by Brian Rella
Jessie grunted and looked at Tarek. He was nearly dead and wouldn’t be a help anyway. Once she had the book, she would kill him. Come on. This is not that hard. Think!
Maybe Arraziel could break down the wall? But that didn’t make sense. Watchers must have been able to get in and out of here before without breaking anything. Why couldn’t she? No. There was a door here somewhere, and she just had to make it appear.
Appear. Someone had made the door disappear. Yes! Someone had hidden the door, and she had just used that spell recently.
“A’nacre!” she shouted, the echo bouncing off the walls and up the staircase.
A white light outlined the shape of a large rectangle in the wall, forming the edges of what was clearly a door. Jessie pumped her fist in the air. She reached out eagerly for the door and pulled it open. It was heavy and old and screeched against the old metal hinges as she pulled.
Behind the door was semi-darkness lit only by the green mist that continued the trail and a larger green glow in the distance. She gazed in that direction and saw what appeared to be a phosphorescent lake. Jessie stepped through the door and into the underground cavern, Arraziel carrying Tarek behind her.
She glanced back at Tarek. He must be on his last breath. I hope he has enough life-force left for Arraziel. She met Arraziel’s eyes. “Feed. Then leave him and come.”
Arraziel fed, dropped him inside the cavern, and followed as she commanded.
38
TAREK
October 21, 2015
The Tomb of Pasmet, Illinois
The air was heavy and hard to breathe. Tarek’s lungs felt like iron weights in his chest and he was too weak to move.
Grit and organic matter filled his dry mouth, making a distasteful paste between his cheek and gums. Critters crawled on him, but he had no strength to move away or shake them off. He couldn’t even turn to move his face to relieve himself of the hundreds of tiny rocks sticking him in the cheek.
With great effort, he managed to break the plaster-like seal of his eyelids. He fluttered them for a moment, but not long enough to understand his surroundings. His brain was a jumble as he lay on the ground, inside the cavern where he had guarded the book of Pasmet for so many years. The world was in great danger; Jessie was on her way to unleash Pasmet.
His mind raced with the consequences of his failure, and what he could do to prevent the girl from getting to Pasmet. As life evaporated from him one breath at a time, his life passed before his eyes and muddled his focus on what he must do to prevent the catastrophe before him.
He thought about his life as a servant to Amon Gorloth, in the valley of the Kings and the palace Gz-eh. The maze of mausoleums under the sand where he had served the Fallen overlord. Then his thoughts drifted to his time as a Watcher; saved from damnation, he had given his life willingly to the Order of Watchers to protect humanity from the horrors imprisoned in the Realm of the Second Death.
He questioned his choices now, in his final moments; questioned the decisions he had made in his life. Questioned his life as a Watcher and what he was really protecting. The secrets never fully told, never completely understood, but trusted, and abided by his entire life.
He pushed all doubts and second thoughts aside and fought to keep his mind focused. He was so weak that it took all his energy, all his concentration. Arraziel had drained him almost completely, but he had something small left. He thought hard about how he could use his final moments to help. He must have a final strike against the Fallen within him.
I must alert the other Watchers. Focus. Not much time… Must do something.
He reached down deep, through the muddy waters of his mind, to find the answer. How would he alert them? How would he use his last moment in this realm to help them? The answer was there in front of him, but he was too weak to grasp it.
An image of his training formed in his mind. He was in the temple. Shizu was saying something to the class. The memory was almost there, he could see the picture, see Shizu’s moving lips. What was he saying? The words…the words…what were they?
The words bubbled up in his mind, fighting through the fog and into the remaining bright spot of his brain. He mustered the strength in his broken body, willing himself to cast the spell of the Last Breath.
He whispered the words into the dirt where his face lay as his last breath creaked from his lungs. “Esg’nah ril fhan ra’ ansinah.” As the last syllable passed from his lips, there was a long hiss from his mouth.
39
FRANK
October 21, 2015
Illinois Beach State Park, Illinois
The sun was rising behind him, and it glared in the rearview mirror. The tremor passed through him and almost sent him careening off the road and into a ditch. The voice was so loud it filled his head and sent shockwaves through his body. Frank gripped the steering wheel tight, his body clenching with the images and knowledge that penetrated him. His knuckles turned white and his eyes squinted under the power of the vision.
In his mind, he saw the images of the Last Breath of Tarek, brother of the Order and Watcher over Pasmet. He saw the dirt he lay in, his broken body, the last battle Tarek fought with Jessie and Arraziel. It was almost too much to take. He braced himself as the consciousness of Tarek flowed through him, searing Tarek’s consciousness into him.
As suddenly as it hit, it ended.
Tarek was dead. Frank was close, but he was too late.
His phone rang. It was Brennan.
“Did you…” Brennan started.
“I am close,” Frank said cutting him off.
“The girl,” Brennan said.
“I am thirty minutes from him. I will report when I get there.”
