by James Somers
“What?”
“Reach for the door…without walking across the room,” Laish said. “I know you doubt me, but just do it.”
Kron stood for a moment, ready to laugh, but he didn’t. Finally, he complied. “All right.”
He thrust his hand toward the door, expecting nothing at all to happen. Instead, the fingers shot out toward the door handle, startling his men standing by. The arm became vine-like again, but under Kron’s control. Still, even he was shocked by what happened. He tried to jump away from the arm—a ridiculous notion—but he still made the attempt.
Laish laughed. “You should have listened to me.”
Kron became furious. He released the door handle and turned his vine appendages upon Laish. They shot toward the elf, but stopped just before reaching him. Laish held his hand toward the vines holding them at bay.
“Now, before you let your temper get the best of you, you should realize what blessing I have bestowed upon you?”
“Blessing?” Kron bellowed. “You’ve made a monster out of me.”
Laish glared at the Lycan king. “I’ve given you back more than you lost at the hand of Tiberius. Could your old arm do what this one can?”
Kron withdrew the vines. The appendage recoiled, returning in appearance to the arm it had been a moment ago. He flexed the fingers again, realizing Laish’s point.
A smile crept across his lips. “You may be right, wizard.”
Consolation
Sophia was standing beside one of Xandrea’s many mediation pools when Donatus found her. He stood watching the calm water. Only the kiss of the breeze disturbed its surface from above. From below, multicolored coy played among the wispy roots of blooming water flowers.
He stood a few paces away, saying nothing. It was evident that the princess had been crying. Donatus did not look her way. If she wanted to talk, he was available to her.
Despite the spelled city’s ability to wash away melancholy and ill will, Sophia was not comforted. She wiped away a tear and glanced at the king. He thought she might say something, but the moment passed again.
“He loves you very much,” Donatus finally said.
She did not look at him, but a tear trailed her cheek.
“I suppose you mean to tell me that he left in order to save my life—keep me from knowing the horrors of that legendary prison of the Fallen.”
“I would,” Donatus said, “but it sounds like you already know that.”
“And what if he doesn’t return?” she asked, looking him in the eye now.
“Then he hasn’t survived,” Donatus said.
His frankness seemed to startle her.
“Otherwise,” he continued, “he will certainly do all that is in his power to return to the woman he has fallen in love with.”
“I’m afraid for him, Donatus,” she admitted.
He smiled at her. “Afraid for him, or for yourself?”
“I don’t want to lose him,” Sophia said.
“He’s quite powerful,” Donatus said.
“Yes.”
“But that isn’t why I believe he will return,” Donatus continued.
“Then what?” she asked.
“His faith is in the Creator,” Donatus said. “If he is meant to return then nothing can stop him.”
Sophia wiped away her tears. She smiled and nodded.
Tom sat in the room that had been his, when he was living within the city of his people. He had left it behind years ago. Still, his father had not removed any of his belongings. Everything had been left as it was.
“How long has it been since you’ve fed?” he asked.
Charlotte strolled around the room, looking at items a younger Tom had fashioned from clay and wood and steel. He had evidently been an artistic child. This didn’t surprise her. Otherwise, the shelves were filled with a multitude of volumes. The books contained the history of his people, as well as a great deal of knowledge about the other Descendant races.
“I’ll be all right,” she said.
“I was just wondering,” he said. “I could help you with that, if you had need.”
Charlotte glared at him for a moment. Then she noticed his grin. She smiled—something she did more often around Tom than with anyone else. “A tempting offer,” she said. “Still, I think I should pass.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
She looked him up and down, giving him a disappointed look. “I don’t think you could handle the experience.”
Tom laughed out loud. Then he looked into her eyes again. “At least I might die happy,” he said.
She didn’t reply. Tom said nothing more. After a moment, it was Charlotte who finally broke the silence hanging in the room.
“Do you think Brody will get him back?” she asked.
Tom leaned his head on the back of his chair with a sigh. “I really don’t know,” he said. “A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought he could even get into Tartarus. But a lot has happened to him since then. He’s come well into his power. Being like Oliver, he might be able to do it. Never been there myself, so it’s hard to say.”
“I wonder if we could have helped him,” she mused.
“Most likely we would have just been a liability,” he said. “Brody knew the stakes when he left us behind. He did it for our own good, whether we like it or not.”
She nodded.
Tom stood and walked toward her, putting his arm around Charlotte’s shoulder. “It’s not like we have nothing to do, though. There’s the mess in London to contend with.”
“You mean my father,” she added.
“Should we just let him overrun the city?” Tom asked. “How do you think we should respond? Will Tiberius bargain with us…maybe with my father?”
“Very unlikely,” Charlotte answered. “He’s a proud warrior. He believes it to be the destiny of our race to rule over the mortal world.”
“And you?” Tom asked.
“I never shared that dream,” she said defensively. “Not even when you and my brother were helping to make it a reality.”
“I got on the wrong side of things,” Tom admitted. “I know how to do the right thing, now.”
