Canyon Shadows

by C R Langille

  Dan knelt next to Randall, touching his arm gently. For the first time since he had seen his dead brother, Randall came to and looked around. The hurt of losing his brother still plagued his face, but his eyes held a calm demeanor. A sense of clarity washed over his features and he looked to Garrett.

  “I’m… I’m sorry. I just…” Randall said quietly hanging his head.

  “I understand, it’s okay,” Garrett said.

  Garrett walked over to the ravaged corpse that was the mockery of his daughter. He crouched next to the thing then turned back to Dan and Rusty.

  “You still haven’t answered my questions. What’s going on, and what are you? Both of you?”

  Randall looked to Rusty and Dan, and it was plain by the look on his face that he wanted answers as well. He folded his arms and stood next to Garrett.

  Dan returned the stares with a grim one of his own. He lifted his head to the heavens and gritted his teeth. His wings began to fold upon themselves, cracking and popping. Dan gritted his teeth as they folded and rolled inward. With one final grunt of pain, the wings disappeared into his body, and he fell forward to his knees. There was a red glow where the wings had been, but seconds later there was nothing but Dan’s wing tattoo, an artful simile of what had once been.

  Dan stood, opened the door to the Bronco, and motioned for them all to get inside.

  “Come on, we got to move. I’ll try and explain on the way. We need to try and get to Allison before she is offered to It.”

  Garrett opened his mouth as another question tried to force its way from his mouth, but before the renegade question could get a word out, Rusty let out a yell.

  “Shotgun!”

  Rusty ran to the passenger side and hopped up into the seat. Randall shot one more glance to his brother’s body then moved into the back of the Bronco. Garrett walked past Dan and stopped.

  “Answers. I need answers,” he said.

  “Just get in,” Dan replied.

  ***

  Allison lost all sense of direction as the Trisha-thing carried her. The thing didn’t care about comfort as they made their way through rocks and trees. Branches hit her in the face, scraping skin and causing all sorts of cuts and bruises to appear. Finally, they stopped, and Allison struggled to get loose, but the thing’s grasp was like tempered steel, unwilling to break.

  “Go,” the man with the book said.

  Trisha let out a small giggle and started moving Allison along again. She caught glimpses of a cliff wall and then lost her breath as they bounded upward. She looked up and saw it—the cliff dwelling. The structures bounced jarringly in her vision, but there was no mistaking their forms.

  Without warning, the creature’s head blocked her view, and all she saw was a grotesque mockery of Trisha’s face.

  “He waits for you. He waits deep in the mountain!” it screeched like a monstrous parrot.

  The pair arrived at the dwellings. Allison couldn’t figure out how the thing could climb so quickly, let alone carrying her along with it, but she let the question go. The Trisha-thing moved quicker and with more purpose the further they went, as if being close to the mountain made it stronger.

  The creature patiently waited as Troy made his way up the cliff. As he reached the dwelling, the thing lurched forward and dragged Allison to the back near one of the structures. A massive boulder with ancient Anasazi petroglyphs stood before them. The thing moved the boulder away as if it weighed nothing at all, revealing a dark staircase. Without hesitation, it took off down the stairs. Troy became smaller and smaller as he trailed behind until he disappeared entirely into the darkness. It was in the darkness that she heard the whispers.

  ***

  “Where are we going?” Rusty asked.

  “To my place. I have something that we’ll need. It’s on the way,” Dan replied.

  “I can’t believe they summoned that thing. I’ve never seen one that close before. It reminded me of something I ate in a cheap sushi house,” Rusty said.

  “It’s made its move. To throw the power through another being and allow it to reach into the darkness and pull that abomination out was reckless, even for It,” Dan stated plainly. “Not to mention manifesting Garrett’s dead wife and daughter,” Dan said as he shot a glance to the back seat. “Not your real wife and daughter, just shades.”

  Before Garrett could respond, Rusty piped in.

  “Even so, nice move, taking it for a first-class flight to Hell.”

  “It almost took me back to Hell,” Dan said. “Thank you for the sacrifice. I know how difficult it is to come by those weapons.”

  “Well, you owe me,” Rusty said, serious again.

  Dan nodded, and Garrett sensed that a binding contract had been signed. A few seconds later, he cleared his throat and leaned closer to the two in the front seat.

  “Um, so what exactly is going on? What do you mean by shades? And what are you guys?”

  “Do you remember the story I told you?” Rusty asked Garrett.

  “Yeah, something about a coyote stealing a bag of stars or something?”

  “Yep, that’s the one. It was true,” Rusty said looking out into the night sky.

  “I was curious. I wanted to know how many were in there, plus I couldn’t help myself. I thought it would be a great joke to steal the stars. Well when the inevitable happened, and they all spilled into the dark sky, it was a brilliant sight to behold. The show caught something’s attention, allowing it to zero in on the Earth.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Garrett said, his rational mind still fighting for control, still attempting to put what was happening into something he could comprehend.

  “When It arrived, the entire world rose up to fight, even his kind marched to destroy It,” Rusty said nodding his head toward Dan.

