CHAPTER 46 – THE MAD SHADOW


    The air was different up here. They had been transported to an elevated location by the gem. As far as Mitakahn could tell, it was still the same night; that big fat full moon in the sky allowing him the keep track. They were displaced in location but not in time. Mitakahn rubbed his head and tried to get to his feet.


    He could see everyone around him present and accounted for. Then Mitakahn realized that the reason he could see everyone so clearly was because of the light emanating from between them all. It was the Carbon Terra at the center of the group. The gem had returned back to its diamond form. Such an unworldly thing would have the precedent to behave erratically. The light vibrated so frequently that it could not be seen by the naked eye, but it could be heard. The god-stone pulsated with a low hum. The diamond then started to engorge and perspire.


    Whatever was happening seemed to put a tremendous amount of strain on the corners of the diamond. Light splashed around the hillside as the condensation casted its shadow projection out from the glowing gem. It got everyone up and on the same page. Swords were once again drawn. By now, the Carbon Terra had tripled in size and was still growing.


    The fine diamond corners were bending and ready to give. The winds swirled the darkness around them. Light morphed the corners into elbows and knees. The hard glass surface of the crystal turned into organic matter but didn’t lose any of its shine in the metamorphosis. The diamond was no more, the transition completing. The white silhouette of a womanly figure with long spangled hair lay before them. Her eyes opened and the winds of shadow snapped to her aid. They spun around her. The shadow wrapped the goddess up and gave her the same face as the night, vanishing from sight, and stealing the light.


    Mitakahn could no longer see the moon. He could barely see Tron and Anilithion closest to him. He heard Orion’s bark and knew everyone was still close. He had to think of something fast. He looked down at his left hand. The gauntlet was a darker gray. It seemed to always mimic the current environment. As Mitakahn thought about how the magical gauntlet could parallel light, he saw it change to the mirror form. A spark of insight crawled into Mitakahn’s mind. Perhaps, he could control the color of the metal. He remembered what Zora told him about Chronis’ metal always being in flux.


    Mitakahn knew from his experience on the road not to think about changing the color of the gauntlet outright, but to, simply, think of the color itself. Right now, he needed light, so he thought about the big fat full moon above them, hiding behind the dark clouds. Mitakahn unlocked another feature on his gauntlet. He waved his sword hand in the air and it lit up with the same pale brightness as the moon, serving as a beacon for his company.


    Mitakahn worried his hand was sticking up in the air for too long. He felt vulnerable and that was never a good thing. At this point, most of them were gathered. Anilithion watched in horror as it looked like the night sky snatched Mitakahn from them. The shadow wrapped his hand up and yanked him around. Anilithion and Tron quickly grabbed Mitakahn on both sides to anchor him down but the force above was overpowering.


    Orion barked as the light flashed through the night winds. The night released Mitakahn and spat him back out as dark as everything else. His gauntlet returned to its basic charcoal gray metal form. Mitakahn was shook and not speaking. The winds withdrew and the dense shadow lifted. Bridger and Humbler joined the rest of them rallied around Mitakahn. Orion barked at the dark clouds above them.


    The dog’s barks returned in kind with surrounding howls. Mitakahn recognized the call immediately. There was no mistaking it. He got himself up and braced Orion with a pat on the back. Mitakahn knew he had to focus and found his words.


    “We are surrounded by berserkers, the dark wolves that prey on fear. One bite and you turn into one. Do not let your feelings betray you and look to one another to keep the beast distracted. If anyone has silver weapons now would be the time to use them.” Mitakahn clutched his sword and for a brief second, became thankful that he was mugged along the road. If it were not for his broken wrist, the storm, and the dragon rider, he would lack the silver infused sword needed to fight against his current threat.


    “This can’t be happening,” Anilithion panicked.


    “What if it’s an illusion?”


    “We can’t afford to take that chance.”


    “Stay together,” Tron told them, “And follow my lead.”


    Bridger took out his bow and arrow and traced the surrounding area for any signs. There was movement between the trees but even his keen eyes could not translate the dark of the night. That was until the toxic light of the berserker’s eyes, red with pale yellow glowing rings, appeared for all to see. Bridger shot his first arrow. They all listened in confusion. The arrow sounded like it never found its mark. There was never a landing impact noise. Bridger shot another and Excelsior joined him, loosing his own arrow into the tree line. They howled again and the clouds parted to reveal the moon.


    “Why haven’t they attacked yet?”


    “Let’s not press our blessings.”


    The massive, matted, dark furred wolves with red and yellow eyes lurched forward from the trees slowly. They formed a circle around the company. Orion’s tail tucked between his legs. Tron gritted his teeth. No matter what this violent shadow would bring upon them, he would be the one who remained on guard against the berserkers. The circle opened and out from the parted clouds above them spilled the shadow. It churned and landed before them, swirling like a tiny tornado. The men gripped their swords tightly, bracing themselves, but none of them knew what to expect.


