Darkness

Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Eighteen
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We made it back to our stronghold without incident. We traveled as fast as possible- even to the point of exceeding the speed limit somewhat. Bucky’s troops would have taken longer to mobilize. It would have been difficult for them to catch up to us, without being very conspicuous. Knowing that, I doubt that they even sent out pursuit.


Nonetheless, we couldn’t assume that; so we split up and each group was on full alert all the way home. When we got back, we all crashed and caught up on some well-needed rest. Fourteen hours later, we called a strategy session.

As I have said- Kindred ability to organize only goes up to a certain limited number of individuals. I seemed to have been appointed leader of our sub-clan; with Lemuel; Laura; Modok; Cletus; and Earl as my Lieutenants. That’s how we’d plotted the attack on Bucky’s stronghold. We’d planned the assault on a single point of the fence; and one of the five entrances. We hadn’t even had quite enough people to handle that; so several autonomous squads had joined us. We’d simply told them what we intended to do and what we intended- through necessity- to leave undone.


We formed the cutting edge. They made their own plans as to how they’d back us up and provide a rear guard. We’d shared what we intended to do; with the other sub-clans; and they had planned their own assault on other points in the fence and other entrances. It would have driven a human military leader to distraction; but it worked tolerably well for the Kindred.


“He’s not going to quit. We need to organize an attack as soon as possible, while we have an advantage. Nothing less than total victory will do”, I said.


“I’m not sure that we can kill your brother. He is even more powerful than I am”, Pretty interjected.


“I thought you told me you were twenty years old, back when we first met”, I Said.


“I first told you that it didn’t matter. When you asked again, I said that I had twenty summers. That wasn’t a lie. I did have twenty Summers- and many more beside. I didn’t lie when I told you that I was a virgin.”


“And having me teach you?”


“That was in earnest. Though I’ve lived long, I’d never studied Mathematics; Electronics; Programming or much of anything technical; until you showed me how easy it all was.”


“What exactly are you?” I asked.


“I don’t know exactly. My mother died giving birth to me. She couldn’t summon the orange flame; but my grandmother could. What little I could gather from the few other slaves from our area, my mother and I were a race apart; and the last of our kind. They thought we were divine. Perhaps that is why the true God punished us- for presumption.
“Whatever scanty information my mother may have possessed, died with her. I first summoned the orange flame- quite unconsciously, at the age of sixteen. When I was twenty, it had grown strong and reliable enough that I could rely on it. I escaped, and excepting the time your brother has held me captive, I’ve been free ever since.”


“What’s the deal with the aura of darkness Bucky seems to project?” I continued.


“He seems to draw all the light out of an area. I’ve never seen anything like it”, Pretty said.


“Our memories are long. Some of the Kindred have over twice Pretty’s summers. We have books going back over a thousand years; and chants and stories over twice that far. We have encountered Pretty’s ancestors more than once. We’ve met many non-human species. We’ve never seen anything like it anywhere”, Lemuel added gravely.


“Why did it affect Laura so much more strongly than the rest of us?” I asked.


“In some way, Bucky’s eyelessness facilitates him drawing energy- if that’s the correct word- from some very powerful and almost certainly evil source. Anyone eyeless would be much more susceptible. I wasn’t even on the podium and it hit me hard- and I have one eye”, Lemuel said.


They all gave me a funny look- all except Laura, who didn’t look at all.


“My brother has no eyes. It not my fault!” I said.


Maybe I protested a bit too loud. Maybe I’d been the half of the egg that wanted to separate. Maybe I’d kicked Bucky in his eye buds somewhere early on; and caused him to develop abnormally. I can’t prove that it’s not my fault that my brother had no eyes. I thought that perhaps they were reasoning along those lines too.


“Of course you aren’t to blame- like I’m not responsible for Laura”’ Lemuel stated.


“What’s that violet colored flame Bucky was using?” I asked.


“That was a product of technology”, Pretty said. “If Bucky could command a violet flame, it would be hopeless.”


“Why so?” I asked.


“Think of your spectrum: ROY G BIV- Red; Orange; Yellow; Green; Blue; Indigo; Violet. Violet would be the most powerful emanation by far- but it wasn’t an emanation- just a purple machine-made pain ray” Pretty explained.


“Well then, I can only think of one more question then. Why do Bucky’s followers call him ‘The One True Light’, when he broadcasts darkness? I mean, my brother has no eyes. They don’t call him ‘The Argus-Eyed’?”


“I met an Argus-Eyed onetime”, Pretty Said.


“So have I”, Lemuel added.


