Merciless

by Robin Parrish

  They thought to cripple him with this maneuver. How poorly they understood him.

  It was destiny that this happened. The Thresher had done this because it was meant to be. It suited Oblivion to do it this way. He needed no one's help to fulfill his purpose, his design.

  He would kill them all. Butcher them. Slaughter them. Annihilate them.

  He alone.

  How do I want this to end? Grant echoed the words in his mind.

  "Can I go back?"

  "There is no going back, not in the sense that you think of it. Another being has taken your place-a creature that does not belong in your world. This creature has caused tremendous harm and suffering, but there is still a chance to end his reign of destruction. You are the one person in all creation capable of ending it. You alone can send him back to where he came from."

  Grant swallowed this. It was a lot of information to take in, and yet ... A part of him had known this was the case all along. Something tickled the back of his mind the moment he arrived here-wherever here was-and had remained there, tugging at his soul, telling him that the natural order of the world he'd left behind had been disrupted by something unimaginable. Something he had been inextricably linked to, in coming here.

  "How do I set things right?"

  "If I tell you this, Grant Borrows-if I explain to you how to rid your world of the creature that has been set loose upon it-then you will be committed to that path. And no matter what, you must see it completed. You cannot turn back once you know this one final truth.

  "So I give you now a last chance to change your mind, to leave behind the suffering you have known all your life, to remain here, at last, and rest in eternal peace. The choice is yours, just as it has been always."

  "But neither option leads to an easy road, does it?"

  "No. If you leave this place to stop the creature, pain and death will follow you. If you remain here, pain and death will be suffered by all the world, including those you know and care about."

  "You already know what choice I'm going to make, don't you?"

  "My prior knowledge of the outcome does not alter the fact that the choice is yours to make."

  "If I stay, will I be with my sister? And my mother?"

  "You will."

  "But if I go back ... Can I be with her? Can I be with Alex?"

  "I cannot answer without revealing that which will commit you to this path. But I can tell you this: Regardless of your outcome, you can save her from a fate worse than death."

  Grant looked down, saddened by the thought that he might never be with Alex. But if he could save her ...

  The other man studied him thoughtfully. "Grant, a man named Harlan Evers once told you that when you first experience loss, it feels as though all of the magic goes out of the world. I understand these words better than you might imagine, but I think there might be a little magic left after all. The only question that matters is: Will you fight for it?"

  "I don't want to fight. I don't like to fight. But this isn't about what I want, it's about-"

  "It's about what you're willing to do."

  Familiar words. Grant had heard them before. So very familiar.

  "Then I've made my choice."

  But wait ...

  "Wait! Before you tell me, before we do this ... I have to know: Who am I, really? Am I Grant, or Collin? Am I the Bringer? Guardian?"

  His companion smiled patiently. "Those terms are man's limited means of trying to understand. I see things ... differently. Like all others, I gave you your real name before I made you. And I alone know it. It is my name for you, and thus it is your one true name."

  Grant paused, gazing around again as if a fly were buzzing over his head. "Are you going to tell me my name?"

  "Your name can only be given to you at the end of your mortal journey. But we both know you're not ready to hear it yet."

  "But why did it have to be me? Why was I made the Bringer?" Grant said, the one question he had wanted to ask more than any other, passing through his lips at last.

  "Because there is only one thing that you have ever wanted in your entire life, and it is not power, nor possessions, nor fame. All you have ever wanted, Grant Borrows, is to be loved. But understand-this desire does not make you unique. It does not set you apart, or make you `worthy' or `chosen.' What it makes you ... is human.

  "You are as ordinary as they come, and this fact alone makes you extraordinary. The Bringer was intended to be a man with a lust for power and a willingness to give in to his darkest temptations. These impulses would facilitate the task that was to be placed before him. You have your faults-a strong temper among them-but deep within, in spite of the many terrible circumstances life has heaped upon you, you are still a lost, lonely child who craves love above all else.

  "So while the Secretum plotted for a cruel, vicious man to be born as the Bringer, I had other plans. And my plans will not be undone. Not even against seven thousand years of man's cleverest schemes.

  "Take heart, my child. The moment of truth is about to call for you. And if you answer it, you may yet find that there is one thing in this universe more powerful than death."

  "Great one!" Devlin called out. He had climbed to the top of the western edge of the Citadel, and was looking out upon western Jerusalem. "The enemy comes for you! You must end it, now!"

  A collection of Jerusalem Stones tore themselves free from the Citadel and formed a slanted walkway from where Oblivion stood over to the western side of the Citadel. Oblivion stalked up the ramp slowly, appearing unconcerned by Devlin's warning.

  But the sight before him gave Devlin great pause. Because what he saw there shouldn't have been possible.

  Oblivion joined him, looking out over the ramparts, to see almost three hundred Rings glowing in the darkness. They were spread out in clumps on all sides of the Old City, converging on the Tower of David.

  "Great one, you must unleash the whirlwind!" Devlin pleaded.

  Oblivion's eyeless face, his eye sockets burning with flames that grew in intensity by the second, turned slowly to lock onto Devlin's. "Never presume to dictate actions to your better."

