Darkness

[RVM45]

Chapter Sixteen



“What’s up with Modok”, I asked.


He was standing- if that’s the word for it- in the Kindred Drafting room, looking over the shoulder of one of the Kindred Draftsmen. The Kindred firmly believe that if a man truly cares about what he’s designing, he’ll draw it on paper. CAD, in their opinion, is for uninspired hacks. Be that as it may. At the moment, I was more concerned with Modok’s strange antics, than I was with the Kindred’s philosophy of craftsmanship.


I couldn’t think of any real reason for him to be in the Design room; yet there he was. He was so excited about something, that he was jumping up and down, and squealing with delight- like a prepubescent girl at a teenybopper concert.


“Well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Modok” Lemuel began.


Complications! That’s what I love. My brother has no eyes. He murders my parents; gets me committed to an insane asylum; kills my dogs; kills several of my cousins; and kidnaps my fiancée. I’m trying frantically to find the eyeless bastard; so I can repay him, in some small way, for all the light and joy he’s brought into my world. Now I can hear in Lemuel’s voice, that there are complications with Modok.


“When you had them bring him in, you told the medics to fix him up. You weren’t very specific. They fixed him up. For instance: Modok was blind in his right eye. We fixed it.”


“I could tell that he had a bad eye. I didn’t know that he couldn’t see out of it at all. So…”


“It was congenital. We couldn’t just put the eye in. We had to do some rather sophisticated brain stimulation to get it to work. Also, he was a drug addict; forty-two years old, and with some major health issues…”


“Get to the bottom line Lemuel.”


“Modok currently has much better than human eyesight- maybe twice the light sensitivity, at night. He’s got 2x2 hearing and his sense of smell has been drastically stimulated. His reflexes and healing powers are all jacked up. He has the life expectancy of one of the Kindred. His brain is over-stimulated at the moment. That will pass- eventually; but he’ll still have a permanent IQ of close to two hundred He has total recall, at least for everything that’s happened since the stimulation. And did I mention, he’s fanatically loyal to you?”


“Say what?”


“Yeah, he really grooves on binocular vision- though I think it’s over-rated myself- and he thanks you for it” Lemuel said.


“So, he ain’t Kindred; but he’s not really human anymore either. Back to my original question, why is he jumping up and down in the Design room?”


“When you stimulate the brain that way- well, you gotta give the mills something to grind. We let him read some engineering books, because they were handy. Then we gave him some schematic printouts. He’s really into The Luftwaffe. Actually made some notable improvements.”


I shook my head, and turned to go. Lemuel laid his hand on my shoulder, and detained me briefly.


“Being Kindred is more than a matter of genetics. He fought beside you. You named him your friend. That was an act worthy of Kindred. We respect your naming. He is Kindred now. He has a place among us as long as he wants one. None begrudge him that.”


I’d turned my back to Modok. He came walking up behind me; but he was prudent enough to stop just outside arm’s reach.


“Hey Herman, I want to show you something” Modok said.


I don’t know precisely what I was expecting; but Modok dressed in a Confederate Cavalry uniform was not foremost amongst them. He had the Ostrich-plumed Cavalry hat; the knee-high Cavalier’s boots; and a Gray Confederate Greatcoat that reached a palm’s width below his knees.


“Watch”, he said.


The Greatcoat turned a half dozen colors; including absolute black, then it went into stealth mode. I could still see Modok, of course, but I could see stuff behind him, though greatly distorted- as though through a really thick piece of glass. When he moved, it also lagged a fraction of a second behind. At a sight distance though, particularly at night, he’d be all but invisible- particularly when standing still.


“Now watch the hat”, Modok said enthusiastically.


The hat morphed into a half-dozen Stetson variations. Then it became a Top Hat; a Bowler; a really bulky black Sock Hat; a red; gold; and green Rasta Hat; a hood seemingly attached to the Greatcoat; and finally a Cat-in-the-Hat style Hat- with multiple color schemes, of course.

“And the Greatcoat; boots; and hat are all bullet proof, just like yours”, Modok said.


“And just what is the point of all this tomfoolery?” I asked.


“I am JEB Stewart, Commander of The Confederate States Luftwaffe.”


“Lemuel…”


“He thought the idea up all by himself” Lemuel hastily started to explain.


“He has his own Luftwaffe?”


“Yes.”


“Why?”


“He came up with some really good Design ideas. He helped us invent the first truly practical micro helicopter, for one thing…” Lemuel was saying.


“Too inefficient- fuel wise” I said.


