Dusk Mountain Blues

by Deston Munden

  “They - or, I suppose, your family - grew more and more powerful, like a primitive race finding metal and inventing fire. Before long, they had their little community in the mountains, the valleys, the forests, the plains, with scavenged and invented technology of their own. They were everywhere, and with them came the trouble of your Bluecoats. Still we didn’t interfere. We stayed here.” Remy gestured to the place around him with his arms as though showing it off. “But sooner or later, they were going to tip the scales against your family, and this is where it happens.

  “But you can be the stone on the other side. You can be the Shaman. You can make this difference that you couldn’t before.”

  ​Kindle took some steps forwards to the middle of the room, her hand easing off Coal. Remy rocked in his chair; she tried to read his expression. He was smiling, but there was nothing there, not in his eyes or the curve his lips, like a man pretending to understand what the expression meant. The shadows of the barj danced around his hard features, the purple candlelight appearing to stretch his already long face.

  A coldness swept the room. She took a sharp breath and another step forward, her bare feet against the cold hardwood floors. She straightened her back. Like her grandpa always said, when you’re feelin’ low, act tough. She walked to the center of the room, a sharp breath caught in her lungs.

  “What do you get outta this?” And with that courage, a few orange flames flickered into life around her. Warmth filled her. “What are you tryin’ to teach?”

  ​“Fear, understanding, light, and darkness. That’s what I’m tryin’ to teach you. The moment you stepped in here, you made your choice. Whatcha do with it will be up to you.” Remy stood up, straightening his dark purple vest and smoothing his slacks. “I’m going to go for a walk. Care to join? I have things to do around the village and you can’t stay cooped up in this house forever. I’m more than sure that’s not the type of life that you’re trying to live.”

  ​Kindle sighed, letting go of the tension in her chest. The candlelight died again, leaving the thick darkness of the shadows in its wake. The electric lights hummed on soon after, filling the lab with a clinically cold white light.

  The barj remained, inky black stains against hard, dark wood floors and walls; they inched towards her for a brief second. In that moment, they felt more alive. She swore she heard a heartbeat within them.

  She choked down her fear. Fear, understanding, light, and darkness. The words repeated inside her mind in a loop even after they left the lab. What did he want and what was she going to get?

  She followed Remy through the crowded main parlor and out into the village square. From the center, he took her down what felt like the longest floating wood path in the entire village. Oddly enough, the storm lightened at their arrival, leaving only small traces that it had even been there. The sun peeked from the canopy above, rays digging hard against the thick layers of leaves. The air was cool and fresh from the morning with the odd hominess of the swamp.

  Kindle allowed herself to soak in the details of the bayou, the tall trees swallowing the water with green touches and brown teeth. A little further away she saw old half-sunken shacks and unfinished barebone homes reclaimed by nature. One ivy-covered mansion had become the den of quite a large creature; it lumbered through the beams of the first floor with its thick dark brown fur and harsh purple eyes. She didn’t want to know more about whatever that was and hoped with all her might that it didn’t want anything to do with them. They passed it without incident.

  ​Willow’s Grove behind them, they continued onwards. The water of the lagoon gave way to a winding, muddy uphill path. The air around them thickened to an uncomfortable warmth, choking her with every breath. Sweat dripped down her face and pricked her eyes with its salt. She pushed on by focusing on the things around her; thick brown posts were hammered into the ground and adorned with red roses, yellow daisies, and the occasional odd blue colored flower. Up further, a few were even stone, carved in the harsh lines of a foreign language. They came upon the summit of the muddy hill, a clearing surrounded tall pale-barked trees with soft blue leaves on all sides.

  “Watch your step. It gets kinda of bad up here.” Remy flicked his wrist, extending a long wooden pole from a bracelet he wore. A large purple sphere-shaped drone rose from the tip of the staff like a gout of flame from a wizard’s palm. Light emitted around them from the AI’s eye as it swept the area. Soft audible beeps followed every sweep. A scan. For what?

