by Lucas Flint
But Bolt dodged the punch and responded with a quick punch of his own. Though the blow was light, it still knocked Beams’ off his feet and made him gasp in pain.
Let me go, Beams told the Dread God. Give me my body back. Give it back now.
But the Dread God just ignored his pleas. He got back to his feet and fired another energy blast at Bolt, but Bolt dodged it easily and swept Beams’ legs from out underneath him, sending Beams crashing back to the floor. Beams tried to get up again, but Bolt pinned him to the floor with a stomp and twisted his arms behind him again.
“Beams!” said Bolt into his ear. “I’m counting on you to fight back against the Dread God’s control! Resist him as much as you can. Kick him out!”
Again, easier said than done, but Beams decided to try again harder than ever. Yet no matter how hard he pushed back against the Dread God’s might, it was like trying to move a mountain. It made Beams wonder just how powerful the Dread God was … and how much powerful he would be once he was alive again.
What makes this even worse is that I can sense that the Dread God is just toying with us, Beams thought. He’s not even using the full extent of his power and yet he’s making us fight each other like we’re archenemies. It’s madness.
Beams sensed the Dread God’s amusement. It was obviously taking great pleasure in pitting him against Bolt. It wasn’t even trying to win. It was just trying to distract them long enough for the Dread Priest to complete the ritual and restore its original body.
That thought filled Beams with anger, but at the same time, with hope. If the Dread God wasn’t putting one hundred percent of its effort into possessing him, then there was a chance … however small … that he might be able to free himself.
But then he felt a surge of power course through his body and he yelled and threw Bolt off himself. Bolt jumped back, a startled look on his face, as Beams rose to his feet again and turned to face him.
“If you keep getting back up like this, I might just have to break your legs,” Bolt said. “That’s something that even the Dread God can’t recover from.”
Beams’ body did not answer. It just took one step forward, but Beams, sensing a weakness, rushed in and forced his body to stop it mid-step. He could sense the Dread God’s astonishment at his taking back control … which quickly turned to anger, even hatred, and he suddenly felt himself coming under severe mental assault, the likes of which he had never suffered before in his life.
Putting his hands on his head, Beams wanted to scream for his life, but he was unable to, because without control over his body, all he could do was take the mental pain which the Dread God dished out. He sensed the Dread God trying to batter his will into submission, trying to make him crack. Indeed, Beams felt like he was not only cracking, but even snapping under the insane pressure which the Dread God inflicted upon him. He just wanted it to end, for death to claim him and his life to be over so he wouldn’t have to take it anymore.
But at the same time, Beams didn’t want to die, not like this. He forced himself to withstand the Dread God’s mental anguish, to take the attacks head on. He pushed through the attacks, ignoring the pain, trying to get back to his own body. The intensity of the Dread God’s attacks increased the closer he got back to controlling his body, until soon it was nearly unbearable.
Yet just as the attacks became unbearable, Beams let out a yell of anguish and forced the Dread God out of his mind. He could sense the Dread God’s shock at his forcing him out, but soon he could no longer feel what the Dread God felt, and in the next instant he found himself standing in front of Bolt, panting and sweating as if he had just run a mile.
“Beams?” said Bolt uncertainly. “Is that you? Are you back?”
Beams blinked several times. “Y-Yeah. I got control over my body again, but … I have a killer headache, ugh.”
Beams put his hands on his head. The headache was indeed killer, but even as he stood there, he sensed it going away. But he could also still sense the Dread God, though its presence was nowhere nearly as strong as it once was. Indeed, it almost felt like it was gone entirely, which helped him feel relieved.
Bolt, on the other hand, continued to look at Beams warily. “Well, that’s good to hear. What was it like?”
“Like I was floating outside of my body, watching it do everything while I couldn’t do anything,” said Beams. He grimaced. “I think the reason the Dread God wasn’t putting in all of his effort is because he’s become distracted by the ritual.”
