He never had a chance.
The pair regarded him before they backed off as the hovering figure lowered itself so that it hung just above Stephen.
A crash sounded in the distance and all three figures looked in the direction of the noise. The pair on the ground looked to the hovering third, which made a quick gesture with its head. Then the pair ran toward the sound as the horrible red glow returned to their eye sockets.
Stephen couldn’t lift his gun, but he did manage to drag it across the forest floor a few inches. All he needed was a few seconds and it would be in position, but his head began to swim even more and his eyelids simply couldn’t stay open. In that moment, all the pain vanished and tears began to fall from his eyes as Stephen realized he couldn’t stop what was about to happen.
So, he prayed.
He prayed to his adopted Christian God, to the ancient Spirits of the earth, to any listening Deity, not to spare him, but rather he begged they let him die quickly before…
Chapter 3
“I hate this,” Ursula said.
Jett rolled his eyes teasingly at Ursula’s complaint and responded, “I heard you the first dozen times you mentioned it.”
They were standing on the bank of Fairy Lake, one of the many lakes in Vancouver, watching as the sun set behind the trees and cast a myriad of colors across the surface of the still water. The lake was extremely popular with locals for hiking, camping, fishing and canoeing, but it was best known as a photographic gem. The sight that had captivated photographers from around the world was of a single, tiny fir that somehow managed to grow from the exposed tip of a sunken log. The image was absolutely spellbinding in its majestic beauty, but very few knew the real magic behind the scene. As an ex-forest ranger, Jett had spent a lot of time in nature, but the splendor of Fairy Lake was still spectacular to his jaded eyes, even to the point of being overwhelming.
“Man, oh man, is it beautiful here,” Jett mused as he admired the view. “I don’t know how I never knew about this place.”
“I can hear them coming,” she said.
Jett listened, “I think they’re still a few minutes away. Take a second to absorb some of the natural beauty here.”
“The sound is making my skin crawl,” she said.
Jett sighed and dropped his head, “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like them either.”
Ursula grunted, “Nobody likes mosquitos.”
Jett considered a moment and said simply, “Bats.”
“Bats?”
“Bats like mosquitos.”
Now Ursula did smile, but it was a wicked one with underlying intent, “Are you suggesting that we turn into a bats and eat the entire problem?”
Jett laughed, “Haven’t figured out how to do that little trick as yet, so no.”
“Well then, I still hate them,” she declared, ”and frankly, I’m not even sure why you brought me here at all.”
Jett waved a hand out in front of himself, as if to showcase the sight, “You don’t find this romantic?”
Ursula took her eyes off of the water and turned to Jett, “The Haida elders asked you to come here because of an unnatural swarm of mosquitos at the lake this year. Clearly, they think there is something more to the swarm than a simple increase in mosquitos and want you, as a practicing Shaman, to see if there is anything evil or magical behind the increase. You agreed, and for reasons that elude me, asked me to come along.”
“And?” he inquired.
“We’re here to kill biting bugs, and you’re going to try to sell me on romance? Oh please,” Ursula exclaimed.
Jett smiled as he looked in the direction of the approaching buzzing sound, “Just taking a moment to smell the roses. Is your Thermacell on?”
Ursula looked down at the small butane-powered mosquito repellant system clipped to her belt. The soundless device utilized a heating coil to emanate an odorless repellant, giving the bearer an effective perimeter of defense against mosquitos.
“It’s on, but do we even know if it will do any good against supernatural mosquitos?” she asked.
“You mean assuming they’re supernatural and not just malevolent?” Jett inquired with a smile.
“Of course.” she replied.
“Nope, not a clue, but it’s better than nothing.”
The sound grew even louder and Ursula turned toward the oncoming threat, “Not very reassuring, and before the fun begins, remind me why am I here, exactly? My skills aren’t going to be much use against a swarm of flies.”
Jett nodded, “If what I suspect is happening, then your skills are exactly what I am going to need.”
“Wait! You know what we’re…?”
Jett held up a hand and knelt to the ground and placed one hand on the earth, “Okay, I need a minute. Hang tight.”
“How will I know when you need me, if you need me, when you won’t tell me what is going on?”
“You’ll know,” he murmured.
In the waning light a dark cloud came around a bend in the shoreline, floating toward them. The cloud undulated as thousands upon thousands of mosquitos buzzed around each other in a massive swarm that was headed straight for Jett and Ursula.
Despite its popularity, people had been avoiding the lake because of the swarm, but it wasn’t until the local salmon hatchery had been forced to temporarily close its doors for safety reasons, that the Haida elders had grown suspicious and asked Jett for help.
“That... is a lot of bugs,” Ursula marveled.
Jett didn’t reply. He concentrated on his connection to the earth mother and summoned the air around him to swirl. As the insects reached them, the air increased in a velocity overwhelming the biting flies forcing their tiny bodies into a tight circle formation like a baitfish ball. Trapped within the wind, the little beasties were pressed tighter and tighter together until the ball appeared to be a solid mass. The sound of their buzzing wings grew and grew as they desperately tried to fight the overpowering force. Jett never allowed his concentration to waiver as he held his arms open to each side with his hands rotated so that the palms faced each other. It was as if he were straining to compress an invisible beach ball between his hands. His body contorted as he fought to “squeeze” his hands together. The mass of insects began to coalesce into itself until it shuddered and morphed into a single entity and manifested as one great vibrating mass.
