“Do not let your descendants forget this, for one day, you will pay!” Okeus shouted over the wind. “The curse will break and I will come back stronger than before. The Keepers that set me free will rue the day they were ever born and defile your names for creating the curse. Their only hope is to swear allegiance to me… then and only then will I show them my mercy. But if the Keepers dare to defy me, I will drag them to hell and torture them for a thousand years!”
The vortex collapsed in on itself, Okeus’s screams fading as the first ray of sun shot into the morning sky.
Ananias fell to his knees, weak with exhaustion and fear, and Manteo leaned over and vomited onto the ground.
Ahone moved toward the two men and Ananias flinched. How had this god escaped exile? What horror awaited him now?
The god spread his arms. “Okeus has created a weakness to the curse. The gate will open if you or your successors touch marks. But I give you this: When the curse eventually breaks, you will have until the beginning of the seventh day to repeat the ceremony and reseal the gate. If you do not succeed, the two Keepers together will still have the power to control them.”
Ananias’s head shot up. “What does that mean?”
“It means that one day the gate will open, but you both have power over the spirit world now, not just Manteo. Ananias, you must learn these words of protection and teach them to your descendants so that they will be ready when the demons are freed: I am the son of the sea, born of the essence present at the beginning of time and the end of the world. I am black water and crystal streams. The ocean waves and the raindrops in the sky. I am life and death and everything in between. I compel you to leave my sight.”
The words burned into Ananias’s head and he knew he would never forget them even if he tried.
“If the gods are freed—together and only together—you can send them back, whether it’s by resealing the gate or sending the gods and demons back one by one. You are the Curse Keepers, as your children will be after you.”
Ananias climbed to his feet and waved to the tree that now stood where the gate had been. “How is this possible?”
“I taught my child Manteo how to use magic more ancient than the power of the spirits and gods. Manteo used the essence of the earth and the sea, which existed before all things. We gods sprang from their union, but their power existed eons before we were born. This power is now infused in your blood.”
Manteo stared at the mark on his hand. “But if our marks touch, even accidentally, the gate will open?”
“Yes.”
“I must return to my people,” Manteo said, turning to Ananias. “My family and I will keep to the south, and you will stay on the island. We must make sure this evil is never loosed upon the earth.”
Ananias didn’t give a damn where Manteo went. At the first available opportunity, he planned to gather his family and return to England.
“If you have any questions, ask them now,” Ahone said. “Once I ascend back into the heavens, I will not return until the gate has opened again.”
Ananias had no idea what to ask, other than the burning question in his head, “Is my family safe now?”
Ahone lowered his gaze. “Sacrifices have been made.”
Panic turned Ananias’s blood to sludge. He turned to Manteo. “What was my sacrifice?”
Regret covered Manteo’s face. “The tosh-shonte are a blight upon our land. Once your people realize they have no foothold here, they will go and leave our people in peace. I have at last been released from my wretched vow.”
Ananias’s breath came in short bursts. “What did you sacrifice on my behalf?”
Manteo’s gaze narrowed. “You call yourself my friend, yet you know nothing about me or my people. You want us to adapt to your ways, and you care nothing for ours. I’ve spent enough time in your land, and it is a vile and ugly place.” He spat. “After I realized the significance of this sacred place, Ahone came to me. He offered me a way to save myself from my nuppin enemies as well as my vow to the English. When I saw the perfection of his plan, I returned to my people to seek my mother’s blessing.”
Why wasn’t Manteo answering him? “What did you sacrifice on my behalf?”
Manteo’s face darkened with anger. “Your people have a saying from your bible: an eye for an eye. It seemed fitting in this instance, given what your people did to the Roanoke a summer ago.” Compassion flickered in his eyes. “I tried to spare you, my friend.” Manteo’s voice broke. “I begged you to send your family away.”
Ananias shook with anger. “What did you sacrifice on my behalf?”
The savage hesitated. “Your village.”
The man’s words sunk into Ananias’s head, terror on its heels.
“Ellie!”
Ananias took off in a sprint through the forest, the rising sun lighting his path. Undergrowth scratched his arms, and the low-hanging tree branches tore at his bare arms and his chest. His heart pounded in his head, mixing with his panic.
When he reached the clearing where the village had once stood, he expected to find his friends and family massacred. He didn’t expect what he found.
Every part of the village was gone.
There were no houses. No fires. No people. Nothing. It was as though the entire village had been a figment of his imagination.
Ananias ran to the place where his thatch hut had stood, falling to his knees when he reached the barren land.
They were gone. Ellie and Virginia were gone.
He sobbed, pressing his face to the ground. What had he done?
“I am sorry,” Manteo called out, his voice full of regret.
The savage’s remorse mocked the Englishman. Ananias jerked his head up to see Manteo standing in the center of the village, and a fresh wave of grief made him cry out in agony. Manteo’s betrayal was nearly as painful as the loss of his wife and child.
“You.” Ananias climbed to his feet, rage filling every part of his being. “You did this.”
Manteo held his hands out from his sides, palms upward. “I swear, I had hoped to spare your family. That’s why I begged you to send them to my people. Any colonists who went there would have been saved.”