“Francis, the girl and the book are your priorities. We can’t let her free Pasmet too.”
“I am aware of my priorities,” Frank said, and ended the call.
He pushed his foot to the floor and the Mach 1 lurched forward, its engine roaring and bearing down on the road.
Yes, he knew his priorities, but he also knew that he had to try to save Tarek. If the girl—woman—was as powerful as Tarek believed she was, Frank might need his help. He had one chance to save Tarek, but very little time.
He narrowed his eyes, squeezed the wheel with both hands, and exited off route 137, and onto a state park road. Almost there. He could make it in less than thirty minutes if he could keep this pace, and that should be enough time.
His shoulders tensed as he pushed the Mustang to its limits, the suspension rocking and engine thundering. The tree line was a blur beside him, his bleary eyes focused on the curves of the road in front of him.
The Mach 1 fishtailed up the hill along the gravel road. He knew he would be there in a matter of moments and hoped that he would not be too late.
Ahead, the gray and rusted steel entrance to the utility plant was at the end of the road. He skidded to a stop, sending gravel flying.
Frank threw open the car door and sprinted to the entrance. The spell was already out of his mouth as he grasped the railing of the rickety metal staircase, vaulted over the side, and began to descend rapidly, but controlled by the spell, into the belly of the facility.
He landed with a thud, his knee touching a shallow puddle at the bottom of the steps.
Rising, he leaped through the now unhidden door of the cavern under the lake. A dozen yards away lay Tarek. His body was barely recognizable, a crumpled mass of broken bones, blood, and gore. Crawling things moved over him, searching for a meal.
“Tarek.” The words fell from his lips as he dropped to his knees next to his broken comrade. Frank saw the damage and winced at the missing arm. Particles of indigo light floated from his mangled body. It was the last bit of his energy returning to the universe, and it was all that was left of him. His physical body was dead, but there was still a chance his soul had not left him.
“Hold on, Tarek,” he said.
Frank turned him on his back. The vision Tarek had se
nt out telepathically was nothing compared to what Frank saw as he knelt next to him.
In the vision, Tarek was a man of forty-something, but here in front of Frank was an old man with wrinkled, brittle skin, a sunken face, and white hair. He was a man who looked ninety.
From the pouch tied to his belt, Frank poured his cosmic dust into a small pile in his palm, and sprinkled it over Tarek’s lifeless body.
Frank recited the ancient Lazarus spell, hoping he could get the words out before Tarek’s soul left him.
“Alpest’ aufwaq’ olty’sgsh.”
The dust glowed, and enveloped Tarek. Glittering, the cosmic dust moved around Tarek’s body and entered him through his nose and mouth. Finally, his chest moved up and then down with an inaudible breath. His mummified look improved slightly. Frank checked for a pulse and found it.
Frank began brushing dirt and organic debris from his friend’s face. “It’s not your time yet, old man,” he kidded.
“The girl,” Tarek wheezed, his eyes not yet open.
“She’s next on my list, friend. First, I must get you out of here.”
Frank slid his arms under his frail body and picked him up off the ground. He weighed no more than a bag of potatoes. He hurried to the entrance to the cavern and placed Tarek on the ground inside the room with the stairs leading up and out.
“Tarek, how long?” Frank asked.
“Hurry,” he wheezed.
Frank left his comrade beneath the staircase and ran back into the cavern.
40
FRANK
October 21, 2015
The Tomb of Pasmet, Illinois
The air was moist and stuck to his skin as he raced through the cavern. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the underground lake in the distance and the green phosphorescent glow of the water. He turned in awe of the size of it. There seemed to be no end.
No time for sight-seeing.
The soft dirt shifted under his motorcycle boots as he darted toward the far end of the cavern where the Pasmet book was. He had no plan, no idea what he was going to encounter, and knew only that she must be stopped at all costs. Releasing Pasmet into the world would be a devastating blow and Frank could not let that happen.
Frank had heard about this place in his training. Great lengths had been taken to ensure Pasmet remained hidden. He had been imprisoned here for centuries. The facility built above its resting place was made to look as if it were abandoned, so that the Order could protect the world from the danger that lay underground.
Pasmet had been discovered by Native Americans centuries ago and had nearly ushered in a dark age before it had been finally contained. The leaders of the time had gathered and captured the beast, imprisoning it in a watery tomb under Lake Michigan. There had been no Order of Watchers then; just a loose federation of Watchers among the Native American people. They had left the creature here, under the lake, and passed the responsibility of protecting the location on from generation to generation until the Order had formed into a unified membership of Watchers in the twentieth century.
The facility built on top of the monstrosity’s jail was an effective facade. There remained only one clue to its whereabouts – a Stonehenge-like formation in the middle of Lake Michigan. It had been left there as a warning. Scientists had discovered the submerged rock formation and explored the area, but the Order scrambled to cover up the existence of the underwater marking and entrance to the tomb of the monster successfully. Pasmet had remained undisturbed and imprisoned for hundreds of years as a result. Nothing had threatened that accomplishment, until now.