“I’m going to force it down,” Jett shouted over the frantic buzzing, “be ready!”
Ursula shouted back, confusion obvious in her voice, “Ready for what?!”
Jett focused his efforts on the enormous ball of mosquitos, then swirled his hands so his palms faced the ground, making an effort as if to push something slowly down into the earth.
The winds swirled faster and created a funnel, akin to a very small tornado or dust devil, but instead of mist or debris forming the funnel this one was created from the mosquito ball. The terminal end of the funnel slowly extended toward the ground and Jett continued to make a downward pushing motion with his hands until the funnel began to collapse onto itself. Ursula watched in astonishment as Jett controlled the winds with such precision that it seemed as though he were going to compress the funnel to the point it would crush every insect under the force of the winds at his command.
Given her dislike for the biting flies, she approved of the squishy plan, but quickly realized it was not to be as a sound began to thrum over the buzzing of wings and a glow illuminated from the interior of the mass of insects. The mass now no longer resembled something geometric, but had instead coalesced into the shape of a very, very large and grotesque man-like thing.
Then there was a flash of light, and a sudden cessation of sound as a humanoid, but in no way actually human, suddenly solidified. Its skin had a sickly green-grey pallor with deformed and malevolent features. Instantly it rose, roaring in defiance, and seeing that Jett was the source of its discontent, charged him.
Ursula was so stunned by the instantaneous trans
formation that she hesitated, albeit for only a split second, before crying out, “Ogre!” and sprinted to intercept the creature.
Jett was still in the partially meditative state that communing with the earth required, and was completely vulnerable as the ogre ran at him. The thing meant to tackle Jett, crush him beneath its weight and then rend him limb from limb, but Ursula was faster. She intercepted the creature and slammed full on into it with every bit of her six-foot frame propelled by her inordinate amount of strength and speed. Ursula, managed to catch the Ogre off guard and, being the daughter of an Ancient Bear Spirit, the severe force of the impact nearly bent the creature in half, but not before it had swung one massive arm at the still dazed Jett.
Jett felt the shock of the impact and a lightning bolt of pain, as the force of the blow lifted him from the ground and sent him flying into the lake. The massive impact should have been a lethal, bone-crushing blow akin to having been hit head-on by a speeding car but, although Jett did feel the wind being driven from his lungs, he was still fully conscious and functional. Just before he hit the water he heard Ursula scream his name, but then his mind registered the intense sensation of hitting the surface of the lake at a high speed, tumbling violently over and over, before coming to stop, as he sank into the cold waters that enveloped him.
Ursula could only hesitate for a split second before she had to turn back to the ogre. Shock and worry made her want to abandon the fight and run into the lake after Jett, but she knew better. She knew more about Jett than he knew about himself, and a piece of that knowledge was in regard to how much damage his body could now absorb. Still, the sight of her man being struck with such a lethal blow sent a jolt of fear through her soul that was impossible to ignore.
The ogre had turned its head to watch Jett soar high above the lake and when it turned back to Ursula it had a self-satisfied smirk upon its ugly face. It regarded her, eyes tracing over her body lustfully, as its tongue licked over its pock-covered lips while the smirk on its face began to shift into a lurid grin. Then it hesitated, the ogre’s face quickly lost every expression of confidence or lust as a low-pitched, vicious snarl, inhuman and terrifying, escaped from Ursula’s throat. The fact that Ursula was more than she appeared seemed to finally register in the ogre’s brain. It roared in challenge as it realized it was not facing prey, but another predator.
Suddenly, and completely unexpected by the Ogre, Ursula charged. Unaccustomed to facing anything that didn’t cower in fear before it, the ogre’s face lost all confidence and rage to be replaced by something that was more akin to fear as it stepped backward, almost as if contemplating retreat. Sensing that it couldn’t outrun this enemy, the ogre tried to ready itself for her attack, planting its feet and extending its deformed arms out, as if to catch her body upon impact.
The sound of their collision was tremendous and, although neither gave ground initially, the ogre was nearly a foot taller than Ursula so her lower center of gravity allowed her to drive the creature’s feet back toward the water. It opened its stinking maw, intending to bite, yet before its head could shoot forward to rip at her throat, Ursula drove her head underneath one stinking armpit and reached across to grab under the beast’s other arm. The leverage gained by the hold allowed her to sweep the ogre’s legs out before she lifted its nearly five-hundred-pound body off the ground, then used the momentum to twist and invert it, before she drove it head first into the earth with all of the thing’s weight and her massive strength behind the thrust.
The impact bent and compressed the ogre’s thick neck to its breaking point and, when the vertebrae actually snapped, a sound like gunshot exploded into the otherwise silent surrounding. Ursula stepped back as she watched for any additional signs of fight left in the beast, but the thing’s nervous system was compromised so severely that it could only lay limp on the shore where it had fallen. Ursula turned away from the body and looked to the water of the lake, praying to see that Jett had surfaced.
