The Brimstone Network (Brimstone Network Trilogy) (6 page)

And just when he believed that his troubling thoughts had come true, his father had entered the room. Standing silhouetted in the doorway, the light from the hallway cutting through the darkness, silencing the scary, scratching sounds that he almost instantly began to doubt had ever been there.

In his sleep Bram smiled at the memory of his father.

He’d come over to his bed, pulling Bram into his arms and hugging him tightly. And Bram had told him about being afraid in the dark; about being left alone forever. His father had insisted that Bram would never be alone. Then, feeling better, his small arms still wrapped tightly around his father’s neck, Bram told him of the sounds that had awakened him, and how he wondered if it had all been part of his imagination.

His father had checked his room for him. And it was a good thing he had, because under the bed, hiding in
a deep patch of shadow, was a hungry dust imp, a nasty little pest with razor-sharp teeth and claws that liked nothing more than to feed on the nighttime fears of small children.

Standing in the doorway, haloed in the light from outside the room, his father once again told him that all would be well, and Bram had believed him, drifting off to an untroubled sleep before the door to the room had even closed.

B
ram stirred, pulling himself from the folds of sleep. A shadowy figure stood at the end of his mat, and for a moment, Bram thought he was looking at the ghostly phantasm of his now deceased father. He sat up with a gasp.

“You … ill … n … er … e … lone.”

The words were garbled, as if coming from very far away.

Bram jumped forward, reaching for the ghostly image, desperate for it not to leave.

“Wait!” he cried as the ethereal shape began to fade, replaced by something larger and more solid.

“Father?” Bram asked, desperate for it to be so.

The dark shape suddenly surged forward with a ferocious roar, the smell of blood and rotten meat filling the air.

Bram leaped back, away from the snarling beast. He saw what it was now and could not believe his eyes.

There was a Yeti in his room.

The primitive thing’s fur was a dirty gray, its front stained with something dark, something that smelled like copper. It watched him with beady, yellow eyes, its powerful, apelike body tensed to attack.

The Yeti were powerful, and dangerous when threatened, but normally kept to their own kind. This one’s eyes were wild, darting around the room as if searching for a threat other than this boy pressed against the wall.

An eerie howling cry filled the air, momentarily distracting the bloodstained beast, giving Bram the opportunity he was hoping for.

He bolted across the room for the open door. If he could get out into the hall, he could yell for help. But this obviously was not part of the Yeti’s plan. The snow beast bellowed with a combination of surprise and rage.

How dare he try to escape
, Bram imagined it saying in its nasty Yeti tongue. The door was only inches from his grasp when he felt a clammy, long-fingered hand wrap around the collar of his loose-fitting shirt, and he was yanked back savagely.

Bram found himself soaring, the flight coming to an abrupt end when his body hit the wall across from his sleeping area and fell atop the small desk where he did most of his studying. He rolled off the desk to the floor, gasping for air.

The Yeti loped across the room at him, its long, powerful arms flailing in the air. Bram remembered reading how the Yeti would kill its prey by beating it to death with those thickly boned limbs. He quickly shook off the lingering pain and scrambled to his feet.

The Yeti roared threateningly as it got between Bram and the door. It had no intention of allowing him to leave. Bram found himself staring at the frightening beast again, at the dried blood that matted its gray fur. He wondered what …
or whom
… it had eaten before finding Bram asleep in his room.

A thick stream of drool dripped from the corner of the monster’s extra-wide mouth, and it pulled back the thick, pale flesh of its lips in a snarl, to show him the rows of razor-sharp teeth sticking from slimy, pink gums.

Bram knew that it was time to get serious when he heard the Yeti’s stomach begin to grumble.

He had been sent to P’Yon Kep to learn how to defend
himself and to use the unique talents he’d been born with. He tried to think of this as one of his tests, although if he failed this exam, he could very well wind up in the belly of the snow monster.