“And what’s that, Tom?” she asked. “What is the right thing?”
He stammered for an answer as she pulled away.
“Go ahead,” she insisted, “tell me your grand scheme. Will you take my father’s head. Are my people to be exiled to Greystone, imprisoned there again until the blood fever takes them all?”
“You’re not one of them,” Tom said.
“But I am,” Charlotte shot back. “The Breed are my people, just like the elves of Xandrea are yours. We may have become outcasts, Tom, but that doesn’t change the facts about who we are. Nothing we ever did could change that.”
He didn’t answer.
“Do the mortals deserve to live while my people die?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m not the person to ask that question,” Tom said. “I’m no lover of mortals anymore than you. Surely, there is some solution to all of this, something we don’t see at the moment.”
A single tear welled upon the lid of her right eye. Her red iris was refracted within it—a sign that she would have to feed soon, despite her denials to the contrary. Tom embraced her again, and she didn’t fight it.
“I hope there is a peaceful way,” she said. “I really do.”
Garek caught up with Tiberius in Trafalgar Square. A massive gathering of the Breed was in progress. Normally, only warriors would have been assembled unto the vampire lord. However, this was no battle. A takeover of the city had been called for by their king.
Darkness would be upon them within the hour, and the Breed enjoyed the night most for hunting. Men, women and their children were all present. This was the moment they had all been waiting for. After so long trapped within Greystone, the vampires would feed.
Tiberius stood upon one of the mortal’s stone monuments in order to address his Breed. “This mortal city w
ill be completely ours,” he said loudly. “Sate your thirst. Fill London’s streets with the dead, and we will burn them when we have finished. The time has come for the mortals to remember why they fear the dark.”
The crowd of vampires roared their approval.
“Now, go my children. Spare no one. There will always be more mortals coming.”
Thousands of vampires erupted from Trafalgar Square, taking flight in various flying animal forms, or running faster than human eyes could follow. Toward every point of the compass they issued out into the city, finding mortals who were just beginning to venture out of hiding following the first vampire attacks and the destruction of Buckingham Palace.
This time there were no Lycans waiting incognito to ambush the vampires, and none of the mortals had the power to stop the onslaught. Like children in a candy store, they took everyone they laid their eyes upon. Many of London’s citizens would attempt to fight back, but ultimately to no avail.
Abyss
I swept through the void with its dry heat, maniacal laughter, and scenes of abject terror. All the while, I felt a drawing sensation leading me toward Oliver through the blood bond we shared as half brothers—sons of Southresh. I knew that I could veer from this pulling, as Oliver had mentioned before, but there was no danger that such a thought would enter my mind. I wanted nothing at all to do with any other location in Tartarus. Only the place where Oliver was being held captive concerned me.
Moving through darkness with only the eerie light of passing realms to discern that movement, I began to draw toward one place in particular. The spherically shaped world in miniature became larger and larger, until, I was pulled within. I passed through the membranous barrier without pause and was dazzled by a flash of light.
When my vision cleared, I found myself standing in a jungle. However, within seconds I heard a bellowing cry, and the jungle transformed into a barren landscape with dead trees and massive gray boulders. Before me, stood the entrance to a labyrinth.
A high wall of stone loomed over me. Razor sharp, jagged pieces of metal were encrusted like coral across the entire surface of the wall, making it nearly impossible to climb. In contrast, the entrance appeared to be wide open, almost inviting me to tread that path.
But I knew already that Black was in control here. This was his prison and the world of his making within it. Remembering Southresh’s dwelling place, I understood that Black would also be able to change his environment at will and bring untold numbers of minions against me.
Still, Oliver had to be near—most likely within this labyrinth. The blood bond would have brought me close, and I could feel my proximity to him, but Black would do what he could to block my progress. I had no choice but to play the game he was proposing and hope to win.
Malak-esh was in my hand, still resembling an ebony cane with a silver lion’s head when I walked toward the arching entrance to the labyrinth. Here and there among the old paving stones were holes in the ground large enough for a man to fall and get stuck inside them. I imagined sharp things within, just out of sight, that could cause terrible pain and a lingering death. However, I was wrong about their nature.
A huge serpent rose from one of the holes to my left, just before I could reach the archway. The beast struck at me immediately, forcing me to dodge away. I did so ungracefully, stumbling over another hole. I landed on top of Malak-esh which kept me from using the weapon.
I heard the hissing serpent behind me, the greater portion of its body still lodged within its hole like an eel. Another beast rose from the hole where I had stumbled, catching hold of my right boot and hoisting me into the air. I caught hold of the lion’s head on my cane and willed its transformation.
Ebony became silver as the blade of Angel Fire took shape. Still, I was hanging upside down with the second creature attempting to crush my lower leg in its powerful jaws. I swung the blade. An arc of light trailed the tip of Malak-esh. The beast released me immediately, crying out as my sword rent its muscular body three feet below the head.
I fell hard to the ground, dropping my weapon as the wind was knocked out of me. The first beast came at me, snapping and hissing. I threw up my extension just in time. The beast smashed against my invisible barrier, releasing a blood-curdling screech in anger. I drew in the bubble and then forced it outward when the creature came at me again.