“Where did they go?”
Manteo’s chest heaved. “Popogusso.”
“Hell? You sent my family to hell?” Ananias rushed toward the native to kill him, but he tripped and fell on his face. Realizing the depth and cleverness of Manteo’s scheme, Ananias vomited until he dry heaved. He swallowed a sob, fighting the blackness on the periphery of his vision. He needed answers. He could give in to his emotions later. How far did Manteo’s treachery go? “Were the Roanoke even preparing to attack?”
Wrinkles puckered Manteo’s forehead. “No. I hoped the ruse would convince you to send your family away.”
Ananias hiccupped a sob, pounding his fist into the ground. “But you needed me to stay. I was your token Englishman. Your opposite.”
“It’s true that I couldn’t perform the ceremony without you, but I wanted to spare you as well.”
“Spare me?” Ananias crawled to his feet. “Spare me? You have condemned me!” He bent at the waist, choking on his tears for several seconds. Manteo would pay for this. Gathering his wits, he rose. “I wish to all that is holy and good that you had let me go with my family.” Tilting back his head, Ananias released a howl of agony that echoed through the trees and hatred rushed in to fill his soul. He leveled his gaze on Manteo. “I will kill you for this. I will kill you for taking what you had no right to give.”
Manteo spread his hands as if in surrender.
Ananias moved toward him, his chest squeezing like a vise with every step closer, sucking the air from his lungs. He pressed his marked palm over his heart, his eyes widening in confusion. “What is this madness?”
Instead of looking relieved, guilt filled Manteo’s eyes. “I feel it too. Perhaps Ahone has built in a protection to make sure the Keepers are kept apart. To protect the curse.”
“I want no part of this curse!” Ananias shouted, fighting for breath, his grief and disbelief becoming too heavy to bear. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. But when he pulled his hair and tore at his skin, he felt pain… and the village was still gone. This nightmare was real. His wife and child were now behind the gates of hell with the demons. A new fear and pain stabbed his chest. His family was sentenced to live in agony forever. His eyes widened with a plan. “We can break the curse now and release my family! We can free them from hell!”
Manteo shook his head, his chin quivering as he spoke. “No living creature can enter Popogusso and return. If they escape through the gate, it would be as demons.”
“Their souls are lost?”
Manteo remained silent.
“I want no part of this curse!” Ananias’s voice broke with his sobs and he fell to his knees. “I want no part! Make it go away. Make it all go away.”
“I am sorry.” Taking several steps backward, Manteo’s voice shook with despair. “As I said, I will head to the south, my friend.”
Ananias’s head shot up. “Don’t you dare to call me your friend. You have no right. You had no right to sacrifice what wasn’t yours to give.”
Manteo nodded solemnly.
Bitterness poisoned Ananias’s blood. “What did you sacrifice, Manteo? What did you offer to the gods? Was your sacrifice as great as mine?”
“My ten-year-old son.” His face hardened. “You are not alone in your grief, Ananias Dare. I sacrificed my only son, the future chief of my people.”
Ananias gasped in disbelief. Was there no depth to Manteo’s depravity? “What kind of person could sacrifice his child to hell?” Everything Ananias had done was to save his child. Ananias had never known this man at all.
Weariness covered Manteo’s face. “Sometimes you must make personal sacrifices for the greater good. I had to save my people. I had to break my vow.”
Ananias clenched his teeth, biting the inside of his cheeks and tasting blood. Hatred filled every pore, every part of his being. “I will make you rue this day, Manteo. You will regret ever daring to call me friend.”
Manteo nodded, tossing his knife to the ground close to Ananias. “I understand, but I bear no ill will toward you. I will forever regret the pain I have bestowed upon you, but if I had to do it over again, I would.” After a long look, Manteo turned, disappearing into the forest.
Scrambling to his feet, Ananias picked up the knife, gripping the handle tight in his fist. He considered chasing Manteo through the forest and plunging the blade deep into his heart, just like Manteo’s betrayal had ripped through Ananias’s heart. But the curse would never let him get close enough, nor did he have any hope of sneaking up on the skilled hunter. Instead, he walked over to a tree and carved the word Croatan into the trunk, as a warning to any who came here. He started to carve another tree, stopping after he’d dug Cro before breaking into sobs.
When he caught his breath, he looked around the clearing, wondering what he should do next. Manteo had probably expected Ananias’s line of the Curse Keepers to die out, preserving his precious curse, but Ananias would find a new wife, even if he never learned to love her. He would have children and pass the legend on to them. He would ensure that his line would survive and break the curse. Ananias’s line would tear down the gate and send the creatures out to devour Manteo’s people.
An ugly smile lifted Ananias’s mouth and filled his heart. Manteo had been right about one thing.
This place was death.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Catherine Farley Photography, 2013
Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri, and lived in the area until she was nineteen. She then became a nomad, living in five cities, four states, and ten houses over the next decade before moving back to her roots. She speaks English and a smattering of Spanish and Chinese. Her hobbies include making witty Facebook comments and dancing in the kitchen. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads everyone to believe.
This Place is Death (A Curse Keepers Secret) Page 5