The Second Coming (29 page)

“
What the—“

The dirt
around Brahm’s feet exploded and sent her flying. She rolled, and
paused, shaken. Lya was free and standing, as if the blast had not
even touched her. She took a jagged rock and sliced open her own
hand. She screamed and uttered words in a hideous tongue while she
etched symbols into the dirt.

Waves of
energy flooded through Brahm. The air shimmered. The two Hunters
rose into the air. Fear blazed in their eyes and they reached for
their throats. They gasped for breath. The rage in Lya’s face was
seething. A silent scream emanated from the Hunters’ mouths as they
burned under an invisible fire. Their flesh trickled from their
bodies. A cold presence swept through the trees and Brahm cradled
herself. She kept her soul resident in her body, not wanting to
touch whatever the girl had unleashed. The carnage lasted for what
appeared an eternity as the Hunters’ bodies dripped to the ground
in steaming puddles.

Brahm turned
from the sight.

White Feather,
waist-deep in the river, removed his dagger from the chest of
another and abandoned the body to float downstream. Diarmuid
parried with one of the Hunters. Lya divined dark fire with one
hand and flung it at the Hunter. The flames licked at the man's
body, and he shrieked in pain. He dropped his silver cross before
he could stop her.

The remaining
Hunters fled for help.

Lya screamed
again and the power she had summoned flooded off her in waves. The
trees shook as she lowered her arms and then dropped to her knees.
The souls of darkness she had called upon wailed as they departed.
Brahm crawled over to the girl. The second soul within her
sobbed.

They were
interrupted by Night's presence.

*
More come
.
We will lead them astray, but you
must go
.
You are
marked as one of my own, Orenda
.
Word will go through the land
.
You will always have
aid
.
Be
well
.
And
remember, the gift is temporary.*

Brahm smiled
inwardly as she nodded to the wolf. She had a bond with him she
never expected.

“
He talks,” Lya croaked.

Brahm looked
at Diarmuid. “More Hunters are coming.”

-It’s
her!-

Despite the
fatigue that swept over her, Brahm rose. She brushed the thick
strands of black hair from the girl's face. “We have to go.
Now.”

Lya nodded,
her eyes still shining with the remnants of whatever she had
summoned. Her legs faltered.

“
Talon is dead,” she whispered.

Brahm pulled
her up. “I know.”

Within
moments, White Feather approached with the horses in tow. They
mounted, Lya clinging to Diarmuid, and made for the road as fast
their horses would carry them.

***

Night watched
as the horses galloped down the road, a cloud of dust marking their
trail.

Humans.

An amused grin
stretched across his muzzle, a memory from long ago.

He scratched
at the back of his ear, and sniffed the air, catching the lingering
smell of the Lastborn girl.

Not fully, though
.
There was an interesting mix
.

Some human,
some Sidhe, and, when he savored the smell long enough, even
something not seen in countless years.

Her powers are
impressive, but tainted.

The wolf sniffed again and recalled Fang's summons. Yet her
message through the clans was vague.
Change is coming
.
Watch for the Lastborn girl
.

She had left
something out; something too important to be carried on the howls
of wolves. It sat like week-old mutton in the depth of his
bowels.

Night sneezed.
Bull thistle always tickled his nose.

He caught the
scent of the twin-souled woman, still thick on the air. He gave
what help he could to Orenda, but it would not be enough.

She requires rest.
He could smell it
on her.

Her power
intrigued him as well. He had not seen its kind, not once in his
long years.

A new power to
match the old, perhaps?

Fang whispered
of it once. He wondered how many others possessed such a
talent.

At least one, within the encampment
.
One who was
watching
.

He sneezed
again. He would keep that to himself until he met with Fang.

Bane
approached him, head lowered, gaze shifting.

*The Hunters come.
*

The river
trickled with blood.

More will die before the day is out
.

He craned his
neck and howled, and then scampered west.

Good luck to you, Orenda
.
May you return from the Forgotten
Realm
.

***

Hours later,
the four stumbled upon a small village. An overwhelming weakness
stole over Brahm as she dismounted. She reached to Roan for
support, but missed and collapsed to the ground. Her head sagged
and her eyesight clouded, a milky white haze covering the world.
Blackness overcame her and Brahm heard two things — White Feather
calling her name and her second soul screaming at her.

-Fool!-

The winds of
the North Moors were sodden with the scent of caribou. Gault
scratched his nose and then cleared it in a small puddle, the
yellow mucous staining its clear waters. He sheathed the kahbeth
across his back and perched himself upon a large rock, letting the
late afternoon sun bake his thick hide. He removed the polar bear
head from his crown, the sign of his status as a shaman among the
Obek. About twenty yards before him stood a wolf with its head
cocked to the side.

He let out a
hearty laugh at the sight of it. “What is it, brother wolf? Never
seen Obek?”

The wolf
lowered its head, its eyes never leaving his. Gault sat, waiting.
It studied him before it took two more cautious steps. He knew why
it was there, and he waited with a crooked smile upon his gray
face. The wolf inched closer and then delivered its message, the
smells of hatred and loathing accompanying its visions.

The Obek
cleared his nose again and the wolf darted off, heading back to the
forest of scotch pines that thrived to the south. Its news cast a
curtain of despair on his heart. Haven and Lindhome were lost.
Perhaps the Obek were next. He muttered a curse, and plucked a
clump of purple heather from the earth. It would bring inner
peace.

The old Obek
rose, looking towards those he had hand-picked to accompany him.
They meditated in a circle, giving their bodies a rest from the
great run.

