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

by Christopher A. Nooner

The beast’s bellow shook the ground and sent her sprawling. She looked up as vines shot from its earth and rock appendage and wrapped her up in a tight coil.

  She thought she screamed as it raised her to its gaping maw of stalactite and stalagmite teeth, but the sound, if she did, was drowned by the roar of wind past her ears as she was hoisted to her death.

  The dark protection she had experienced was gone. It deserted her and now she was going to die. She cursed it this time for its cruel abandonment.

  She closed her eyes, not interested in watching the terrible teeth bisect her, and waited for the painful ending of her bizarre life.

  It took her a moment to realize the vines had loosened and another moment to place the sensation of falling.

  She opened her eyes just in time to see dusty blades of grass waiting to catch her.

  She woke to the smooth bouncing sway of a heavy car on an uneven road.

  She winced when she recognized the slick sensation of drool on vinyl. She pushed herself up and blinked her eyes to clear the cobwebs of forced sleep. She winced again as a painful throb announced the presence of a blistering headache.

  She was in the back seat of a car she didn’t recognize.

  “Sorry.” The mumbled apology came from the passenger’s side of the front seat.

  “Huh?” She answered smartly. It was dark, but she could tell the person turned to face her.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “for dropping you like that.”

  She blinked again, as if that would help her make sense of what she was being told and then she recognized the voice. Joseph.

  She flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around the big guy’s neck and shoulders, as well as the headrest of the seat.

  “Joseph,” she hummed. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Guess not,” he mumbled in reply.

  “What happened? Where did you go? What was that thing?” Words tumbled out of her, heedless of the pounding in her head each brought with it.

  “Hulk smash,” Ammonih’s voice answered though the dark. He sounded amused, as if his little quip made him smile.

  “Was that a joke?” she asked, but no reply was forthcoming. “Seriously, guys, what happened?”

  “An unintentional consequence of playing with something you don’t understand,” Joseph’s voice was full of self-reproach.

  “You made that thing?” Keezie asked with awe.

  “No,” Ammonih answered. “He was that thing.”

  It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. “H-he was w-w-what?” She stammered, then barked a laugh at Joseph’s embarrassment, evident even in the dark. She waited and huffed when no answer was forthcoming. “Well, tell me.”

  “I had…” his voice squeaked as he began. He took a moment and rubbed his face as if his head hurt, presumably to buy some time, then started over. “I…there was this thing I needed out of Kaga’s room.” She watched his shoulders rise in a shrug.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “And when I found it…I kind of…uh…you know…activated it, somehow.”

  “Kind of?” She mocked. “If that was kind of then I don’t think really activating it is a good idea.”

  Ammonih covered his mouth as he tried to keep his mirth to himself, but for some reason that tickled her, and she laughed. It hurt her head, but she couldn’t help it and her laugh turned into a beautiful release as the three companions guffawed until tears streamed down their faces. Each time she thought she was done, one of the men would snicker and it would start over again.

  It wasn’t even that funny, but as she was learning, sometimes stress from constant danger finds unusual outlets for release.

  She wiped her eyes and relaxed back into the slick vinyl bench seat. “So, boys, where are we headed?”

  The men looked at each other and then back out into the pooled light of the headlights.

  “To stop the next monster,” Joseph answered.

  “How? Where?” she pushed for an answer.

  It was Ammonih’s turn to shrug. “I have no idea how, but I can feel the power building again. I think I know where it is.”

  Silence overtook them for the rest of the drive.

  Eli’s mouth was dry and acrid from the black drink. The potion whisked away the little moisture his salivary glands could coax out, but the edges of pain and fatigue were, thankfully, almost bearable.

  It was dangerous, but then again what in his life wasn’t?

  He could hear Crooked Beak chastising him from the grave, counseling that it was better to live with pain than to push your body to the point of collapse and death.

  That was all well and good, but his mentor never faced circumstances like these. This was necessity. This was life or death.

  He sniggered. Literally. He would live or die despite the Black Drink. There were too many things trying to kill him, and not enough trying to save him. He hoped his help proved more effective than his enemies.

  At first, he had been uncertain where to go. His instincts told him that big centers of population should be targets, but that didn’t prove to be the case when he considered the past release sites. All the targets were places of power. Or people of power.

  That left only a few places, and only a couple people it could be. He had a good idea where the next logical place would be.

  Mammoth Springs.

  Its clear water brought minerals and energy up from deep in the earth. His people had worshiped there, dipping carefully and thankfully into its pristine water for thousands of years. If there was any place that might draw the Mahan’s attention for the next release, he would bet that it would be there.

  He wished he knew where Keezie and the boys were. He could use their strength and help, but he brushed the thought away. This would likely be his last encounter on this earth, and he didn’t want to contribute to it being theirs. No, they could stay safe and as far away as possible, he had enough death on his conscience as it was.

  The car the Hatak Haski had driven was nice. Leather seats, power everything, and air-conditioning. It was amazing. He’d gotten halfway to the road before he realized there probably was a car, and he should have checked the soldier for the keys.

