Cain

by James Byron Huggins

The long blade rose, tight in a hand.

  Bending instantly, Maggie snatched up a piece of rotten timber and swung with vicious strength, the shaft shattering on a cloaked arm.

  There was a pause as the warlock grinned from within the hood. Thenhe threw out a hard hand to strike her in the chest, smashing her to the ground.

  Horror made her recover fast and Maggie twisted, staring up. Whatever she held truest was spoken in the moment, all hope gone as the terrifying shape stood over her. Her words were a promise.

  "Soloman will kill you for this," she whispered.

  A scornful laugh. "Soloman is already dead," he said.

  Maggie spat.

  He raised the blade and bent to—

  A herculean arm grabbed him from behind, seizing the moment and movement with gigantic strength. Instantly the warlock attempted to whirl and Maggie saw the reflection of a white collar.

  "Marcelle!"

  In a staggering, grotesque stranglehold of arms and legs they stumbled across the ward, the warlock striking wildly at the massive force that held him, Marcelle roaring from his wounds. They moved into the middle of the starlit square, strength against strength, and Maggie heard a sharp whine burst suddenly from the warlock's throat as he fell to his knees.

  Then with a gigantic effort Marcelle bent over him. And she knew the fight wasn't over as the priest hunched, shoulders spreading broadly in a tremendous effort of will and strength, and she heard a devastating crack echo across the yard.

  Silence.

  Exhausted stillness.

  Marcelle released the body, and it fell to the ground.

  "Marcelle!" she cried out, rising to her feet. She rushed forward to find him fallen to his knees over the body. He gasped, raising his head to the sky, breathless from the conflict. He leaned his head far back, gazing into the stars, his face submerged in pain.

  "I came up," he whispered. "Heard an explosion ... in the gate. Now we must find Soloman."

  "Oh, Marcelle ..."

  He shook his head, glancing at Amy. "It is finished," he said. "Whatever price paid tonight is by ... the will of God. Someone must ... stop this beast. And we are all ... that remain."

  Maggie helped him to his feet.

  "Come," he said. "We must find Soloman."

  ***

  Soloman dropped a grenade when he was twenty feet from the dungeon and then he threw another, and another, and another. He rounded the corner as the first exploded in a succession of blasts that bathed the tunnel, sending a river of flame from the portal.

  The roar was deafening, unendurable, and Soloman heard himself screaming in the holocaust as the terrific explosions hurled white wave after white wave to superheat the air. But he didn't have time for thought or pain; he had to move. At the last explosion he leaped toward the daypack knowing Cain would be coming fast through the flames to— Cain catapulted from the tunnel like a thunderbolt.

  As they collided Soloman twisted to take it savagely to the ground, the battle entering the last, savage domain. Frantic thought was lost in the whirlwind of violence that carried them across the cavern floor, cursing and snarling as each struck with desperate strength, taking it to the death.

  And Soloman knew nothing more, had forgotten everything in the vicious, blinding exchange of brutal blows that forged them together in hate and revolving wounds through darkness, red rage, blood, and pain.

  As Cain drew back to strike Soloman hit him hard in the chest, bringing a grunt: He's weakening!

  In an exultant moment, Soloman felt the giant's strength diminishing, and it gave him wild hope. Soloman hit again and again, hurling a straight right that struck the monstrous face, and he leaped to press the attack, sensing Cain's endurance fading degree by degree as well.

  Blow after blow fell like rain, moves perfected from years of merciless training in the desert, and Soloman knew Cain was stunned by the onslaught; the rounds and grenades had taken something from him, had reduced that unearthly strength.

  Enraged at the pain Cain roared as he violently backhanded Soloman across the face, spinning him away. But as Soloman took the stunning impact his hand closed on the tanto at his waist, snapping the blade clear.

  He returned the blow with vengeance.

  With the hilt tight in his fist Soloman gave himself to it and the sweeping black blade struck true, slashing Cain's throat through and through to send a scarlet trail into smoking black air.

  Cain's reaction was incredible.