“True, but Modok figured out a way to use a fairly big mini zeppelin as a sort of aerial aircraft carrier. It works really well. Some of the smaller planes can use them to refuel and rearm as well.”


“Outstanding”, I muttered to myself. “Modok, what makes you think I’d want you out in the field with me?”


“You need someone to cover your six. I am the rational one to do it. You’d be dead now, if it wasn’t for me”, he said- which wasn’t exactly true, he’d been more in the way, than anything.


His words came out all staccato, like popcorn popping. He looked like he was going to start riding his imaginary pogo stick again.


“Oh all right, once you get the hyper activity under control. Can’t have you out on the streets acting like that- get yourself put into the loony bin. But tell me, why JEB Stewart?”


“I saw his portrait in one of the books the kinfolk let me read. He had a long duster like yours- besides, I read an article one time about the Confederate Air Force.”


“They didn’t have aircraft back during The War Between The States”, I told him. “And that’s ‘Kindred’ not ‘kinfolk’.”


“No, no, I’m talking about a society of old military aircraft collectors and restorers. They call themselves ‘The Confederate Air Force’.”


“Why, pray tell, do they do that?”


“Because The South shall rise again”, He stated with utmost conviction.


“Lemuel!” I saw Laura enter the room and I gestured for one of the Kindred to bring her over. “ Glad you’re here Laura. We’re going to do a reality check- you, Lemuel, and me. My brother has no eyes. I’m a mutant- descended from a race of beings known as The Kindred- a folk so fierce that they inspired the Norse legends of Trolls. But even The Kindred are a little leery of my fiancée. They call her the Hellspawn- for reasons I’ve yet to learn. She hooks me up with an AI weapons system that won’t work unless I identify myself as ‘Herman Goering’. Now I have a crazed black bodyguard- who until recently was a crack dealer- who runs around impersonating JEB Stewart and tells me’ The South will rise again’. I should have stayed in the asylum. Now tell me, have I missed anything?”


“You left out the Tuatha De Dannan”, Lemuel started helpfully.


“Wait a second” Laura began. “You also have several cousins with no eyes, myself being a prize example. But there’s more”, She added sweetly.


“Make my happiness complete ”, I said resignedly.


“Our latest intelligence reports indicate that your brother has allied himself with the Remnant” She said.


“Who in hell are The Remnant; and why are y’all so intimidated by them?” I asked.


“When the Kindred decided to move down from the northlands and mix with men- at least outwardly- The Remnant stayed behind. We haven’t heard from them in over a thousand years. We were largely convinced that they had gone into oblivion.” Laura said.


“A year ago, your cursed brother didn’t know the Kindred existed. Now he’s resurrected The Remnant!” Lemuel spat out.


“Be fair Lemmy, it isn’t Bucky’s fault if The Remnant still exists” Laura reasoned.


“No but it’s his fault for getting them to take an interest in the affairs of men, once again” Lemuel argued.


“Not necessarily, our analysis shows that given the continued existence of Remnant; they’d quite naturally monitor the affairs of The Kindred very closely- from a distance, as it were”, Laura argued back.


“Modok, do you think some of The Kindred are big and scary? We’re lightweights compared to The Remnant. Long ago, when The Kindred decided to cast their fate with mankind, we made a conscious decision to be more like men. We had far more control over our form back then. We became smaller, and less hairy. We also began to think more like men. We may seem violent; impulsive and instinct-driven to you. We are- compared to you. The Remnant would make us look like men by comparison.” Lemuel mused partly to Modok, partly to himself.


“The Remnant are very powerful and very evil. They scare me.” Laura said quietly.


“Are these Abominable Snowmen bullet-proof?” Modok demanded.


“No, they’re mortal” Laura admitted.


“Then you ain’t got nuthin’ to worry about. As long as JEB Stewart is a member of the kinfolk, the Yetis will have to come through me” Modok boasted- though I had no doubt that he was sincere.


“That’s KINDRED d**n it all to hell! KINDRED not kinfolk, how the hell you gonna be Kindred, if you can’t even say it?” I demanded.


“Leave him alone. His heart is in the right place”, Laura said.


Later after Laura and Lemuel left, Modok leaned close and lowered his voice conspiratorially.


“I think that red-haired girl Laura likes me. She’s been making eyes at me.”


“Are you mentally challenged? Has it somehow eluded your notice that Laura doesn’t have any eyes? She’s just like my brother. My brother has no eyes.”


“Not just like your brother. You told me you brother was evil. Laura is sweet. Besides, you know what I mean about making eyes at me” Modok insisted.

It wasn’t worth arguing about. No one listens to me anyhow.


