Lycan Fallout: Rise Of The Werewolf (34 page)

As if in response we heard a large group heading our way.

“Shit, I had completely forgotten.” I lowered my head.

“Forgotten what?” Azile asked with concern.

“Old One!” came the authoritative voice of Chieftress Inuktuk –
definitely not Amy McNea this time.Neaem">

“Fudge.”

“What did you do?” Azile asked.

“I had gone out for a snack,” I told her.

“Fool!” she spat. “We need these people!”

“I didn’t get the chance, Lunos interrupted me.”

“I will not say it again, Old One!” Inuktuk shouted.

“I’m coming.”

Azile put her hand on my chest. “You will let me do the talking. They will cut your head off after your first comment,” she seethed. I opened my mouth, Azile put her finger to it. “Just shut up, Mike, please.”

“Maybe just this one time,” I told her.

Azile went out the flap first, with me at her heels. The group surrounding us stiffened. Fuck, I had that effect on people.

“He must answer for his crimes.” Inuktuk pointed at me.

“Crimes?” Azile asked.

“He destroyed a weapon and attacked one of my guards. Both offenses punishable by death,” she said.

I thought it funny that they valued their weapons as highly as they did their lives. Made sense in this hostile world; without a weapon, your life was forfeit anyway.

“These are grievous crimes,” Azile stated. “And I do understand the need for justice to be served.”

“Not seeing where your defense is going here,” I said softly.

“But…” she started.

“Oh here it is,” I said.

“…there are many things Michael must accomplish before he can be tried for these crimes. I call for the Law of Forfeiture,” Azile said.

Inuktuk’s features narrowed. “He is not one of us. How do I know that he will come to serve out his sentence?” she asked.

“I will stand in his place if he does not,” Azile said. The people around us ranged in emotion from gasps to hostility to amazement.

I had no idea what she was saying, but it sure didn’t give me any warm fuzzies. The crowd dispersed almost as quickly as they had assembled.

“Any chance you could fill me in on what just happened?” I asked her.

“I plead guilty for your crimes and you will have to atone for them when you have fulfilled your obligations,” she said evenly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I asked her. “I broke a stick and barely touched the man. Sure I had meant to drain him dry, but I didn’t. I’m not swinging for that.”

“Then I will,” she said, turning back towards the tent.

I followed her
as I wasn’t quite done. “You know, I’m getting really sick of these weird customs and laws these people have. I was quite capable of getting out of this jam myself without having to forfeit my life to do so.”

“What would you have done, Michavef gettael?” she asked heatedly. “Fight and kill your way out? Because that’s what it would have taken. Are you worth so much that you’d feel justified in killing five, ten…maybe a dozen of them to garner your escape? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” I said, backing up a measure from her vehemence. “I’m still not sure the punishment fits the crime, Azile. Maybe the intent of my crime, but not what actually happened.”

“These are different times, Michael. Men were hung for stealing a horse once. During our time, you could steal a fleet of cars and get off on five years of probation. If any good has come from this, I have now bound you to our cause.”

“That’s one way to look at it I suppose. I could still walk away from this,” I told her.

“You could, but then I would stay here.”

“Damn you, Azile,” I told her as I left the tent. I thought for sure there’d be a small posse of armed men waiting for me and following my every move. Apparently, Azile’s oath was good enough for them. “Well, fuck, if I’m to die, I should have killed him, would have made it somewhat worth it.”

I stayed right outside the tent almost the entire night. I didn’t trust myself enough to go wandering off, and I knew Lunos was still out there. In the mood I was in, I figured I’d push him just enough until we got into one hell of a scrape. That seemed a much more fitting exit from the world than the one Azile had brokered for me. It was the low chanting that got me moving. A tent off to the corner seemed to be the source of the noise.

This one, instead of being the typical canvas-like material, appeared to be made from animal hide – though it was difficult to tell in the night. Paintings covered the entire structure; there were many differing colored hands of varying sizes, a few crosses. I may have seen a Jewish Star and I believe the symbol that was used in Muslim religions.

“Holy man,” I said outside the flap. My words drifted off in a breeze.

“I was wondering when you would come,” a voice said from within.

It seemed too soft to be meant for me, but I didn’t see anyone else standing out here, so I pulled the flap back. I could barely make out the figure seated in the middle. A thick bank of smoke separated us. I think if I tried hard enough, I could have drifted in on it.

“Diviner’s sage?” I asked, taking a sniff.

Paul and I had raced down to the local head shop the day we discovered there was such a thing as Salvia Divinorum or Diviner’s Sage used by Native Americans for centuries to produce visions. More like drug-induced hallucinations; but who was I to deny someone a good trip? We had experimented a few times with it before the Lord Overseers or the US Government deemed it a Class something narcotic and banned it. Just what I need…another mom. We’d had fun smoking it, more laughs than visions.
I miss you, Paul
, I thought.

“What is lost can be found,” the figure said. I was wondering if I had another mind intruder.

