Like a Freeze

by Olivette Devaux

  Yet he didn’t dare. He sat still, alert, counting his breath.

  Time passed.

  His back began to hurt, and the urge to stir and stretch became almost unbearable. Nobody else was moving though, so he remained still, drawing on all his hard-earned self-control.

  The rhythm of the drums changed, and a simple chant rose from the drummer, a chant which others joined, knowing the simple words. To his right, Cooper lifted his voice in his hesitant contribution, and Ash smiled.

  This was it, the sense of community and togetherness Cooper had been craving. They were here now, surrounded by their clan, and they were taking part in something special. Something sacred.

  A small bit of shame rose its guilty head as Ash realized he had almost made Cooper give this up on his behalf. Shame and guilt led to an effort to do a bit more. Would it really kill Ash to chant with the rest of them? He didn’t understand the words, but... but they were traditional.

  He joined in.

  The chant had a pattern of syllables and rhythms, one that Ash learned with relative ease. They repeated it over and over to the counterpoint of the drum beat, and as Ash relaxed, he realized his voice merged with Cooper’s.

  Perfect harmony.

  The spinning sphere of energy in his center spun faster and faster still, until it flung off a strand all by itself and with no effort on his part. A similar strand caught it, and now his energy was connected to Cooper’s.

  They had the same harmonic frequencies, after all. Nothing to worry about – yet.

  And then he felt the others. Everyone’s power came through, their lights and colors and everything they had to offer. All the elements and talents and desires began to manifest, and spread, and mingle.

  Ash shut his mouth and slammed his shields down. As quickly as he dared, he extricated his little strand out of the whirlwind that had begun to circulate through the tent. It was time to ground and center again and make his energy sphere small and tidy and very, very introverted.

  He had almost let go. He had almost lost control and had given his conscious mind over to something greater than himself, and that scared him.

  Ash elbowed Cooper’s arm. “Hey,” he whispered.

  Cooper was sitting with a focused frown, eyes closed, his lips repeating the chant. He seemed in the zone. “Cooper. Cooper!” Ash spoke as loud as he dared, and shook his shoulder with a sense of sudden urgency. “Time to go.”

  Cooper’s lips stopped, but he didn’t open his eyes. He sat still, as though the tethers of the group were holding him in place.

  Alarmed and scared, Ash scrambled to his feet. He didn’t care if anyone saw them leave. “Cooper,” he said, shaking his shoulders from behind and leaning over. “We must go. Now. Please. You promised.” Even as he said that, Ash realized that Cooper had been trying, struggling to break free.

  Ash embraced him from behind and forced his shields to envelop Cooper as well.

  The energy of the group was cut off so fast, Ash wobbled as his head spun.

  The chanting of the group faltered, and a few people began to come out of their trances. Then the drumbeat resumed, the leaders started anew, and Ash discovered that his panicked moving about had been, more or less, unobserved. “Cooper, get dressed. Let’s get out of here.”

  COOPER TRIPPED OVER the wooden threshold into their gher, crashing to his hands and knees. Ash slipped inside after him, tossing the armful of clothes onto the nearest cot. They had made it out of the sweat lodge with just their snow boots on, naked except for underwear, but the bitter cold of the nighttime air didn’t affect either of them.

  The drums and the chant resounded through their little gher. The distance of fifty feet, plus two layers of blanket-reinforced canvas, did little to banish the intoxicating rhythm out of his mind.

  “Ash,” he said, speaking thickly as though is tongue was numb. “We need to cast the circle.”

  “On it,” Ash said. “Just lacing up the door.” Although he burst out into giggles, his laughter was tinged with hysteria. “Your family is all kinds of fucked up, my love.”

  “They are. Should I put more wood on the fire? You want more light, or you want steam? The stones are hot.”

  “Light.” Ash didn’t even hesitate. “I’m getting your sword. And I’m getting the matches for the candles.” He touched Cooper’s back as he passed behind him. His hand was hot on Cooper’s bare skin. “Hurry with that salt water, okay? Maybe that fire should wait.”