“Huh,” said Bolt. “I was possessed by a Darzen myself not too long ago, but—”
Bolt suddenly stopped speaking and held his finger up to his ear. “Hello? Oh, hi, Shade. How are you guys doing? Uh huh, okay. Yeah, we’ll keep going and hopefully meet you at the ritual site soon. Bye.”
“Shade?” Beams repeated. “How was she talking to you?”
“Earcom,” said Bolt, tapping his ear. “Very convenient. Anyway, sounds like Shade and the others have begun their assault on the first floor and are making their way to the top. That means we need to keep going if we’re going to meet them in the middle like we planned.”
Beams nodded. “Lead the way, man, though I don’t know where the ritual is going to take place.”
“Can’t be far from here, otherwise the Avatar wouldn’t have shown up to stop us,” said Bolt. “Let’s go!”
Bolt ran down the hallway at normal speed. Beams followed, his headache subsiding with every step. Though his connection with the Dread God seemed weaker than ever, Beams could still sense the Dread God somewhere nearby. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they arrived at the site of the ritual. The only question was, would they arrive there in time to stop it? Or was the Dread God’s abandoning of him a sign that they were already too late?
Beams hoped it was the former, but he would not bet on it.
CHAPTER THIRTY
As Bolt and Beams ran through the hallway of the Temple, Bolt could not help but glance over his shoulder at Beams every now and then. He wasn’t worried about Beams keeping up with him, because he was deliberately running at a normal speed that most people could match. No, he was mostly concerned that Beams might get possessed by the Dread God again. He even thought about putting Beams in front so he would not be attacked from behind, but decided against it, because he was much stronger than Beams and was therefore better able to deal with any obstacles they ran into on their way to the ritual.
Mostly, I’m impressed he managed to fight off the Dread God by himself, Bolt thought. I couldn’t even fight off a Darzen on my own. He may not be a very physically strong guy, but I think he’s got a spirit ten times as strong as my own. Makes me wonder what sort of adventures he’s been through to develop that kind of spirit.
Shaking his head, Bolt decided he would think about that later. For now, he was just glad that Beams was on his side. He knew he could take Beams in a fight, but he had a feeling that Beams could give him a run for his money under the right circumstances.
Oddly enough, the two of them did not run into any other Darzen soldiers or guards on their way through the hallway. That set off alarms in Bolt’s head and he could sense that Beams was just as worried as he was. It didn’t make sense that they were able to run freely through such an important building to the Darzen people. They should have been swarmed on all sides by every available guard or soldier. That they weren’t told Bolt that they were probably running into a trap of some sort.
Not like we have much choice, though, Bolt thought as he ran. I guess it’s also possible that Shade and the others have distracted the bulk of the guards, but Beams and I are a much bigger threat than them. It would make more sense to focus the bulk of their efforts on stopping us, which tells me that the Avatar or the Dread Priest or whoever runs this joint doesn’t want to stop us.
The two of them reached the end of the hallway, where they found an ancient stone staircase that spiraled down into a pitch black hole to the next floor. Bolt illuminated his hand wit
h red sparks and held it over the dark staircase, but he couldn’t see anything dangerous within, so he and Beams rushed down the stairs as fast as they could, heedless of whatever dangers lay ahead.
“Hey, Bolt,” said Beams as they ran down the stairs, “do you think we’re very far from the Dread God now?”
“How am I supposed to know?” said Bolt, glancing over his shoulder again. “I’m not the one with the connection to the Dread God here. You are.”
“We are getting closer,” said Beams, “but it’s hard to tell for sure. My connection with him isn’t as strong as it used to be.”
“Well, keep your guard up anyway,” said Bolt. “I bet they have a trap for us laid somewhere ahead, so we better make sure we don’t run into it.”
“Might be too late for that,” said Beams, “given how we haven’t run into anyone else since the Avatar.”
“You noticed that, too?” said Bolt. He slowed down, though still ran at a good pace. “That’s rarely a good sign.”