“Where were you when I lost my passport?” I asked. “Spent close to forty hours of my time looking for that thing. Blamed the moving crew that brought our new kitchen table. Know what, though? I at,th="found the stupid thing in my suit jacket pocket a couple of years later, probably should have sent Perry’s Furniture an apology. Too late now, I suppose.”

The man said nothing to my words –
in fact, completely ignored them. So much so, I wondered if we had been married in a former existence.

“A man bereft of his soul is no longer a man,” he said.

“You take all night to come up with that line, holy man?”

“My name is Feather Hand.”

I took another step in, and the flap closed behind me. The smoke was beginning to affect me, I felt a slight pressure around my eyes while it swirled around my head. The figure huddled down by the heavily smoking flame was ancient. He looked like he could have been as old as me, but time had not been as kind.

“Sit,” he said, not motioning and I didn’t see anything even remotely resembling a recliner.

I thought about just parking my ass where I was, but instead moved to the far side of the small stone fire pit. I found a particularly comfortable flat stone to sit on. Being sarcastic here, this felt a lot like the one I had become intimate with during a close encounter in a cave with John the Tripper. There’s a man that would have definitely appreciated this.

My thoughts drifted all over the place; places I’d seen, worlds I’d known, and then others I had not. Images of Red Rocks, respite with large crocodile-like aliens, a young death suffered at the hands of an inexperienced driver, Tracy, Jandyln, BT, Dee; names I knew, and some I didn’t flitted across my synapses.

“You have many paths,” the man said. “Some traveled, some not,” he added, never looking over at me.

“What are you doing to me?” I asked in a panic. I watched as I battled men, as I battled aliens, as I battled demons. And finally, I danced with death. In every case, there was no escape.

“These are lives you have lived…or will live.”

“Please,” I pleaded as I watched countless ones that I loved – some I had no remembrance of – die. Some gruesome deaths, others after living long, fruitful existences; but always the end was the same.

The man finally moved. He swept his hand over the fire and the images were erased as neatly as if he had wiped a chalkboard with a sponge. I was breathing heavy from the exertion of the thoughts.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked.

“I have done nothing, what you see is already within you.”

“You said what is lost can be found again. What are you referring to?” I asked with hope. I knew what I wanted the answer to be; it was the key to everything. I would gladly leave this plane of existence if I had it back.

“It will reveal itself when the time is right. You have foregone the most special of gifts…that which differentiates us from all the beasts of the world. It cannot be so easily won back.”

“A test? More fucking tests? Have I not done enough? Have I not suffered enough?” A little more whining and I’d be bleating like a goat. “Is it not enough? It never is, is it? There’s always one more wall to scale, enemyo sot s to kill, child to save. That’s the hell of it. Within a fingers’ width, but always out of reach.”

“You must be strong, Michael Talbot.” He finally looked up from whatever realm he had been journeying in.

“I’ve lost my way,” I told him.

“We all do. You still must go on until the end. The final fight you will win. The paths intermingle, Michael. You must find a crossing point.”

I understood why, in each of those other realms, I was whole; I was a man undivided. Now the hard part was, how does someone find something when they have no idea what it looks like or did not even have a clue where to look.

The sun was coming up. I was leaning against my own tent, completely unsure as to how I got there or if I had even left. I stood up and looked over to where I swore I had talked to the Shaman; there was nothing there except a small circle of stones that had not seen flame in years. No tent, and certainly no old man, just a clearing and an old pit.

“Life’s not fucked up enough?” I asked the heavens, “You have to throw this curveball?”

There was no fanfare as we left in the morning. The man I had almost chowed on was the only one that saw us off. He was holding the broken parts of his spear in his hands. I don’t think that he was happy I had prolonged my fate. I gave him the finger. Maybe he knew what it meant as he tossed the pieces to the ground, turned and walked away.

“Lunos follows,” Azile said, although she didn’t look in any particular direction as an affirmation of her words.

“Probably to report back to his king to let him know we’ve been tricked by his words,” Bailey said sourly.

“That is a possibility.” Azile said, “But
, the lie doesn’t ring true.”

I wrestled with the words trying to make sense of them. I made sure Oggie stayed close, he wasn’t thrilled that I wouldn’t let him go roaming around, but if Lycans killed humans without impunity, I had to figure dogs weren’t off limits.

“What do we do if they don’t believe us?” Tommy asked Azile. “We aren’t even sure.”

“We have less than three weeks to convince them,” she said sternly.

Again, and not for the first or last time, letting the Lycans wipe man from the planet solved all my problems. I owed them nothing. I had played my part the last time we were threatened. I had paid the price over and over, and what had it got me but another date with an executioner? Plus, I had created a mortal enemy with what I had previously thought was a mythical creature. I was dour and sour all wrapped in one neat little package. My head was splitting, and it was either a Diviner’s Sage hangover or a major embolism that I was suffering. My encounter last night seemed entirely too vivid to be made up.

“Are my eyes red?” I asked Tommy.

“Glowing like coals,” he said.

“One or both?”

“Both why?”

“Just trying to figure out what is going on.”

“You crying, Talbot?” Bailey asked.

“Just happy to see you,” I told her.