The ruins were in the center of the dimension—obviously the focal point. Jaeger dragged me up the stairs, my legs thumping up each stone step. I left a small trail of blood in the snow.
I tried to move my arms. Nothing. They were too badly broken to do anything other than quiver and hurt. One of my legs responded a bit. I was still wearing my armor, but I could not tell if I still had any of my weapons. I had lost all of my firearms, but maybe I still had a grenade on me. If I could get the pin out of a frag, that might put a kink in their ceremony. From what I had seen, it might not work if they had to scrape up the sacrifice with a spatula.
"My Lord Machado. I present the sacrifice."
PREPARE HIM FOR HIS FATE.
I was hoisted up and tossed violently onto the frozen block of stone. I lay on my back, looking up at the shallow gray sky. Jaeger broke the buckles on my armor and ripped through the Kevlar covering my chest. I heard a clatter as the vampire tossed aside the tool that he had used. I looked over. Bastard had used my own knife. My wrists were shackled and chained to the stone. Not that I could have done anything anyway.
The Cursed One stood hulking a few feet away. He was a massive shambling thing. The helmet and armor had been polished to a mirror shine. The flowing robes were opulent red silks, but under them the flesh was a twisting mass of oily darkness. He just oozed evil.
"You will fail," I said calmly. "Just like you failed sixty years ago."
NOT NOW, BRAVE HUNTER. FOR THIS IS THE TIME.
His thoughts stabbed into my brain, causing mental pain equal to the physical. What had Mordechai said? He had told me to remember the things that he had shown me. I had to think of something. I tried to recall the hazy memories. I was grasping at straws. The Old Man surely couldn't have foreseen a way for me to get out of this.
"You don't know how to finish the ceremony. Thrall killed your priestess. You don't know what to do. You'll fail again."
The black thing shook. Trembling beneath his robes, bubbles rising through the space that should have been his face, splattering congealed fluids onto the snow—he was laughing at me. I had amused him.
BUT IN THIS PLACE, MY LOVE RETURNS TO ME TONIGHT.
The helmet dipped, nodding toward Jaeger. The vampire bowed, always subservient, and placed a rolled-up bundle of cloth on the ground at the base of the altar. The vampire untied the rope that encircled the package, and unrolled it on the snow.
It was a skeleton. An ancient, dried and brittle heap of broken bones, still chipped from where an ax blade had been used to peel the flesh away to ease Lord Machado's burden.
"Koriniha," I gasped. "No freaking way."
DO NOT TAINT HER NAME WITH YOUR FOUL MORTAL LIPS. IN THIS PLACE, WITH MY POWER, WITH THE ARTIFACT OF KUMARESH YAR, SHE SHALL RETURN TO ME.
The artifact was removed from under his robes, coated in black goo He kept it inside his body for safekeeping. As it was revealed, a jolt of power surged through the pocket dimension. I felt it down to the core of my being. I had seen the artifact in my visions. When I had died in Natchy Bottom, I had touched it with my spirit. It had shown me things, things which no human should have seen. It was not of this world. It did not belong here, in our time, in our space, in our plane. It was a token of the evil of the others. The Old Ones. The forgotten trespassers.
The artifact called to me.
The Cursed One gently set the box down amongst the bones. The pyramid began to shake. The stone beneath started to radiate heat. Water formed as the edges of the snow started to recede, revealing the structure's construction. Within seconds, rivulets of water were running off, snow swept away. The pyramid was not made of stone at all, but blocks of organic ivory. Each stone was larger than a man, carved from the tusks or horns of some impossibly ancient thing. Truly this was the Place of Power.
The bones started to shake by themselves. One by one, they rotated and moved, pulling into position, organizing the bits from chaos, taking form. The skull rolled a few times, righting itself as individual vertebrae formed a chain beneath. The jaw opened and closed. The finger bones curled together, clenched spasmodically, and scratched tears in the fabric of the ancient cloth.