.....RVM45

[RVM45]

Chapter Seventeen



Bucky was holding our people- including Pretty- in a stronghold in rural Minnesota. That was a far piece from the main concentration of Kindred. The logistics of bringing overwhelming force to bear were daunting.


We didn’t have any big planes. Even if we had, a planeload of Kindred would have been far too tempting a target; and we couldn’t risk losing that many Kindred to one LAW rocket- or whatever. We had to transport over two hundred heavily armed men over the roadways- hopefully without arousing the notice of Bucky, or the Laws.


Lets face it: most Kindred can pass for human; but they’re ungodly ugly humans. I’d guess the average Male Kindred is about Six-five. He’ll weigh in about three seventy-five, with muscles like a champion Power Lifter; and a big belly too. He’ll generally have abundant jet-black body hair; big nose and chin; pronounced supra-orbital ridges; and a modest set of fangs. Most of them wear bib overalls and speak in an exaggerated drawl- playing to the stereotype of the stupid; inbred; man-mountain; Mountain William. It doesn’t work nearly as well when you have a whole crowd of them milling around in one place. Kinda sets folks to pondering…


But there are Kindred like Bucky and me, who have generous amounts of human blood and look more like normal humans. Lemuel and Laura would have fit into that category, except for the missing eyes. They had several brothers and sisters though, who had the standard number of eyes. We also shared some other cousins that fit that general description.


There were also a number of people like Modok. They’d fallen in amongst The Kindred for one reason, or another. They’d grooved on the scene and been adopted into the tribe. So far as The Kindred were concerned, they were just as much Kindred as if they’d been born Kindred.


People who’d lived close to the Kindred for generations would have had to be pretty thick, not to realize that The Kindred were a peculiar people- a people apart. Many of them knew about The Kindred; but country people are big on minding their own business. There’s been a certain amount of intermarriage over the year; and there have been a number of alliances formed.


Suffice it to say, we tried to have someone who looked at least halfway normal to be the driver of most of the vehicles, most of the time. We also took great pains to avoid giving the Laws any excuse to pull one of our vehicles over.


“Modok, if you ask me one more time, if we’re there yet, I’ll poke out one of our eyes and make you look like Lemuel”, I said.


He knew that we hadn’t made it to Minnesota yet. He was asking if we’d gotten to the agreed upon mileage for him to take over driving. I don’t like to let others drive me; so I was loath to let him take over even a few minutes ahead of schedule. I assumed that he shared my distaste for being a passenger; but he had other things on his mind.


“Do you think that I have a chance with Laura?” He asked me.


“Modok, I don’t know what to tell you. She’s blind. That means that she can’t see how ugly you are. She’s Kindred. That means she’s moody- even more than a human female. She’ll have a dowry; so it won’t matter that you’re flat broke. The Kindred Doctors cured your addiction. No one will have to worry about you ever becoming an addict again. I don’t know. I know it’s a radical course of action; but why don’t you ask her?”


Modok seemed to have a special talent for annoying me. Nonetheless, we managed to arrive at the designated assemblage point without incident.


Bucky’s fortress was largely underground. There was chain link fence around the place; and sentries inside the fence and out. I had the Goering coat on, of course. I also had a new gadget- a set of safety goggles. They not only protected my eyes; but they monitored my brainwaves. At the mental push of a button, I could choose to see a virtual image from any of my miniature aircraft. Or I could use the goggles for night vision; or infer-red. Modok had a similar pair.


I sent a score of tiny stealth planes, with silenced Guns loaded with poisoned darts. In one massive first strike, they wiped out all of the above ground sentries simultaneously. Kindred sprinted forward from all four point of the compass to breach the fences with bolt cutters. In less than a minute, they’d laid entry charges at all five of the entrances. Selected teams went in, while others stayed topside to guard against an attack on our rear.


Kindred are generally big and they have scant use for small-bore Guns. Every one of them carried some sort of .308- M-1As; H&K; Saigas mostly- along with some very sophisticated Kindred designed belt-feds. A lot of them carried a twelve gauge as well.


I had an H&K .308. It was the first one that I’d ever owned; and I was real pleased with it. I had a 1911A1 on my strong-side hip (the right). I had a seven shot; four inch L-Frame S&W .357 (pre-lock, of course) on my left hip; and another in a left-hand appendix cross draw. I had an eight and three eighths inch Smith 29 .44 Magnum in a left side shoulder holster. I had a custom Bowie with a fourteen-inch blade, and a few hideouts blades and Guns. I also backed up my H&K with a .30 M1 Carbine slung over my shoulder; and a six-pack of fifteen round magazines- with a couple more in speed pouches. All my Guns, except the H&K were bright nickeled; and all my pistols and knives were stag handled.