  Staggering back, eyes wide in shock, the taloned hands clutched his throat as if to halt the spiraling flood of blood. Then he raised his hands before his face, staring at the scarlet stain as if he'd lost an irredeemable treasure. And the unearthly eyes narrowed in ageless wrath, an indescribable curse bellowing through his fangs.

  He leaped forward with a roar to grab Soloman and viciously flung him through the smoke and dust and destruction. Soloman struck hard against a wall, then fell face-down on the stone.

  Soloman didn't even feel the pain, so consumed was he with the conflict, and he rolled with effort to his feet. He glared bloody defiance in the face of the inhuman strength, the matchless power. Staring in hate, moving on instinct alone, he saw that Cain was mortally wounded, was struggling violently to draw breath through a severed throat that failed to heal. With a savage grimace Soloman mercilessly jacked another round in the shotgun, staggering away.

  A last move to make ...

  Bring this place down!

  He reached the daypack in three strides, instantly raising the barrel to the fuse, and pulled the trigger. The blast ignited it and it burned toward the dynamite and napalm with vicious speed. Then Soloman slammed another round and turned, leveling the shotgun in the face of Cain's wrath.

  Cain glared spitefully at the daypack. Understood.

  Six seconds.

  "You're dead," Soloman said.

  Cain took a faltering step, shook his head in frustration.

  "But it will kill you, too!"

  Five ...

  Soloman laughed.

  "It's worth it... to see you die."

  Four ...

  Like a lion, Cain roared and leaped.

  Three ...

  Soloman fired the shotgun to hit point-blank, the round impacting in a shower of blood that sent Cain back a last time. Then Soloman hurled himself desperately into the tunnel, a frantic move to place the thick stone wall between himself and the heart of the explosion.

  Two ...

  "Soloman!" Cain shouted.

  Soloman spun and stared.

  Cain roared, "I will be free!"

  Soloman smiled.

  One ...

  ***

  A volcanic eruption rushed up the stairs, engulfing Marcelle and Maggie in a white-hot holocaust. Wind heated by the subterranean roar engulfed them and they fell back together, screaming in terror.

  As the flames passed over them, Maggie clutched Amy tightly to her chest, praying for life. She never knew how long it lasted, finally sensed Marcelle staggering to his feet. He lifted her with a bloody arm and she stood, holding her child tightly.

  "We must descend," Marcelle groaned, leaning against a wall. "It may not yet be finished!"

  Maggie supported him, bearing his prodigious weight as they staggered together down the stairs. They almost fell as they reached the threshold, the entire dungeon alive with a roaring white light that cast spectral shadows across the walls, shadows of the living and dead. The roof was half-shattered, flaming stone scattered across the floor.

  "Wait," Marcelle gasped. "I will go first ..."

  He staggered into the surreal light and Maggie saw a humanlike shape fully ablaze. Screaming hideously, the monstrous form fled toward the cell where Amy had been held, finally falling at the entrance to crawl slowly through the door, screaming Amy's name.

  Cain!

  He was completely consumed by flame from whatever Soloman had done to him. Then she saw a second figure stumbling on the far side of the cavern. Stagge
ring, rising slowly, he limply held a shotgun. She rushed forward past Marcelle.

  Soloman saw her approach.

  "Maggie!" he cried, raising a hand. "Stay back!"

  At the far end of the chamber Cain was rolling to extinguish the flames, leaving spiraling flame behind him that fell away degree by degree. Then suddenly he lay still in a smoking black cloud, growling. He raised a fist high in the air, slammed it against the floor with thunderous force, and began to lift himself from the stones.

  They stared together as he rose, and as he reached his feet he turned slowly, glaring. His flesh was blackened, hideously disfigured by the bomb. It appeared that he barely had the strength to stand.

  "Soloman!" Maggie's voice pierced the roar of flame. "Can you walk? Can you walk? Talk to me! Sol! Get on your feet!"

  Staggering, Soloman cursed weakly as he fell to the side. Whatever was in him had been exhausted by the battle and he tried to resurrect it but it was claimed by the force of a war gone on far, far too long, a war he'd waged with all his love and life. His body abandoned him as he lay against the heated floor; hot stones burning with the savage cost of this fight.

  Maggie was screaming. "Soloman! Get up! Cain’s coming!"

