Desolace Omnibus Edition

by Lucian Barnes

  Even though Julie had paused in the doorway to study her opponents, she didn’t remain there long. Letting out an ear-shattering war cry, the blonde woman charged. There was a split second of stunned silence from Zeus’ followers, then they rallied with a courageous roar of their own, descending on the lone woman like a pack of wolves. The glowing blades in Julie’s hands began to spin with blinding speed, making the young blonde woman look like a human food processor. The first several of the white-robed individuals to approach the crazed woman were hacked into bloody pieces within seconds. Limbs and entrails flew in every direction, quickly making the floor slick with blood. Heads rolled toward the encroaching white crowd like bowling balls, but didn’t deter them from closing in on the woman that stood between them and completing their mission.

  They descended on Julie in a tidal wave of white. Although the blonde woman continued to cut them down, eventually Zeus’ followers began to get the upper hand. Nearly one quarter of the normally peaceful people had met a gruesome end before they were able to get their deadly adversary on the floor. Someone had managed to sweep Julie’s legs from beneath her. Within moments she’d been disarmed, and several white-robed men crashed down on her, their fists pummeling Julie’s face and body with a steady rain of knuckles. The beating continued well beyond Julie losing consciousness, the men determined to make certain she would no longer be a threat. When the blows finally ceased to fall, the young woman’s face was unrecognizable. Her skull had been caved in, leaving her previous youthful appearance replaced by a crater of blood and bone.

  As Zeus’ faithful began to rise, the fervor of battle starting to wane, a spectral woman appeared in the doorway. She wailed with grief upon seeing the carnage, even though a part of her had expected the scene to be far worse. Shuffling footsteps could be heard in the stairwell beyond and the white-robed men and women braced themselves for another possible battle. Within moments, a long-haired man appeared. He held what seemed to be an elderly woman in his arms and didn’t look like he was a threat. Even so, Zeus’ followers remained on guard because it could be some sort of deception meant to lull them into being non-combative.

  Although Edward had heard Amber’s mournful wail, he hadn’t noticed Julie’s battered body lying on the floor. Instead, his pale gray eyes were focused on the crowd of white-robed individuals before him. “Is this—” His voice cracked with weariness and he stopped to clear his throat. “Is this the Throne of the Gods?” A brief moment of confusion passed, several eyebrows raised as if the men had never heard the term before.

  One of the men stepped forward as if he were the leader of the group and addressed Edward in a wary tone. “We are kind of in a hurry. What is it that you need?”

  “I am seeking the aid of the gods. The woman I hold in my arms was cursed by the guardians of the Tree of Life. She has been aging ever since, and I fear she will soon die if the gods don’t intervene on her behalf.”

  “Is that what happened to the blonde woman who just tried to kill us? Was she also cursed?” the man inquired.

  “I’m not sure what caused her to act like she did, although it might have been related to the weapons she picked up off of the stairs. Her entire demeanor seemed to change once they were in her hands,” Edward sadly confessed, his eyes glistening with an unshed tear.

  A murmur passed through the crowd behind the gentleman while he contemplated the wizard’s admission. “I’m not certain Zeus is in any condition to help you, or anyone else right now for that matter,” the man stated, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he spoke. “Before you arrived, one of Ares’ men injured him. He has been quite frail since the incident, which is precisely the reason that we don’t have a lot of time to stand around here chatting. Zeus has tasked us with finding the God of Medicine.”

  For a brief instant, Edward thought about the injured shaman who lay in a protective bubble outside the walls of the tower. If only he wasn’t hurt, Brian might have possibly been able to heal the god. Even though the chance of the red-haired man being able to accomplish such a feat was slim at best, Edward couldn’t help but consider leaving Katie on the floor of the throne room and trying to run down to retrieve the shaman. It was a tough decision. One of those situations where he was likely damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. If he took his chances with the injured god and he was too weak to fix Katie, she would almost certainly die. Although, if he left her here to retrieve Brian the same might hold true.

  The white-robed gentleman at the forefront of the assemblage watched Edward’s face and hoped for a speedy response. However, the constantly changing expressions on the wizard’s countenance told him that the long-haired man seemed to be locked in some sort of inner turmoil and likely having difficulty making a decision he could live with. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to be rude, but we really must go.”

  Through the deluge of his thoughts, Edward was barely able to make out what the man had said. “I’m going to go back down in order to retrieve a friend. He’s a healer of sorts, and might be able to help with Zeus’ injuries.”

  “You have a healer in your party?”

  “Yes, but he was hurt badly a short while ago. We left him near the base of the spire because we didn’t feel he would be able to walk, let alone climb the tower.”

  “If he is in that bad of shape, how will you get him up here?”

  “I will carry him if necessary. I just pray he is still alive and able to help,” Edward stated in a grim tone, not entirely sure he was making the right choice. The flock of white robes had already begun moving toward the chamber’s exit. He took one last assessing glance at Katie, who was now unconscious, and gently placed her on the floor. Edward put his lips to her forehead, hoping it wasn’t a farewell kiss, then moved toward the crowd of Zeus’ followers. “The stairway is treacherous, and has many sections which are slick with blood,” he warned. “Julie managed to clear most of the corpses which previously littered the steps away before she suddenly changed into a monster I no longer recognized.”

