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

by Christopher A. Nooner

  “Jumjills,” he replied. “And very good they are.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “You are a weird dude, you know that?” Her lips curled in a smile when he raised his eyebrows and grunted. He watched as she plucked up one of the round balls and popped it into her mouth.

  “Mmmmm, they are good.” She offered the bag to him, but he shook his head, and motioned for her to keep it.

  He was pleased she liked them. They would give her much needed energy. He needed them, as well, but coming down from the Black Drink always made him nauseous. He would just have to make do with the energy reserves he had, and pray they were enough.

  Worry clawed at him. They were running out of time.

  As light filled the world, snow began to fall. It drifted, at first, through the grey morning sky like a man staggering happily home from a bender. As they walked, however, the wind and the size and intensity of the flakes increased until Eli and Keezie were forced to lower their heads and they had to lean against the wind of the furious storm that encased them.

  Eli tried to tell Keezie to grab his arm, but a gust ripped the words away into the blizzard, so he took her hand and wrapped it through the crook of his elbow.

  It was impossible to tell how long they walked. In Eli’s mind, it could have been minutes or hours.

  The Black Drink was almost completely out of his system, and the crash that loomed before him from the dissipation of the artificial energy was his biggest concern. He could feel his mind fuzz, and his body shutting down. He was uncertain whether the feeling in his gut was nausea or apprehension.

  He tried to put it out of mind. Tried to concentrate on moving and staying alive in the white out.

  It might have been hours after his mind numbed that Keezie tumbled slowly into the growing blanket of cold flakes. He stopped, bent to help her stand, and found himself staring up at the snow.

  He would have laughed but didn’t have the energy. He felt for her hand and held it tight as possible with the gargantuan mittens between them. He felt a grin creep up his lips when her body began to shake with silent laughter. At least he hoped it was laughter.

  He lay there as his mind struggled to process what he should do. He counted the passage of time in slow blinks.

  The man appeared above them in between the closing and opening of his exhausted eyes.

  He looked down at them, his face was lost in the hood of his bearskin coat.

  He was obscured for a moment, possibly fading in and out of existence, or maybe he was a hallucination brought on by Eli’s exhaustion, or the tricky shadows in the falling snow.

  It occurred to him that he should sleep. He needed sleep. No one would mind if he took a small bit of rest.

  “Seven Crow,” Crooked Beak’s voice nagged at him. He would just ignore the old man. Maybe he would give up and leave him alone. “Seven Crow!” His voice was more insistent, more annoying. “It’s time to get up. I’ve already done half a day’s work, and here you are still in bed.”

  He grumbled as a foot prodded him in the rump, but was completely unprepared when the old man ripped the warm furs from his body, exposing him to the cold winter air.

  Eli swung as he sat up. At least he thought he did, but when his eyes focused he still stared up into the blizzard. He struggled to make sense of why he was prone in the snow. He knew there was a reason he needed to be awake. Something important he had to do.

  He flinched as Keezie’s face dropped down at him, then started again as another face followed hers.

  “I can’t understand him, but he seems friendly enough,” Keezie offered.

  The man smiled, exposing the creases in his face. As they deepened his bright eyes sparkled. “Osiyu.”

  Eli looked at Keezie, “He says ‘hello.’”

  “Oh,” she muttered in disappointment.

  Eli turned back to the man, “Osiyu. Can you help me up?”

  The man laughed and reached one hand down to Eli, but kept his other pressed tight against his chest.

  Eli took hold of the offered hand and reached his other up to Keezie.

  Between the two they got him to his feet.

  “Thank you,” Eli said.

  The man nodded. “Donehegowa,” he said. His grin was so big it was contagious. He held out his hand again, “I am Cleve.”

  Cleve and Keezie caught him before he fell again and held him up until he found his balance.

  “What is he saying?” Keezie pleaded.

  “Keezie, this is Cleve,” his pause was barely perceptible, “my father.”