Notwithstanding, as I led the way down the tunnels, my main weapons were the miniature Confederate Air Cavalry helicopters, on temporary loan to the Luftwaffe. While the tunnels were wide enough to drive a car down- or even pass for that matter- the tunnels were a bit tight for my planes to maneuver in. We carried several small planes though, just in case a need for them should arise. Although we had a general idea how the tunnels were arranged- both from official blueprints; and through all sorts of sophisticated scans; they didn’t tell the whole story. Bucky had deviated from the official plans; and we couldn’t know everything there was to know about the tunnels from outside.


The small helicopters were invaluable for scouting around corners and though open doorways. They didn’t warn us of the ambush though. One of the sidewalls dropped straight down into a slot prepared for it, revealing a squad waiting in ambush. The Air Cavalry helicopters buzzed and fired away like angry hornets. I had time to shoot a couple of Bucky’s minions; and I felt a half dozen bullets impact the Goering duster. Then the stock on my H&K exploded in my hand from multiple hits. It numbed my right hand momentarily and I dropped the rifle. I drew the .357 from my left hip and got in a quick headshot before all the hostiles were down. I did a quick tactical reload and reholstered the L Frame. While we paused momentarily, I got out my carbine and divested myself of several magazines of .308.


We met a few lone gunmen along the way; but the choppers took care of them. Finally we entered into the large central chamber. The chamber was over a hundred feet below the ground. The tunnel floors had consistently led downward- with the occasional descending stairwell for good measure. All the tunnels seemed to converge on this one big central chamber; and then they branched out again- going ever downward.


The chamber had a round floor of perhaps sixty or seventy yards across, with an elevated platform about twenty feet high and twenty feet in diameter. There were maybe twenty-five or thirty rows of seats surrounding the floor, each row a couple feet higher than the last. Most of the seats were occupied. Something about the whole situation told me that they’d be mere spectators to whatever happened. It was more than a hunch- an absolute certainty- a knowing.


My brother has no eyes. He stood on the platform with Pretty and three of The Kindred in stocks. He turned his eyeless head towards me and smiled.


“I’ve been expecting you brother. You are so predictable”, He said.


He was holding a silver colored rod in one hand- about thirty inches long, with a big metal ball on one end and a smaller ball on the other. I looked a lot like a twirling baton- only heavier duty. He walked over to one of The Kindred and touched him with the larger sphere. Some sort of purplish lightning came out of the wand; and a male Kindred screamed in agony. Kindred are less sensitive to pain than humans and very stubborn to boot. The fact that he had made a Kindred cry out- particularly a male- was shocking. The man screamed for a few heartbeats. Then he either died; or passed out.


I was straining to get to the stage where Bucky held court; but dozens of his followers blocked our way. None of them were armed. They didn’t try to attack us. All they tried to do was obstruct our forward progress. Bucky was moving towards Pretty with his wand. I ordered the helicopters to attack Bucky; but once they got close to him, they seemed to be crushed by an invisible hand. I called my remaining ‘copters back and set them to mowing down the unarmed herds. I was shooting as many of them, as fast as I could, with my Carbine- headshots only. I took no pity on them. They were part of what was going down- armed or not.


“You see my brother? He’s good at killing the unarmed and the innocent. He killed our parents”, Bucky said in a big rabble-rousing voice.


I screamed in rage to hear him accuse me that way. I didn’t want to shoot him. I wanted to seize him; tear at him with my teeth; throttle him until he expired; rip his head clean off his body; and eat his liver. The world danced in a red haze to my enraged eyesight. I’d finally cleared a pathway to the stage and I bounded up the stairs two-at-a-time. I saw Modok and Laura running up the stairs on the other side.


I’d tried to tell Modok that it wasn’t his fight and that he could be killed. He’d insisted on coming along. Now seeing him and Laura, I was almost as concerned about their welfare as I was Pretty’s. That’s the hell of fighting wars side by side with your kin. Of course Laura fiercely resented any suggestion that she couldn’t do anything someone with eyes could do.


Just as I cleared the last stair step Bucky reached Pretty; but as he touched her with the wand, instead of purple fire enveloping Pretty, a bright orange flame enveloped Bucky. He didn’t scream in pain. He was far more powerful than a mere Kindred; but you could see the flames had hurt him. He staggered backward dazedly.


