Chapter 17
"Purification"
I wanted to see the body. I needed to. Crushed and flattened and broken, with my own two eyes. If the Shaman escaped the thunderous rage of the River Champion, I would have to make sure it did not go far. I would destroy it. And this time, it would have no advantages.
I trotted down the flattened path the Swamp Kin created in his rampage. The Shaman's scent was still clear. That much sweat inducing panic tended to linger. Phantom Back, the wraith of a hunter that he was, drifted from the taller grasses onto the path beside me. He never asked questions. He was not curious of new things. So when he spoke to me, I knew something special had happened back at the river.
"Mother, that creature…" he began, glancing back and trailing off.
"Was both Father and Alpha," I explained, staying my course.
Phantom Back understood champions, not curses, so it was better to explain things in terms of the pack instead of the Spirit. The pack's will was his will. And that was precisely why he came to me. His deep dark red eyes turned to me and immediately brightened.
"Mother, your Spirit!" he exclaimed.
I already knew what he meant. The feelings that overtook me at the river were not simply my own. And because I listened and obeyed, the Spirit filled me. It overflowed with such strength that even Phantom Back, darkest of us, could see the veil that covered me. The duel nature of the moon, both light and shadow, radiated from my body. It created an ethereal armor in the shape of a Mighty Hena around me, causing my red eyes to glow even without the reflection of light. I glanced at him with those eyes, catching him in a mesmerizing stare.
"I hunt a Shaman," I told him.
That should have explained everything, so I quickened my step. Just having another beside me fueled the Spirit of the pack within me. I could not contain my drive. Phantom Back remained at my side. His own hunt had ended so he meant to join mine. The importance of what I meant to do was not lost on him. The Spirit had called him to me and I would not deny him despite the danger he may face should the Shaman unexpectedly appear. He understood what might lie ahead of us. He was not afraid. I felt it so.
I also felt him much more closely than usual. His presence was small like Omega's, but much heavier because his burdens were much greater. I must be wary of them, especially if we were to take on a Shaman. But with the Spirit so strong between us, I was not worried. Phantom Back would be able to contain his emotions and the Shaman would have no play with his darkness. I was far too bright. Almost to the point of bursting. So when the Shaman's smell grew strongest, and Phantom Back ducked down snarling, it took everything I had not to charge blindly ahead, teeth first.
The Shaman lay at the end of the path where the grass had been flattened into a rough circle. Lumps marked the ground where the Swamp Kin's steps and stomps had been greatest. Some of the water he had carried with him dampened the earth. The Shaman lay at the center of it. His white skull still gleamed in the moonlight. His body was crumpled and twisted. Flattened in some parts. Misshapen in others. He had not escaped the river's wrath. The sins of his malformed pack had been reconciled as his own.
I lifted my head, keeping my chin high and mane flat, feeling the area around the broken creature. The cursed energy was still strong. It was what triggered Phantom Back's reaction and stopped us from getting any closer. It was potent. Poisonous even. And showed no signs of weakening. The Shaman was still alive. He wheezed and slurred curses with his dying breath, the most powerful summoning ritual of all.
"Bring me Omega," I quietly, but urgently commanded. "Now."
Phantom Back hesitated only a moment before dashing off to fulfill his purpose. He disappeared with a flutter of grass. And not a moment too soon. The Shaman's distant cloudy eyes turned up at me. They glinted with rage before flickering out, cold and malicious and laughing for his death gave life to another. One far more dangerous and despicable than him. Energy began to weep from the Shaman's white skull. His last words drew it from the porous bone where it long since slept. The energy was dark and wispy like smoke. It solidified, creating a body to house the soul of the Bone Taker the Shaman had killed for its skull. His mother. Female Bone Takers were far more powerful than males. Because of this, their skulls were used to channel wicked energy from the underworld to this one.