  Oblivion reached out a hand in Devlin's direction, and Devlin was certain he was about to die, but the hand passed him by and stretched toward the minaret beyond him.

  The tall cylindrical tower ripped itself free from the Citadel and, following the motions of Oblivion's arm, flung itself in the direction of the approaching lights.

  "What is that?" Fletcher asked, pointing to the sky.

  Alex looked up. "Look out!" she cried.

  She dove for the ground and took Fletcher down with her, rolling over onto her back to see the towering white object soaring down out of the sky straight onto them.

  Just at the moment she expected it to crash into them, it stalled, about three feet off of the ground. It was more or less vertical, but wobbling and leaning like the Tower of Pisa, as if supported by a crucible that wasn't stable.

  Alex sat up. Ten feet to her right, Ethan stood, holding the base of the Tower with both hands underneath, like he was lifting a heavy box.

  "You always have great timing," Alex said. "How do you do that?"

  He grinned. "Takes practice. Don't try it at home," he grunted.

  Ethan was straining hard, the bloodied rain pouring off of him in sheets, but he held his ground. With a mighty roar, he pushed against the ground with his legs and shoved the minaret back up into the sky. The motion carried him up at least twenty feet into the air himself, before he landed back down on the ground, kneeling with one leg and a single arm on the ground in front for support.

  Alex watched as the minaret soared high up into the air and then back down toward the ground from the very spot it had come from. It impacted the Citadel in a terrific explosion of white powder and dust. They were close now, less than half a mile from the Tower of David.

  Ethan stood to his feet and turned slowly to look at her, his eyes gigantic, a grin spreading across his fa
ce.

  She didn't want to smile back at him, but his zeal was too infectious. "Yeah ... Okay, that was pretty cool."

  Lightning struck near the impact point of the minaret, and the ground quaked with newfound ferocity.

  "GO!" she shouted. "MOVE!!"

  As they drew closer, it became quickly apparent that something was very wrong. Around the base of the Citadel, what looked like more than one hundred thousand men, women, and children were bunched up in a giant clog of humanity. Many of them had pained looks on their faces, but their arms clung to their sides and their legs were rigid and unmoving. Oblivion held them. He'd gathered them together like stones or bricks, stacking them together as a living barrier.

  Only this was one barrier Alex and her people couldn't blast their way through.

  "What's the word, boss?" Nora asked. "What should we do?"

  "He wants us to choose," Daniel said absently.

  Alex turned to him. "What?"

  "He's making us choose," Daniel replied, thoughtful. "Are we willing to kill all these people to get to him, or do we let them live and watch the whole world die?"

  "That's insane," Alex replied.

  Daniel pointed at the sea of human beings, the incredible sight of it being all the argument he needed to offer.

  There's no time for this!

  "We don't kill innocent people," Alex said.

  "We can't stay here and do nothing!" Ethan shouted. "Oblivion is going to unleash his big mojo any minute now ..

  "Alex, we gotta go!" Nora prodded her.

  "No!" Alex stood her ground. "I want another option!"

  "No need." Daniel's eyes slowly swiveled upward, a sickening look on his face. "Looks like Oblivion is forcing the issue."

  Alex turned. Something was flying through the air toward them, something with flailing arms and legs ...

  She gasped.

  One hundred or more of the people that made up the barrier had been flung toward them as if snapped from a slingshot. They soared through the sky wet with blood, aimed at Alex and her people.

  "What do we do?" Nora asked.

  Her heart skipped several beats.

  "Alex?" several voices called.

  She could only stare at the sky and watch the people falling out of it.

  The blood that fell from above soaked Payton's clothes and skin, yet his broken form did not stir. Even when an explosion only twenty feet away rocked the Tower above him and sprayed him with tiny white rocks, he did not rouse.

  He twitched involuntarily, the pain overloading his senses, but he did not move. Consciousness returned to him only in strobed glimpses. He knew Oblivion had flung the minaret at his friends, and he knew it had been returned to him. But he had no idea what Oblivion had done after that; he knew only that it had created a quiet stillness throughout the valley that chilled him to the bone.

  Unable to fight the coming blackness, Payton descended into a dark sleep, losing himself in dreams of years long ago and the one woman he'd truly loved with his whole heart ...

  But he could not descend any deeper and eventually he opened his eyes to stare implacably into the chaotic sky. He felt hot, sticky wetness covering his body, but he couldn't tell if it was his own blood or that which was falling from the sky. Probably both, he decided.

  The rain seemed to get its second wind, pouring so hard that it howled, soaking the blackened soil, the trees, the ruined buildings, and every person alive or dead in dark red blood.

  "Gonna have to catch 'em!" Ethan cried. He locked eyes on a woman who was flying overhead. Picturing a football in her place, he went long.

  Daniel stuck close to Ethan, trying to feed off of his powers enough to catch a young girl that was rocketing his way.

  Xue found a dumpster full of trash and debris, and sent it speeding down the road in an attempt to soften the plunge for a teenage boy who was dropping out of the sky. Happy with the dumpster's position, she set off to save another ...