“Argus was a single individual, not a race; and he’s supposed to have died long ago”, I protested.


“Only in Greek Mythology; and they got their facts crossed a number of times in the old legends” Lemuel said.


“Tell me about it!” Pretty agreed wholeheartedly.


“There was quite a bit of speculation in Transcendentalist circles back during the nineteenth century- way back before Lasers were even a theory- that a light so bright that it instantly burned out the retina, would be perceived as darkness”, Modok Said.


“Damn Modok, you really wearing the Kindred library out”, I said.


“Are you implying that I couldn’t have studied Transcendental Philosophy back when I was a drug addict, and a dope dealer?” Modok asked.


He sounded genuinely aggrieved.


“Gosh no, Modok. I’m sure lot’s of crack dealers study New England Transcendentalism”, I apologized.


“Damn straight! Anyway, maybe a complete numbing of all moral sense, is perceived by the carnal being as liberation and enlightenment”, Modok Said.


“Modok done been deep”, I said dryly. “Look, can we get nuclear capability in a reasonable amount of time? I think the risk that Bucky poses to all mankind is great enough to make any collateral casualties acceptable. If the Kindred can’t stop him, then mankind can’t. If we go down, he’ll rule the world for centuries. I doubt that mankind would ever fully recover.”


Just then a messenger came running into the room.


“The Tuatha De’Dannon are here. They say they have an urgent need to speak to Light-Breaker”, he stammered.


“Come along everyone” I said.


“They didn’t summon us. They summoned you” Lemuel objected.


“You’re hankerin’ to see them ain’t you? Anyway, y’all have as much reason to call them kin as I do. Pretty represents a people in her own right; and I believe that since Modok shed his blood in my service, that he’s legally as much my brother by Kindred law, as Bucky is. Besides that, I am in charge here. I won’t have my authority questioned by a bunch of Haints from Southern Indiana,” I said.


“Aren’t you from Southern Indiana?”


“I’m not a Haint”, I retorted.


There was six of the Tuatha De’ Dannon. They were tall; exceedingly fair; and they all had long straight flaming red hair. Their eyes seemed almost hypnotic.


“You are planning a Nuclear Strike against the eyeless one “, one of them began, without preamble or the formality of introducing himself.


“No, we’re not psychic” another answered. “We extrapolate from what our own tactics would be, were we in your position.”


“However, we have knowledge and perspective that you lack. All the elder races have united; and they bid you stop. You must find another way.”


“Tell all the elder races to bug off. I will stand alone against them. I’ll defeat them all, one at a time; or all at once. Matters not to me” I said, feeling the great wisdom that comes with blind rage.


“You might very well be capable of that. However, even success would bring defeat, in the end. The last of the Tuatha De’Dannon; the Kindred; and the Hellspawn- even allied with all mankind; and supplemented with your mechanical soldiers- wouldn’t be able to stand against the Bitch. It isn’t even really a matter of power. She’s practically immortal- even by our standards. She’s very devious. Over the long haul; she’d wear you down. Many humans are susceptible to her voice- particularly in these degenerate days. You can’t afford to destroy the other elders that way.”


“Who is this Bitch you speak of?”


“Have you not heard of Gaea- The Great Earth Mother? She exists as an emergent consciousness- from a combination of all living things- with the exception of the self-aware: the elder races; some of mankind; dogs; a few of the other fairly advanced mammals are partly- or in individual cases, completely free of her influence.”


He paused, and another who hadn’t spoke yet, picked up the narrative thread.


“She is for instinct and against logic. She favors the hive- the collective- over the individual. She is the ultimate meta-hive, the hive created from other hives; and swarms of hives. She is the great collective. She has always struggled to keep intelligence from arising or failing that- to keep it stunted; perverted; and in her service. She means mankind no good.”


“Wait a second. You’re trying to snow me. There is one source for the evil in the world. It isn’t Gaea. It’s Satan; the Devil; Lucifer; Beelzebub; Old Scratch. He has many names; but he is one. He’s masculine, as are all his henchmen. You can’t fool me. There is no Gaea.”


“Oh but there is. We didn’t know that you were aware of the fallen one. Let us say that Gaea is a not quite sentient tool of Satan- far larger; with far more number-crunching power than your Luftwaffe; but similar in concept.”


“So what are we to do then?” I asked.


“The elder races have called an all-thing. You and you brother will attend. You’ll settle your differences in hand-to-hand combat, before the assemblage. I only hope that you can prevail- though I see little hope of that. Your brother is tapped straight into Gaea. If he manages to summon the Darkness, you will be lost.”


