“Stop that,” Shade muttered.
Meesh reclined on his rump, propped himself up on his arms. “What happened down there?” he asked.
For a while Shade said nothing as the distant lightning reflected off his tear-filled eyes. Eventually, though, his lips began to move. “It was Asaph all along. He controlled the dead. He killed Abe.”
Meesh stilled his tongue, waited for Shade to keep going.
“I didn’t get there in time,” Shade said, obliging him. “The door was locked tight. Vera showed me the way in, but I was too late.”
“Vera? Would this be the important someone you won’t tell me about?”
He nodded.
“Who is she? Where’d she go to?”
Shade narrowed his eyes, looked away, and then abruptly changed the subject. “Asaph had already shoved his sword through Abe’s back by the time I got there,” he said, and Meesh sighed. “I fought him, but he was strong. He did… something with the Spear of God, turned it into a weapon. He was a monster, but Vera told me how to beat him.” He smiled without humor. “I took him far, far away… and left him there.”
Meesh inched closer to the cliff’s edge, swung his legs over. “Took him away?”
“To a different world,” his brother whispered.
“What, through a fissure?”
“Something like that. He had a device that opened gateways. So I opened one, I guess, and then I broke it.”
“You broke what?”
“His device.”
“Then how’d you get back?”
Shade bobbed his shoulders, stared at the starry sky above. “I don’t know. One minute I was there with him standing over me. The next I was back in that room.” He sniffled and wiped the wetness from his cheeks, squeezed it from his beard. “There’s no knowing why. Not yet.”
“Eh, the Pentus probably brought you back,” Meesh said, slapping his brother on the shoulder.
Shade edged away, shot him a hateful look. “He didn’t.”
“Well, maybe he did.”
Shade waved his arm out wide. “Look around you!” he shouted. “Abe’s dead. Cooper’s dead. The Outriders… dead. Shit, all of Breighton’s gone too!” He slumped. “We solved the goddamn riddle, and still lost everything. What good was it?”
“Well…”
“Enough!” It looked like he was about to say more, but he clammed up.
“C’mon, brah,” said Meesh. “Talk to me. You gotta tell me. I’m here for you. We’re freaking brothers.”
“That we are,” the solemn man said, casting a weary look at the body resting behind them. “That we are.”
“Okay, good. So tell me what the hell’s going on in that head’a yours. Alright?”
For a moment Meesh thought Shade might actually open up, but his brother’s eyes grew hard, and he blinked and pressed a hand into the ground. Shade rose to a stand, hands on hips. His spiteful, withdrawn self had returned. There would be no arguing with him, at least until he cooled down a bit.
Great. More of that.
“So what now?” Meesh asked.
Shade started toward Abe’s corpse. “We have another brother on the way. Gather your things. We’re going to get him. Now.”
EPILOGUE
Are my services still required, or do I have permission to power down? My battery reserves are running low.”
“We won’t be moving for a little bit yet, Lupe,” Shade replied. His voice had a nasal whine to it, what with his nose still healing after being broken. His kind might heal faster than most, but they still had to heal.
He took a moment to look around. He lingered on the edge of a steep cliff, which they’d arrived at after crossing back to the west bank of the Butte and traveling north for a half a day. The Hallowed Stones, and a new Knight Eternal, waited on the mist-ringed plateau above.
Shade stared at Abe’s Warhorse, sitting beside him with the eldest knight’s corpse wrapped in a sheet and tied to the saddle. Both Shade and Meesh had been surprised to find that the Warhorse could operate even when its rider had died, though it was more than a little creepy when it steered itself along the banks of the Butte.
A strange clinking sound came from the machine. “What’s that?” Shade asked.
“Ivan is sad,” replied Lupe’s tinny voice. “He has lost his purpose.”
“You feel emotion?”
“Of course. Do you not?”
“No, I do, it’s just… forget it.”
“Very well. Consider it forgotten. Powering down now.”
The whir of whatever machinery powered the contraption faded; wind ceased whipping about Shade’s feet. He gazed over his shoulder at the purple rise of the great northern mountain range, visible now behind a smoky haze. He’d seen those mountains countless times before, had even lived in their shadow in Lemsberg, but they had new meaning now.
All that Vera had told him, had shown him on the black mirror, was on a constant loop in his mind. This is bigger than you, he told himself. Bigger than all of us. His mind kept coming back to Asaph, the man who’d killed his lover, the man who’d tried to end all life, and yet looked at himself as a savior.
How could a man who’d killed thousands call himself a hero? How could a man that controlled the dead exist at all? How could Shade exist? What was the purpose behind any of it? They were questions he needed answers to, answers he would only find over those northern mountains. He wanted to go right now, everything else be damned.