The soul of the dead Bone Taker mother pulled free from the Shaman's corpse. Freed from the confines of her bones, she laid her head back in a sigh. She stole what remained of the Shaman's power in order to materialize in the realm of the living. Her body remained a dark polluted black. Her teeth, a rotten yellow. Stiches in her mouth kept the cursed energy that sustained her from spilling out. Three small ridges around the top of her head were all that remained of the original skull shape. The rest trailed behind her head like a tail. It mocked the Sky Tails, for where the birds ruled the living skies, Shaman ruled the underworld.
The dead mother's eyes were red like my own. They represented the fulfillment of the chaos and blood and destruction we Mighty Hena strove to prevent. They were jewels, gifts, to celebrate the Mighty Hena's dethronement. We Mighty Hena had a word for souls made into creatures from wickedness. Ghosts. But this one was special because it was created from another like a doll in its image. The pack called them puppets because they once inhabited the bones of the dead. Now, they used the soul of another to live. Many haunted the land during the Bone Wars. Even to the point that the humans had noticed. My Man knew of them. He called them Banette.
The dreadful ghost smiled and raised her arms as she looked up at the moon, realizing her new life and the extraordinary power that came with it. She laughed and spun around in a circle, arms out wide, delighted that she should roam free across the land once again, sowing chaos and bloodshed wherever she went. I stamped a paw to the ground and snarled. My voice struck the ghost. She wobbled in the air. Her body lightly smoked again as my energy displaced her manifestation. Something sucked the tendrils back into place.
Finally, the ghost realized I was there and looked down at me. Her smile dropped and her eyes burned with the mere sight of me. They summoned hellish flames fresh from the underworld. Banette threw them at me, but I was too quick. I darted to the side, running the edge of the circle as the fireballs popped and exploded in the grass. Their flames quickly died. The earth was damp and the grass still to resilient and full of life. They refused to catch for such cold unnatural flames. I darted inward and leapt at the ghost over the dead Shaman. She vanished by sneaking into the shadows and reappeared behind me as I landed, hoping to catch my back. But Banette did not know which one to hit for my shadow split from me to create a double.
I went left and it went right. We mirrored one another as we ran the rim of the circle again. Banette swirled back and forth, trying to discern my double from me. I howled which meant my double did too. Together, we taunted the ghost into another round of wispy fireballs. We ducked and weaved, balancing our steps into a rhythm. By the time the attack ended, my double and I paraded around the circle in a dance, moving our paws in special repetitive ways aligned with the beat of the night. At certain times, we lifted and bowed our heads, rocking back and forth, spinning and swishing our tails until two more shadows formed and there were four of us, doubles of my double, dancing to the tune of the Spirit.
Our tails and manes grew long with a glossy shine. It added extra grace and beauty to all that we did. Darkness could not help but fall upon us to try and get a closer look at the light we created. The sky became black. The moon and stars disappeared. A shroud covered the area. It created a battlefield where there was only Banette and me and the grass and the earth. A ray of moonlight spotlighted all within. Our fight would be contained to this domain. My doubles and I stopped and turned to face Banette. She floated in the middle of the circle, unable to leave because of the taunt hidden within our dance. Each of us crouched down and put our hips in the air, positioning ourselves for an attack.
Our growls manifest themselves in our mouths, each with a different type of power. One was filled with fire. Smoke and light and tongues of flame licked its lips. Another sparked with electricity. Plasma popped from its mouth and dribbled toward the ground. The third breathed a cold smoky breath. An icy frost seeped into its teeth and turned them clear like ice. Lastly, darkness filled my jaws. It left only the white glow of my teeth within as if I too were only shadow and bone. My fangs and I rushed the ghost as one, leading with our blazing, smoking, crackling mouths. Banette had no choice but to retreat. Using the force of phantoms, she disappeared wholly from the world.
My fangs and I landed at the final four corners of our attack, backs now facing one another. Jaws empty. When the ghost returned, she brought the energy of the underworld with her. A massive pressure slammed down on us. Its gravity kept us immobile, pushing us to the ground. One by one, the heads and legs of my doubled fangs bent until they could no longer hold and disappeared.
I alone remained.
