near the flickering fingers of the small fire the man had built. His shivering dissipated as he warmed.

  Two packs leaned against a moss-covered cliff face that rose up just outside the trail. A pile of clothes sat to one side of the smaller pack, a strange textile that shimmered and faded in the dappled light of the forest and fire.