“I don’t think so” I said all singy-songy. “He tried his Darkness on me; and Pretty; Laura; even Modok. We not only survived- although it was a close thing- but I’d honestly argue that we won.”


“How could any of you have survived in the face of such pure demonic evil?” The first speaker marveled.


“Wait a second, did you say that the Darkness is demonic?” I asked.


“The roots of Gaea reach straight down into hell.”


“Well then, there’s your answer”, I said. “I am a Christian.A Christian can’t be possessed by a demon. He has the Holy Ghost inside of him. The Holy Ghost is all-powerful. It’s laughable to think of him being displaced by a demon. Although a Christian can be oppressed and thwarted by demonic forces at times; he can never be possessed by them.”


The Tuatha De’Dannon were all flabbergasted.


“We didn’t know that it was possible for Kindred to become Christians.”


“Oh it’s quite possible. Most of them are. Isn’t it possible for you?”


“We aren’t human. We don’t stand in quite the same relationship to the creator as y’all…Actually, I don’t know. This raises a number of questions….”


“The eyeless female is a Christian?” asked one who’d yet to speak.


“Saved; Sanctified; and Baptized in the Holy Ghost- with the evidence of speaking in other tongues” Laura Stated in with satisfaction. “ Member of The Church of God in Christ.”


“I’m an Elder in The Church of God in Christ” Lemuel stated.


“I just got saved a few weeks ago. I’ve been Saved; and Sanctified; and baptized in water; but I’m still waiting for the Baptism of The Holy Ghost” Modok Chimed in.


“Isn’t the Church of God in Christ a black church?” one of the Tuatha De’Dannon asked.


“Historically it has been a black church. Even today, for historical reasons, most of the members are black; but we prefer to say that we’re a Multi-Cultural Church; since everyone is welcome. Actually, most of our churches around here are about fifty-fifty; fifty percent human; fifty percent Kindred” Lemuel explained.


“You may have a chance against your brother then, Here, take this”, one elder said, while handing me a sword.


“This is a Cold Steel ‘Hand-and-a-Half-Sword’ “ I said in puzzlement. “They cost about three hundred fifty bucks.”


The elder shrugged.


“It’s as good as anything we could make. It does have some custom Runes; we’ve retempered it; and rewrapped the handle. Hope you groove on the ivory and the semi-precious stones.”


He then handed Lemuel a set of coordinates.


“Be here a few days before Mid-Summer, The duel is on Mid-Summer’s day. We’ll talk more then. Bring all your people. There will be a general truce.”

With that the Tuatha De’Dannon rose and walked out- leaving me with a hell of a lot to ponder.


“By the way, where’s the rendezvous” Modok asked.


“Somewhere in The Brooks Range” Lemuel told him distractedly, as he studied the paper.


.....RVM45

 

Chapter Nineteen

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Chapter Nineteen
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We arrived at the All-Thing a couple of days ahead of time, just as the Tuatha De’Dannon had suggested. It had all the trappings of a medieval freak show. Well, I guess in this context, I’d better be more specific. It looked like I’d imagine that a medieval freak show would have looked. I’m not old enough to remember first hand- though some of the oldest of the Kindred might. A couple of the Tuatha De’Dannan claim to have set eyes on Solomon’s first temple- though sometime after Solomon had passed away.


Modok and I walked around. We saw some big hairy nasty dudes- maybe nine foot tall, stinky and oily. They all had a single blood-shot, fist-sized eye in the center of their foreheads.


“Lemuel was right”, I told Modok. “They do seem an unsavory lot.”


Apparently they also had ears like a fruit bat’s. One of them gave me the finger and cursed at me in Spanish.


“Chinga tu’ madre!” I hollered at him, while returning his bird.



“Yo momma!” Modok contributed.


Somewhat beyond the Cyclops’s encampment we ran into some short little men. They were no more that five-foot tall- at maximum; some were two or three inches shorter- but they had chests and arms as thick as my own, and their shoulders were wider and their arms longer. Their legs were short, but very thick. They come running up to greet us.


“You’re the Light-Breaker, aren’t you? My name is ‘Ivan’. I’m from Siberia. Just want to let you know that all us Dwarves are on your side. Do you want a beer, or some Vodka?”


All the while, he was vigorously pumping my hand. The Dwarves were a rowdy and talkative bunch. I thought that if I lived; it would be well worth my while to visit them sometime. At present though, we just wanted to extricate ourselves without alienating any allies. We needn’t have worried. They’re blunt-spoken people; and you can’t hurt their feelings.