When the pressure lifted, I staggered to the side, regaining my balance. In the sudden quiet, I heard Banette speak. A chill stiffened my spine. The strength of her words pricked my ears and lifted my tail. It was a hex. I could not let her finish for it would affect all that could hear it, including Omega and Phantom Back if they were nearby. I whirled around in a howl, but aimed it like a roar. The ghost raised her voice and I raised mine until the air shuddered between us and the colliding vibrations blew us both back. I immediately rolled onto my feet, panting heavily. Banette swirled back around. Smoke bled from her body.
The tendrils kept flowing from her now hazy materialization. I had punctured her physical body. To try and stop the bleeding, the ghost resorted to her instincts. She dove down into the corpse of the Shaman to possess it. I swallowed back the revulsion as the dead Bone Taker rose to his feet, alive once again. His broken body moved awkwardly, head lulling to the side, arms lifting as if on strings. Concave lumps deformed his body where the organs had fallen out of place. The puppet picked up his club and threw it with the same deadly accuracy he had when he was alive. I ran towards the attack, jumped up and caught the club in my mouth.
My doubles were gone, but the power I put into their fangs remained. Energy filled my mouth. I had to use it or choke on it. With the power of darkness, I crunched down on the bone, splintering it between my teeth. The pieces clattered behind me as I charged the puppet and jumped into its chest. When the Shaman hit the ground, his head snapped backward, lifting his chin to expose his throat. While still on his chest, I clamped my teeth around his throat, burning past the flesh down to the soul possessing it. From there, I used a spark to connect the ghost and I with a jagged thread of electricity. The cold frozen grip of my teeth then sank into Banette's frigid supernatural flesh.
My breath frosted from the corners of my mouth as I pulled back and ripped the ghost out of the still warm body of the Shaman. His corpse thumped back on the ground. Lifeless once again. With the ghost in my mouth, I thrashed from side to side. When I stopped, I chomped as fast and as hard as I could. Bite after bite. When the ghost's hands went for my face, I shook my head and flung them away. When I heard the ghost try to screech, I snarled too loudly to hear it. Eventually, there wasn't enough substance left to hang onto. Dirty grey and brown smoke bled from my jaws. I inhaled some of it. It paralyzed part of my lungs, causing me to cough. I stepped back in a fit.
The ethereal tendrils I left behind slowly twined themselves back together on the ground. They formed a shell of the body they once created. Half of the ghost was missing and what remained could hardly be considered whole. A slip of the ghost's lower half was all that remained of her legs and torso. One arm, nearly transparent at the elbow, shakily reached out to me. The other failed to support the weight of Banette's diminishing body, causing her to slump. The moonlight slowly ate away half of her face. The yellow smile no longer shined with the hopes of raiding the world for the ruin of souls. One pale red eye looked up at me.
The ghost was dying. Her stolen life, forfeit.
Yet she did not fail to hate me. She glanced to the side where yips and growls encircled us. The grasses waved as Phantom Back returned with Omega. They ran around the battlefield, continuing the ritual I had started. Moonlight continued to shine upon us. It concentrated itself within the domain I created. The ghost could not hide from its light. She could not seek shelter in the darkness nor open the door to the underworld. Not when we had locked her out. We, the Mighty Hena. Keystone of the wild.
Tears filled Banette's eyes. She shuddered with rage, crying with such self-pity and hate that she chose to take her own life than lose it in my jaws. It was one of the darkest most powerful rituals that surpassed even the dying breath. The puppet's trembling hand turned on itself. Before I could stop her, she unzipped what was left of her mouth and, using what remained of the energy she had stolen, spoke one last word. A curse. Not like the Bone Taker in the burrow, but as a Shaman. The attack pierced me like a long cold needle, straight through my heart, as if I too were nothing more than a doll. I gasped. My body tensed. Already struggling for breath, I found I could not breathe. A hand gripped my heart, squeezing it so it would not beat. The veil I carried with me like a second skin lifted away. It vanished as quickly as a brush of night air.
Banette went with it, but her horrid curse remained. I tried to fight it. To force myself to breathe again, but I only managed to twist out what was left. My back legs gave out. A body came up beside me on my left. Another, on my right.