“You wonder why I’m called the ‘Hellspawn’. It’s because I can command the orange flame. You think that you’re something to marvel at, eyeless one? I was born into slavery. I’m over three hundred years old. You mean no more to me, than an insect” She shouted at him.


I shot at Bucky’s head a half dozen times with the Carbine. One round actually connected with his head but it was only a superficial wound. I got a couple rounds into his shoulder and one into his left forearm. Somehow he was largely deflecting each round. I put a fresh magazine into the Carbine; but Bucky had regained his composure. Fifteen rounds whistled off into space going every which way, hazarding friend as much as foe. I dropped the Carbine and drew my Bowie with my left hand. That’s the way I’d been taught. Ambidextrousness is the goal; but the default condition is: right hand- Gun hand; left hand- blade hand. Bucky was no more than ten yards away; and I didn’t think that I’d be as easy to deflect as a 110 grain Carbine bullet.


Then everything went black. It wasn’t an ordinary darkness. This darkness almost seemed to have substance. It blocked my infrared as well as my night vision. It even seemed to dampen my echolocation and my sense of feel to a large degree. I tried to push through the darkness towards Bucky.


“Who is The One True Light?” Bucky catchetized his minions.


“The Eyeless One!” They shouted back.


“Who is The One True Light? Who is The One True Light? Who is The One True light?” Bucky shouted at them.


“You are! You are! You are!” They shouted back maniacally.


I drew both my .357s. I couldn’t shoot at Bucky- blinded by the darkness as I was- there would be too much chance of hitting Pretty; or Modok; or one of The Kindred. Nonetheless, a four inch .357 Magnum is both loud and bright. I haven’t seen any figures, which is louder- a four inch .357 or an eight inch .44? My vote goes to the short .357. I fired fourteen rounds into the ceiling as fast as I could pull the triggers.


The muzzle blast tore a hole in Bucky’s darkness, just as I’d thought it might. I could see a few feet around me. Bucky was rolling on the floor and holding his misshapen head. The bright orange flame surrounded Pretty once more. This time it burst first her shackles; then the shackles of the three Kindred.


Laura was also down on the floor holding her head- though I later learned that it was from Bucky’s darkness; and not from my .357s. I tried hard to get to Bucky; but the closer I got, the thicker the darkness became. It actually checked my forward progress like trying to wade through invisible molasses.


“We have to get out of here before Bucky recovers” Pretty screamed at me.


I could barely hear her through Bucky’s sound deadening aura. I could hear Bucky’s deadheaded followers loud and clear though. They were yelling some kind of chant about the One True Light. On a hunch, I shouted my own slogan.


“I am the Light Breaker! All servant’s of The Eyeless One should fear me!”


Bucky had an amplification system keyed to his voice- and our voices were similar enough…


Laura had fallen much closer to Bucky than anyone else. She wasn’t capable of walking and no one seemed able to reach her. Bucky was between us; so if I could have gotten to Laura; I’d already have gutted my brother like an eyeless pig. My brother has no eyes.


Then I saw Modok attack Bucky with every aircraft that he had. None of them got very close; but I noticed the darkness weaken a bit more. Modok had a PPSH 41 with an 80 round drum magazine. It was his pride and joy. He emptied the Magazine in Bucky’s general direction while walking slowly forward. I could see his facial veins swell, from fifteen yards away. I decided to help him. I drew my .44 Magnum and sighted carefully on Bucky’s chest. I fired six evenly spaced shots, about a half second apart. I don’t know if it worked, or not; but something did. I saw Modok pick Laura up. Moving away from Bucky seemed far easier than moving towards him.


I ordered half my remaining helicopters to escort Modok; and left him to fend for himself. I had problems enough of my own. Pretty’s confinement had left her too weak to walk without aid. Most of Bucky’s dudes seemed to have gone catatonic- but there was a substantial minority that seemed to have gone on a general rampage- attacking friend and foe with equal enthusiasm. They didn’t fight well; but they were enough of a threat to occupy my full attention.


I didn’t notice that Pretty had picked up my forgotten Carbine ‘till we were back to our vehicle.


“I knew how you’d hate to lose a Gun”, she told me.


“What’s with the orange flames? And what was that blanket of darkness that Bucky used? Is there a way to defeat it?” I asked her desperately.


“I’ll explain it to you later. Right now I need to rest”, she said- just prior to passing out.


.....RVM45

[RVM45]

.
.
Chapter Eighteen



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.


“d**n 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.


“d**n 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 pregnant dog. 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 pregnant dog 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

[RVM45]

.
.
Chapter Nineteen



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

[RVM45]

.
.
Chapter Twenty


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.


“d**n 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.


“d**n 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