  “Have you thought about why I let you keep your weapon? Or even why I let your father bring it in here? I figured at some point I would have to teach something of our means of defense but yours will do for now.” Kindle didn’t like the way he said it, teetering close on disgust; but she let it go. “It’s best for you to be comfortable. Do you have ammo? Is it energy or traditional?”

  ​“Good ol’ fashioned bullets.”

  ​“Petro,” Remy called out. The drone turned. “Outfit her with what she needs.”

  ​The drone, Petro, hovered over. “Weapon?” it asked with a smooth, soft voice. Somehow it sounded familiar.

  Kindle pulled her weapon from her side. The drone scanned it for a brief second, whistling a faint song while it worked. Materials began to form in its translucent stomach. It spun metal with the ease of crocheter with yarn, light bending to create shells for her weapon.

  She hadn’t heard of any drone that could’ve done that outside of the Civilization. Doc and his family would’ve known what it was called, but Kindle was drawing a hard-blank right now; her mind was too preoccupied with why she needed the weapon in the first place.

  Petro dropped quite a few shells in her hand. “Ask at any time during the trial if you need more,” the drone said. “Good luck.” It whistled its way back to its master.

  Kindle blinked in amazement, stuffing the spare shells into her pocket. She would’ve found Petro amusing if it hadn’t just dropped ammo into her hand and wished her the best - for what, she hadn’t a clue.

  ​She thought to ask; she even would have if her grandfather didn’t blow a dang horn.

  The horn was made of black bone, cut into a twisting spiral and tipped with gold around the mouthpiece. Foreign symbols on the side glowed whiter and whiter with each subsequent howl. The sound pulsated through her chest, bumped and burned hot in her ribs. When Remy put the horn down to his side, his lips were red and a little broken on the lower lip.

  Another sound followed after the horn’s died; a powerful stomping and the crunching of wood and stone. She looked at her grandfather again, expecting an answer of some sort. Again nothing. He wouldn’t say what was going on. By now though, she knew what was happening. She also knew when a wild animal was headed her way - her pa taught her that, at least.

  ​Survival took over from there.

  ​Kindle wheeled around towards the sound of uprooting trees. She’d watched Pa and his brothers deforest some of the valley for their farms when she young. She remembered large trees crashing into the dust against the weight of Doc’s harvester mechs on those warms days under the sun. She remembered the amazement and trickle of fear she felt as they fell, or worse - crunched under the spinning blades.

  To this, that memory of fear felt like nothing.

  The monster hacked through the land with little effort, and nowhere near as clean as the machines. It came through the final patch of trees with an explosive burst of bark, needles, and leaves; Kindle’s eyes widened at the sight of the grueling, twisted monster stampeding after her. The black mass of flesh, similar to a large lizard with shining wine-colored scales, whipped around on the tips of its claws. It blinked at her, oversized head tilting. The motion reminded her of grandfather.

  This thing ain’t your grandpa. This thing’s gonna kill you.

  ​The first shot was often the best shot. She unloaded with Coal. The first few shots ricocheted off the scales, bouncing dangerously close to her own feet. The only thing it managed to harm was the creature’s d
emeanor; before, it was angry but curious. Now only hot rage remained.

  It charged at her with its full vigor now, snapping its jaws at her with its hundreds of teeth. Though strong, it wasn’t fast by any means - the run to the clearing must’ve taken a lot of its energy. Kindle needed to keep moving. She focused, a cold concentration falling over her. The creature swiped with one of its red claws, trying to cut her in half. She danced back and landed a few shots in the inner side of the beast’s belly. Pockets of blood hit her on the face; she felt the warmth and taste of it in her mouth. The creature howled and thrashed.

  A claw sailed through the air and caught her on the face. New blood - her blood - sprayed from an open wound on her forehead and down her right eye. She kept moving, heart pounding in her chest as she ran in circles around the creature, reloading for another round. The lizard - dragon, wyrm, whatever - kept its assault. If anything, it grew more and more ravenous with every attack. She rolled through her next attack, firing at the creature’s head. One bullet caught what she was aiming for this entire time: the eye. It exploded in a bubble of blood.