  He’d almost decided to continue walking to the road rather than turn back and pull the keys from the dead man’s pocket. He was glad he did. The result was worth the extra walk.

  There was only one time during the trip that he’d regretted the choice. A sudden shower poured across the road. The rain covered the windshield, blinding him. He swerved the car to the opposite side of the road while he searched for the switch to engage the wipers. He found it and could, finally, see well enough to straighten the car on the right side of the road.

  He laughed at the thought of dying before he even got to the springs. That would be ironic.

  He found himself staring at the falling water as it entered the yellow streaks his headlights left in the dark.

  He decided he liked driving.

  Eli marveled at the speed of modern vehicles. He had barely been on the road half an hour and he was almost to his destination.

  A mile a minute was an incredible pace.

  The only thing better would be feeling the wind as it rushed past his face, drawing his braids out long behind him.

  He shook his head to clear the daydreams, and slight Black Drink induced tracers. He tried to remember the layout of the spring.

  Eli chewed on his lip and thought. He hoped it hadn’t changed much since his last visit.

  It had been quite a while.

  He decided it would be best to bypass the area and come in from Missouri on the north. He could park his car over the state line and walk through what he prayed was still tree cover.

  He didn’t know if his enemies knew he was alive, or if they thought him dead, so any element of surprise he could manufacture would be for the best.

  That settled, he quieted his mind and drove in the silent head space until road signs alerted him he wa
s nearing both the water and the border.

  It was hard to see the spring through the rain as he passed over, but it was impossible to miss the sign welcoming all travelers to the Show Me State.

  Eli pulled into the gravel lot of a dilapidated restaurant and parked the car behind the building.

  He slid out of the driver’s seat and wobbled unsteadily as his vision dimmed and his head spun. He steadied himself on the door frame until the carousel in his head stopped.

  The light rain gathered on his hair and shoulders. It pooled into bigger and heavier droplets before they rolled over the downhill slopes of his face, chest, and back.

  He clamped his jaws together, and cursed the rain as well as his body for not complying with his needs and wishes, then set off south and east into the scant tree cover above Mammoth Springs.

  He slipped into the woods and walked about twenty feet when pain, crippling pain, jolted through his feet. He staggered and bit his tongue as he jostled to stay upright.

  The pain subsided but built again before he could recover completely. He scrabbled backward, and within a few steps found relief from whatever was causing the coursing torture.

  He caught his breath then inched his toes forward until he could feel them begin to tingle.

  He sighed, nothing could ever be simple.

  He spent the next hour testing the boundaries of the pulse, it was circular, and encompassed a quarter mile radius around the heart of the spring.

  Sweat dripped down his proud nose and fell to the greedy earth. Exhaustion seeped its ugly tendrils back into his body. He growled and put the canteen of Black Drink to his lips. He hesitated only a moment before he gulped a couple mouthfuls of the vileness. He shivered. It was a foul draught.

  His semicircle had taken him to the south of the spring. He had obviously been right in his assessment of where the next release would happen. Either that or his crap luck had gotten decidedly worse.

  There was only one choice. Try to muscle his way through the pulsing pain to the spring.

  There wasn’t enough cover here or to the west; he didn’t think he had the energy to walk all the way north again, though the tree cover was better there, so east it would be.

  The colorful tracers of Black Drink ripe in his blood had returned. They slowed the world and brought any movement to his attention. He turned and walked, noting the crunch of twigs and leaves, each pop a reminder that he was still alive, despite the beatings his body had endured. He was a survivor, a lonely and bitter one, but a survivor nonetheless.

  When he walked what he estimated was half way from where he started earlier to the north he stopped. He turned to face the nexus of the power that grew here.

  He took a deep breath, the scent of brittle leaves coupled with the promise of cooler days filled his lungs. He held the earthy air tight in his chest to relish the burning feel of breath held too long before he blew it out and ran into the torment that awaited him just inside the invisible circle.

  His feet beat the ground beneath him, even though, with each pounding step, the earth threatened to tear him to his knees.

  Blood filled his mouth. The metal bite of copper filled his sinuses and trailed down his throat. He focused on it to distract his mind. Found the spot that his teeth had sheered through his tongue and let that pain ground him.

  Step after weary step he ran until his body felt it couldn’t push through the thickness of pain and air. He gasped and coughed as he aspirated a copious amount of sweat.

  He burst through the unseen barrier of pain and tumbled to his hands and knees. Acorns and bark and small branches tore into the flesh of his palms and shins. His body shook. It annoyed him that it was beyond his ability to quickly calm.

  “I know you’re here, Mal’Ak!” Marks’ voice called from somewhere in front of him. “I felt you every time you set your toe in my circle.”

  Eli cursed. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet, so let the silence hang between them. He blinked and tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead and nose. He should have thought of that. Of course. It was a ward, and one built specifically for him. He felt stupid. That was lesson number one; wards and protections. Crooked Beak would be disappointed.