"And the knee bones connected to the leg bone, and the leg bones connected to the hip bone," I sang stupidly. Jaeger cracked me alongside my face for interrupting their sacred moment.
The skeleton was whole. Lying on its back, twitching and rattling. Everything in place, but without ligament or tissue to hold it together. The Cursed One glided until he stood over the skeleton.
MY BELOVED, I GIVE TO YOU OF MYSELF. SURELY MY LOVE WILL SATISFY THE PROPHECY OF YOUR MASTERS.
His back was toward me. Almost gingerly, the withering base of tentacles covered the bones. The red cloak was flared wide, covering them as the Cursed One slowly lowered his form to the floor. The cloak settled, concealing the huge lump of oily tissue. There was a horrible squelching noise, like a plunger dislodging a clog. There was a heavy smell of sulfur. The vampire looked on in rapture. The winter air hummed with the power of the artifact. Finally the shape was still.
Man, what I would have given right about then for the use of my arms and a hundred pounds of C4.
Two separate shapes moved under the robe. Jaeger fell to his knees and prostrated himself on the floor, crying out to his master in joy. The Cursed One rose. He did not seem as massive as before. The red cloak was loose, and he was now not much larger than a man. One tentacle reached downward, almost gently, to be offered to another thing. It sat up from the puddle of gore, one arm extended. The tentacle encircled it and pulled upwards. The priestess had returned.
She stood shakily, wobbling slightly, not used to having a physical form. The bones had been coated in the black ichor of the Cursed One, flesh, tendon, and organs replaced by the unnatural mass. She was a human female in shape and structure, but not in texture or material. I could even almost recognize her from the visions, the memory of her flesh had been so perfectly replaced. The cloth that had held her bones stuck to her back, splattered and stained. She tore it away with one hand, then realizing what she had done, brought the hand up in front of her face, slowly opening and closing the fingers, turning it at the wrist to examine herself. Her eyes were crimson pits. She ran her hands over her body, the gelatinous mass twitching and moving.
The Cursed One encircled her in a horrible embrace, their faces melding together in what had to be their version of an impassioned reunion. Tentacles withered and slapped wetly against the ground, splattering me with oily droplets. He pulled away, her arms leaving black stains on his robe, his armor no longer gleaming, but now coated in slime. She stroked her fingers through the front of his face, his tissues parting as she touched the teeth of his yellow skull.
The dead flirt ugly.
MY PRIESTESS. I HAVE DONE AS YOU ASKED. I HAVE CROSSED THE IMPOSSIBLE GAP TO RETURN YOU TO THIS WORLD.
Surprisingly the priestess spoke aloud. Her voice was horrific, bubbling up from fluid-filled sacks, sounding like pouring tar. "My lord, you have done the impossible. Truly the prophecy has been fulfilled."
The conquistador helmet dipped toward Jaeger. The vampire moved in a blur and appeared before its Lord, presenting the ancient battle-ax. The monster took it, wrapping it tightly in its tentacles, and glided closer to me. The artifact was placed on the altar near my head. This was the closest I had been to the device, and I could hear it whispering. Deep inside I could sense the trapped souls, the Old Man, and hundreds—no, thousands—of other trapped sacrifices.
A sound came from the priestess, a horrible noise. It turned into a gurgling chant. The words were familiar and I recognized them from the memory. The concave hills began to quake and the curved sky began to shimmer. The moon was fat and bright overhead. The device rose until it was floating above the altar. It began to slowly rotate. Ancient runes could now be seen on the simple stone as they took on a black light of their own, detaching and floating in air. They formed a sphere of energy that began to grow, approa
ching my head. I could feel the electricity licking my scalp as the priestess continued her chant. The words made my remaining ear burn, and it felt like somebody was pushing an ice pick into my skull and twisting it.
"Machado. They're using you. You're just a pawn. The Old Ones are just waiting for you to open the path," I shouted. His crimson eyes looked down upon me, but he ignored my feeble attempts to prevent my death.
Koriniha stuttered briefly in her chant, but continued.
"They're going to come through and take over."