The Yeti lunged, and Bram called upon his secret talents, letting his spectral nature roam free. He braced himself for the inevitable collision with the snowman, but it never came. The Yeti dove with a shriek of ferocity, its arms open wide to embrace him in a grip of death, but Bram passed through the Yeti’s body, solidifying behind his attacker.

The beast collided with the desk, turning it into scrap.

Bram could have run, but something told him that the wooden door of his room wouldn’t have done much to trap the beast. He didn’t know if it was the spectral nature influencing his normally more cautious side, but he decided it would be best to take the monster down.

The Yeti whirled with an angry snort, a look of confusion in its yellow eyes.

Bram looked to his sleeping mat, and the blanket crumpled there and an idea began to take form.

He moved as the Yeti moved. The monster bounded toward him and he dove for his mat, snatching up the blanket and throwing it over the Yeti’s head.

The snowman went wild, flailing around as it attempted to remove the obstruction from its face. There wasn’t any time to waste. Bram attacked, directing a side-kick to one of the monster’s knees. It let out a horrible wail of pain as it dropped to the floor.

For a fraction of a second, Bram felt a pang of sympathy for the animal, but then it reached up with its clawed hands, shredding the blanket still covering its head.

The snowman’s eyes burned with an inhuman fury as it lunged.

And instinctively Bram reacted. He dove to one side, snatching up the largest piece of wood that had once been part of his desk. The Yeti threw back its head in a horrible roar as Bram stepped into the attack, swinging the leg of his desk as hard as he could.

The wood shattered as it connected with the snow beast’s thick skull, and for a moment, he wondered if it had had any effect on the monster at all. The snow beast swayed upon its hairy, bowed, legs before dropping to the floor unconscious and unmoving.

Bram felt as though he might join the fearsome animal, his legs trembling from the adrenal surge, but the echoing howls of other Yeti within the monastery spurred him into
action. He ran from his room and down the winding corridors, preparing himself for further battle if the need arose. Rounding a corner, he nearly collided with a group of four monks armed with spears.

The monks tensed as they came face-to-face, weapons dropping to attack.

“It’s me,” he said, raising his hands. “What’s happening?”

“The Yetis swarmed the monastery,” a monk named Yong explained, head cocked as he listened for further beastly howls. “We’ve driven most of them away, but a few stragglers still remain.”

Bram was about to tell them that there was one unconscious in his room when he heard the unearthly scream. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before, and he and the monks stared at one another in awe before running toward the sound.

The noise had come from the direction of the main hall.

Bram immediately thought of Mr. Stitch.

“Where’s the stranger?” Bram asked Yong, who was running beside him.

“The Abbot had us make up a place for him to sleep in the hall,” the monk answered.

Bram was immediately concerned for the man’s safety.
Even though he’d only met the stranger hours ago, there was something about him that he liked.

Nearing the hall, the horrible screaming again filled the air before coming to an abrupt stop. Bram pushed himself to run faster, getting ahead of the crowd, and was the first to barrel through the entrance into the room.

He came to a sudden stop, shocked by what he was seeing.

The floor was littered with broken bodies of dead Yeti.

Standing near the dwindling fire, Mr. Stitch stood, his shirt tattered and torn, exposing his scarred, pale flesh. A Yeti hung limply in his grip.

“Are … are you all right?” Bram asked, looking around at the carnage. There must have been seven dead snow beasts upon the floor.

“Had a bit of a problem at first,” Stitch said as he released his hold upon the dead Yeti’s throat, letting it slip to the ground. “But I’ve got things in hand now.”

Bram walked farther into the room. “They aren’t normally violent … unless threatened,” he said, eyeing the corpses. “I wonder what could’ve made them act this way?”

Stitch wiped his hands on his pants. “It’s in the wind, lad,”
he explained. He waved one of his powerful hands above his head. “With the Network gone, evil grows unchecked.”

The monks had begun to drag the Yeti remains from the hall.

“Do you think they sensed it?”

Stitch nodded. “Sensed it, and were aroused by it. Like what blood in the water is to sharks.”