"It's a curse!" I heard them speak, muffled and disjointed with time lost in between. "Quickly now!"
One of the bodies left. The other shouldered more of the burden. I closed my eyes to focus and rest, but the damage to my heart was enough to throw it off beat. There was cursed energy in my blood. It filled my nose and lungs and heart, keeping the Spirit from circulating within me. To lose it so quickly after having it so strongly within me came as a shock. My body could not control it. I grew dizzy. The shroud of darkness lifted. The night and its warm breeze returned, but I did not feel it. There was only the seeping chill from the ghost's spiteful needle that was spreading throughout my body. I began to shudder, trying to build a fever to fight against it to no avail.
The curse was too strong.
This had been a powerful Shaman. Far more powerful than anything Father and I battled in the Bone Wars. No wonder Damon Doom Seer was able to create such realistic visions at Castle Rock. He had borrowed the powers of a Shaman unlike anything I had ever faced. I did not remember laying down, but I felt someone lay their head on top of me when I did. The touch of them warmed me. It reminded me of what we were here for. That the pack was with me. The worst of the curse was over. I felt the cold again when they pulled their head away. Colder still when it suddenly felt as if the river had swallowed me up. I dropped like a stone in its depths only to come out on the other side, breaking the surface in a gasp as I sat up, drenched after being doused with water.
The sudden flush of energy startled me. So did a very large and blue body. The Swamp Kin had returned. He stood in front of me, water running from his lips. His cheeks still receded from the gallons upon gallons of water he had carried from the river to spray me with and wash away the curse. Omega stood beside him, unbelievably small against a Champion among Champions. He hopped in place when I sat up, bouncing like a pup. I looked between them. My heart and breath calmed enough for me to understand what had happened. With Omega's understanding of the river's cleansing properties and Phantom Back's knowledge of the mysterious exchange with the Champion at the river, the two devised a way to save me.
One that involved trusting another outside of the pack.
I looked at Phantom Back. He was too busy looking at the Swamp Kin to acknowledge my amazement of such a thing, especially from him. The giant amphibian looked at me in his stead. Then, at the corpse of the Shaman. His features darkened. He failed to vanquish the foe properly, and thus, gave birth to a much more powerful and wicked creature that I then had to battle. His concern for his Kin had pulled him back from his responsibility as a River Champion. I would never fault him for such feelings. So I grit my teeth through a wince and stood. I put myself up on four legs, already stronger than what I was before, and looked at him with the eyes of a Mother. Soft and forgiving and only a little admonishing. The Swamp Kin looked down again and lifted his legs as his Kin came running out from beneath him.
Cheeks full to bursting, they spat two small jets of water at my face. My fur and expression flattened, but it was nothing a little shake couldn't fix. I sprayed water out around us and further rid myself of the cursed energy that had poisoned me. Phantom Back and Omega rallied around me with much nuzzling and licking and tail wagging. Mostly from Omega, but Phantom Back was not without his relief. He watched warily as the Swamp Kin stepped up to us with a warbling series of notes. Omega quickly regained his composure and stood regally beside me as if my wet haphazard coat was nothing less than a cloak of stardust and jewels.
"He thanks you for what you have done," Omega began, carrying the Champion's voice. "For although I am strong of heart and body, I am no temple priest. If not for you, I would have lost not just my kin, but their souls, to the Shaman and its ghost."
We both glanced at the Mud Kin who began to investigate my counterparts who, to them, were no different than myself in body or Spirit. The Swamp Kin spoke again with his waterlogged voice.
"The River Kin and the Shadow Backs are reflections of the same waters. One above. One below," Omega continued. "Come to the river and I will bless you and your kin and cleanse you of your burdens."
He then looked at the battlefield and all that had been touched by the cursed energy.
"I will finish this as I rightfully should have. You have my apologies, and my thanks, Great Moon Bearer."
He bowed to me again.
"I am no such thing," I interrupted, having Omega speak for me.
The Swamp Kin curiously lifted. He looked down at me and I up at him, yet we stood equal to one another. I smiled. Tired, but honest.
"Only Mother."