The Cursed One readied himself, the blade was lifted, held awkwardly in the tentacles. I screamed in pain as the black energy of the artifact crackled over my skull.
Now remember things you have seen. Remember things I have show you. Is up to you, many things which I not could tell, I have show you. Remember them, and all will be fine.
The words of the Old Man. I focused on them, trying to blot out the pain, the visions, the flashing cruel energy, the upraised blade.
Yet every five hundred years, a man will be born, a mortal with the power to use this device and bend it to his will. You are this man, you are the one who has been prophesied by the Old Ones. The words of Koriniha. In the vision she had looked into Lord Machado's eyes as she had spoken, but had she been speaking to him, or was it a message for me five hundred years later? The thought disappeared as a black whip of energy wracked across my body.
Control of time, space, energy, matter, that kind of thing. Anybody who tries to use it dies, unless you are one of the special people. Albert Lee had spoken about some of the things in the Old Man's journal. But I had used the artifact. I had unleashed a tiny bit of its power in Natchy Bottom. I had destroyed the flow of time, taken five minutes of history and made it as if it had never existed. And though I had been dead at the time, I had lived.
Thou knowest not of thy fate? Of thy place in this world? The question from the Tattooed Man, Thrall. What was my place? Why was I special? Why had he vowed to kill me?
The memory of Lord Machado, enraged, dying, body wracked by wound and fever, attacking the black obelisk, destroying the lines of the prophecy with his fearsome ax. Each glowing line appearing, only to be swept away in a crash of ax blade against obsidian.
He will come
Son of a great warrior
Auhangamea Pitt. The Green Beret legend. To his children he was just a normal man. A stern and distant father. Yet a display case over the family hearth held his Congressional Medal of Honor.
Taught in the skills of the world
The very first time I had met Julie, she had read from my file. Top of your class, passed the CPA exam the first time. I was an accountant. A man of numbers and spreadsheets. Facts and figures. Audits and accruals.
Yet drawn to the sword
But I was far more comfortable with a gun in my hand than a calculator. I would rather be in a brutal full-contact fight than fill out a 1040. The glowing line of the prophecy exploded as the ax hammered home.
His very name taken from
The weapon of his fathers
Owen. An obsolete piece of Australian scrap. A cheap stamped sheet-metal 9mm bullet hose. But it had kept my father alive while he had stayed one step ahead of the communist patrols.
Given a quest by the crown
To defeat an impossible foe
The Elf Queen had spoken to me. Dreamer. One last thing. Ya'll got a mission. Don't screw up. Or we all git dead. This here is serious, and I ain't just funnin ya . . . As Queen of the Enchanted Forest, I order ya'll not to fail. Kill the bad 'un, or it's all over. I had accepted her quest. It was my quest to stop the Cursed One that had landed me half-dead on this altar.
Possessor of visions
My brave friend Trip, now probably dead. You talk with ghosts. You see visions. You even managed to turn back the clock. Explain that if it isn't a miracle.
Leader of men
Earl Harbinger, smoking, trying to hide a slight smile, confident in his wisdom as the most experienced Monster Hunter in the world. I've got three Newbies that seem to think you're their leader. Trip, Holly and Albert would follow you anywhere. Whether you know it or not, you're a leader. That's good enough for me.
Ally of dark forces
The Wendigo loomed in my mind. Billowing skins under an antlered skull. Special Agent Franks, still in mud-covered armor, snapping his hand to his forehead in a salute of honor.
Friend of monsters
Skippy and his tribe dancing and rejoicing. A mighty werewolf tearing with fang and claw as he battled the undead.
The line of text shattered in the darkness.
I knew now.
The artifact spun, shrieking, casting off insane energies, piercing screams inside my head from the trapped souls within its prison. It was not just a key. It was a manifestation of all that was bad. It had been forged by a being of unnatural law. Placed here as a tool of invasion. Held in place, waiting for that one mortal with the will to use it. The Old Ones were patient. They were smart. They had steered their pawns into place, taking thousands of years, and generations of human toil to bring this meeting about. It recognized me. It welcomed me. It called out to me.
