The Deathless Quadrilogy

by Chris Fox

  Blair offered Zee a hand, and the kid took it. Blair helped him to his feet.

  “All right,” Zee allowed. “I’ll give this guy a shot.”

  44

  Learning

  “Show me again?” Blair asked. He suppressed a sigh, rubbing exhaustedly at his eyes.

  John Rivers peered at him impatiently. “Pay attention this time. You’re an Ark Lord. This should be child’s play.”

  “The Ark didn’t come with an instruction manual,” Blair protested. Then he caught himself. That was an excuse. He took a slow breath. “Just show me again. This time I’ll get it.”

  John Rivers gestured at the cluster of dogs lounging on the grass. Energy pulsed through John Rivers, then a burst of complex signals flowed from his outstretched hand. It enveloped the dogs, and the change was immediate. The dogs leapt to their feet, muscles swelling and bones elongating. When the process was complete, the dogs were half again as large, and Blair could see the link between them and John Rivers. A steady signal was being broadcast, sustaining the change.

  “I can keep feeding them power—making them stronger still, or just giving them more endurance,” John Rivers explained. Some of the irritation had left his face. “The more animals I do it with, the more taxing it is. The most I can manage is about a hundred, but only for a short time. That’s why we keep our packs smaller, at a size each person can manage. With your strength, you could manage hundreds. Maybe thousands.”

  The part where Blair shouldn’t be struggling with just one dog was heavily implied.

  Blair took several steps closer to the dogs, who eyed him with interest. He stretched out a hand, then quickly lowered it. He couldn’t just keep trying the same thing.

  “You can make them larger and stronger,” Blair said. “How about faster?”

  “I’ve shared my blur, but it’s so taxing that I can only keep it up for a few seconds,” John Rivers allowed. “Why don’t we focus on the basics, though? Just make them a little bit larger.”

  Blair stretched out his hand again, but this time he ignored John Rivers’s advice. He didn’t try to make the dogs larger and stronger; he’d already tried that several times with absolutely no luck.

  But blurring was his speciality. It was something he excelled at more than any champion he’d met. If he was gifted in anything, then that was it.

  A wave of signals burst from his hand, spreading across the pack. It was different than his last attempt, and he had more luck discerning the complex signal. It looked a good deal like his own blur ability, somehow transmitted to others.

  Run, Blair thought to the packmind. Feel the wind.

  The pack responded. The dogs bounded to their feet, blurring all over the grassy field. A Doberman tackled a Rottweiler playfully, and the two zipped all over the field, motion blurs in their wake. Blair could feel the enormous flow of power from him to the animals, but it barely taxed the flow from the Ark.

  “There we go,” he said. He gave a triumphant smile. “I can keep this up all day. I think I could probably do it for a lot more dogs, too.”

  “Wow,” John Rivers said. He scrubbed his fingers through the back of his hair as he watched the dogs. “Now I can see how you took out the deathless. The amount of energy flowing from you is probably more than every other Ka-Dun could produce together. Now, that said, don’t get all full of yourself. You need to get better at this. If we can teach you to make your pack larger and stronger, and then also faster…I feel bad for anyone we go up against.”

  “That’s the real trick, isn’t it?” Blair released the blur. “I can feel them, and I can see how and why the signal affects them. But I don’t know what kind of signal to broadcast to make them larger. I mean, I can see what you’re doing. I just can’t seem to reproduce it. I don’t know why.”

  “What about that mindshare thing you’ve been going on about?” John Rivers asked. “That’s like the packmind right? I’m not very good at working with minds, but if you want to link, maybe you can learn how to do it that way.”

  “Worth a shot, right?” Blair asked. He closed his eyes. “Just relax a little. I’m going to initiate the mindshare.”

