Dark Rider -- Part 19
by Martin H Slusser

And then Benny was there, slapping out the fire. Todd watched the owl, Leda, uncaring about what was happening to his hands. His lips moved in a silent prayer to the Tsi:ge:Yu:i, the Sacred People of the Sun.

Sacred-Father, brighter than the Sun, Eagle-Woman, you who created us out of love and dust, Sacred Wolf Brother, you who died to set us free of the likes of Leda and her terror by night, free us now, Ni:io and Ni:io, Tsi:ge:Yu:i.

His legs moved, wobbled, but he was free of the restrictions Leda had placed on them.

Benny screamed, “Are you whacked?”

Todd said nothing. Suddenly feeling the burn, he spat on his hand, his eyes never leaving the owl who dodge in reckless abandon through the brush and trunks of the woods, and smirked Leda’s owl-shape.

“War, my man,” Todd said with an odd lilt of pride. “It’s our - humanity’s - natural state of being. This kind of war, anyway,” he finished, a wry twist to his lips. “Now a Hunter becomes the hunted. He:wa, listen to the Sacred-Wolf of God, bro.”

Raising his hands in a gesture eerily reminiscent of Anna, Todd whispered;

“Come.”

A black form erupted from the sky and shot down at the wildly flapping owl. They collided, disappearing in a burst of tan feathers.

Scowling, furious with Todd, Benny dug under the leaves and came up with some yellow clay mixed with the black leave mold. He slapped the cooling soil in Todd’s hand.

Taking one last moment to glare at Todd, Benny spun and stalked away. He stumbled over the trestle bridge, glaring down at the river far below.

Everybody thought they had to protect him. Even Toddy was getting goofy.

Below, the waters tumbled and seethed over jagged, mossy boulders as though they held some dark secret that they could no longer contain.

It was as mixed up as his head. Benny aimed a savage kick at a small stone. The stone shot out over the river and plunged into black, churning waters. It was like how he felt, all confused and ripped apart.

Spinning on the ties, Benny shouted, “No. It’s all crap, man. I won’t be no friggin priest.” He glared at Todd.

 Todd stepped up to Benny, looked at him, then slipped passed.

 Todd’s voice was low, but Benny heard it over the mutter of the rapids deep in the gorge below them.

“None of us got any choice, bro.” Todd stared at the brush on the far side. “You’ll do it. Years ago you gave your soul for the k:t:ana-ship. Remember what happened on the ‘Stone. If you don’t stop it, it’ll continue and destroy the Valley, then move down river. You will be a Grey-Wolf priest, or you’ll be the Owl’s slave. Do you understand, Benny? It’ll feed on you, destroy you, then come after the rest of us.

“The Owl is after power, bro, and you are all that stands in his way. This is why the Owl needs you.”

Todd blinked back tears. “None of us got a choice,” he said in a low, ragged whisper.

A young raven-protector flapped into the trees. He grumbled a few choice words and tried to scraped the bloody down and tan feathers from his beak. Owls taste nasty.

Leda escaped, but the shape-shifter would be in pain for a while. Glancing over his shoulder, he cackled a laugh.

Todd finished the last few ties at a jog. He paused at the short overpass where the tracks crossed an abandoned spur of the old north-south line, stepped off into space, and dropped onto the brushy, overgrown rail road bed.

 “Yo, man. You wanna go up to the Red Rock and maybe get in some fishing before the Patrol starts, or head for home?” Todd glanced down-river. Relatively speaking, their homes were close enough, but it was too early to go home. Still, they had that hut Grampa Wya built of living trees up on the mountain.

 Benny dropped down beside him. He scowled at Todd and walked away.

 Sighing, Todd glared at Benny’s back and shrugged. He followed Benny upriver a short ways until they came to the White Rock, a massive slab of cement set in the side of the hill to protect a now abandoned rail line. At its base a spring bubbled up, forming a small pool lined with black willows.

 Benny thrust himself through the willows, and squatted by the spring. His hands parted the luxuriant growth of watercress, dipping into the bitterly cold water. He cupped his hands and brought the sweet water to his mouth.

Squatting next to Benny, Todd did the same. Sullen, Benny thought of shoving Todd in. The day was warm and dry, but the wind was cool, and Todd might get sick.

Nah, Toddy never got nothin, not even colds.

Instead, Benny pulled the knife from the pocket hidden in his crotch, military style, and sheared off a handful of the pungent weed. Cleaning his blade with a few quick swipes on the leg of his jeans, Benny snapped the blade closed and slid it home to its special pocket.

Plucking some, Todd inspected his for slugs and snails, then nibbled on it. While he ate a few sprigs, Benny wolfed a handful down.

 Todd glanced at Benny. Flushing deeply, Benny said, “What?” as harsh as he could.

With a shrug, Todd backed away from the White Rock. He pulled the pouch out and sprinkled the last of his tobacco in his hand, then onto the moist ground in a thanks-offering to the tsi:ge:o, the little-people who guarded the spring through the many millennium since the Flood.

Teeth bared, Benny jumped up and slapped the pouch from Todd’s hand.

“It’s all bull,” he cried.

Reproachful, Todd glared at Benny, then stooped to pick up the sack.

“No,” Benny shouted, and slammed his fists at Todd. His heel came up and he tried to step on the sack. It squeaked and leaped away. Benny stumbled back, his eyes and mouth gaping as the sack dragged itself into the willows. It snagged on a twig and a mouse darted from under it.

Eyes merry, Todd plucked the sack up and stuffed it in his back pocket.

Balling his fists, Benny challenged his cousin, saying in a bitter voice, “I guess you think that was caused by God, too?” Chin jutting out, he stared belligerently at Todd.