  “What do you mean ‘his kind’?” Randall asked.

  “Angels. The legions from both above and below, agents of the new God formed a temporary truce and combined their forces and fought the thing.”

  “You’re an angel?” Garrett asked.

  “Technically, not anymore. I followed Lucifer, and God cast me out too when he fell. I’m Fallen.”

  “He’s trying to do better—a good deed a day or something like that. He thinks if he does enough good he could get back into the graces of his God.”

  “A Fallen Angel?” Randall asked.

  “Danjal, First Cohort of the Third Legion of Hell.”

  Garrett didn’t know what to think. If he hadn’t seen the man sprout wings and fly with his own two eyes, there was no way this story would even be somewhat plausible. After a moment, Garrett turned his attention back to Rusty.

  “So, then you are an angel too?” Garrett asked.

  “No, I’m Coyote Spirit. The Trickster if you will. In the flesh and fur. Been around just as long as our avian friend here.” Rusty put a hand up to cover his mouth from Dan and mouthed the word “longer” to Garrett and Randall.

  “Wait, what the hell do you mean? I don’t remember anything like you in the Bible,” Garrett said.

  “That’s the problem with you humans, so single-minded. You get tunnel vision, man! What, you think one religion is correct and the rest are make believe? There are hints of truth in almost every faith.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Garrett said. “Are you saying there are all these different Gods and whatnot out there?”

  “You aren’t meant to get it,” Dan said. “Understand this, though. If this thing, the Dark Tyrant as some call it, gets loose, then the world will fall into Chaos. It thrives on Chaos. But it needs a host powerful enough to hold that kind of energy. It’s been trapped on this planet, broken into pieces.”

  “It’s never gotten out before?” Garrett asked.

  “Small pieces of its essence have leaked out or have found temporary vessels to t
ravel in, but no, it has never been free to roam the planet. The results would be devastating, to say the least.”

  “It would make his book of revelations look like a Winnie the Pooh book,” Rusty said.

  “Pieces? There are more of this thing out there?” Garrett asked.

  “Yes, upon entry into this world’s atmosphere, it broke into pieces and fell to the ground, scattering to the winds and corrupting everything in its path,” Rusty said solemnly.

  “The Legions of Heaven and Hell watch for signs of reemergence,” Dan said.

  “They like to watch, not much else,” Rusty said with a sneer, his mirth temporarily leaving his face.

  “I have my orders,” Dan shot back.

  “Look where following orders got you,” Rusty snapped back.

  Dan shot Rusty a look, and Garrett felt a familiar pressure building in the Bronco as both men started pushing at one another with their energies.

  “Hey! Let’s focus on what’s going on!” Garrett said trying to diffuse the situation.

  “He’s right. This isn’t the time, Trickster.” Dan said.

  “I don’t want a repeat of what happened before; it could have been avoided,” Rusty growled, his eyes shifting from canine to human.

  “What is he talking about?” Garrett asked.

  “It’s in the past. Let it be,” Dan said to Garrett and Rusty both.

  Dan pulled the Bronco to a halt in front of his cabin. He put the gear into park and got out.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  Dan ran into the cabin and came out a moment later. He was holding what looked to be a four-foot pole wrapped in fine cloth. The cloth was a dark purple color, but it somehow caught the moonlight, reflecting it back in a thousand different directions in a soft pinwheel.

  Before Dan got back into the Bronco, he pulled the cloth off the item, revealing a long slender sword. It was made of a dark red metal that neither Garrett nor Randall had ever seen before and had a slight curve at the end. A ricasso with ebony filigree decorated the blade above a small crossguard of the same metal that twisted out three inches on either side. The grip was wrapped in a black cloth, and the pommel held a dark blue stone that appeared to eat any ambient light around it. The weapon both awed and sickened Garrett as he looked upon it.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Rusty asked.

  “A Warbrand,” Dan said admiring the blade. “Made by Beelzebub’s master weapon smith in the Seventh Circle of Hell. Its name is Ishiel. It means ‘wicked’ in your tongue. It is infused with hellfire, and the handle is wrapped in a piece of Death’s robe. The weapon has few equals, and it has tasted the essence of gods in its time. It’s time for it to taste the blood of He who dwells under the mountain.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  November 6, 1180

  We have found a moment of respite, and I feel inclined to document this in hopes that if I don’t make it out alive, at least the story may make it back.

  Like fools, we followed them into a trap. The descent into the darkness once again strained our senses. The obsidian monolith pulsed with new life, and we kept our distance at the behest of the village elder.

  Shortly after leaving the cavern with the monolith, we came to a larger opening. I could faintly hear the mewling of someone in great pain. We came upon the tortured soul, and the light of our torches cast the shadows away from the figure. Sir Ralph, stripped and crucified on the rock wall, cried in agony. His tongue had been torn from his mouth, yet he still lived despite the amount of blood that had spewed from his mouth.

  When we tried to get him down, he laughed in a mad manner, and his eyes took on an inky darkness. The attack came quickly and from all sides. We lost many in the skirmish, but God Almighty saw fit to spare us, and we prevailed.