  Alex's mind was racing. How could they use some of the others' powers to save these people? Hector could heal the ones who managed to survive their plummet, but what of the others?

  More falling bodies were coming terrifyingly close to the ground now. A few had already made impact ...

  Tucker's sway over animals would be of little help; there was no time to summon anything useful ...

  Wilhelm couldn't help by electrocuting them ...

  These poor people, each one of them was somebody's son or daughter or father or mother, and now they were dead ...

  Ethan was bounding off in another direction, having caught the woman he was aiming for and now attempting to seize a second ...

  Nora's memory control, Mrs. Edeson's power of persuasion, Alex's own empathy, these were powers with no real influence over the physical world. These men and women were shooting through the air at them and Alex could do nothing to stop it. They were all going to die.

  But there were three hundred Ringwearers here, and a flurry of activity had been ignited among them. Some of them worked solo, others teamed in pairs of two or more.

  Alex lost count of them all and their various efforts. Two dozen saved had to be ... No, more than that. Maybe significantly more ...

  They couldn't saved them all. Around a half-mile radius, one stomach-turning crunch after another pelted the ground, or crashed into rooftops or cars or trees. A car alarm went off somewhere.

  Alex's hand was covering her mouth in shock, though she couldn't remember putting it there. How many people had died? Just like that. And tens of thousands more blocking their path, waiting to be used as cannon fodder against them.

  Even with all of the supernatural power at their command, there was no way to keep all of these people alive. It would be a massacre on par with the multinational military standoff in eastern Turkey.

  Oh, God, help us, please ...

  A hand touched her shoulder, and she jerked around in a frenzy. There she saw the last person she expected.

  Payton's body, near death, drank in every sensory experience around him. The hard patter of the pouring rain and the warmth of the sticky substance as it touched his skin. The fire behind the clouds so high above, ready now to pour out on the ground and burn everything it touched. The oddly distant sound of his own shallow breathing.

  "Great one, they are here!" Devlin cried, and Payton heard alarm in his old mentor's voice. "I don't understand how-a few of them got through, and they're coming right n-"

  "Let them come," Oblivion said without inflection.

  Payton believed the two of them were upon a parapet some thirty feet behind and above him. His body lay flat on the main cobblestone walkway inside the Citadel's inner garden, located near the very center of the structure.

  He opened his mouth, prepared to call out to let the others know where he was. But his voice would not come, his collapsed lungs unwilling to give him the breath needed to call out.

  Something white and hot flashed against the darkness and he strained his head to look up. It was Wilhelm, unleashing crackling sheets of electricity into Oblivion.

  The earth rumbled and shook, and pieces of the old Citadel broke free and flew over Payton's head. He couldn't see what became of Wilhelm, but the electricity stopped.

  It was quickly replaced by a shower of shovels, knives, guns, hubcaps, and dozens of other metallic objects, firing on Oblivion in concert. Payton caught a glimpse of Xue running sideways in the distance, directing her magnetic powers over the metal that was attacking Oblivion now.

  "There!" Ethan's voice shouted. "I see him!"

  Payton swiveled his head. Oblivion was descending the stone stairway, swatting at the flying metal, and moving straight toward him. Ethan's loud proclamation hadn't been lost on Oblivion; Payton wondered if even now the ancient creature was realizing his mistake in not finishing Payton off.

  Oblivion was only footsteps away, and Payton glanced around, looking for Ethan, but his friend was nowhere to be seen.

  Some part o
f Payton's brain wondered what had become of Devlin. The old villain had vanished as soon as things got dangerous-a skill he was particularly good at.

  Oblivion soon stood over Payton's prostrate form, and his head tilted sideways to look directly into Payton's eyes. Payton braced himself for what was coming: Oblivion rending every organ in his body, crushing every bone. He hoped death would find him quickly.

  Payton was sure the deathblow was on its way when someone called to Oblivion from quite nearby.

  "Taste of your own medicine," said Daniel.

  Mirroring the Bringer's powers of psychokinesis, Daniel rammed a hand straight forward and, without touching him, sent Oblivion catapulting at great speed toward the far end of the Citadel.

  Another tremor quaked, this one enough to create cracks in the ground.

  Daniel knelt over Payton, whispered, "Don't die, we've got you."

  Payton tried to focus his weary eyes on the place where Oblivion had come to a stop, and saw Ethan there, pummeling Oblivion with one devastating blow after another.

  Hector's buoyant frame came into view, and he placed one of his chubby hands on Payton's head just as the darkness took him.

  "Is he okay?" said Alex's voice.

  Payton opened his eyes. "I seem to be, yes," he said.

  She pulled him to his feet. Daniel and Hector stood nearby. Behind Alex was the old man who was missing his hand, and he was not alone. Several dozen men and women wearing grim faces and carrying automatic weapons stood over his shoulder.

  "I'm still fuzzy on the details," Alex explained, "but it appears that our friend here called in some major league favors. Not sure how that happened since he still can't communicate. There are several hundred of them on the main grounds below the Citadel, and we were able to break through Oblivion's defenses with their help."

  Payton let out a breath, taking this in.

  "Where is he?" he asked.

  Before she could answer, Daniel shouted, "Look!"