Then we passed some dudes that looked for all the world like some Woodland Indian extras from a Daniel Boone movie. I’d have to query Lemuel about them. We also passed some oriental looking Centaurs. They wore Samurai armor; and carried oversized Katanas and Wakazashi. One of them cantered up to me; and gave me a deep Martial Arts bow- keeping his eyes on me the whole while.


“We support your cause”, He said. “However, we have sold some of our Sword-master’s best work to the eyeless one. We wanted you to hear this from us. A warrior wouldn’t want to win a duel because his opponent had inferior equipment. That would not be the way of Bushido.”


“Man, wish you’d have consulted with me beforehand. Hell, I’ll take a win over Bucky any which way I can. I wish that you would have given him a sword with a glass blade”, I said.


The Centaured Samurai laughed uproariously. I guess he thought that I was joking.


I’d just gotten to my tent, when a wee diminutive humanoid, about a foot tall came flying up. That’s right, he had a pair of transparent gossamer wings coming out of his shoulder blades.


“I have something for you”, He panted.


It seemed to take him a great deal of effort to fly- but hey…I can’t fly at all. Far be it from me, to criticize.


I extended my hand cautiously. He placed Jenkins’s cosh in the palm of my hand. I hadn’t seen it since before the gunfight in the Michigan Forrest.


“It may bring you luck. If you lose something in the woods, odds are the Faery Folk can find it for you.”


“Ain’t y’all from Ireland?” I asked.


“Originally yes, most of us emigrated to The Sovereign Nation of Indiana shortly after the potato famine. Lots of us in Kentucky too.”


“Just when I think things can’t get any weirder”, Modok said. “I’m glad I’m from St. Louis.”


“And who do you think”, I asked him,” Was behind building the St Louis Arch?”


I was just messing with Modok. So far as I know, the Great Arch was purely a human endeavor- though I think a couple of Kindred were on the construction crew.


Soon enough it was Mid-Summer’s Day- time to kill Bucky. A Samurai Centaur showed up with a live cobra. He gutted it with his bare hands- without killing it first. He popped the still-beating heart and the cobra’s gall bladder into a shot glass full of grain alcohol.


“Drink”, He said. “There is power there.”


I wasn’t keen on drinking bile; but I respected the spirit in which it was offered. Then the wee folk showed up with some kind of ginseng; Mushroom; and honey concoction. Then one of the elder Kindred wanted me to drink a big shot of Scotch with a crow’s eye in it. Finally, Modok wanted me to drink a cup of coffee, with a generous amount of crystal meth stirred into it. Just about everyone had his own favorite pre-event sports drink to give me a wee bit extra. Personally, I thought the massive doses of Anabolic Steroids that I’d been taking for the last ten weeks, were a bigger edge than all the pre-event elixirs put together.


Win if you Can.
Die if you must.
Always, always Cheat.

Earth and Sky
Last Forever.
Old People
Are Poorly Off.
Do Not be
Afraid.

It is Always
A Good Day
To Die.

What is the Way of The Warrior?
Simply This:
Whenever a Choice
Between Life
And Death Exists;

A Warrior Chooses
Death…


My father had taught me that poem long ago. I rehearsed it to myself a number of times; like a mantra; as I approached the improvised Arena.


In a short while, I would either avenge my parents; or die trying- or perhaps I would die while avenging them. Either way, a chapter of my life was closing. I paused momentarily, before entering the ring. I strained to catch every last bit of the moment’s elusive qualia.


I had my Cold Steel Hand-and-a-Half Sword firmly clutched in my strong left hand. I’d been doing all sorts of gripping exercises almost compulsively, all my life. To a Warrior, the human body is, above all else, a pistol firing platform- and a strong grip is a good start towards a stable firing platform. I’d also made a practice of doing wrist, bicep, and shoulder work with a sawed off sledgehammer, more or less continuously, while concentrating on something else. Because the left was my blade hand, and to counter a natural right-handedness, the sledge had always spent about three-fifths of the time in my left hand.


Bucky stood in the circle with a mammoth Katana in each hand. The blades were about four foot long and as wide as my palm. Musashi said that one needn’t lose merely because the enemy had a longer blade. He also said that it was false to die with a weapon still undrawn.


I’m not so sure about that. I only had two hands- and I had several blades. I also had a .38 Chief’s Special and a Walther PP .32ACP- the Guns were only in case it became apparent that I couldn’t win “fairly”. I didn’t know what the penalty for “cheating” would be. In all probability, if I shot Bucky, I’d never leave the All-Thing alive; but then neither would Bucky.