Frank hoped he had the strength to take Jessie and the demon she commanded. He was the last line of defense.
If he failed…
41
TAREK
October 21, 2015
The Tomb of Pasmet, Illinois
Tarek found the strength to open his eyes.
He was completely focused on the energy that was restoring him. Connected to it, its power flowed through his body like an electrical current. It was painful, as if every cell in his body were screaming out. Part of him just wanted to remain dead, but he fought that notion. He knew the stakes were too great.
Instead, he gathered what little strength he had and tried to prepare himself for one last fight; a fight he knew they must win.
As he lay there, in anticipation of the coming storm, he realized the time had come, the pendulum had swung, and the great darkness that had been awakening was now upon them. This was no small incursion by a lesser deity. The dark powers of the Realm of the Second Death were breaking free and invading full force under a powerful new leader. They were intending to conquer this realm forever.
The signs were clear. The darkness was beginning to spread its tentacles, and would eventually move from continent to continent like the black veil of night, wrapping itself around the entire world.
Frank needs me. The Order of Watchers needs me. This is my purpose.
42
JESSIE
October 21, 2015
The Tomb of Pasmet, Illinois
Jessie shuffled forward, the eerie green mist guiding her. The steady drip-drip-drip of water accompanied her along the shore of the jade colored lake.
Her skin was moist from the damp air, and glistened in the dim light.
The path along the lake was marked with huge stalagmites and boulders. She could see the lake to her left, but in front, her vision was blocked by the forest of rock.
She’d been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and the adrenaline of the battle with Tarek had long worn off. She fought the need for rest and struggled with the desire to find the book she so desperately wanted.
A dream-like state overtook her. Her feet scuffed the sand as she dragged herself forward, her mind wandering as she pushed on. Her hand dragged along the sides of rocks for balance, keeping her on her feet, and moving forward. Her eyes grew heavy and she was somewhere between asleep and awake on her feet.
A little farther, princess.
“I’m so tired,” she mumbled.
So close, princess.
“I need to rest,” Jessie said and stumbled. The world spun as she fell to the ground.
The cold, damp dirt held her face as she lay there. Something touched her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open and she saw the purple heart before her.
“My King,” she said.
“Rise,” Nalsuu said. “Not much further now.” It reached out a purple vein to her, wrapping it around her, pulling her to her feet. She felt her King’s kiss on her wrist and the trickle of something down her arm.
A jolt coursed through her veins and, with newfound strength and energy, she stood and hugged the heart of purple darkness.
“How are you here, Nalsuu?” she said.
“Come,” he said. “Almost there.”
“But…”
“Shush. Listen,” it said in a whisper.
She stopped talking and cocked her ear to the air.
She heard the echo of footsteps coming from far behind her.
“I don’t want to fight anymore, my King. I want to be with you,” she cried.
“Princess, this is the only way you can be with me. You need to fight for me. Now come on! You can!”
Jessie stumbled on as fast as she could, tripping on her feet. Drunk with fatigue, her eyes blurred with tears, she raced across the rocky underground, nearing the end of her quest.
On and on she went, until her feet splashed in puddles beneath her and bands of green, glowing water traced the shore.
She took a step, wobbled, and fell forward, her arms and legs flailing. Her head and shoulder smacked into wet rock and she rolled on her side. Rocks stabbed her in the chest and side. Her eyes closed, and she passed out.
43
JESSIE
October 21, 2015
The Tomb of Pasmet, Illinois
In the blackness of her unconsciousness, Jessie wandered. No walls confined her. She could not see, but she
felt His presence.
Nalsuu, my King.
She heard the familiar heartbeat in her ears.
Get up! Nalsuu roared.
Jessie’s breath caught and her eyes flew open. Her body was badly twisted and sore, but not broken. She felt around her for balance, and the image of the purple heart filled her mind as she held on to the side of a large rock, and pulled herself up to a standing position.
Woozy from the fall, the world did not quite make sense. Her hand went to her forehead and she felt the sticky, drying blood that had crept down the side of her cheek and over her nose in long trails. Her mouth had a metallic taste to it.
Slowly, she came to her senses.
The luminescence coming off the water was bright here. Jessie took a few steps further and stopped, gazing around.
She was in a clearing on the shore of the lake. The rocks and stalagmites were gone, replaced by powdery sand.
Jessie walked toward the lake. It was completely still, not a ripple or a break in the water. She peered over the shore and the water stretched farther back than she could see.
To her right, a stone structure that looked like a large table looked out over the green lake.
An altar.
Energized, she rushed to the altar. On top of the structure was a statuette of a creature unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was carved of stone and resembled a prehistoric animal. Its body was long, its head small, and had wings on its back. It was attached to the altar of stone and had been worn away with time, softening its features.