The extension hit the serpent hard enough to knock it into the wall of the labyrinth, shattering stones and crunching bone. The beast fell over, writhing on the ground in a daze. I dealt the serpent another blow with a strike of lightning emanating from my extension. This time it stopped moving completely.
“I know you’re here, Black,” I shouted. There was no use playing the game, if I didn’t have to. After all, we both knew that there would come some inevitable showdown after I’d faced untold dangers in his maze. I thought I might dispense with the pleasantries and simply cut to the chase this time around.
“Afraid to go in?”
I turned to find Black standing there. He was dressed much the same as he had been during his time in London. I might have thought he would appear more angelic, or perhaps even more unrestrained as Southresh had. But Black was apparently a more refined rebel, choosing high fashion over shock value.
I tensed when I saw him, expecting an immediate attack from the angel. He certainly did not lack for power, and I was standing in his home court. I considered my alternatives. Should I attack? Should I mention Oliver at all? Maybe he didn’t know why I had come to Tartarus.
“You’re attempting a rescue here?” he asked. “I must say I’m a bit surprised.”
“Surprised that I could get in?” I offered.
“Surprised that you would bother,” he replied.
“I won’t leave Oliver here with you,” I said. “He’s my brother.”
“Oh, please,” he said sarcastically. “Another bleeding heart.”
I wondered why he had made no move against me, yet. He seemed to sense my apprehension. I was standing with my hands up defensively like an oriental fighter—ridiculous of course, since he could have blown me away at any moment.
Black laughed. “If you’re getting all twisted up waiting for me to kill you, then you needn’t bother.”
“Why?” I hesitated to ask.
“Truth be told—”
“I doubt it,” I said.
He flashed a wan smile. “It’s not polite to interrupt your betters,” he said. “As I was saying, I have been forbidden to attack you myself.”
Could it really be that simple? I didn’t know whether to believe him, or not. Still, I was alive, and Black was doing nothing more to hinder that state.
“Forbidden by whom?” I asked, though I thought I already knew.
“I’ll not honor that ridiculous question with an answer,” he said.
I relaxed a little, but only a little. “Then, if you’re not going to destroy me, release Oliver to me. We’ll leave you alone.”
He grinned devilishly. “Just because I can’t destroy you myself, doesn’t mean I can’t use this prison to entertain myself. After all, no one escapes Tartarus.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that statement. Maybe he didn’t understand that I had already visited this place with Oliver and had traveled back to the mortal world. I wasn’t about to mention it though.
The labyrinth dissolved behind me, revealing Oliver in a disheveled condition, half-starved and fatigued beyond belief. He nearly collapsed as I ran to him. I caught hold of him, trying to support his meager weight while he attempted to focus on me.
“Brody, is it you?” he asked.
I nodded, trying to say something, but ended up choking on my words instead.
Sensing that I was indeed more than a mere apparition, Oliver clutched my face, feeling the warmth of my skin, patting my cheeks and smiling joyously as tears began to stream down his face. He hugged me then and seemed to attempt a little dance. I turned my face to Black, but the angel had disappeared.<
br />
“How touching,” he said. His voice was coming from all directions at once.
We were standing upon a barren plain now. Mountains loomed in the distance. A village sat alone, among bits of rock and scrub, not far away.
“Perhaps, you’ll appreciate a touch of the biblical, Brody West,” he said, his tone now icy cold. “Behold Behemoth!”
The ground suddenly shook as a massive pillar of flesh, as large as a tree, slammed down upon the earth. The shadow of a monster washed over Oliver and me, blotting out the sunlight. From high atop the creature’s long neck, the head turned our way, an ominous cry of fury blasting from its cavernous maw when it spotted us.
The huge body came around, swinging the tale behind it recklessly, caring not one bit for the destruction it caused. Its foreleg hammered the ground almost on top of us, as Oliver cried out, “Run!”
With no other destination in sight, we ran toward the village, hoping to find some means of hiding from the terrible reptile. Behemoth took up the chase, infuriated that we had set out to escape its wrath. We stumbled often as the ground moved beneath our feet, shifting as the creature pounded the rock and earth with its incomprehensible bulk.
There was no time for stopping now—no time to muster a suitable defense, or counterattack. Any pause would surely see us trampled into the dust, our flesh and bones crushed beyond all hope of restoration. We simply fled from Behemoth, gaining speed through sheer desperation as it came for us.
The head came down over us, pounding the ground like a storm of meteors. Behemoth tried to grind us into the dust, but we barely managed to elude the creature because of its general clumsiness. The teeth snapped a dry tree beside us like a twig, but we just kept running for our lives.
As we entered the village, it became clear that there wasn’t much in the way of protection here. However, the ability to hide was worth just as much. I turned on Behemoth, as he plowed through the first wooden building, firing off a gout of flame toward its head. The attack at least forced it to turn its head away, which was all I had been hoping for.