  Eli pushed the ground away from himself and clambered to his sore, tingly feet.

  The shelter of trees still covered him, thankfully, but Marks hadn’t needed to shout, so he knew he was close.

  He wondered briefly if Marks could still tell where he was, or if the boundary was the end of that connection. He shrugged in answer to his own unvoiced question, and almost laughed out loud at himself. He’d lost it for sure.

  It didn’t matter if Marks knew exactly where he was or not, all that mattered was that there was no element of surprise and that he stopped the soulless bastard.

  He stood as tall and straight as he could, then walked through the remainder of the trees into the open tract around the area of the river and spring.

  The moon briefly shown through clouds that wafted away in small gusts of chilly wind; its pale glow tempered blue by the moisture hidden there.

  Thankfully there was no rain, just soggy ground.

  He could see the bridge that crossed by the rock dam to the small island beside the spring’s pool just to the north and west of him, and the dark silhouettes of three people.

  Eli walked calmly to the bridge and made his way across to the island.

  His breath caught, and his heart thumped in his throat.

  Not three people. Four.

  Marks stood dead center. He held Keezie tight against his chest, with what Eli presumed was a knife pressed to her throat.

  He suppressed his alarm and looked at the other two.

  Ammonih and Joseph.

  Looks like the gangs back together, he quipped to himself.

  He raised his hand in greeting. “You should let her go before I lose patience with you,” he spoke calmly to Marks.

  Marks laughed and pressed the knife a little harder against Keezie’s skin.

  Eli watched her face tighten in pain, but she didn’t make a sound.

  A thick line of blood oozed from the tip of the knife down her pale freckled neck.

  Wind swirled in heavy gusts around the two, tossing Keezie’s curly red locks like puppets on strings.

  Lightning cracked, giving him a momentary glimpse of the island.

  Just behind Marks, in the middle of Mammoth Springs pool, a maelstrom swirled. It grew, and as it grew, the wind and electrical discharges increased.

  When the soulless answered, he had to yell for his voice to carry over the wind. “You are too late.”

  Eli could just hear the man laugh over the wind. It was the laugh of the crazed or the damned.

  He was still laughing when the world exploded around him.

  Eli wasn’t sure who was screaming. He couldn’t even tell if it was a scream of pain or fanatic joy.

  Whatever it was, it didn’t survive long as the cyclone snatched them from their feet.

  He grimaced as debris pelted him.

  He covered his eyes and squinted into the storm.

  He could tell he was being spun in a fast, tight circle and braced himself in case his path sent him into one of the others or something bigger, and less forgiving.

  Impact never came, but the force and speed of the twister made his vision darken and his head feel light.

  His body felt as if it were being stretched for miles, sending his feet ahead of him while his eyes stayed put. His sight dimmed until there was only the faintest pinpoint of light, then that too disappeared.

  When light returned his eyes refocused on the world. It was still and hazy red. His head spun like it does when you’ve dozed knowing you are supposed to be awake. All in all, a good indication that he must have blacked out.

  As the haze cleared, it resolved into a set of deep blue eyes and a toothy white grin.

  He shivered uncontrollably.

  “I thought you were dead,” Keezie’s voice shoo
k with emotion.

  “I thought I was, too,” he answered, surprised at the relief that washed over him at knowing she was okay.

  She stood up and glared at him. “Get up before you freeze to death.”

  He nodded. Snow crunched beneath his hands as he pushed himself up. No wonder I’m shivering, he thought.

  He looked around after he’d regained his feet.

  Keezie stood next to him. Her hands were out in case he needed help staying upright.

  They were at the edge of the forest.

  Snow covered everything.

  There were no houses, or roads, or anything man made. Nothing modern at all.

  Just behind Keezie, a sleek black panther lay unbothered, and purring in the deep white.

  It stood and padded toward him.

  A deep growl rolled from the trees, followed by the familiar feel of course fur in his fingers.

  He took his eyes off the cat and breathed a sigh of welcome relief as Usok pressed against his hip.

  The panther stopped, and shimmered as it rose to its hind legs, melting almost into a small dark woman with flowing black hair.

  “Greetings, Mal’Ak,” she purred. “We meet at last.”

  Eskeilay, the realization dawned on him. Eli knew her by reputation, though their paths had never crossed. She was…breathtaking, and that terrified him. No creature as selfish and powerful as a naaldlooshii should be beautiful, as well.

  He tore his eyes from her to find Keezie’s hot glare daring him to admit his thoughts. He coughed and looked down at the snow.

  Fresh footsteps moved along the tree line away from them.

  He gestured vaguely in their direction. “Who’s that?” he asked.

  Keezie shrugged. “They were gone when I came to.”

  “Marks?” He queried.

  A soft purr drew his attention. He looked in the skin walker’s direction. “It is not the soulless. We are bound, in certain ways.” She paused and looked at the sky, “He is not near. Not this time.”

  Keezie crinkled her brow at that pronouncement but continued to glare at Eli. “You disappeared. How did you even survive, and why aren’t you wearing your real armor?”