I did draw my main back-up blade. I seldom look at a Bowie without thinking that it could stand to be a WEE bit longer. I bought a lot of my custom leather from Kid Coteau. He also made custom knives. It was a bit outside his normal envelope; but I’d talked him into making me a full-bellied Western styled Bowie with a fourteen-inch blade. When I’d found that I was going to have to fight Bucky with cold steel; I’d managed to get Kid to make me a nineteen-inch short-sword version of the Bowie; and I’d sent a big enough bonus, to make it a seven-alarm rush-order. That was the blade that I drew with my Gun hand.


Although we were supposedly identical twins, Bucky had grown to be much bigger than me. I’m a little over six foot- one of the few men who can legitimately carry three hundred pounds without being obese. In fact, muscle and bone being much denser than fat; no one would believe that I weighed over two-thirty, or so. Bucky made me look small. He was both noticeably taller and heavier. He waved his giant Katanas around like wands.


The way of the Katana is a sweeping slash. Sometimes it’s aimed at the head, arms, or legs- but the abdomen is the prime target. The way of the Broadsword is the lunge, the thrust. The Way of The Warrior is: Attack! Attack! Always Attack! The Way of Strategy is to Win.


I was more than a bit poogly about Bucky’s much greater reach; but it would have been false not to carry the fight to him. I lunged as soon as Bucky was in range.


Time to dance, Bucky.


A duel between two skilled Saber fighters is generally a long range fencing match. Each fighter aims primarily at his opponent’s sword hand and forearm; because they’re generally the only things within reach. Once you damage the client’s forearm badly enough that he drops his sword; finishing him off is academic.


Bucky was standing square to me, so his chest was within my range; but I was standing in profile; so my sword hand came into his range first. He tapped my sword just far enough to one side to make it miss; then he aimed an attack at my left wrist. We went through a half-dozen feints, attacks, and counters. Every time our swords touched, Bucky’s Katanas rang in a cheerful but business-like CHING!


Bucky kept circling to my left- trying to get around behind my sword arm. I tried for awhile to stay in a linear western dueling stance; but finally I was forced to turn my right side more toward Bucky to keep him from getting around to my left. With my right side more exposed, I found need to bring the Bowie Sword into play, to parry attacks to my right side.


I finally managed to plow a respectable furrow deep into Bucky’s right forearm; but an instant later he knocked my Broadsword from my left hand. It was a trick. He came in for a killing stroke, leaving himself wide open. I pitched my Bowie Sword underhanded. It hit him just below and slightly to the right of his zyphoid process at the bottom of his sternum. Five or six inches of the blade protruded through his back, just beneath the bottom of his right shoulder blade. It had been a masterful dance; but he’d lost.


That would be cold comfort, if he managed to take me with him with his explosive counterattack. I had a pair of Cold Steel Butterfly Swords. I drew them with a flourish. They had fifteen-inch blades; and sword-trapping upturned back guards. I retreated and went on the defensive. Bucky couldn’t keep up this pace long, with a sword through his vitals. I think he’d forgotten all about my broadsword. I managed to work my way over to it.


A quick throw left Bucky with a Butterfly Sword stuck into his high left pectoral. The dive forward roll that I followed up the throw with, got my Hand-and-a-Half Sword back for me- though in my right hand this time. A couple hammering attacks caused him to drop the Katana from the weakened left arm. I maneuvered in close. I attempted to pin Bucky’s right foot to the ground with my left hand butterfly. Left-handed knife throwing isn’t my strong suit. It didn’t stick in Bucky’s foot; but it did penetrate Bucky’s boot deeply enough to draw blood.


The foot wasn’t my main objective anyway. I just wanted to free my left hand to seize the handle of my Bowie Sword; and yank it out of Bucky’s chest. He’d bleed out faster without the sword partially sealing the wound. I also managed to twist it around enough to widen the wound channel. I took the Broadsword and contemptuously slapped the Butterfly sword from Bucky’s left shoulder. My follow-up stroke cut him to the bone along his brow line- if he’d had eyebrows or a brow line.


I stepped back. Baring outrageous provocation, I was ready to go into a prolonged strategic retreat; and let nature take its course with Bucky. It shouldn’t take him long to bleed out.


Bucky started broadcasting his darkness again. It was weaker this time. It really didn’t seem to have much effect except to darken the noonday sun somewhat.


Then I heard a strange noise. It was only one noise; but I have to compare it to two noises to describe it adequately. You know how, when one of the jackasses drives by with the mega-loud stereo- only he’s far enough away that all you hear is the bass? Imagine that sound being so loud that it causes the ground to shake. Now you know how the Hip-Hop spin-doctors manually move a record back and forth to make it stutter? Well, this noise kept repeating itself like the start of some Rap albums. But it got progressively louder.