  The creature howled its pain, doubling over and writhing in the dirt. Can’t do much about your eye, Uncle Monty’s son Tiger had said after Kindle accidentally shot it out, and then laughed it off. No shame aiming for it when you have no other options. Sometimes you just gotta take a cheap shot.

  ​Kindle went for the killing blow to the back of the neck. The shot had no business missing. Kindle stepped back a little too late. She sailed through the air, her legs swept underneath her by a sweep of the tail, and landed on her back. Pain shot up her entire body. Tears rolled down her face. She squirmed, subtly aware of the heavy scaled tail to her right and the recovering beast looming over her.

  Coal was still firm in her grasp - one thing that her family had drilled in her head was to never let your hand leave your gun. She tried again, firing at a range so close she felt the heat of her own discharge. Again, the bullets didn’t hit. This time she saw why - while it had scales for physical defense, it also had adapted another defense. The scales on the back of its neck flared up, emitting a light blue pulse of energy; some sort of kinetic barrier similar to a portable shield. The eye shot was more luck than anything. It wouldn’t allow her to get away with that again. Kindle would’ve been impressed if she didn’t fear for her life.

  It’s a wyrkel. And like none she’d ever seen before, probably bred for this trial. That means…

  ​She knew how to kill it.

  ​The barj wyrkel snapped down with his maw. Kindle rolled to her feet, narrowly escaping the hundreds of teeth. “Petro! A spear,” she shouted. The wyrkel clawed at her, tearing through the cloth on her shoulder. She cried out in pain. She had to keep moving. The big bastard smelled blood now and with blood, a meal.

  It jumped forward, trying to crush her with its weight. She barely managed to dodge this time, twisting her body at the last second; in that one instant, Petro the drone dropped a lance in her free hand. She spun it upright, the crystallized purple tip shining, scattering light from the torches. She went to stab it and got what she expected in her gut the entire time: the fire from the lizard’s maw.

  ​Blazes struck her in full force and she smiled. Energy weapons. Bon fires. Extreme sunlight. Heat of any kind gave her strength. She pushed through the inferno using her pistol arm and her shoulder. Smoke hissed from the odd holes opening on the surface of her dark skin, tickling the skin and muscle it ran by. She’d learned to get used to it at young age; this time, though, something was different.

  More than strength and speed filled her this time. There was a primal energy attached to the underbelly of the rest of what she already felt. A memory of a woman’s face flashed before her eyes, a comforting, familiar face traced with tears - there and then gone in a second. In its stead was a power like she’d never felt before. She stepped forward one step at a time, absorbing all she could to get close enough to.

  She pivoted her body at the last minute as the dragon fire stopped. The wyrkel yelped, noticing the tip of the spear a little too late. Mimicking every day she spent spearfishing with her father, she plunged the spear into the dragon’s throat.

  ​Muscle and gore plopped against the dirt and her shoeless feet. The spear had gone clean through the shattered teeth of the wyrkel, up through the roof of its mouth. What surprised her wasn’t the strength of her attack - she had done similar things before with enough heat coursing through her. No, the surprise came from the smoldering remains of everything left.

  On the tip of her spear was only the wyrkel’s head. The rest was gone as though caught in explosion. White fires burned against blackened bones where a body should’ve been. What was the saying: “don’t fight fire with fire.” Well, she did. Hers had won.

  ​A tiredness swept over her. She dropped Coal and the spear tipped with the beheaded wyrkel to the ground. Adrenaline still pumped extra beats into her heart, but soon that, too, would fade. Her mind wasn’t on the battle anymore; it was on that woman she’d seen in that brief moment of power, the soft features of her familiar, dark-skinned face looking down on her, soundless words on her lips and soft tears on her cheeks.

  Mom. She hadn’t ever seen her. Her dad didn’t have a single picture of her. Yet she knew. Every part of her knew that was her mom.

  Why now though?

  ​Kindle pushed the thought from her mind. Everything felt a little odd for a second. Her knees quaked, her mind swam; but she was still standing.

  Through the mayhem of everything that happened, Remy stood. There was no applause or fanfare of any kind. He stood, head cocked, with a smile on his face - one that could easily be mistaken for pride if she hadn’t seen a real one million times on Grandpa Drifter’s face. No. He wasn’t proud of her. He expected her to pass this trial one way or another. What was on Grandpa Remy’s face was a hunger, a want, a need so deep it was everywhere in him.