  Cooper obeyed. The salt water was stored in an age-worn bottle he had rescued out of the river. Its pale blue glass had a white cast from being abraded by sand and silt for decades, but a recycled and reused vessel was better than anything new for this particular purpose.

  “Allegheny River water, with salt, purified by Hank.” He set it on grandma Olga’s tray, which still held two oranges and half a plate of cookies.

  Ash kissed the top of his head, bent for the bottle, and uncorked it. Then silently, with single-minded focus, he poured a thin, steady stream starting at the door, until he circumnavigated the gher and ended at the same place.

  “The circle is salted,” Ash said. His somber voice resonated with power, and that power stirred Cooper’s soul.

  “The circle is salted,” Cooper replied, infusing his words with protective intent. Nothing, and no one, was getting past through their circle without their permission tonight. Then, when Ash nodded at him expectantly, Cooper drew the sword that was Jared and bowed to it. He walked the perimeter of the tent, not quite touching the walls with the tip of the blade, channeling his intent through it.

  Not a circle as much as a sphere – a sphere that extended into a dome above them, and a dish-like protective basement under all that snow and frozen earth.

  He drew on Jared’s talent of seeing energy, and found that the walls of the sphere around him shimmered, swirling like a soap bubble. “Ash, come touch my arm and see if you can see this,” Cooper whispered in sudden inspiration. If they could share minds underwater, perhaps they could share talents as well. And who said they had to be soaking wet for it to work?

  A strong, fine-boned hand landed on his forearm. A pause, then a gasp. “That’s... wow. It takes an architect to get us properly shielded.” Ash cocked his head. “Let’s feed the shields some more. I don’t see how a soap bubble will do much.”

  “From a technical standpoint, soap bubbles are amazingly strong, considering how thin they are,” Cooper said in a professorial voice, but he held back and didn’t launch into a technical lecture. Maybe later. Now they had weird shit to deal with.

  How did he never feel this awful compulsion to do something before? It was uncanny, the way they had all just sat there and chanted, unaware of anything but the intoxicating beat and the words of a language not many spoke anymore.

  Now, perhaps too late, he wondered what the words had meant.

  “Candles,” Ash said impatiently once the bubble walls solidified just enough for the color to stabilize.”

  They walked to the first candle, and Cooper struck a match. “I call Earth, the mother and the protector,” he said solemnly.

  Ash grabbed the matches and hurried to the second candle. “I call Water, the life-giver and the protector.” His voice hitched the smallest bit and his eyes widened in surprise, but he just passed the matches to Cooper and nodded him on.

  “I call the Fire, the light-bringer and the protector,” Cooper said. He didn’t know why he had said it. It just came out that way, as though he’d been possessed. He traded a heavy glance with Ash. Something was going on here, but they had to finish up. His sense of urgency was now as strong as Ash’s.

  “I call Air, the breath-giver and the protector,” Ash said. They both approached the last candle together. They hadn’t talked about the words, but they came to them together, in unison. “We call the Spirit of everyone we have ever helped in our moment of need.”

  Ash looked a bit wild-eyed.

  Cooper twitched his eyebrows in a “
whatever” type gesture. Something was up, and it was out of their hands entirely. They had invited powers to their party, and it seemed that someone, or something, was coming over to play.

  “The circle is cast,” Cooper said. “Now what?” It occurred to him that they could be sitting on the floor wearing just their underwear till morning, with candles burning and with the fire in the brazier going out.

  “Now we wait. If something happens, we’ll be ready.”

  “Obviously you think something will happen,” Cooper said as he added a few thin pieces of dry wood onto the embers. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “We have company,” Ash said. “Old Man Allegheny is with us, and I don’t think it’s just because of the salt water having been made by dipping the bottle right outside our house.”