Bucky went down on all fours, like a drunk getting ready to puke. I thought he was starting to bleed out. I gathered up my Butterfly Swords and got my Bowie and Hand-and-a-Half Swords back into the “proper” hands. Then I retreated a few steps and watched Bucky warily.


His arms and legs shrunk; while his body grew thicker and longer. His head grew until it was longer than a horses face and wider too. His neck lengthened. His auxiliary brains- where his eyes should have been- became softball-sized spheres on the end of long slender antennae. They moved in odd rhythms- like a slug’s eyestalks. As the booming noise stuttered, Bucky would move three steps forward in his metamorphosis; then two or three steps back. There were just enough more three-steps-forward, than three-steps-back, that the metamorphosis proceeded ominously, but glacially- nowhere near glacial enough to be reassuring though.


I sheathed my Bowie Sword and advanced upon Bucky. Slugs seriously weird me out; and only the residual brotherly love that I felt for him could have impelled me forward. I took Jenkins’ cosh and slapped one of Bucky’s eye stalks a powerful blow; but only to get his attention. Some of the orange flame that Pretty had been teaching me to use (and that I’d been holding in reserve, and not needed) flowed across the cosh, and all across Bucky’s head.


Bucky’s head reverted to its normal configuration momentarily- looking uncanny as hell, on the end of the long thin neck.


“Bucky, you damned fool, I know that you THINK that you sold your soul to whatever in hell haint that you have on your speed dial. Think again. The Bible says that all souls belong to the Lord. You can’t transfer ownership of something that you don’t own. Scratch is the Prince of Liars.”


Suddenly I felt very tired and weary. I paused long enough to draw a couple sobbing breaths before continuing.


“You’re dying. It’s too late to remedy that. Do you want to go met Jesus and mother and father again? OR do you want to spend all eternity backstroking through the lake of fire? Time is past short. Make up your mind, NOW!”


“Pray with me”, Bucky’s eyeless head gasped.


Something told me that I should put my hand on Bucky’s head. As I’ve said, Slugs seriously weird me out. Bucky’s body was staring to look more like a giant slug all the time. I’d have rather have ran my right hand though a meat grinder; but I gritted my teeth and obeyed my instinct.


Bucky didn’t have time to be long-winded.


“Lord, I was wrong about so many things. Jesus, save me!”, was all he had time to say.


Immediately the life went out of his eyes. His head instantly reverted. The leprous slug flesh tried to engulf my hand. Some sort of transparent force field prevented it momentarily; then some force outside myself knocked me thirty-five yards away.


“Meddling fool! You cost me this soul; but this flesh is mine; and the flesh of his followers. And you can’t close the portal he opened for me”, a shrill voice hissed from the slug.


“Can’t never did anything” I said- hoping the very triteness of it would make it even more infuriating. “Why if there were no stronger threats than you in the World, I wouldn’t need toilet paper. I’d just grab one of y’all’s punk arses up and wipe.”


Darkness started flowing out of Gaea- darkness that put Bucky’s darkness to shame. At high noon, on the longest day of the year, in the land of the midnight sun- there was naught but darkness. I pursed my lips, in contempt for the power of my client’s resistance.


I Threw bolt after bolt of orange flame at Gaea. I was no more than holding my own; but the hue of my pyrotechnics started to darken. I was throwing green thunderbolts at Gaea- then blue green- blue- indigo. Slowly the flames were progressing toward violet.


When I got to violet, Gaea started to shy away from the blasts. I thought that I had the battle won. I hastened to press my advantage. I walked toward the abomination.


“This is Herman Goering, calling in an all-out AIR STRIKE!” I said. I had neither the Goering Duster, nor the transmitter- didn’t matter. My mind reached through time and space, to summon the tiny planes.


Some of my new planes had phosphorous, and magnesium, thermite and napalm loads- powerful weapons against darkness. Two of the planes- somewhat larger than the run of the mill- swooped down to put a long barreled .44 Magnum in each of my waiting hands. I quickly draped the bandoleer full of .44 cartridges- that a third plane handed off to me- over one shoulder.


I could throw the violet flame with my mind. Might as well fire some Keith loads into Gaea with my hands.


Pretty started hitting Gaea with her orange thunderbolts. Modok’s Confederate Air Cavalry joined in the attack. Every elder race joined the fray, with whatever powers and weapons they possessed.