    The shadow refined itself back to the form of the woman. It was a chaotic mix. The shadow tightly swirled like moving skin over the lady made of light from the Carbon Terra. Then there was some sort of phase shift. The shadow concentrated and blended together with the light to create a putrid flesh. Features formed from the flesh including long black hair that covered her face.


    The rest of the shadow pinned itself to her like a dress. Fingers stretched out from hands at the end of two arms. They were crooked and the nails were sharp, more closely resembling claws. The jagged hands parted her hair to reveal a still-forming face. The points of the claws scratched open her face in different spots revealing her features.


    Her cold black eyes separated and formed lids that snapped open. Some of the light could still be seen in the iris of her eyes but her pupils were the purest black. Ears and a nose, followed by a chin left only the mouth to come into realization. It curled into the mutating face, producing two rows of crooked teeth and as soon as the mouth broke open into lips a piercing scream was let loose that nearly deafened the entire company. The sheer volume and shrill tone stung the eardrums to a debilitating degree. They all covered their ears and writhed around as the cries intensified.


    It was as if its own cries startled her, and she didn’t know what to do. The night witch stumbled around crazed. Her cries varied between violent and scared. Mitakahn took a deep breath and retook a ready stance, allowing his ears to burn uncovered from the screams as he approached the stunned witch. He took little steps closer and closer until she was practically in reach of him. She bellowed over and snapped her head back to look right at him. Before Tron could see the idiotic risk Mitakahn had taken, he moved into an offensive position against the approaching berserkers, providing no back-up for the prince if things went sideways as they always seem to inevitably do.


    “Mitakahn!”


    Tron turned back around after Anilithion’s scream to see Mitakahn in a staring match with the witch. She wretched her body, rolled over Mitakahn, and pinned him down. He was almost face to face with the demon. Was this even a god? Mitakahn was helpless. The warlocks had gotten them into a real mess here, and completely broke their promise to be there to guide them through it. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The skin on the witch’s face toiled and churned. Mitakahn could not stop looking at it, being this close. The shadow tried to cover something up. Mitakahn looked into her painful eyes as she continued to scream and twist into him harder. There was light in those eyes begging to get out. This was a god, and something was wrong. The unleashing had been cursed.


    Did they not do the ritual right? Was this just how things would play out when opening any of the godstones? Perhaps Quarrel’s final trick was to curse them upon re-entry into MagnaThora. Or maybe Demascus was right and all those millennia within the NetherRealm warped the gods into nightmare versions of themselves. Mitakahn had to try and break through to her. It was his purpose, being the one who had taken it this far already. He could not doom this being to such torment any longer. Mitakahn wrestled with it and tried to break free. It was harder than he expected. He was beginning to lose control and suffocate under the pressure of the witch.


    Orion tackled the witch off Mitakahn, triggering the circle of berserkers into action. The witch got back to her feet and the berserkers chased his company all around him. She took a breath and let out another repulsive scream. In a fury, she made haste again for Mitakahn. Nothing would stop her this time. He grabbed his sword and focused on brightening his gauntlet for the encounter. The witch attacked Mitakahn and sliced his arms as she wailed her decrepit claws around. Mitakahn winced, but in the heat of the moment, did not realize how deep his wounds were.


    He swung at her head with the sword. She stopped and grabbed the sword, ripping it from Mitakahn’s grip without getting wounded. The witch knocked Mitakahn upside the head with the hilt of his own sword. He crawled back to his feet, scrambling to find his focus. He pulled out his father’s hunting knife and the white metal came back to the gauntlet.


    The witch screamed in frustration and threw the sword down making another lunge for Mitakahn. She grabbed the knife by the blade again. This time, Mitakahn let it go and punched her in the face with the gauntlet. The punch ripped the dark flesh off her face and for a brief moment, before it reformed back over the light, Mitakahn saw her true face and it was beautiful.


    Almost embarrassed the witch called upon the shadow again and it swept in, knocking the company off their feet. The shadow fog pressed to the ground and reeled back in, taking away all of their weapons with it.


    Mitakahn ran back to the group. Right now, his best solution was using the gauntlet to break her free from the shadow-flesh, and that did not sit well with Mitakahn. Although he had learned firsthand that a beating can yield critical results, he did not want to be the one responsible for choosing a hostile approach in this god’s rebirth. There had to be another way.


    Mitakahn pushed himself to think. What could they do without weapons? He demanded a solution from himself. They had nothing but the supplies and personal effects on their backs now. He commanded himself to think of a way, to go back through everything and see if there was a clue in all of this chaos, all the tragedy, all the magic, all the dreams…The dreams!