  [: Actually, that’s exactly what drew me here. :] His voice reverberated through Cooper’s mind, deep and sonorous but not old at all. As soon as he thought that the spirit of the Allegheny River might object to being called Old Man Allegheny, the voice laughed. [: Except young Ash is incorrigible here. He won’t call me Al. He’ll call that Superior jerk Bob, as requested, but he’s calling me Old Man. Our existence is imperfect. :]

  Cooper dropped the piece of firewood onto his toe. He yelped and jumped, then thumped onto the carpet cross-legged, and rubbed his toenail with his fingers. “Ouch, dammit.” He glanced at Ash. “Did you hear that?”

  “Al? I suppose I’ll have to call him that, if he really insists,” Ash sighed. “Although Old Man Allegheny is such a dignified name.”

  [: See, you’re bound by stereotypes. You think just because I’m big, I gotta be old. Except I’m young, and kind of short as rivers go,” :] the river spirit grumbled in a fake-hurt voice that brought an irreverent grin to Cooper’s face. He tried to school his expression into something dignified, something that befit his being in the presence of a minor deity, but kept failing.

  “He can hear you thinking whatever you’re thinking,” Ash said as a smile tugged on his lips. “And he’s incorrigible too.”

  [: Takes one to know one. But about your situation, lads – how are you feeling? Especially you, Cooper. Any side effects? :]

  “Side effects of what?” Cooper’s immediate attention was on the bruise that was sure to develop under his toenail, and those suckers hurt like a bitch.

  “Of having been dead, love,” Ash filled in. “I think you’re the same person. I see you as the same, you act the same, and all that. But do you feel the same?”

  Cooper paused, thinking. “Well, sort of. I don’t know. The world feels a bit different, I guess. Colors are brighter, that sort of stuff.”

  [: A common psychological response to escaping death, :] Allegheny chimed in. [: I’d add that I can reach you as easily as I can Ash now, whereas before, you were just an energy signature in my field of awareness. :]

  “Is that bad?” Cooper launched forth immediately. “This isn’t anything that can endanger Ash, is it?”

  Only thoughtful silence followed.

  Ash cleared his throat. “Maybe we should put some clothes on.”

  Cooper nodded wordlessly. The shields they had built were protecting them from energy surges on the outside of the gher. Even though he could now clearly feel the sexual and spiritual energy building within the lodge, he had no need to respond to it. He reached for their bundle of clothing and, sorting it, he playfully tossed garments at Ash. “I’d rather be intimate on our own terms. I see no need to have sex just because somebody’s chanting and beating a drum.”

  CHAPTER 13

  JARED

  Shika slid his bamboo flute into the obi around his waist, straightened his dark blue hakama, and flicked a pink cherry blossom off his shoulder. “What do you mean?” he said. “He needs your help doing what?”

  “I can see energy patterns.” At Shika’s blank stare, he elaborated. “Our spirits have energy, and some of us can use it to do things. And that energy is everywhere, but like water, it flows in lines and it can pool into places we call nodes. I can see those things, and I can let Cooper borrow this gift, too.”

  “Is it because he’s the Wielder?” Shika’s eyes widened, and his stiff posture betrayed more than just apprehension.

  “He won’t do anything bad,” Jared rushed to reassure him. “He’s my best friend. My cousin, too.”

  Shika relaxed the smallest bit. Only a close observer would be able to tell.

  The world around them lit up with firelight, and a familiar drumbeat split the air. “Oh. Wow, that’s my family’s gathering,” Jared said. “We must be at one of the ceremonies. I wonder which one.” Time flowed differently here within the sword. Some days, he felt as though he’d been here for centuries, but on other days everything gleamed with fresh brightness of a new experience.

  “I know what you mean.” When Shika said that, Jared realized that he was accessing his thoughts even when they weren’t officially speaking. Was that even allowed? But this was a different realm, and had different rules. Jared rather liked Shika, and didn’t want to alienate him by telling him to keep out of his mind.

  It was complicated.

  “I’m sorry,” Shika said, and had it not been so dark, Jared would’ve sworn he had blushed. “I cannot help but overhear your thoughts. It’s as though you’re shouting.”

  “But you don’t do that.”