Still, we couldn’t quite drive Gaea from this plane. Then I realized what was missing. I said a short prayer. Many of the assembled had been amazed at the power of the violet flame. The violent flame was nothing compared to the power of the white-hot flame that flowed down my arms, trough my hands, and into Gaea. The difference was that the violet flame was my power. It was a part of me. The white-hot flame was not my own. It only worked through me. Given the right circumstances and faith, it could have flowed through anyone- even Modok- or my friend Jenkins, had he still been with us.


In less time than it takes to tell, there was nothing left of Gaea- or the mortal remains of what had once been my brother Bucky.


“She’s not dead you know. She’ll never be dead while there are heretics who want to worship this Earth instead of God the Father and Creator”, one of the Tuatha De’Dannan told me softly.


He put his hand upon my shoulder.


“It is almost time for us to part- for now. We’ll meet again- many times- in the near future. We have many things to share with you. The Kindred and the Tuatha De’Dannan are one people now. You and your cousins have the best of both races. Still, it is almost time for us to go home; and rest for awhile.”


He paused for so long that I though he had finished.


“But before we take our leave, we need to share one last revelation; but it is not quite time. Go ahead and celebrate. Enjoy getting to know some of the elder races. Catch up on your rest. But before you leave this place, we need to make one more revelation to you. Only when you become aware, will healing be truly possible.”


“I’m sorry, could you be a little more vague and enigmatic?” I said.


He smiled and shook his head.


“It would be cruel to cast any shadow over your victory celebration. It’s nothing we can’t deal with”, He said.

Then he was gone.

.....RVM45

 

Chapter Twenty

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Chapter Twenty
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It was three days after the duel. The Tuatha De’Dannan had summoned several of the Kindred- in short, all the Kindred that carried their blood- including me. They’d also specifically requested that Pretty and Modok be there too. I was making my way to the meeting in some haste, when I was hailed by a big hairy humanoid.


“Hail Light-Breaker”, He said.


“Howdy.”


“All the Remnant were not supporting your brother. It pains us that that no one tried to solicit our aid.”


“Sorry, what can I say? It was a tense time.”


“It also pains us that the Kindred have stayed out of touch for so long.”


“Two years ago, I didn’t know the Kindred existed. Eighteen months ago, I became a sub-clan leader. Two weeks ago, I was elected war chief of the Kindred by unanimous acclaim. Y’all done been estranged for over a thousand years. Cain’t lay that rap on me.”


“No, but you can preside over the reconciliation.”


“Cool dude, get in touch with me. Don’t mean to be rude; but I’ve got a prior appointment.”


“You’re on the way to talk to the ancient ones, aren’t you? How can you bear it? Those dudes weird me out.”


Yes, a remarkable statement to come from what- to all intents and purposes- was a talking Yeti. I mumbled an ambiguous reply and hurried on.


“I never introduced myself. My name is ‘Brian’ “, the chief spokesman of the Tuatha De’Dannon began. “We’re all going to get much better acquainted as time goes on.”


He paused to let that sink in.


“The eyeless gene was something we unintentionally inflicted on ourselves eons ago. We thought we’d long since eradicated the root of the evil. Like many evils, it was merely biding its time. When we decided to graft our branches onto the Kindred, we inadvertently passed the blight on to your people. We’re sorry. It was unintentional.”


“What is the deal, with the cross-pollination? What is the point?” I asked.


“You see the last of us before you. Is there a woman among us? We are very long-lived, even by Kindred standards; yet we lose fertility; and die out. We’ve been dying since before the recorded history of mankind. Long, long ago, we created the Hellspawn to carry our traditions after we were gone. They had a brief day; but although they lacked much of our power and wisdom; they shared our infertility from their beginning.”


“Am I sterile then?” Pretty asked.


“No. It is a good thing that you throw the last of your created genes into the mix, for the new Tuatha De’Dannan”


“Pretty’s race is artificially created?” I asked.


“Yes.”


After a long pause, he added, “We called you here today; because we hold it within our power to cancel the eyeless gene. It is our liability; and our wrong to right.”


The tent was filled with a blue healing light. The bone sloughed away from Lemuel’s missing right eye. He dug at the cavity with his right fist; and within a few moments he had a right eye. Laura grew eyes. Apparently they were a bit weak at first; because as she looked at Modok, her new eyes filled with tears.

I had about three-dozen cousins who shared the Tuatha De’Dannon heritage. Eight of them were missing eyes- some like Lemuel- had one good eye. Some had none. All of us carried the eyeless gene, manifest, or not. When it was over, all my cousins had two good eyes- and the blight had been burned from our DNA. I could feel the healing in the air.