    Mitakahn remembered the vision he had when he touched the boulderock charged with lightning. It had to be a precursor. The witches were practically identical, as if it was a memory from the future. Everything clicked into place and made perfect sense to Mitakahn for one brief moment. The music saved him in the dream. Music tamed the witch and right now, he was staring at the mandolin strapped to Bridger’s back.


    The screams continued as the company fought off the berserkers. The dark wolves possessed an unhealthy obsession towards Orion. Maybe they wanted to turn him the most. The witch broke off into the group. Kunezar was unlucky enough to replace Mitakahn as her prey. It tackled him and tore into his leg. Kunezar cried out in pain. The next scream sounded more like a laugh. Excelsior mounted Orion and got close enough for a jump kick right into the witch, freeing Kunezar who immediately rolled over and clenched his bleeding leg. Two berserkers chased off Orion while the witch crawled over to Excelsior.


    The witch lifted herself up into an almost poised position. The darkness swirled to her dress and hair shining light out from the rest of her. Her bare white feet lifted off the ground as she levitated and threw herself high into the air, only to come down hard on Excelsior.


    Mitakahn helped Bridger unstrap the mandolin from his back as the witch continued its assault on Excelsior.


    “It just keeps getting stronger and stronger.”


    “Can you play the melody to Lion’s Share?”


    “Now? Are you serious?”


    “We can’t afford to rule out even the most unlikely of weapons.”


    “Is this really what it’s come to?”


    “Trust me.”


    The blistered-over-black witch used its claws to cut into Excelsior’s back. Bridger began to play his mandolin. No one could hear the music over the screams. He tried to get closer. Excelsior kicked the witch off him and as she fell over, she stopped screaming to recuperate. That was when she heard it and all of her attention turned towards Bridger. She made a desperate run for him but as she got close, Mitakahn stood up and began to sing.


    Lord’s mercy for the savannah glades


    A bountiful spread of the lion’s share


    The crimson sun shines while the shadow fades


    Keeping our land in the light and our country fair


    There was a natural boundary. Something was tapping into her essence and getting past the curse. She tried again to attack Bridger, but he transitioned into a chorus with major chords, strumming them as hard as he could, throwing wave after wave of crescendo at the witch. It went from a natural deterrent to completely subduing her. Those who knew the Lion’s Share joined in with Mitakahn, complimenting upper and lower registers, completing the harmony.


    Bridger demonstrated his musical prowess with his own rendition of the nursery song accompanied with ebbs and flows. He took them all on a ride of peaks and valleys along the strings of the Mandolin, plucking with groove and intent. He bridged back from his solo and resolved the melody with the rest of the company. They created a symphony of sound with only a handful of voices and four strings. It broke the hold on her as the dark flesh shattered across her face.


    Her screams wiggled clear of demonic possession. No longer paining the ears, as they turned to whimpers, and soon thereafter silence. She crawled through her malting shadow like they were shallow puddles. The lady of light got to her feet and looked around with new eyes, clean eyes. She radiated light, practically blinding them in the night. No one could get a good look. Orion’s yelp could be heard in the distance, and everyone immediately remembered the berserkers. Thankfully, they were no longer hunting the company. They had surrounded the goddess. Mitakahn thought it through.


    “They want her light,” Tron ventured a guess.


    “No, I think it is more than that,” Mitakahn said, “I think she is afraid.”


    “We have to do something!”


    “We have no weapons.”


    Excelsior had caught up with Orion, he came back riding the dog with both of his swords in his hands. “All of our swords are over behind the tree line. Go now!”


    They scattered into the trees as Orion kicked up pace and charged with Excelsior holding his sword out. The berserkers left too little time for him to help her. They attacked in unison.


    “No!” he called out.


    The goddess swatted away the attack with a wave of light that she let loose in all directions. It passed through the berserkers and cleansed them of all darkness. Every single strand of their fur wiped clean of the shadow. From the fringe of their hide to the depths of their fundamental core, the goddess appropriated the very essence of the berserkers.


    The black and mange stripped away from them, leaving behind immaculate white wolves. Mitakahn let the wave pass by him and looked down; the scratches on his arms were gone. He looked over at Excelsior and the same could be said about his back, even Kunezar. Everyone’s wounds from the witch were gone.


    “Ancient demons, born into this world by an abomination, I renounce the dark forces’ claim on you. You deserve better than what you were given, just like me. I return, and so I summon ye to reclaim a destiny much deserved with the light. Be born again anew, my children, as my guardians of white.”


    The white wolves calmly aligned behind her. She turned towards Mitakahn’s company. Finally, she seemed ready to address them. Mitakahn could practically fall over from his anticipation, eager to get some much sought after answers. In a flash of light, the goddess and her white wolves vanished off the mountainside. Their exit revealed the rising sun. The night was over.