I called back.
The priestess shrieked out an alien command. I was fully engulfed now in the whipping black energy. Lord Machado swung the weapon. The ax blade descended, screaming down toward my unprotected chest.
"No."
Time jerked spasmodically. There was a thunderous explosion and the ax was blasted spinning into the air. The Cursed One was flung across the top of the pyramid, slamming wetly against the ivory blocks.
I was in control now. I felt the power of the Old Ones coursing through my body. I could move again. Strength surged through my limbs. With one tug, the chains binding my wrists were shattered. I rose, forcing my way through the walls of black energy, a taste for violence in my mouth. I had been pushed too far, and now I was pushing back.
The Master vampire screamed in rage. Somehow I had harmed his lord, and now he descended on me in its full wrath. Jaeger twisted into his killing form, surging toward me at hundreds of feet per second. Claws descended in a flash of speed sufficient to turn rock into powder.
I blocked the claw, smashing the hardened bones of his arm into splinters. The vampire halted in shock. I wrapped my hands around his neck, spun him around and shoved him into the altar. Cracks rippled across the structure as I forced him down. He hit me like a freight train, hammering me with unbelievable force. I tried to tear him apart, but he was the strongest of all vampires. I could not destroy him.
There was a presence. I could sense it coming from the artifact. One of the prisoners, desperately calling my name. I stuck one hand back into the energy and felt something heavy and solid land in my palm.
It was Mordechai's cane.
I roared as I slammed it through Jaeger's chest. It served as a mighty stake, piercing the black heart. He screamed in impossible pain as the cane began to burn in blue fire. For six decades this thing had reigned nearly supreme in his world of undeath. Cursed with powers beyond comprehension, yet bound in servitude to another. Before that he had been just as evil, just as brutal, only in human form he had been a mere cog in the machine of death that had been his calling. He was a murderer, a tyrant, a king of evil. We stood face to face as the vampire tried to pull me into the conflagration. I slammed him back into the altar, again and again, gaining in strength and velocity. I crushed his form into the ivory, pulverizing it into bits.
He tried to crawl away, withering and burning. The flames of the cane would not allow him to change form. There was no escape. I snatched up my ganga ram, lifted the mighty weapon, and brought it down on the vampire's neck. The heavy blade struck true, and driven by my new strength, the hardened spine shattered on impact. His head landed at my feet. Black lifeblood streamed down the pyramid. His eyes looked up at me in confusion as his mouth tried to form words.
I kicked his head into the woods.
The energy release from the artifact was growing in intensity, far greater now than it had been during my vision. I walked through it, unfazed by the lightning. Stepping over the smoldering body of the vampire, I headed toward the Cursed One. The artifact lifted into the air, higher and higher, until it was suspended at the midpoint of the tiny little world. The roar of the unleashed power was deafening. The winds picked up the snowfall and spun it like we were in a blizzard.
"Machado!" I roared. I was whole again. I could hear. I could see. I could move. "Machado! Face me!" I tore off the remaining scraps of my armor and threw them aside. I strode toward the fallen form of the Cursed One. It ended now.
Boy. Wait. You must stop.
Freed from the bondage of the Cursed One, his murderer destroyed, the Old Man reached out for me, trying to help. I ignored him. I was filled with rage. Lord Machado had attacked me again and again. He had threatened my loved ones. He had threatened my world. He had tried to take our lives. My blood thundered and I demanded vengeance. His death was inevitable. I demanded it.
The energy grew in power relative to my anger. It spun high above, now a solid globe of black, so thick and great that the trees were bending, breaking and being sucked upwards. I walked through the fury.
Stop. They use you. Use you like pawn.
Lord Machado appeared out of the whirling snow. He bombarded me with his power. Telekinetic forces striking against me, trying to invade my body, rupture blood vessels in my brain, clamp down the valves of my heart, or pop my lungs like a balloon. He had the power to kill with his very mind.
Monster Hunter International Page 54