  Several groans of dismay erupted from the formation. They had intended to take one of the torches from the wall near the exit, but if they would be required to move bodies from their path it would make the descent much more tedious and time consuming. “That’s just great,” the leader complained. “Even when there are no enemies to hinder our progress, something else has to rear its ugly head to slow us down.”

  “Hold on for just a minute,” Edward remarked, raising a hand with his index finger pointed upward. He approached Amber and began to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. After a brief conversation with the spirit, he turned his attention back toward the waiting throng. “If I may, can I make a suggestion?”

  “So long as you make it quick.”

  “Instead of traversing the staircase by torchlight, Amber has agreed to lead the way with the glow of her form. Is that an acceptable proposition for you?”

  “Indeed it is. Anything that will expedite our journey is welcomed.”

  With a gesture, Edward instructed the ghost to lead the way. “Then, let us waste no more time.”

  ***

  With the threat of the Black Knight’s mechanical army vanquished, as well as the strange machine that had fired explosive objects at her, Skarr flew toward her next objective. It seemed that the immediate threat to the wounded shaman had passed, so she felt confident of no further harm reaching the protective bubble Edward had hidden the man inside of. Now it was time to eliminate the only remaining potentially perilous situation, that of the massive congregation of shambling humans. As she drew near Skarr circled like a vulture, high above her prey. Her golden eyes blazed as she took in the enormity of the prodigious formation. She continued to careen through the night sky, searching for the best point of attack. The immensity of the shuffling horde below was so overwhelming that there was no way she could eradicate it with one fiery breath.

  After determining the best angle of attack, Skarr swooped down like a hungry hawk. Within
fifty feet of the ground the ancient dragon snapped out her wings to stop her descent, then opened her giant maw and belched a pillar of flame. The assault didn’t have the intended effect, however. The undead masses kept shambling forward as if the mighty dragon didn’t exist, even though a good portion of them were burning like human torches. How had these creatures survived when they should have been reduced to boiling puddles of flesh? Obviously, Skarr needed to come up with a new plan, but the only other option that came to her involved a more hands on approach. She didn’t want to even entertain the thought of doing something so reckless unless it was the only recourse left. Surely it would be suicide if it became the last alternative at her disposal.

  As she considered her choices, movement to the west caught her attention. Skarr narrowed her huge golden eyes to slits, suspiciously. It appeared the shaman had broken his protective bubble and was now making his way toward the tower entrance. She couldn’t begin to comprehend why the man would make such a risky move, or how he could even move for that matter, but it wasn’t the only problem arising. A flood of white was emerging from the spire. By the way it moved, Skarr could only assume it to be a considerable number of humans, perhaps men and women loyal to the gods. For a brief instant in time, she contemplated the best course of action. It wasn’t much of a reflection, however. Skarr knew in her heart that the humans wouldn’t stand a chance against the formidable adversaries below, and as such there was only one real decision that held any merit. The ancient beast descended to the ground, her enormous claws striking the soil with enough force to shake the earth. The tremendous impact did exactly as she’d anticipated, drawing the attention of the shuffling enemies away from the tower. As one, the massive horde turned their bloodshot, glazed eyes on her hungrily.

  Chapter 18

  Inside of the overturned Nazi tank, the Black Knight seethed with impotent rage. The German commander was dead. The impact of the Panzer striking the ground had thrown him head first into the steel hull of the vehicle and rendered him unconscious, only to have his skull burst open like a cracked egg when the demon's voice screamed at his unseen foe. The man’s demise was the least of Ares’ worries, however. The fact that he felt like he was encased in a metal tomb was perhaps more aggravating than anything. Well, aside from how weak he’d become. It seemed pretty obvious that he had precious few followers left alive, if any at all. There had been a tiny jolt of power a short while ago, but that had faded quickly. Now, when he tried to shift to a less substantial form it failed miserably. Not that it truly mattered. The dragon had taken away his only path of escape by bending the gun barrel backwards and folding it in half, pinching the tube shut and preventing anything from passing through it … including air. The German man should be thankful. At least his death was, for the most part, instantaneous. He could have had it far worse, by being slowly suffocated from the lack of oxygen.

  It seemed highly unlikely that any help would come. The demon he’d elevated to second in charge was nowhere to be found. Apparently Verin had either been dispatched somehow or he had turned into the coward he once was and abandoned the battle to save his own hide. What was left of his backup—the tiny, impish creatures and the few remaining formless demons—were tucked away beneath the mountains near Cemetery Hill. The enormous distance between himself and his base of operations made it impossible to contact them, even with his mind. He knew that because he’d already attempted to communicate with them and received no response.

  As the Black Knight pondered his situation further, he could nearly guarantee that chaos had broken out under the mountain by now. Surely one of the demonic creatures had gotten the bright idea that their boss was never going to return. As such, Ares could only assume that one of them had tried to gain command. They were selfish organisms, only capable of true bravado when the Black Knight wasn’t there to keep them in line. More often than not they cowered like frightened children, huddled in the corner together in order to avoid the abusive bully they called their master.