But a run to
where now?

He had
received Orenda's message, and they were on their way to Haven's
aid. He lowered his head, and muttered a small prayer for the souls
of the dead.

May the Gods keep them
.

He thought of
Orenda and raised his face to the sun's rays. Something was not
well with her. A chill swept through him, as if Sedna, the great
Sea Goddess of the north, breathed down his neck. He sensed that
Orenda’s presence in the world was lacking, weak, like she lay
between the world of the living and the land of the dead. He owed
her much for his nephew’s life.

Soul for soul,
life for life, blood for blood.

He grabbed the
rabbit-hide sack tied to his waist, and shook its contents three
times. He uttered a small prayer to the gods to grant him vision,
and then upturned the sack on the moss-covered earth. Four Obek
finger bones collapsed to the ground; two in a heap and two off to
the side. The Bone of War, red for blood, pointed southeast.

He examined the two piled together, the black and the
green.
Life mixing with Death.

Orenda walks the Forgotten Realm
.

His fingers
immediately began twitching a spell. His thick lips muttered other
words; a second incantation — a spell of complement. He then
sluiced off a portion of his own soul and winced with the pain of
it.

Soul for
soul.

The portion
flew off into the world, with a voice to summon her back from
whatever dark abyss she had descended into. Then Gault examined the
fourth bone, stark white. It was crooked and had fallen into a
small crevice, pointing into the depths of the Earth. Gault was
unsure of how to read the Bone of Peace.

What did it
mean?

He scooped up
the bones and returned them to the sack, making his way quietly to
the rest of his clan. He settled his aging body in the spot
reserved for him at the northern crest of the circle. He closed
both sets of eyelids, and slowed his breathing.

The answer
would come.

***

Paine drifted
in a land that was not land, in a white void where sensation was an
empty feeling inside him. He attempted to step forward, but could
not move his legs. His arms hung limp at his side. He opened his
mouth to speak but no words fell from his lips. His head sat like
stone upon his shoulders. He tried to breathe, but his chest would
not move.

A darkness
inside him worked its way up, brimming at the edge of his throat.
It threatened to vomit. Paine swallowed it down.

In the white
void of a distance, he caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-skinned
woman. She looked familiar. He knew her. He opened his mouth to
speak, but a low, wicked laugh vibrated in his bones. Paine
struggled to see what was behind him. He recognized the voice.

Something
whirled him about, and before him stood a demon, the one that
haunted his nightmares. With it were the dead, hundreds of souls.
And they were bedecked in robes of red. They danced around him with
cloven feet.

The demon
cocked its head, watching Paine and it moved forward, muttering the
words of a spell he could not hear. Its yellow eyes glowed within
the dark hood and it wore a tattered robe that fell short of its
hoofed feet. In its claws it held a black leash, which circled
Paine's neck. The demon leaned in towards him, its breath heavy and
wet, and pulled back the hood.

Paine opened
his mouth in a silent scream as his own horned face stared back at
him.

***

A tall,
dark-skinned woman stood in a land inundated with trees of green
bark and sable leaves. She did not recognize the towering giants
that shot upwards. They were rigid and tall. That made her want to
remember someone, but who?

She laughed,
but did not understand why.

A carpet of
moss and peat covered the bog that was the forest floor, and she
sniffed. She found only dead air.

A dark feeling
overshadowed the forest, a presence that could only be described as
despair. She shuddered.

Where am I?
Who am I?

She lifted her
legs to step through the moss, and struggled to pull her feet from
the soft ground. She slogged forward and twitched her ears to
listen.

No sounds
.
What is this place?

She didn't
remember coming here. She didn't remember anything. There was
nothing but the present, as if her life had begun in the moment she
found herself standing among the great trees. She felt no thirst or
hunger. She felt nothing. There was only the bog forest, a
never-ending maze of mammoth trees.

Through the
marsh she walked, her breathing labored, her legs sore. Something
moved at the corner of her eye and she thought she saw the horns of
a great stag, but it vanished before she could make it out. She
continued on and wondered when she would find the end of the
forest, and stumbled upon a large body of water, a muddied
reflection of what she knew it should be.

How do I know
that?

The trees
disappeared, leaving her standing on the still, shimmering surface
of the sea. She looked about, but found only water, smooth as
glass.

The woman
thought it strange. She knew she should not be able to walk on
water.

How do I know that?
What happened to
the trees?

She strode
forward.

Across the
water she walked, and the sun beamed upon her naked form. Her long
fingers caressed the smooth dark skin of her arms. They were like
buttermilk.

That made her
want to pleasure herself, but neither the mounds upon her chest nor
the opening between her legs took delight in it.

The water
under her bare feet felt dry as earth and offered no cooling touch.
Time was lost to her as she walked; yet in a time that was not
time, she came upon land. She stepped onto the beach and the water
abandoned her as the trees had done, leaving her to stand in the
midst of a vast desert. Wind blew and sandstorms rose, yet the
sands did not sting her bare flesh. She strode across the desert
and did not feel the heat that scorched the land.

Before her, a
small bush rose from the sands, its branches aflame with tongues of
red fire that did not consume the lush leaves or course bark. She
approached the bush and in her mind a voice thundered.

*
I am
.*

The fire
spread, igniting the land in a sea of crimson flame, searing
everything except the woman and the bush. The voice thundered
again.

*
I am.*

The bush
succumbed to the flames and burnt to dust before her eyes, leaving
the woman to walk across a lake of fire and brimstone. She
continued on, knowing of no other purpose.