  The process had grown much easier since Blair had first experimented with touching someone else’s mind. Blair opened himself, sharing a torrent of memories, thoughts, and his very identity. John Rivers did the same, and hundreds of competing sensations washed over Blair. He focused on John’s time learning to shape, seeing how he’d first bonded his loyal chocolate lab, his pack alpha.

  He saw how that pack grew, how John Rivers added coyotes, foxes, and dozens of neighborhood dogs. Blair watched the pack fight, watched them struggle to protect their tiny flock of humans. He watched as John Rivers struggled, and realized instantly why John Rivers was so adept at empowering his pack. John Rivers had needed the pack to be bigger and stronger, and had focused on making that happen. Just like Blair had needed to be faster, and so he had been.

  Now, he needed to consciously control what he’d learned to do instinctively. Blair imagined that this was the Yoda-like lesson the Mother had always been too busy to impart. Control. He must learn control.

  Blair retreated from John Rivers’s mind. The older man watched him with wonder, apparently still reeling from whatever he’d seen in Blair’s mind. “You’ve seen so much in such a short time. I had no idea. Everything you’ve been through. Everything you’ve had to sacrifice. It’s…I’m sorry Blair. Thank you, for everything you’ve done to preserve this world.”

  “Don’t get soft on me, teach,” Blair said. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Mindsharing is incredible. The effects will fade, but you’ll always retain some of my memories. And I will retain a few of yours.”

  Blair turned back to the pack. He extended his hand, calling on the desperate need John Rivers had felt. The pack needed to be larger. Stronger. Power surged through Blair, and the signal he’d seen John Rivers use burst from his hand. The dogs began to grow, muscles thickening and bones extending. If anything, they grew larger than when John Rivers had tried to effect the same thing.

  “You are really scary. You realize that, right?” John Rivers said. He was grinning.

  45

  Books

  Liz knelt next to the pile of desiccated entrails. They’d been left at the base of the stop sign near the center of the scenic town of Healdsburg. Awful runes had been scrawled on the sign itself, some sort of alien script that reminded her of the sigils within the Arks. Maybe Blair would recognize it.

  “This is his handiwork?” Liz asked. She moved away from the grisly remains. They were old, but the stench lingered.

  “Definitely,” Alicia said. “Windigo picks off prey one by one, gradually emptying a town. He waits for people to flee, and everyone in the town can hear their screams. Then he leaves signs, like this. We don’t know why or what they mean.” She was trembling, her skin ashen. “Eventually, the survivors get together and try to flee. He hunts them. A few get away, but most think they were allowed to live so they could tell other places about Windigo.”

  “And the survivors never get a look at this thing?” Liz asked. She headed toward the little row of shops bordering a patch of green at the town center—a place where townspeople had probably attended everything from local concerts to farmers’ markets. It stood empty now, the grass brown and dying.

  The storefronts had a few broken windows, and the paint had faded a bit. But this place had been cared for, and recently—until whatever this creature was had slaughtered them in some sick game.

  “Some have, but their stories conflict. Some say Windigo is an old crone with sharp claws. Others claim he’s a wild-eyed Indian come to get revenge for the death of his people. The most common description is a tall, skinny monster with deer’s antlers.” Alicia walked alongside Liz, darting furtive glances inside the shadowed shops as they walked past. “We’ve guessed that maybe he’s a shapeshifter, but we have no way to verify that.”

  “What sorts of abili
ties does this thing have?” Liz asked. She stopped in front of a bookstore. It was intact, no broken windows. Inside she could see shelves lined with books. She hadn’t picked up a novel in months. It would be nice to curl up with a book, in between bouts of saving the world.

  “Nothing has been confirmed, but we believe it can walk the shadows. It’s fast, so it can probably blur. I guess it’s most similar to a deathless, but we don’t know how accurate those accounts are.” Alicia peered inside the bookstore. “Why did you stop here?”