Brian shifted his gaze to Modok.


“Modok, is it truly your desire to dwell among the Kindred?”


“Yes.”


“You have the strength and determination; but why do things the hard way? It will be easier if you truly are Kindred.”


And what they did to Modok passed my understanding; but somehow they rewove every strand of his DNA- right there on the spot- right in front of God, and everyone. Modok stood altered, a hybrid Kindred/Tuatha De’Dannan- just like the rest of us.


“You’ll find all your adopted Kindred similarly transformed”, Brian said. “And all of your kin will start to take on some of our power; wisdom; and longevity- some more than others; but all will have a worthwhile transformation. Before the end, all of you will have the full measure of our power.”


“There’s one more thing that we have to correct. We can’t heal you, Light-Breaker; until you see your deficiency.”


His words chilled and frightened me like nothing else that I’d ever experienced.


“NO!” I wailed piteously. There was only darkness there- the darkness that had claimed my brother. My brother has no eyes.


“My brother has no eye!” I screamed defiantly.


Suddenly the mood had changed- the whole ambience. I’d been grooving on sunshine; and hope; and feeling in the midst of a bright fairy-tale. All at once, everything had turned grim; and gothic; and Noir. I had the drowning; sinking feeling that I’d stumbled into an Eldritch nightmare- the only slender hope that I had; to keep from losing my sanity forever- from being cast into a bottomless abyss of darkness; and madness; and nightmare- was to wake up. But there could be no awakening from this shrieking night horror. It was the one and only reality.


“My brother has no eyes! My brother has no eyes; but I can see!”


“No one disputes that you can see. You see very well indeed”, Brian stated.


“My brother has no eyes. He was claimed by the darkness.”


“You resisted that call, didn’t you? And in the end, you even freed your brother.”


“God freed him.”


“But you forgave him. That took courage- and goodness.”


“Why would no one have told me?”


“You have been told- many times. Pretty has told you. Modok has told you. Lemuel; and your brother; and your father; and your mother have told you. Not only do they fail to convince you; but you blank out the very memory of their words.”


“Then my brother has no eyes- AND NEITHER DO I!?!”


I fell to my knees; and cradled my ugly misshapen head in my arms.


“Damn you all to hell Brian! You’ve destroyed me! Now all that’s left is death. How do I walk the streets without everyone knowing?” I asked weakly.


“Wrap-around sunglasses. You wear them everywhere you go. Even now, you can’t consciously feel them on your face- can you? You selectively block much of your reality.”


There was only one thing left to do. I knelt on the floor. I started to partially remove my jacket; and to kneel on the sleeves. My Bowie was sharp enough for Seppuku. I drew the Bowie back with both hands; and prepared to thrust it into my abdomen. I was no better than my brother- an eyeless; evil mutant that should be hunted down and exterminated without the slightest hint of mercy or forbearance.



Then my skull rolled down off my eye sockets; and eyes emerged.


“Damn you Brian! Changing what I am; can’t alter what I was.”


“Maybe you’re right- though it seems at odds with your Christian doctrine of forgiveness. Yet, maybe it’s your geas to live on; even when you’d very much prefer to blot out your shame in death. Maybe you haven’t yet suffered enough for what you were. The Kindred have need of your leadership.”


So maybe Brian was right. It has been a very long time since we last spoke- though I have every confidence we’ll meet again. Brian said we would; and his word is gold. Pretty waits in vain, for me to take her to wife. I am evil; and deserve no wife. My touch would defile one of God’s own angels. Modok tries to be a friend; but I deserve no friend. The Luftwaffe waits in vain, for me to don the cloak; and call an airstrike.


Pretty raises Bloodhounds. Sometimes they try to lick my hands; and be my buddies- but although they pull at my heartstrings; I ignore them. It would defile them to be my dog.


I strive to lead my people, and cut out anything and everything that might bring me pleasure. I deserve no pleasure. I have even given up the greatest joy known to mankind- I no longer carry a Gun. Sometimes I think that my geas is more than I can bear. A human lifetime, I could tolerate. A Kindred lifetime I could stand; but I am Tuatha De’Dannan.


My brother has no eyes; neither do I. How I wish that I’d stayed in the Mental Hospital. That would have been better than this.


.....RVM45

 

I dug this up from pretty far back. It was almost the trippiest thing I have ever read. Thought it might be fun to bump it for anyone else who hasn't read it to enjoy.

Very very entertaining.

 

Cool story! Sorry i didn;t notice this earlier

Chris

 

trippy

 

That was a pretty neat story.

 

Good reading, thanks for sharing.