  What do you want? she wanted to scream at him. What are you getting out of this?

  She staggered forward. “Was that acceptable?” she managed to choke out.

  ​Remy laughed. “It seems like there’s much more of Ina in you than I gave you credit for. She gave me the same look when I brought her here at your age. You might’ve killed Yana faster than your mother did Oyi. The result was the same.” He shrugged. “How d’ya feel? Y’know, aside from the beatings itself, you should feel different - like something opened. That was how Ina explained it. The shadow half of the Flame, I fear, is a lot less open about it, so I’m gonna have to take her word for it. So…” he arched an eyebrow. “Tell me. How do’ya feel?

  “I feel fine. I just wanna head back now.”

  ​Remy put his hands in the air. “Listen, this was tradition for all Shamans. Or, I guess, potential Shamans. I had no intention of letting you die, and you yourself said you wanted to get better at this. You came here wanting to know more and you can leave at any time. You won’t though. I have a thing you want. You want to protect your family from the Bluecoats. I want you to help me save this planet from itself. That was the agreement.” He squinted his eyes. “Was it not our agreement, granddaughter?””

  ​I don’t wanna talk ’bout this right now. Kindle picked up Coal from the ground and plucked her new spear from the carcass. She took in a deep breath, fighting off the heavy fatigue anchoring her every movement. Buried under that fog stirred an uncertain power in herself she couldn’t recognize. Reflexes told her to choke it down, keep it controlled. The Flame bucked back, rolling up her stomach and up her chest to the point that it burned. The pains from the cuts and bruises meant nothing in that brief second of dizzying agony. She exhaled, letting the fire cool. Her mom was right. It was like a door being opened - a door that lost its hinges and laid on the floor. There was no closing it now.

  Chapter 12

  Humility//Hubris

  Appetite

  “They’re strong, Major, but not as strong as they think they are. When it's all said and d
one, they are relatively human and I am not.” -- Owen Xan, XA-003 Bioandroid, Sixth Battalion of the Bluecoats Fleet.

  “Hm. They lived.”

  ​Major Debenham put down his fork with a satisfying clank on the fine plate. He licked syrup from his lips, the crumbled pecans littering the stubble on his face. He closed the translucent blue screen of the video feed with a swipe of his finger; the audio died soon after.

  Appetite readjusted in his chair beside the good Major, stuffing down a grin. The Drum may have been gone, and the gunfights still raged on, but they did much better than the Bluecoats expected.

  The Major leaned back in his wooden chair. For the first time upon his sudden appearance on the Homestead, he didn’t look as poised. Appetite reckoned that it was quite the opposite - the anger in the major’s eyes betrayed his cool-headed demeanor.

  Debenham stood up from his chair, pushing himself away from the table. “You saw this, didn’t you?” he asked the matriarch sitting pleased at the other end of the table. “But how far can you see? When will that confidence of y’all’s burn out?”

  ​“Steven,” the Augur of Owls said in her sweetest voice, reserved for only her enemies, “I let you in my house. Not out of hospitality, but because if you left, you would’ve tipped the battle. There was no way Luke and his brothers could match you, not yet. But with you here, it gave us a little time. You’re going to have to recover and we can plan a bit more. This isn’t the end. You know it, I know it. So please, stop acting like you’re upset ’cause it’s not easy.”

  ​“I am upset, Mrs. Caldwell. I don’t wanna be here. I would much rather be with my wife and my children. I’ll admit I find the fighting enjoyable, but at the end of the day, I don’t view y’all as meat. However, I can’t let you leave. What you’re doing here is selfish. You don’t see it, but there’s an order of things forming. Laws are being made and structure is forming. The Military Fleets, League of Colonies, the Science Committee, even the Churches of the Five Lights and the necessary evils of the Viscount Corporations - the Civilization is rebuilding itself. C’dar would’ve made a great colony for people but everyone ’round these parts knows about you people. My question is why. Why do this? For what; complete freedom?”