But he couldn’t, at least not yet. Meesh would seek him out him when he left, find him and try to kill him, because it’s what he was created to do. Shade grunted. He needed time, a way to distract his brother while Shade chased a legend. And there was only one way to do that.
Shade opened the hatch on Lupe’s rear and removed a long, curved saber, snug in its scabbard. It was Ronan Cooper’s sword, which he’d found amid the piles of corpses littering the Cooper Nuclear Station when he went searching for his lost hat before they departed. It was a good blade. Sturdy. It didn’t glow or vibrate like his Eldersword, but it was real, felt good in his grip. If he were to discover the truth, he’d do so as a free man, not a blind servant of a god who didn’t even exist.
“Yo, brah, it’s clear!” came Meesh’s shouting voice from the mist above, followed by his brother’s footsteps climbing down from the plateau. It was time.
As Shade swung from his saddle, he swore he saw Vera’s outline in the mists above, looking down on him with acceptance and love. That look told him all he needed to know.
He was making the right choice.
Meesh struggled as he and Shade lugged Abe’s corpse up the steep, crude stairway cut into the rock. The mist surrounding them was thick as soup, the river a cacophony of sound churning far below.
He was drenched in sweat by the time they broke the layer of mist and reached the top. His long, wet hair lashed his face. The knights lugged the wrapped corpse across a wide precipice, symbols akin to those adorning the walls of the Temple of the Crone etched into the stone all around them. Meesh hadn’t seen this place since the day of his creation, but when his eyes caught sight of the three intricately carved boulders and rows of crystals that formed a circle up ahead, he was filled with the same sort of awe.
They’d arrived at the Hallowed Stones.
The Stones themselves were three feet tall and each depicted the head of an animal. The first was a large bird of prey, its majestic beak pointing to the southeast. The second was a southwestern-facing big cat, maw locked in a snarl. The final idol depicted a strange-looking mammal with buck teeth whose wide eyes gazed to the north. Meesh found it amazing that six years away hadn’t caused the idols to erode any. Each of their features was just as distinct now as he supposed they’d ever been. The numerous crystals connecting the three statues glittered in the morning light.
The knights deposited their supplies outside the ring, then unwrapped Abe’s body and placed it in the center. The stink of decay was already rising f
rom the corpse, and Meesh wrinkled his nose. He tried not to show disrespect by vomiting all over his deceased brother.
They positioned the dead knight’s hands over his chest and stepped outside the circle. Meesh held up Abe’s Eldersword, extended it. The blade glowed a melancholy violet, echoing his grief. Shade went to him, wrapped his hand around Meesh’s. Together they lifted the Eldersword over the Stone depicting a bird of prey. There was a notch in the top of the Stone, and they gradually lowered the blade in. It continued to glow, even when they released it.
The brothers then went to their own idols—Shade the wild cat, Meesh to his buck-toothed mammal—and repeated the process with their own Elderswords, lowering them into the predisposed cavities. The swords shook; a loud humming came from beneath their feet. The brothers retreated a few steps. The gems at the base of the idols and those curving outward blazed to life. Beams of multicolored light emitted from them, connected with its opposite on the other side of the circle. They created a grid of light that enveloped Abe’s body. Wisps of steam rose from the circle.
The corpse then began to fade away, melting into the rock below. A blinding flash of lightning surged down from the sky and struck the center of the ring. Meesh covered his eyes as his knees buckled. He heard Shade groan. The humming grew louder, and a strange crackling could be heard as well. Meesh peered between his fingers. Abe’s body was gone, and another was taking shape, the figure down on one knee, its flesh pristine and featureless.
The head pitched back to the heavens and a nose grew from the putty-like skin. Then came the eyes, the ears. A cavity formed at the bottom of the face—a mouth opened in a scream. Hair sprouted, growing ever downward until it reached the middle of the new knight’s back. As long as mine, Meesh thought.
Finally, the new Knight Eternal was complete. His complexion was light, his eyes greenish-gray, his chin cleft, his hair long and a shade lighter brown than Meesh’s. Abe’s opposite. He remained on one knee as if frozen, every hair standing up on his naked body, until the light from the three idols sputtered out of existence. Then he collapsed on his side, panting and shrieking. Meesh rushed into the circle, a towel in hand, and draped it over him.
“What the… what the bloody hell?” the new Abednego sputtered in an odd accent.
“Welcome to the world, brah,” Meesh said, “and chill the hell out.” He helped the new man into a sitting position, where he remained, shivering, eyes darting back and forth.
Meesh consoled his new brother as best he could. He remembered feeling this way; confused and terrified, not even knowing who he was. Hopefully, this Abednego would snap out of it as quickly as he had.
“It’s okay, brah,” he said.
“Who… who am I?” sputtered the brother.
“You’re Abednego.”
“Do I know you?”
“Not yet, my man. But you will.”