“Agreed,” said Beams. “Whatever awaits us at the end of these stairs, we need to keep our wits about ourselves. The Dread God is closer than ever to coming back to life. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
Bolt nodded again and then noticed a light coming just around the next corner. Knowing that they were about to reach the exit, Bolt put on an extra burst of speed and, rounding the corner, emerged into a new chamber. He stopped as soon as he and Beams emerged from the stairway, his mouth gaping as he gazed upon the chamber into which they had emerged.
It was massive, much bigger than Beams’ room above. Tall jet black marble columns rose from the floor in regular intervals, holding a massive, dome-shaped ceiling above their heads. Along the walls were carvings of Darzens worshiping some kind of demonic entity clouded in fire and shadow, depicting scenes of such ugly brutality that even Bolt couldn’t stare at them for long. The floor was made of the same black marble as the columns, but it somehow felt much older than the columns. Burning torches hung along the walls, providing the only illumination in this place, because there were no windows, though there were a few doors that seemed to lead to various rooms.
In the center of the chamber, however, was a sight that Bolt would never forget for as long as he lived. It was a giant of massive proportions, easily three times as tall as Bolt and Beams standing on each other’s shoulders. It looked like some unholy combination of man and cow, with huge longhorns sticking out of its forehead, humanoid-shaped body, and hands and feet that more closely resembled hooves than human hands and feet. The top of its head was cut open, revealing that it was completely empty, while its eyelids were shut. It stank of cow flesh and death, yet it did not look as if it had been rotting away, despite the fact that it was clearly dead.
“What in the hell is that?” said Bolt. “Their science experiment? Beams, what do you think?”
But when Bolt looked at Beams, his friend had taken a step back. His body was visibly shaking and he looked close to running away outright.
“Beams?” said Bolt. “What’s the problem? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost,” said Beams. What little of his skin was visible through his helmet visor was pale. He pointed at the strange creature. “That thing. I’ve seen it before, but I didn’t think I’d see it ever again.”
“What is it?” said Bolt. “Why are you so scared of it? It looks dead.”
“It’s not dead because it’s never been alive,” said Beams. “That’s the body of the Dread God.”
Bolt looked over at the Dread God’s body in alarm. “What? But it doesn’t have a brain …”
“The Darzens created it,” said Beams quickly. “Six months ago in my universe, the Darzens were abducting cattle from small farmers in West Texas. They were cutting these cattle apart and stitching their bodies together to create a new body for their god.”
Bolt grimaced. “So the body itself was never alive, but its components were. Gross.”
“It’s more than gross,” said Beams. “As long as they have that body, they’ll be able to bring back the Dread God. We don’t know where the Rubber Ball or Soul Crown are, but it doesn’t matter now. If we can destroy the Dread God’s body, then the Rubber Ball and the Soul Crown will both be useless.”
“Good thinking,” said Bolt. He held up a hand which began sparking and crackling with electricity. “On the count of three, we’ll shoot it together. Ready?”
Beams’ visor began glowing with charged energy. “Always.”
“Good,” said Bolt. He turned to face the Dread God’s body and held his glowing and crackling fist above his head. “One … two … three!”
Bolt fired a blindingly bright red lightning bolt at the Dread God’s body. At the same time, Beams unleashed a powerful laser blast from his visor. Both of their attacks flew through the air toward the Dread God’s body, crackling and sparking and thundering through the air.
But right before they hit the Dread God’s body, both the lightning bolt and the laser blast struck some kind of invisible barrier. The two blasts bounced off the barrier and went flying everywhere, striking the floor, walls, and ceiling and leaving smoking holes or gouges wherever they struck. One such lightning bolt nearly hit Beams, who jumped out of the way at the last second before the rogue bolt left a smoking crater where he had been standing mere moments before.
“What was that?” said Bolt, staring at the Dread God’s body in bewilderment. “How did it deflect our attacks? I thought it wasn’t alive.”