  Eli took a breath and wrinkled his brow as words tumbled from his lips, “We have to go; time’s running out. I’m not sure where he is but he’s here somewhere. I know what he’s after…”

  Cleve laughed and clapped him hard on the back. “I’m glad I found you. You almost walked into the Piasa I’ve been tracking.”

  “What?” Eli spat. “You’re not running?”

  The smile left Cleve’s face so suddenly Eli wondered if it had been there at all.

  “Why would I be running?”

  “To stay alive. To keep away from Kish.”

  Cleve froze.

  “Kish is here?” he asked. “You saw him?”

  Eli hesitated. “No,” He looked down at the hole he left in the snow where he fell. “But I saw the village. I’ve seen his work before.”

  Cleve’s face drained of color as the blood rushed away. “Singing Dove…” Eli caught his arm before he could turn.

  “She’s gone.” Tears welled in his eyes again. “Father, she’s gone.”

  Cleve threw his arms around Eli and pulled him close. Together they mourned the loss of Singing Dove, but Eli also mourned the loss of the life he could have lived.

  Cleve stepped back, and Eli watched his father’s face settle from hot affliction to cold murder. It was the look of a man who had dealt death without remorse, the look of a man who could take life with brutal efficiency. It was the look of a man who intended to kill.

  It made sweat trickle down Eli’s back.

  Then, in the next second, he watched his father shelve all his pain and focus that energy onto something and someone else.

  Cleve turned his burning gaze on his son. “Black Drink?” He demanded.

  Eli nodded like a child caught stealing sweets. He decided he did not want to be the focus of this man’s ire.

  “How much?” He prompted. Eli showed him the empty flask. “All of it?” His father’s voice was incredulous.

  Again, Eli nodded.

  The older man shook his head and looked at Keezie. Eli could tell he wondered if she was crazy, too, just for being near a man dumb enough to consume that much Black Drink.

  “How did you know who I was?” Eli asked, desperate to change the subject.

  Cleve touched his chest, his eyes drained of destruction and filled again with pain.

  “You look like your mother,” his voice shook.

  “She knew me, too.”

  “A mother knows her child.”

  “What are you saying?” Keezie demanded.

  “I’m sorry,” Cleve answered in English. “I wasn’t sure who you were.” His accent was strange, but his grammar was strong and concise. “You have something…” his voice trailed off. “I was telling Donehegowa that he looks like his mother. That’s how I knew who he was.”

  “Oh,” she replied. She looked guilty as she turned away. Eli’s head cocked as his tired mind tried to make sense of her reaction.

  Eli shivered.

  “It’s almost night,” Cleve stated. “The Piasa can wait till tomorrow.” He beckoned them to follow. “I have shelter, and food.”

  They were in the forest within ten feet. Eli didn’t know they were even close. Things would have gone terribly wrong if they’d continued walking. Another mistake, he chided himself.

  The snow drifted a little past the first towering trees, and trailed to a dusting farther in, and the world changed from blizzard to the w
eird half-light of filtered sun.

  The forest grew over cliffs. Pine shrouded giant rock formations and roots clung to exposed surfaces, wrapping the stone in its tight embrace.

  They approached a wall of dusty limestone and followed its edge for twenty feet before they stopped.

  Cleve pulled a brittle pine bow from the rock face. Behind it was an opening that he turned sideways to slip through. “Pull the limb back in after you, son,” he called.

  Goose skin rose on Eli’s arms and neck. There was a different feeling behind the word when it came from his real father.

  Eli motioned Keezie in next and followed close behind. He pulled the branch tight against the rock as he entered.

  His coat scraped the rock, his profile bigger than his father’s. He had to shimmy, but it was wide enough that there was no real trouble.

  The entry curved to the left, before it gave way to a large chamber.

  Eli was met by the unexpected light and warmth of a fire. It crackled softly as it ate the sappy pine, and the welcome sight of his hairy grey footrest drying in the heat.

  Usok looked up with sleepy eyes, his brows raising as his head lifted. A large exhale was his welcome before his head lowered back to the warm rock floor of the cave.