Chapter 4
Jett understood that his body was lying at the bottom of the lake, but the sights playing before his unblinking eyes revealed something very different. He was standing in a vast, open, snow covered landscape with no evidence of anything that might indicate Vancouver, Fairy Lake or the fact that he was about to drown. He was dry and warm despite his surroundings, and his vision registered only the white, pristine snow covering the ground as far as he could see. There was the occasional snowflake from the sky before it melded into the rest of the curious landscape. Everything about the area reminded him of the arctic environment where, less than six months ago, he had battled for the fate of the world against the ancient witch Kaylanna.
The memories shot through his mind and filled him with confusion for his current circumstance. He had gone home to Vancouver, hadn’t he? Jett took a moment to inspect his body instead of the landscape, and he saw he wasn’t still wearing the summer clothes he had put on this morning, before they set out for Fairy Lake. He was wearing buckskins, and not the ceremonial beaded and feathered ones he wore during ceremonies, but instead the simple and unadorned versions worn in the past for more mundane occasions.
Understanding dawned quickly, spurred on by the fact that he wasn’t near death and able to breathe comfortably despite knowing where his body actually resided. He was in a vision and not one of his own design. He had been called and had no choice but to respond.
“Hello?” Jett’s voice sounded normal as he spoke, but no one greeted him in return.
He surveyed his surroundings and had nearly turned completely around before he noticed the igloo in a space where he was sure it had not been a moment before. He could see smoke rising from the makeshift chimney, appearing as the only black item in the all-white environment. Jett headed for the structure, walking through the snow until he stood in front of the building’s opening, knowing it served as the only door.
“Hello?” Jett called into the structure. He was greeted with a warm flow of sweet smelling air that rolled over him as if beckoning him to come inside.
Hesitantly at first, Jett slowly knelt to enter through the small opening and then crawled in. The interior felt larger than the outside seemed to allow, and an aura of light spread throughout. Jett scanned the space until his eyes settled on the tiny figure of an old Inuit woman, curled with age and ensconced in various colorful furs. She was lying upon a single brown fur rug splayed out in front of her while lighting a line of individual wicks from an old whale oil lamp. When she turned to face Jett, her kind and smiling face made it obvious she was soundlessly signaling for Jett to be seated.
Carefully, Jett crawled into place and sat cross-legged in front of the old woman. The pair sat quietly as they regarded each other. Even though he had many questions, Jett knew he had to be careful how he proceeded, so he willed himself to remain silent and waited for the woman to speak first. He was pretty sure this “old woman” in front of him was anything but what she appeared and, although he wasn’t sensing anything malevolent, he had still been forced out of his reality and into this vision without his consent. Caution would be prudent in this case.
The old woman suddenly looked at Jett, as if in surprise, and then dropped her head before she said, “Be at peace, I mean you no harm, young one.”
Jett smiled, “You read my thoughts?”
The old woman inclined her head as she considered, “I can read your feelings, to be more precise. You do not know me, you sense no threat, but a small piece of your being objects to my having brought you here.”
When the woman finished, Jett gently amended her conclusion by saying, “I do not object to being here, or to the fact you brought me here. It’s because you simply took me from my plane without my consent, that a part of me finds objectionable. In any case, I’m here now and more than willing to assist you.”
The old woman nodded in understanding, but grew stern, “A mother does not ask permission of her children in how she raises them, nor shall I restrict myself when calling upo
n those who are in my service.”
Jett frowned, “Am I in your service?”
The woman smiled and her voice took on a gentle, grandmotherly tone, “Of course.”
Jett squinted his eyes as he regarded the woman, “Who are you?”
The old woman turned back to the fire and an unnatural illumination shone from her eyes as she spoke, “I have many names, however, since you most recently spent time with my children in the North; I have taken on this form for you”. The woman shifted on the furs and turned her body to face Jett as she opened her arms to him as if expecting a hug, “I am Pinga.”
It was such a simple statement that initially Jett hadn’t connected the words with the folklore he had learned. Then his eyes widened as his breath caught in his throat at the realization of whom he now sat before. He had learned of Pinga in his time with the Inuit, and knew her to be a very powerful and omnipresent spirit who watched over mankind, including their relationship with nature, specifically in the treatment of her animals. She was a Goddess of the hunt, and that particular aspect of her powers currently made Jett apprehensive, as she was also given to carry away the dead and, at times, non-dead with her into the underworld.
Jett wasn’t sure of the proper protocol when facing a possible god, so he simply lowered his head in as much of makeshift bow as his body could manage from his cross-legged position. Pinga smiled, as if finding the gesture humorous, yet she still responded with a slight bow of her own.
When Jett finally raised his head, he asked her, “So… Am I dead?”
Pinga regarded him patiently, “Is that really what you think?”
Jett hesitated, “No… I suppose not. Then, as much of an honor as this is Pinga, may I ask why you’ve brought me here?
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