  My men fought valiantly, but one caught my attention. His movements were unlike any other fighter I ever witnessed, as if he had a grace that was beyond the natural. I also noticed that the village elder fought with an obsidian knife with similar markings to those found on the monolith. I mean to confront him about it later, if and when we get out of this dark place.

  Sir Ralph grew still during the battle. I mean to retrieve his body and give him a proper Christian burial when we leave; however, there is no time at the moment. Our brief rest has come to an end, and the village elder is motioning us that it is time to move on. We are close to whatever darkness has hold of this area. I can feel it.

  -Sir William Brock

  Deep Under the Mountain, Utah

  Allison lost her sense of direction. She knew that they descended a set of stairs for a long time and passed a nearby obsidian monolith with odd sigils adorned upon its slick surface, but after that, she drifted in and out of awareness.

  As they descended, Allison found that she was able to see general details in the darkness. The longer she moved through the tunnels, the more she could see through the dark. It wasn’t due to any natural lighting; it was as if she could always see in the dark. It was natural.

  The Trisha-thing had a tight grip on her body, and it was hard to breathe. The further down they went, the louder the whispers became.

  At first, she thought it was either Trisha or the man with the book, but in time she knew deep down that it wasn’t. It was something else entirely, and it was happy to have her.

  Such things to show you. Such things to tell you. Soon, you and I will be joined.

  Those were the words repeated the most. There were other things in the darkness, things that spoke to her, told her lies, told her truths. She tried to forget them as soon as they entered her mind. Some things sent her mind reeling, and as she tried to reason against the implications of such atrocious things that the whispers told her, she would start to laugh or cry, and once she even started to hyperventilate.

  Each time she would make a noise, the Trisha-thing’s head would swivel around and look at her with amusement. Most of the time it would chirp or cackle with a macabre mirth and continue down the path.

  She started to hyperventilate and was about to pass out when the man with the book called out.

  “Stop,” Troy said. “Let her down.”

  Trisha dropped Allison on the ground and took a couple of steps back. Allison took in a deep breath trying to fill her lungs. Troy crouched down beside her, cradling the book in both hands between his legs.

  “Breathe,” he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  A chill spread from his touch into her entire body. It was slightly painful, but she could breathe normally again. Once the amazement of functioning lungs left her, she shrank away from his hand.

  Troy looked at his hand in awe. He clenched his fist a couple of times and then stared at Allison.

  “Amazing,” he murmured. “It’s no wonder you were chosen. I can feel the power deep inside you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Allison asked, hugging her shoulders and leaning against the cold stone at her back.

  “Yes, can’t you feel it?” Troy’s eyes were glowing orange, bright in the dark cavern. Allison shuffled even further away.

  “He will be pleased. I’m sure you have sensed your own power,” Troy stated plainly. After a moment, when she didn’t respond, he scratched at his chin. “No? I’m surprised. I can feel it boiling beneath the surface of your skin, raging and fighting against your body like a tidal wave. He will wrench it from you and use it. If it weren’t his desire to ride your flesh, I would cut that power from you and drink it myself.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  Troy stood up and smiled. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. The light from the small flame burned Allison’s eyes, and she looked away. For several moments after, phantom images of the lighter danced in front of her eyes, playfully jumping to wherever she was looking.

  “Because it is what’s meant
to be!” Troy said. “He commands, and I obey. It’s much easier when you don’t fight it. You’ll find that out quickly.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “You will be offered to Him! You are the host and shall be the vessel for His resurgence. It is a great honor.”

  “What if I refuse?” Allison asked, her voice so low it was almost a whisper.

  “Refuse all you like; it will make no difference.”

  Troy took another drag of the cigarette and nodded to the creature beside him. It snatched Allison back up and ran further into the mountain.

  ***

  Dan killed the engine and pulled the key. The vehicle’s headlights blinked off leaving nothing but the moonlight to illuminate the scene. Garrett got out of the Bronco and stared up. A massive cliff climbed into the sky, shadowed in the darkness of the nearby canyon wall. Even though it was dark, Garrett could make out the silhouettes of multiple structures built into the rock face above him.

  Dan stepped out and started rooting around in the back compartment of the vehicle. He pulled out a couple of police-issue shotguns and handed one each to Garrett and Randall.

  “There’s a box of shells there. Split them up between the two of you. There aren’t many, so use the shots sparingly,” Dan said, pointing to an old duffel bag.

  Randall looked at the weapon like it was going to come alive and bite him at any moment. Garrett took the shotgun and brought it to his shoulder and aimed at a nearby rock. He repeated the motion a couple of times then nodded in approval to Dan.

  While Garrett split the shells up, Rusty paced back and forth like a caged lion at a zoo. He continuously looked up to the cliff dwellings and back at the moon.

  “This isn’t good, man. Can you feel the change?” Rusty asked.

  “Yes. Shit’s about to get real. You sure you two want to be a part of this?” Dan asked.

  “How are we going to get up there?” Garrett replied, engaging the pump on the shotgun and chambering a shell.

  Dan pointed to an old ladder that was built into the cliff wall.