  “Books are going to be vital to rebuilding. Without the internet, all our science, medicine, history…this is the only record.” Liz checked the door, but it was locked. She gave a reluctant sigh, then kicked the door. The door frame splintered, and the door hung drunkenly inward. “I’d love to send a team up here to bring these books back. Is anyone using the Santa Rosa Library?”

  “I don’t think anyone has done anything with it,” Alicia said. “They certainly haven’t mentioned it to me if they have. I imagine it’s in good repair. I could have someone check.”

  “That would be great. I’d love to start using it. Are you running any kind of schools?” Liz asked. She ducked into the bookstore, scanning subjects as she made her way through the shelves.

  “We…really haven’t had time,” Alicia admitted. She stared at her shoes, her hair obscuring her face.

  Liz stopped and walked back to Alicia. She put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize. I know you’ve had enough to deal with. I’d just like to start thinking about these things. We’re going to need schools if we want to build something permanent here.”

  Alicia nodded, visibly relieved. “There’s so much to take care of. I get up early and go to bed late, but it always feels like I’m falling further behind. I hate being in charge.”

  “I hate it, too, which just makes me even more proud of you.” Liz drew Alicia into a hug. “This new world isn’t easy, and you’ve made the best of it. I wish I could say the dark times were over, but I can’t. We have a lot of tough battles ahead. I can promise you this, Alicia: you’ll never have to face them alone again.”

  Alicia returned the hug fiercely, but disengaged swiftly. She started wiping at her eyes, still avoiding looking at Liz, and cleared her throat. “Do you think we can find a book here on Windigo? I know there were legends about him, but nobody can give me details. Just vague recollections of Wendigo being cannibals.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Liz moved to the next aisle, scanning titles. She passed among the shelves, inhaling deeply. She loved the scent of old books. The place was pretty small, and the titles were eclectic. Most were used, probably recycled countless times through the community. “Here we are—myths and legends. Wendigo are a Canadian myth, I think.”

  “Doesn’t seem very mythological to me.” Alicia came around the corner, brushing a lock of hair from her face as she scanned the spines of books on one of the shelves. “Not when it’s leaving entrails outside.”

  “You said that this thing was constantly killing, right?” Liz said. She finally found a book with The Wendigo on the spine. It looked like a novel, and the copyright date was 1910. Not exactly current.

  “Yeah, pretty much all the time. The attacks started about six months ago, at least far enough south that we knew about them. People had come down from Eureka before that, and they told tales of Windigo.”

  “So why did the attacks stop now?” Liz asked. “No one has seen Windigo for over a week. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?” She thumbed through the novel, but it didn’t look like it would be useful. She dropped it into her pack anyway.

  “It is strange, but I can’t imagine Windigo just leaving. I don’t know why the attacks stopped, but I’m betting they’ll start back up again soon. He’s probably just toying with us.” Alicia looked dejected. “I wanted to come home with better news, not news that we can’t find him.”

  “I know, but we’ve looked everywhere I think we can. It’s time to head back. If he makes another appearance, we’ll deal with him.”

  46

  Struggle

  The Great Bear was vanishing. Each day he slept, and when he awoke he was less a bear and more something dark. His fur had fallen out, and his body was wasting away. His arms were longer, as were his desiccated antlers.

  But those weren’t even the worst changes.

  He hungered for flesh, and slaughtered anything that came near his path. The very instant he’d finished feeding, he craved flesh again; even now the hunger was driving him to find it. He wandered, Windigo’s dark presence nudging him steadily westward. He knew that, but the pain and rage made it so difficult to fight. So difficult to resist.

  Each day he slept longer, and today he was already growing weary. He’d risen just two hours before. How many more days would it be until he didn’t awake at all?

  Not long, foolish old Bear, Windigo taunted. We have nearly reached the lands claimed by the Ka-Dun. Soon, you will help me take the key from him.

  The Great Bear had been a fool, so certain that he was the strongest predator in his mountains. Now he was the tool of a mad spirit—one that seemed determined to kill this new Ark Lord. The Great Bear had no love for the Mother’s wolves, but didn’t wish death upon them. They lived in their forests, and he roamed his mountains.