  The crevices of his mind had nothing better to do than to go in vicious circles. No matter how hard he tried to think of something new, the same recurring ideas fluttered through his skull like a colony of bats in the bell tower of a church. Trapped inside of the tank, he really only had one option. He had to keep reaching out with his mind and hope that eventually someone would hear him and get him out of this metal tomb.

  Although he expected nothing, when the Black Knight issued the mentally projected inquiry he felt like someone nearby had heard him. There was a strangely familiar vibe in the air, much like the anticipation of meeting an old friend for the first time in years. It was difficult to place the sensation initially, but then recognition began to flood through his head. It was George! It didn’t seem to matter how many times he’d attempted to rid himself of his once devout follower, the man continually defied the Black Knight at every turn … even in death! Ares had lost count of the ways he’d tried to end George’s existence. Each and every one of these endeavors had ended in failure. Now, when there was no hope of escaping his metal prison, here the wayward disciple was again. The Black Knight had no other alternative than to reach out to him.

  His eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to contain his rage. With a pained grimace, he swallowed his pride and projected his voice with his mind and hoped that the one-time serial killer would respond. “George?”

  ***

  Possessing the body of the red-haired shaman had been a piece of cake. However, forcing the man to walk upon broken legs was far from ideal. To George, it felt like he was trying to put on a puppet show with a disfigured marionette which had missing parts. Although it hadn’t been easy, he had managed so far. He braced himself against the outer wall of the spire, using it as a makeshift crutch. He could see the entrance to the tower now, only about twenty feet away. It seemed as if the journey from the bubble to here had taken hours, though, and he feared that he may have lost a vital opportunity.

  As he inched closer, a mixture of voices and sounds began to clutter his head. While one set of these was muffled and distorted by scuffing noises, similar to children dragging their feet because they really didn’t want to go somewhere, the other was painfully clear. It was the booming voice of the entity who’d brought him to this world, calling out to him as if they were old friends. George laughed. Who does this asshole think he’s dealing with? Does he think I’m that naïve? Like I would lift a finger to help him after all he’s put me through. It gave George immense satisfaction to ignore the Black Knight’s call, knowing that the demon wouldn’t have reached out to him unless it was the only option left to him.

  A glimmer of light started to emanate from the spire’s entrance, and with it the commotion of blended voices grew closer. George stopped moving toward the doorway and pressed the shaman’s body as tightly as he could to the stone wall, hoping to avoid detection long enough to assess the situation. Within seconds, the familiar glow of a ghostly woman emerged from the structure. The woman was just as much a thorn in his side as he was in hers. Both of them had persisted through death. While the driving force behind her continued existence was unclear to George, his own was not. He wanted more than anything in the world to get back to Earth and out of this hell-hole dimension. He wanted to return to his killing ways, the cat and mouse taunting of police while he plucked whores undeserving of life from beneath their noses. Those games had been the most satisfying part of his life. If things would just fall into place, he felt like he might get the opportunity to prowl the streets of Earth once more. No more being the lapdog of a demon. He would finally be able to live life on his terms. The mere thought of the possibilities gave him a ghostly erection. It was a shame that it didn’t translate into the fleshy shell he was wearing.

  Several seconds had passed since the ghost had exited the tower. A steady stream of white-robed men and women began to file from the building. While they continued to pour from the structure, the spectral figure turned in his direction. For a brief m
oment she appeared to be studying him, then her glow started to blink rapidly, like a light bulb with a loose filament. Was it possible that she could see him, even though he was hidden within the shaman? George wanted to dismiss the ludicrous notion, but the ghostly woman’s reaction seemed to suggest that she saw through the disguise.

  Quickly, he began to hobble toward the tower entrance in an attempt to get out of the spirit’s line of sight. Not that she couldn’t just move unfettered through the crowd, but perhaps it would buy him a few seconds of time to come up with an alternative method of losing her. As luck would have it, a curious opportunity presented itself moments later when his wizard nemesis stepped through the aperture. It was extremely unlikely that the sorcerer would realize something was amiss, so long as George acted natural … or at least in a similar manner to what the red-haired man would. Pretending to be the shaman shouldn’t be too difficult. Especially considering how much time he’d spent studying every facet and nuance of each member of the group. As someone who stalked and hunted his prey, these things were pretty much second nature to him. All George needed to happen was to engage the sorcerer in conversation to lower his guard, then hope that something or someone would distract him for a few seconds.

  Catching a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye as he exited the spire, Edward turned toward the shaman with a slack-jawed expression. For a brief moment he was unable to speak, but he finally found his voice. “Brian? What are you doing out of the bubble? And better yet, why would you leave its protection?” One eyebrow rose, climbing his forehead like a bushy caterpillar, while the other dipped down in a disbelieving scowl. Before the shaman could answer, the wizard scolded him harshly. “You are in no shape to be wandering around out here. It’s far too dangerous!”