  “All the new arrivals do it. That Greg Nightwind man, the one speaking with Ameru-san, does it too.”

  “But I can’t hear it,” Jared said, feeling relieved and cheated at once.

  “Maybe you will, with time and practice,” Shika said. “You can understand my speech, after all. There’s hope for you.”

  They sat in companionable silence for some time. Not having a physical body meant not minding the press of hard stone against his butt, Jared decided. And that was a definite advantage.

  “That’s true,” Shika said. “I’m glad I don’t have my body.” Jared felt a shudder pass through him, one that traveled through the touching fabrics of their sleeves.

  “How come?”

  Shika hesitated. “It has a big cut in it. From my neck down and into my chest. I can still remember the feeling.” He shuddered again, then stiffened as though trying to remain in control.

  “I’m so sorry.” Jared wrapped him into a one-armed embrace and pulled him in. He knew that wasn’t done in that culture, but screw it. Shika must’ve been younger than he was when he died, and dying alone must’ve been terrifying.

  To his surprise, he felt Shika’s body melt against his. The stowed-away shakahachi flute dug into Jared’s flank. He ignored it, focusing instead on pouring every positive and comforting vibe he had into his new friend.

  “I wasn’t alone,” Shika whispered, his voice so low Jared could barely hear it over the drums, the chanting of his clan, and the bubbling of the brook near their feet. “There were so many of us on the boats. We beach-landed at Akitoku, thinking they’d just let us take over like they had in the other town. We didn’t expect resistance – but the men were armed and ready at Akitoku.” He paused, as though is mind was far away. Then, unexpectedly, he said, “The man who killed me had taken my sword. He’s in here too.”

  “Oh.” Jared squeezed Shika tighter. It had to be hard, having the man who killed you in battle stuck in the same little spirit world.

  “We play go together. He’s rather good at it and he plays with Ojii-san too. You should meet him.”

  So enemies had become friends, Jared thought, amazed yet not really surprised.

  Then the world brightened, and a distant shimmer encased the house and its grounds. Like a soap bubble.

  “I don’t know what is a soap bubble,” Shika said. He was sitting up straight and at the ready, as though he was prepared to meet what may come.

  Jared engaged his talent, both at Cooper’s request and out of his own curiosity. That light was coming out of a fire, and the soap bubble encasing them was an energy field. When he v
iewed it with his special sight, it crackled with power. “Hold my hand and read my mind,” Jared whispered. “See what I see.” He wanted to share this with Shika, just as Shika had shared some of his history.

  He also thought that somebody other than himself should know.

  “That’s Cooper’s power signature, and that other one is Ash, the former Wielder.”

  Earth grew hard and heavy under them, and the firelight brightened as though alive. Then, when Ash spoke words Jared couldn’t hear but could see, a wind rose within their little world, and the little brook swelled with extra water.

  They had spoken words of power.

  And now, Jared had heard – seen – felt –an invitation to join in. “He wants us in there,” he whispered to Shika. “I’m one of his protectors, and he’s calling on me.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Shika’s otherwise quiet voice rang with determination.

  Jared wanted to say no. He wanted to make sure his new friend was safe, except experiencing this interesting adventure, whatever it was, would be a lot better if he had company. If somebody else saw what he would undoubtedly see, then they could compare notes. That way, Jared could better tell what was real, and what was a mere figment of his unreliable imagination.

  “You’re not unreliable,” Shika scoffed, “and I won’t get hurt. Don’t forget, I may look younger than you, but I’ve been a sword spirit for centuries, so cut out this protective bullshit right now.”

  Jared, who just got up, froze. How did Shika know the word “bullshit?”

  Shika laughed in his mind. [: I know many things. Now let’s go help your kinsman!:]

  ASH AND COOPER

  Ash sat on the floor opposite Cooper. With their buttock propped up by pillows, the ankles of their crossed legs were cushioned by the nest they had made so many hours ago as part of their Plan B, when they had thought the frenetic energy of the group would pull them into a wild maelstrom of lust.