Vey shook his head at the floor and began to agitatedly pace around the room, his hands placed firmly together behind his back as he did so. ‘There is a darkness rising Thorne, a great darkness, one which will wipe out all life on this land. I did what I did because of this – to stop it!’
‘Oh, there was, you gave it a licence to roam around a city of innocent people, and I stopped it!’
Vey smiled wryly and shook his head. ‘You fool. If you think the vampire is the worst thing this land has ever faced, you are sorely mistaken. There is a darkness coming, one this world is still recovering from. When it strikes, it will hit with the force of a thousand plagues. It will make the last Shadow War look like child’s play.’
‘The Necromancers are dead! Fierslaken stopped them!’
‘Is that truly what he led you to believe?’ Vey shook his head sadly.
Thorne paused and thought back to his time in the painting. He could not bring himself to answer.
‘So, what are you going to do?’ Vey sneered, spreading his arms wide for Thorne, ‘do you dare try to kill me?’
Thorne shook his head, ‘I’m not going to be the one to do that.’
Vey frowned, ‘you won’t? Then who?’
‘I SHALL,’ Death said, gliding through the door.
Death was the same as Thorne had last seen him, a dark, tattered, hooded cloak, yellowing bones, a skull with numerous cracks on the top, and a large scythe, but the blade’s surface was, thankfully, silent this time.
Vey’s face fell, and Thorne saw his lip begin to tremble. ‘W–who?’ Vey stuttered.
Death glanced at Thorne, who shrugged. ‘IF IT’S NOT OBVIOUS, IT WILL BE EASIER FOR YOU IF I DON’T ELABORATE,’ Death replied.
Death’s raised a skeletal hand from his side and extended a single bony finger towards Vey’s trembling forehead.
‘I OFFER YOU DEATH BY MY HAND, OR BY HIS,’ Death said, nodding at Thorne.
‘I–I…’ Vey snuffled, head twisting rapidly between Thorne and Death.
‘EXCELLENT CHOICE...’
*
‘That was quick.’
Thorne turned around to face the boned reaper and smiled, although the action did not reach his eyes.
‘I AIM TO PLEASE,’ Death replied, making an elaborate bow.
‘No, I mean, thanks,’ Thorne sighed, ‘I appreciate it.’
‘HM,’ Death grunted.
‘So. What’s your deal?’
‘WHAT EVER DO YOU MEAN?’
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ Thorne replied, ‘why would you choose to help me?’
‘WHAT? YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE I LOOK LIKE THIS THAT I’M EVIL? HONESTLY… THERE’S NO PLEASING SOME PEOPLE.’
‘You harvest the dead.’
Death shrugged, ‘NOBODY’S PERFECT.’
Thorne rolled his eyes and then turned to leave.
‘YOU KNOW THEY WILL HUNT YOU FOR THIS?’
‘Naturally, I doubt they’d believe Death was a helping hand in the matter,’ Thorne replied, ‘well... at least not in any physical sense.’
‘BUT YOU KNOW YOUR WORK IS NOT DONE?’
Thorne nodded solemnly, ‘yes, I’m aware.’
Death watched him silently for a while. His black tongue probing the vacancies in its mouth where yellowed teeth had disappeared. ‘THERE ARE DARK TIMES AHEAD THORNE. THIS WORLD IS NOT PREPARED. IT NEEDS A PHOENIX.’
‘But what if I’m not the Phoenix it needs?’ Thorne said. Death did not answer.
‘Thorne?’
Thorne turned to face the new arrival. It was Fax, Vey’s assistant. His eyes flickered between Thorne and the door to the room he’d left with Death, the room where his Master now lay.
There was only one thing he could do... Run.
*
Zakariyanna twirled her fingers around the surface of the lake, her hand leaving soft ripples in its wake. She did not need to hear his footsteps, she could feel his presence from a mile off. But now he was close.
‘Thorne,’ she greeted him, without looking up.
‘Soothsayer,’ Thorne replied.
‘Whom do I greet?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Thorne answered, puzzled.
Zakariyanna smiled under her veil, ‘on one side of the coin, I see a Phoenix and the other… No amount of flips of that coin will bring you any peace.’
Thorne lowered himself to the floor next to the Seer.
‘You have good eyes.’
‘Some would say it is a curse,’ she chuckled.
Thorne frowned at the water’s surface, scrutinizing his reflection and then turned his head towards her. ‘I believe you told me that if I went to the City of Light I would die.’
‘If I remember correctly, I said you would be consumed by flames,’ the seer pointed out, ‘but what is fire to a Phoenix?’
‘So, your prediction was wrong?’
The seer shrugged, ‘right, wrong, what does it matter? Make of my words as you will. The world has no time for narrow minds, and no place for the naysayer. You could have died, or you could have survived. I can only guide. Your fate is your own.’
‘Isn’t it the Gods’?’
‘The Gods’ influence only extends so far.’
Thorne glanced briefly at Vigil, tapping the metallic rod thoughtfully.
She smiled at the water, ‘what will you do now?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied honestly.
‘I wish you all the luck in the world,’ she sighed, ‘truly.’
Thorne looked at her briefly, nodded and then jumped to his feet.
Zakariyanna stared into the water. ‘Thorne, you know you’ll have to make a choice soon – you cannot be both.’ Zakariyanna paused briefly before turning to face him, ‘Phoenix or Lycan.’
The statement gave Thorne pause. It was the first time he’d heard both titles mentioned in the same sentence.
‘What if I can’t decide?’ Thorne asked.
‘Then the world will move on without you,’ Zakariyanna replied, matter–of–factly.
*
Thorne was sat in a cellar, his hands resting on a barrel. Rats patrolling the ground in search of leakages and the rotten remains of discarded food. A man sat opposite to him in a creaking wooden chair, moss clinging to the edges by the paved stone floor.
‘Have you considered my offer?’ MakVarn asked.
‘How did you know?’ Thorne inquired.
The man smiled and leaned back on his chair, immersing his features in shadow and inviting another long creak from the chair. The sound echoing across the barren walls of the cellar. ‘I was contacted,’ he said.
‘By whom?’
‘The Hunter, of course,’ MakVarn said, ‘he had his concerns and I recognised the symptoms.’
‘Symptoms?’
‘Pah,’ the man waved his hand, ‘the usual… mood swings, variances in body temperature, intolerance to silver, etcetera etcetera.’
Thorne nodded, his eyes then left the depths of the flame and returned to MakVarn, ‘I’ve got to make a choice, haven’t I?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, leaning forward ‘but the question is, what choice will you make?’
Thorne closed his eyes, took a deep breath and sighed. With every choice is a consequence that could have major or minor repercussions, affecting one or possibly thousands. One choice could condemn or save all. One choice and so many possibilities. It was then that he remembered all those weeks ago in his chambers in the Sorcerers Spire. His first meeting with Death. He remembered the vivid visions that were thrust upon his mind, the roar of flames, the screams of thousands of innocents and the mirror… The mirror with the warped image staring back at him cruelly, slaughter, and carnage burning brightly in his eyes.
‘THE FUTURE.’ Thorne remembered Death had explained, ‘OR PERHAPS ONE OF MANY POSSIBLE OUTCOMES.’
He sighed as he opened his eyes. His choice was made. He had to decide for the future. The man raised an eyebrow at him questionably
and Thorne inclined his head. MakVarn gave him a toothy grin, his lips stretching over his abnormally large incisors. He held up his hand next to the candle. Thorne gripped it tightly and shook.
‘Welcome to the Brotherhood of Lycans,’ the man growled.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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Thorne Grey and the City of Darkness Page 22