  She twisted to see Cain's hideous black eyes glaring. And as he began a slow approach she spun with a shout. "Soloman! Dear God, we've got to get out of here! Right now! Get on your feet, baby! Get on your feet!"

  A long effort that came from somewhere beyond pain enabled Soloman to rise to his knees and he saw Cain's scorched form drawing nearer. With dying strength he reached for a last grenade. "Get out of here, Maggie," he rasped. "I have to ... finish this."

  Cain staggered closer, almost falling.

  "No, Sol! No! We've got to—"

  "Get out of here!" Soloman roared, ignited by the horror of Cain's malignant approach. Then in a merciless effort that caused scarlet pain to erupt behind his eyes, he rose. He used the shotgun as a bloody crutch, pushing Maggie roughly away as he watched Cain's oncoming strides.

  "Damn it, Maggie!" he shouted. "Get out of here!"

  Her face twisted in savage pain and then she cried out, lifting Amy as Cain finally descended. He struck Maggie viciously and sent her sprawling unconscious to the side. Amy, flung wide, collapsed painfully against stones with a scream.

  Soloman returned a violent backhand to turn Cain away. Then with his other hand he racked a round hard before leveling the shotgun, firing again to send Cain to his back, smashed over a cornerstone.

  Soloman stumbled forward across the giant's body, both of them more dead than alive. But Soloman had been delivered to another life now and moved with determined strength that shocked even him, knowing he was only moments from what he'd sought for so long: the chance to save his child.

  He reached Amy, amazingly able to lift her from the ground with an exhausted arm. As she embraced his ravaged neck Soloman felt a shocking rush of love – and strength.

  But Cain, too, was rising. Always rising.

  And ... Marcelle.

  Separated from the rest of them, the priest was bent, concentrating on his arm before he leaned his head back, moaning in pain. Then he flung out a hand and contemptuously hurled aside a steel syringe.

  Soloman knew, groaned.

  Marcelle ...

  He had injected himself with the Marburg virus, the only thing that could kill Cain: a living sacrifice.

  Before Soloman could object the priest staggered forward to push him back and Soloman crashed against stone, losing the shotgun as he clutched Amy tight in the raging apocalyptic air.

  Holding Amy tight as he rolled painfully to a knee, Soloman stared in shock. He knew what Marcelle would do because Cain needed blood to replenish his exhausted strength. And Marcelle would give blood to him – blood that would destroy him as surely as it created him.

  Soloman bowed his head in grief.

  He saw it all in his heart before he saw it with his eyes and as he raised his head Marcelle struck Cain hard. But the giant only grabbed the hand in contempt and in the next moment Cain lifted the priest cleanly from the floor.

  Horrified, Soloman watched as the hideous fangs unhinged and he couldn't even imagine what Marcelle knew in that moment. But the priest's face was hatefully grim, returning the hellish gaze with fatal defiance. Then the fangs fell, rending Marcelle's neck to drain blood infected with the Marburg virus, a life through death, a ransom for them all.

  After taking the priest's blood Cain contemptuously hurled Marcelle hard to the side. Then, fangs wide with the heated taste, glared down for a moment, wasting a single breath to growl, "You freed me, priest. And you have failed to destroy me. Always your god fails you."

  Dying, Marcelle gazed up.

  "No," he whispered. "It ends for us both now."

  Cain stared a moment, confused, before shaking his head. He turned toward Soloman, and Soloman returned the glare with all the strength that remained within him, knowing he couldn't run anymore, couldn't fight anymore. He had nothing left. He revealed no fear, scorning whatever strength Cain still possessed, as the giant advanced. And at Amy's cry, arms tightening on his neck, he hugged her face closer to his chest.

  "It's almost over, darlin'," he whispered, staring defiantly at the monstrous, frightfully demonic shape in ravaged black that staggered toward them, advancing with deadly force. "It's almost over."

  Cain's fangs glistened blood-white in the flames, the eyes utterly black, depthless – the heart of hell. His taloned hands clenched and unclenched in evil glee and a merciless, haunting laugh twisted the hideous face. He came slowly step by step, a charred, shambling horror, but Soloman only frowned, revealing nothing; no fear, no remorse, as their eyes locked. He stared at Cain as if the beast were already dead.