  Yet you will kill the Ka-Dun for me anyway, Windigo whispered. You know you can’t stop me.

  The Great Bear lumbered through the darkness, finally breaking free of the tree line. He’d never come this far from the mountains, not in all his centuries. Before him lay long, flat floodplains. He’d heard of the river delta, but had never been interested enough to see it. The brown grass and the skeletons of many buildings did not impress him. This place was lifeless. He longed to turn around, to head back to the comforting granite peaks.

  There is a refuge from all this, Windigo whispered seductively in the back of his mind. Relax. Sleep. There is no pain in sleep.

  The Great Bear roared, punching a rotting wooden bench. It shattered into kindling, and he felt a little better. “I am still in control, spirit. You do not have me yet. Nor will I go quietly. I will fight you until I am no more.”

  That will happen sooner than you think, Mighty Bear. Each day I reshape your body a bit more. Soon you will become what I have made you: the devourer of man and beast. You will stalk this Ark Lord, and one by one you will kill his champions. You will strip away the Great Pack, and every last living thing between us and the Ark Lord.

  “And then? You want me to devour the Ark Lord, don’t you?” the Bear roared. He caught sight of his reflection in a pool of stagnant water, and knew despair. Windigo had not lied. He was hideous, more monster than bear. All in a matter of days. What would the changes be in another moon?

  The Great Bear despaired. He was truly trapped, and had no idea how he might escape. He wished the Mother were here to aid him.

  47

  Swarmed

  Mournful shrieks came from the thick wall of jungle bordering the wide, slow river. Trevor sat in the front of the canoe, using an oar to keep them near the center of the dirty water. He estimated it at about seventy feet across, narrower than it had been for most of their trip.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Trevor asked, directing the question at Jordan.

  “Yeah, this would be a great place for an ambush. The river is shallow, so if anything with a fear of water wanted to attack this would be the place to do it.” Jordan tested the depth with his oar. “Those shrieks seem pretty personal. I’m betting the mapinguara we killed had family, and they’re more than a little pissed about his death.”

  The shrieks stopped, and a veil of silence fell over the jungle. A moment later, rain began falling in thick sheets, muffling all other sound and dropping visibility to less than a dozen feet. Trevor could just barely make out the wall of vegetation, and that made him uneasy. The rain was warm, plastering his shirt to his skin. A steady stream of water drippe
d from the brim of his baseball cap, which was at least keeping it out of his face.

  “Leti, what’s beyond that bend?” Jordan yelled over the rain.

  “I do not know.” Leti’s voice battled with the rain, and Trevor strained to hear her. “I’ve never been this far in. We are told little of the dangers of the jungle, only that if we cannot find a way to survive them, then we are not worthy of finding the Mother’s city.”

  “These creatures are intelligent, more so than they look at least,” Anput interjected. The rain had plastered her dark hair to her pale face. “You’re right about this being a good place for an ambush. Leti, when you said they were afraid of the water, you didn’t say why. Will the rain keep them away? Or is it something about the river that they don’t like?”

  “There are dangerous things in the water,” Leti called back. “But I do not think those things could be a threat to a mapinguara. Perhaps one of the larger anacondas. They prowl the waterways.”

  Trevor glanced at the muddy brown water. Anything could lay under those depths. He hadn’t seen anything, but before the end he’d loved river fishing. There were fish in there. He was sure of it. It made sense that there must be predators that preyed on those fish. An entire ecosystem, invisible to the surface.

  The shrieks resumed, much closer now. They came from the north side of the river, all along the trees they were slowly passing. The others had gone still. Leti had her golden boomerang out, and Jordan had withdrawn his .45 from his thigh holster. The weapon was mostly an afterthought, but Trevor drew his own sidearm. The weight was reassuring, but he missed the boomerang.