From the corner of his eye, Meesh saw Shade walk over to Meesh’s pile of supplies and lift one of his sheathed pistols.
Meesh looked up at him. There was something chilling about the blank expression he wore.
“Brah, what’re you doing?”
“I need a gun,” Shade said. “You can replace this one when you get back to Sal Yaddo.”
“Uh, duh, and so can you,” Meesh shot back. The new Abednego shuddered; Meesh felt just as confused as he looked.
“I’m not going back,” Shade replied.
Meesh gaped. Oh shit.
Shade stepped toward the Hallowed Stones, pulled his Eldersword from the idol, and then tossed it into the ring. It clattered and fell still, and Meesh couldn’t take his eyes off it. “Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “Pick that up.”
The new brother groaned.
“I’m done with this life,” Shade said. “I’m done being a puppet. There are answers out there, I know there are. Abe knew it too. That’s why he’s gone.” He glanced up at the cloudless sky. “I owe it to him, to everyone, to be the man I was meant to be.”
Don’t do this. “You sound like a nutter,” Meesh told him, heart beating rapidly. His words failed, his nerves got the best of him; he hadn’t even felt this frightened when taking on countless undead.
Shade smiled. “Maybe so, but at least I’m being me.”
“You know they’ll make me hunt you down,” Meesh said gravely. “I won’t have a choice.”
“Do what you gotta. I’ll be waiting out there. Somewhere. Until then, take care of our new brother. Sorry, Abednego, but I won’t be joining you two on your adventures from here on out.”
With that, he turned about and swiftly walked away. Meesh watched him go, absentmindedly rubbing his new brother’s back. “Don’t go,” he whispered.
Shade reached the edge of the cliff and paused, turning ever so slightly before descending the stairs and disappearing into the mists below. Without a parting word. Without so much as a wave. Meesh slumped onto his rear, felt the curious and concerned eyes of his new brother on him.
“Dammit,” was all he could say.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The idea behind the story that became Soultaker started percolating in my head nearly a decade ago. I pictured a group of famous musicians, whose lives had ended before their time, and imagined them reanimated and wandering around a post-apocalyptic wasteland. They could be demon hunters! my mind declared. And they’ll be so badass! So I sat down and wrote a short story called “The Bandits of Yaddo” (which was published some years later in The Gate: 13 Dark and Odd Tales) just to see if the idea would work.
Much to my surprise, it did. The tale might’ve been awkward, humorous, violent, and a little strange, but dammit, it worked.
What you have in your hands now is the evolution of that original story. It’s more serious now than then, though the humor remains. What were once bandits are now knights of a holy order. Where there had been a goofy, standalone tale, there is now a plot that helps fill a gap within my overarching world; those who’ve read my work will recognize that a particular name from my series about supernatural high-school trauma, The Infinity Trials, makes an appearance.
There are so many people to thank for bringing this book to light; Alana Abbott, my awesome story editor, who recognized my vision from the outset and whose every suggestion should be plated in gold; Joe Martin, for bringing the weirdness of The Knights Eternal into the Ragnarok fold; artist Tomasz Chistowski, who created a phenomenal cover, and Shawn King, formatter supreme; the whole crew over at Outland Entertainment, who’ve improved this process immensely; Michael Wallace, whose suggestions on how to build a fantasy novel led directly to this book being written; my most ardent proofreaders, Ray Nicholson and Jeff Bryan, who’ve caught numerous embarrassments; and to my friends and family, to my wife Jess, collaborator Jesse, with Sarah and Jay, the Daves and just Dave, along with Ben, Shelly, Caton, Patrick, Steve, Corey, Mercedes, Chris, Dan, and Ken. And how could I forget my children, Connor, Tristen, and Legacy? You all deserve a place on this list, and here they are.
And with that bit of business out of the way, it’s reached the time to say that if you enjoyed this book—hell, even if you hated it—please leave a review at whatever outlet you made your purchase. Reviews are the lifeblood of authors, after all; if no one knows readers enjoy a book, who’s going to take a chance? If you have anything specific to tell me, feel free to email me at [email protected]. I would love to hear from you.
One final note: if you would like updates from yours truly—new releases, sale announcements, special offers, things like that—then sign up for my newsletter at eepurl.com/Mo8G5. Don’t worry, I won’t send you any spam. Promise.
So until the next time, my friends, I bid you adieu. Be good and be kind, and greet each day with an open mind.
Robert Duperre
May 2017
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robert writes a combination of horror, science fiction, and fantasy, and is the author of several novels, including the Rift series, the Breaking World
series, which he co-authors with David Dalglish, and The Infinity Trials. He is also a contributor and editor of two short story collections, The Gate and The Gate 2.
Robert lives in Connecticut with his wife, artist Jessica Torrant, his three wonderful children, and Leo, the one-eyed super dog.
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