  Step by step, hating eyes defied.

  Then, abruptly, Cain stumbled. His fanged face twisted in a rictus of pain that made him reflexively raise taloned hands, clutching. And he seemed to convulse, staring blindly. He swayed a moment, groaning, and bowed his head, fighting something that ravaged him from within. And for a spellbinding moment he resisted, defying with fiendish strength, trying to catch a breath before he seemed ... to understand.

  Mouth open in shock, he staggered in a tight circle to glare back at Marcelle. But the demonic face was no longer threatening. It was questioning, searching.

  More dead than alive, Marcelle nodded.

  "Yes," he said. "It ends for us both now."

  A wordless curse erupted from Cain's throat before he groaned in agonizing pain and staggered, falling against a stone. He grasped at the heated metal bars, flesh smoking though he seemed not to feel it as he tried to right himself, closing on Marcelle. His voice was choked with blood.

  "I will kill you ... for this."

  With fatal unconcern Marcelle watched the beast stagger closer until it finally fell to a knee, a hand; the death of a giant. And still Cain moved slowly, crawling through what remained of flame, his face rising to reveal fangs stretched high against the light.

  Impassive and uncaring, Marcelle watched the fiendish approach, and when Cain could crawl no more he simply shook his head. His face was settled and peaceful.

  Cain lay still for a moment, and seemed dead at last. But after a moment of haunting silence he rolled, struggling with monumental strength to slowly sit, leaning his back against a wall. He was so close to Marcelle and yet so far because he could come no closer.

  The godlike gaze, once commanding such titanic power and triumph, was overcome by a redness that bled. And a dark flow of black had erupted from the fanged jaws, the hands limp and lifeless as if the virus were slowly working its way into the center of all that he was. He spoke to Marcelle in a voice thick in blood, a deliverance of death.

  "Do you truly know," he whispered, "what I once was?"

  Holding a hand to his chest, Marcelle nodded.

  "Yes," he rasped. "I know that you were once the greatest of all beings. Without equal, but for God. But you cas
t it aside to claim ... what you had no right to claim. Because you found corruption more glorious ... than glory itself."

  Cain coughed, lowering his head.

  "This," he gasped, "will kill us both."

  "I am not afraid of death," Marcelle whispered finally. "I only fear the death that would deliver me ... to you."

  There was a wet laugh and Cain shook his head, surrendering something. "I do not own you, Marcelle. I have never ... owned you." Struggling, he took a deep breath and his dark eyes became distant as stars. "I never thought ... that I would lose that war."

  Marcelle blinked, silent.

  "If you could only see what I have seen," Cain said, raising his head in what might once have been a proud gesture. "You speak of glory ... but you don't know glory." He laughed. "I have soared through the heart of the sun to know the secrets of life ... of this galaxy. I watched the birth of Alnilam ... of Orion and Aquila, and Hydra, and I know where lightning is stored ... I have walked through the valleys of the deep to know the awesome beasts that once ruled ... that cold darkness. I have hovered beneath the northern ice, knowing things man will never know in that realm of night." He coughed. "I have soared over Saturn, and Mars, and looked long into the eyes of God ... and I was the brightest light of that heavenly realm. And I knew this hardened world before it was so horribly cursed. So no, Marcelle, you know nothing of glory."

  Redness deepened in his eyes.

  "Mortals are such fools,” whispered with infinite sadness. “Even your dreams cannot honor that divine sight … or the light... or the awesome might... of what I once was. Of what ... I once ruled."

  Silence passed as Cain seemed to lose life as he bowed his head; "I spoke to him as I speak to you. And you think you are so different." He laughed. "But he feels. He loves ... And even he can be wounded. Is it any wonder that I thought ... I could might that war?"

  Marcelle bent his head and sighed.

  "No," he answered. "It is no wonder. But you cast your glory aside because you desired ... what you did not own. And that was your destruction."

  With a harsh laugh Cain shook his head. His face was so sad, his eyes so mournful that Soloman felt an amazing pang of remorse, gazing upon the once-imperial image so ravaged and defeated by the long battle, remembering unearthly glory lost.