  Cleve stood in the shadows at the back of the cavern and removed his coat.

  Eli gasped as he recognized his own armor emerge from beneath the fur. It was surreal to see it on someone else. This was a situation that had never crossed his mind.

  Cleve turned to face them, and a surprised laugh leapt from Keezie. It took him a moment to process why she was shocked, but when it registered his brain almost shut down completely. There was a baby strapped to his chest.

  “Eli!” Keezie called, her voice a sharp whisper. “Eli!” She repeated more insistently when he failed to answer. He forced his head to swing toward her. He sat back so he could keep his father in view, as well. “That’s you,” she stated when she knew she had his attention. “That baby is you.”

  The child blinked, its blue eyes sleepy, but bright.

  Cleve pulled the child from the sling and nestled him in the warm furs he’d just removed.

  When he looked back, his eyes were filled with the pain of fresh loss, but his mouth was stoic steel.

  “If I hadn’t brought you…” his voice cut out before he could finish the thought. Eli watched his father’s face shift from sorrow to pragmatism, compartmentalizing just as he himself would, to make it through an impossible situation. “Take off your furs.” He commanded. “Let them dry or we’ll be cutting off limbs and toes.”

  Keezie nodded and stripped off the wet furs. She neatly arranged her boots, mittens, and coat around the edge of the fire. She groaned at Eli’s haphazard pile.

  “What?” he asked.

  Keezie shook her head and rearranged them to dry more efficiently.

  Cleve cleared his throat. Eli looked away from Keezie’s mesmerizing form.

  His father’s stare was intense, but friendly. His right eyebrow raised. It took Eli a second before he remembered he wore Lai-vyn’s breastplate. “Tell me what’s going on,” his father said. There was no place for argument in his tone.

  Eli bit his lip as he considered what, exactly, was going on. It was not that he didn’t want to tell him. He just didn’t know what to tell him.

  He looked back and forth between the two. He also had to admit that, even though there had never been two people more deserving of the truth, the whole unfiltered truth, he found himself strangely reluctant to divulge all he knew and suspected.

  He settled instead on a question. “Is it strange to you that your grown son is standing in the same room as his infant self?”

  His father’s stare made him wish he was sitting. “It is not unheard of with our people. We find ourselves in interesting situations. With interesting people.” He looked pointedly at Keezie. “Strange becomes relative.”

  Eli’s throat was dry. “Do you have water? Food?” he asked.

  Cleve lifted his chin and dug into one of the hidden pockets of his armor. He produced a flask and a cloth sack, both of which he passed to Keezie when Eli pointed in her direction.

  “Donehegowa,” his father prompted.

  Again, he paused, not sure how to even get his mouth to give away one of his secrets, but knowing he needed help. Badly.

  “The Mahan is killing people of power, groups of people.”

  “I see,” he said. “Who has he killed?”

  “The Kwanokasha, The Tribeless, maybe the Nvnehi. He’s releasing demons, or monsters. I don’t really know what to call them.”

  “They are creating these vortexes or holes,” Keezie added. “That’s how we got here.”

  Cleve nodded. “What kind of creatures?” he asked.

  “Gneechees?” Eli offered.

  Keezie passed him the cloth and flask, both of which he accepted without thought. He began pulling chunks of the crusty loaf to stuff in his mouth. Bread was perfect, enough to give him sustenance, but easy enough to not make him puke.

  The taste was incomparable. The springy crumb had the sour taste of true bread, it smelled of the wood oven it was baked in, and the crust was still crunchy. It tasted just enough of smoke and fire to complete the circle of simple culinary perfection. He washed it down with a draught from the flask. It was water. Cold water unadulterated by chemicals or muddied by man. He forgot how good it could taste.

  “And?” Cleve’s voice dragged him from his reflection. He looked up to see his father’s eyes begin to flicker, as if there was an actual fire buried deep in those intense orbs.

  Eli shrugged. “I don’t know the name, but there was a huge mantis thing.”