“The body didn’t do that,” said Beams, shaking his head. “The Darzens must have put some kind of protective barrier around it. Not sure how, but—”
All of a sudden, Beams was interrupted by a low but consistent chanting that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. It sounded somewhat like Latin chanting, but soon it became obvious that the chanting was in a language which was not Latin and was not even related to any earthly language. It was like listening to banging gongs and whistling flutes, at times alternating and at other times mixing together, with the sound of steel clashing against steel tossed in for good measure. The sound would have made the hairs on the back of Bolt’s neck stand up if he wasn’t wearing a skintight costume.
Then, before their startled eyes, doors on either side of the chamber opened. From within the darkened chambers came hundreds of Darzens, but they did not seem to be the soldier class which Bolt and Beams had fought before. These ones wore white-and-black robes that gave them a holy aura not unlike a priest in a Catholic church. They didn’t even seem to notice Bolt and Beams. The chanting priests or worshipers or whatever they were moved toward the Dread God’s body, getting on their hands and knees and kneeling before their god.
Their chanting did not end. Though Bolt could not understand a word being uttered by any of the Darzen worshipers, he saw images in his mind of things he had never experienced. He saw Darzen warships raining death down on planets, saw the Dread God sweep his massive arms and total entire cities in the blink of an eye, witnessed massive armies attacking the Dread God only to be annihilated as easily as Bolt crushed a bug under his boot. Death, destruction, chaos … and dread were the recurring themes in these visions, visions of the past, of the glory days of the Dread God and his empire, though Bolt couldn’t explain how he was seeing them, and that frightened him more than anything.
Shaking his head, Bolt looked at Beams and saw that his friend seemed to be experiencing something similar. A growing expression of absolute and utter horror was growing across Beams’ face. Yet there was also something else in his face, a kind of savage delight, which reminded Bolt once again of the connection between Beams and the Dread God.
Before Bolt could consider that thought further, however, a dimensional portal opened directly above the Dread God’s head. From within the portal descended a flat, solid platform, upon which stood three figures, each one holding a different object in their hands. Bolt recognized two of them instantly as the Avatar, who held the box mo
st likely containing the Rubber Ball in his hands, and the other as Graalix, who held the Soul Crown’s container in his own hands.
The third figure standing in between them, however, Bolt had never seen before. He was clearly a Darzen, but like the Avatar, he looked more human than any of them. He seemed indescribably ancient, with pitted and scarred armor from countless battles, wearing robes of the same colors as the robes of the worshipers below, but which had strange, alien shapes that made Bolt’s skin crawl. He was hunched over and leaned upon a long, metal-and-crystal staff, his dark red eyes glowing dangerously from the eye holes in his helmet. Bolt had the sensation that he was looking at a being who, while not quite immortal, was certainly not mortal, which was the same sense he got from the Avatar.
“It’s him …” Beams muttered under his breath.
“Who?” said Bolt, glancing at Beams.
Beams pointed at the figure standing between the Avatar and Graalix and said, in a voice not quite his own, “The Dread Priest. The ritual is complete. The Dread God will rise again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Dread Priest suddenly spoke. His voice was ancient yet clear, like the words on a carefully preserved parchment from the old days. Even though he did not seem to have a microphone or loudspeaker, the Dread Priest’s words were clear and understandable to everyone in the massive chamber. And though Beams couldn’t explain it, he sensed that the Dread Priest spoke in English and the Darzen language at the same time.
“Dear Elect!” said the Dread Priest, his voice echoing with power and authority. “Today is a day which we have been looking forward to for eons, the day which thousands of Darzens have lived and died to see come into fruition. It is a day spoken of in the Prophecy, the last Prophecy which the Dread God uttered to his followers before his death. Today is the day that the Dread God will rise again and resume his rightful place as the Conqueror of All, the Deity of Fear, the Divine Destruction, the Heretic’s Bane, and the Omni-King!”