“God,” Todd whispered softly, “works in some real funny ways, bro.” He glanced at the Aga:Veil, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Growling curses, Benny ripped his way out of the willows and back to the over-grown rail road bed. He stopped, head down, torn between rage and despair.

Of all the people he had ever known and ever loved, only Todd did he trust wholly and without hesitation. They were opposites, but closer than brothers.

Walking up quietly behind his cousin, Todd whispered a plea. “Accept the power, bro -”

Benny spun and his fist smashed into Todd’s mouth.

Todd flew back and stumbled into the willows.

With an garbled cry of horror and regret, Benny leaped to his cousin. Not daring to touch him, Benny hovered at Todd’s side.

Todd lay stunned, unable to believe he had been hit by his cousin. He grimaced, thankful his face was numbed by the punch.

He tried to move, Benny hissed, “Just lay still for a minute, please?”

Todd shook his head and immediately regretted it. He twisted his head around in a nick of time to keep from soiling himself. The heaving of his stomach shot pains through his head and neck.

Benny ground his teeth and wanted to cry. Fists clenching and unclenching, he wished he could undo the punch.

Todd retched one last time. The spicy scent of the willows was over-laid by the rank odor of vomited cress. It filled the air around the pool.

He looked around at Benny and glared at him.

Benny gulped a few times, then jerked out his bandanna and rush through the willows to the pool. Plunging the bandanna through the cress and into the icy water, he returned to Todd.

Benny hesitated. It was his favorite, with interlocking eagles and American flags.

Closing his eyes, Benny sighed and felt as if he were about to commit a sacrilege. He wrung it out and tried to pat some of the blood from Todd’s face.

Todd snarled, winced and thrust the hands away.

“Cool it. You’re a mess.” Benny tried again.

Todd shoved Benny away. He growled wordlessly and looked down at what had been a new green and brown flannel shirt. Casting a beseeching look at the Veil, he snatched the bandanna from his cousin and tried to mop away some of the blood soaking into the shirt. More dribbled on it than he could clean away.

“Mom’s gonna kill me.” He groaned. “This was an early birthday gift.” He closed his eyes. “Quit moving, or I’m gonna be sick again.”

Benny slapped a hand over his face.

“I ain’t moving, bro.”

Opening his eyes, Todd hissed a groan. His head felt muddled and too big for his shoulders. He blinked rapidly, squinted with one eye. Benny stopped swaying. He grinned crookedly.

“Nice pop. How about I return the favor, bro?”

At that moment if Todd had ask for Benny’s motorcycle he could have had it . . . uh, maybe only use it when he had to. Really needed it, anyway. Sometimes . . . Maybe.

Todd scowled at the pathetic looks he was getting from Benny. He balled a fist. Eyes tightening, Todd said in a low rasp, “You make me feel like a virgin bimbo at a biker’s rally. Chill or I’ll chill you, du’e.”

“Screw off.”

Bristling a little, Benny cocked a fist and spat on the ground between them. Then thought better of challenging his cousin.

 Yo, but Toddy had the stuff, the Power. If the dude ever lost it and went sprung, the guy could do anything to anyone.

Sobered, he glanced at Todd.

“I’m no shon:gili,” Todd whispered, feeling a tragic loss at the pain on Benny’s face.

Witch or not, Benny decided to cool it. Toddy and him were too close to fight like this. Besides, the guy had the right to demand the Night Sun as were-gelt if he wanted. The law is the law, and the old law takes precedence.

Running a hand through his shaggy unkempt hair, Benny winced. He jerked the hand out and stared at it. Bloody, broken skin showed over the index and middle knuckles. He must have really nailed Toddy with a stiff one.

Benny grimaced. “I’m sorry, bro-” He broke off and stared at the ground.

“Yo, like crap is a happenin thang,” Todd drawled in Carl’s Wyoming Valley accent. He grinned at Benny. “Grampa Wya used to say that ‘times like this be sent t’ try us. Trials and tribulations are what makes men out a boys.’”

With a snort of laughter, Benny raised his hands and said, “Yeah. But why do we always have to be found guilty?”

Todd gave Benny a light slap on the head and chuckled.

“Please, Mrs. VanTur." Smear reached bloody hands out to the cold, unresponsive woman.

At a nod from Ryan a fist to the back of Smear’s unwashed neck sent the man crashing to the black and white marble tiles of the floor.

“Get him up. Get him up y’ fool,” Ryan cried. “Now, y’ dammed back wog, before he bleeds all over me floor.”

Eyes half closed, Henri plucked the dazed man up and held him at arm’s length.

Rubbing his hands, Ryan danced a crooked and short fling.

“Take him to me d’Sade Room.” Ryan cackled a laugh. “To reward his blunder he must meet sweet Daisy.”

The Doberman pinscher’s ears pricked forward at the mention of her name.

Cindy’s face set in a moue of distaste. One of her agents turned from her and swallowed the bile scorching in his throat. Donnelly was a handsome man, but he did have his weak points. She smiled, stroking the cold, sweating face.

Impassive, Henri watched Ryan. If he felt any pity for the boy, he dared not show it. That would only prolong Smear’s pain. Besides, the kid was Benny’s enemy. That made him Henri’s enemy as well. Under hooded eyes, Henri glanced at the frail wisp of old man Ryan. Here was another of his kid’s enemies.

Some day, you old fart, my Lady the Eagle’s gonna give me your life. I’ll break you like a dry twig, and I promise, I’ll enjoy every snap of your bones.

Henri’s throat swelled in the collar that bound his will to Ryan’s. The Eagle-Woman gave his face a sad caress.

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