Bram watched as the beasts’ bodies were taken from the room.
What if Stitch is right?
he wondered. What if attacks like this were happening all over the world? People defenseless because there wasn’t anybody to protect them.

No Brimstone Network to keep them safe.

It all became clear to him, and as much as it terrified him, he knew what he had to do.

“When do we leave?” Bram asked, looking away from the Yeti remains to Stitch.

“Leave?” the scarred man asked, startled. He was using a pitcher of water and a piece of his shirt to clean his wounds.

“If things are as bad as you say, we’re probably going to want to leave as early as we can. Am I right?”

Stitch nodded, understanding now. “You are,” he said, balling up the bloody piece of cloth and tossing it into
the fire behind him. “I suggest we take our leave at first light.”

Bram thought for a moment, looking around the great hall. He remembered when he had first come to this place, standing with his meager belongings in this very room.

I’m going to miss it
, he thought.

“I better go and get packed,” he said, turning to leave.

He had a long journey ahead of him, and not a moment to waste.

I
t was even harder to leave than Bram had imagined it would be.

Of all the places he had spent his young life, he had found the most here, at P’Yon Kep.

The monks, whom he had learned to call brothers, stood silently in the high-ceilinged entryway, watching as Bram and Mr. Stitch dressed, fortifying themselves against the frigid temperatures outside.

Bram was reminded of the last time he had worn this gear, on his arrival to this peaceful place.
I was a different person then
, he thought. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered his initial impressions of the monastery. He had lived in some of the finest places of
learning in the world before coming here, and had actually believed that his father was punishing him.

He’d been angry, constantly battling the ferocious aspects of his nature. But the monks of P’Yon Kep had put him on the path to accepting his nature—to unifying his spirit. It was a journey he had yet to complete, although he knew he was well on his way.

But it was now a journey he would have to finish on his own. Pretty frightening.

“Are we set?” Stitch asked, his low voice reverberating in the silence of the monastery entrance.

Bram nodded, hefting his pack of belongings and supplies and slinging it over his shoulder. He turned to his teachers … his friends … his family. “I guess this is it,” he mumbled sadly, looking down at his booted feet.

And then slowly, as if compelled, he lifted his eyes to meet those of the Abbot, who stood serenely in front of the other monks, hands lost within the sleeves of his fiery red robes.

“When your father contacted us, and asked if we would teach you, I had many reservations,” the monk softly began.

Bram smiled sheepishly, remembering how uncooperative he had been when he’d first arrived.

“One such as you … two spirits trapped within one body … battling for possession of one soul … it presented many challenges.”

Bram stared into the old man’s warm, almond-colored eyes, seeing his time at P’Yon Kep reflected there, the disappointments as well as the triumphs.

“We saw you as a reflection of the world,” the Abbot continued, withdrawing his hands and gesturing at the room around them. “A world that had changed much since last we were part of it. But we also saw in you a challenge.”

The Abbot gently laid a hand upon Bram’s cheek. It was warm, and its soothing heat spread through Bram’s body.

Again, Master Po asked the question, “To whom am I speaking, the human or the Specter?”

“Neither,” Bram responded immediately. “I am neither solely human, nor Specter. I am both, two halves learning to be one.”

The old man smiled, nodding ever so slightly. “You have learned much during your stay with us, pupil,” he said. “I doubt that would have been your response mere weeks ago. It pleases me.”

Bram bowed again, allowing himself a moment’s pride with the Abbot’s praise. “Thank you, Master.”

He had to ask the question, he had to be certain.

“But am I really ready to leave?” Bram asked his ancient teacher. “Have I learned enough to go out into the world and affect it?”

The Abbot took his hand away, and it disappeared into the robes once more. “There are indeed dark times ahead,” he said, staring at the heavy wooden doors leading from the monastery out into the world. “But you have grown much with us, and we have given you the tools you will need to dispel the shadows, and bring symmetry to your soul. Once there is balance within, you will bring the same to the world.”

The Abbot smiled, and slowly bowed. The other monks did the same, and Bram reciprocated the gesture of respect.