  “No one saw what killed Kaga, but there was pressure in my head that made me pass out just before he died,” Keezie added.

  “The Banished,” Cleve offered.

  “The what?” Eli asked.

  “Did I teach you nothing?” Cleve exclaimed. Eli stared at the dark floor of the cave not able to meet Cleve’s gaze or his question. A silent minute passed before Cleve processed the nuance of it. “Oh,” his voice was flat. “I couldn’t teach you anything, could I?”

  Eli’s mouth distorted as he tried to keep his emotion bottled tightly inside. He managed to shake his head. “We should be out there. Not wasting time.” He raged.

  “Patience, boy,” his father scolded. “Let me teach you something now.” Cleve reached into a pocket and pulled out a brilliant piece of polished amber. He held it up to the fire light and the flames danced a miniature waltz inside it. “This is an Ekaterin Bead. It is used to bind or contain creatures too dangerous to live in this world. There are four others just like it. This one is for the Piasa. The others are with the Oracle’s people in Kwanokasha.” He let that sink in for a moment before he continued. “They are destroying these beads. The energy release would be enormous. That must be what created the rift between our times.”

  The spitting of the fire was the only sound for a time.

  “Why am I with you?” Eli asked finally.

  Cleve’s laugh was filled with irony. “Your mother needed sleep. You are as needy as a day-old pup.”

  Usok growled. “Sorry, friend,” Cleve offered. “Needier,” He clarified. The hound, satisfied, closed his eyes again, and resumed his aloofness.

  “You brought a baby with you to catch a creature so dangerous you don’t even want it in the world?” Keezie was incredulous. “And his mom was okay with that?”

  Cleve’s look was a comical mix of guilt and pride. “Well, his mother didn’t exactly know what I was up to. It’s not really as dangerous as you’d think.” He paused and pursed his lips before he went on. “All I have to do is get it to hold still for a couple minutes.”

  “How’s that going so far?” Keezie asked sweetly.

  Cleve cocked his head and stared at her, “Well, it killed my horse.”

  The tingling from the process of his body heating up was beginning t
o fade, and exhaustion was filling the space. His eyelids were heavy, his body swayed and jerked. It irritated him that everything defied him. Even his own body. He should be moving, working, doing something.

  There was a gentle murmur, and the sensation of falling, then there was only darkness.

  Eli woke with a large inhale of breath; the demons of his dreams were evidently more powerful than his body’s need for sleep. He rubbed his eyes and sat up.

  The fire still burned, and his father still sat in the same spot beside it. If Eli’s body didn’t feel significantly better, he would have thought he was only asleep for minutes.

  Cleve’s sad smile greeted him. It was warm but weary. He pursed his lips in Keezie’s direction. “She thinks there is something wrong with you.”

  “There is so much wrong with me I don’t know where to start.”

  He tried to memorize the lines in his father’s sun browned face as he smiled. The Crow’s Feet.

  He was more than Eli had ever imagined. Kind, wise, humorous, dedicated, and good.

  All the things that Eli was not. He was ashamed that he had not lived up to the standard of this man.

  “That is true of us all. We just do our best and pray it’s enough.” He looked Eli in the eye, begging him to disagree. “She thinks you’ve lost your power.”

  Eli nodded. “I have. Ablution I think it’s called.”

  “Are you joking?” Cleve’s whole body jerked and he became rigid.

  Eli shook his head. “I could have gotten the name wrong.”

  “How many days into the process are you? Do you know?”

  “Five or six. I’m not really certain how much time I spent in Kwanokasha after the mantis kicked my ass.”

  The look of terror on his father’s face sent a thrill of fear through him as well. “How old are you?” The question wasn’t one he expected.

  “My best guess is a little over two hundred.”

  Cleve buried his face in his hands and muttered something in a language Eli had never heard, and then, “I’m so, so sorry. You know you can die?” He waited for Eli to nod before he continued. “What were you thinking drinking that much Black Drink?” There was anger and fear in the man’s voice.