by Thom Erb
Warren reached for the flashlight in his back pocket but came up empty. He realized he had stuffed it into the backpack that still sat in the cab of the truck. Cursing himself, he tried to adjust his eyes to the swarming darkness of the gym. It didn’t work. The darkness seemed to be more than natural. The skylights above should have offered at least some ambient light. But something seemed to be blocking all light into the room.
A loud metallic crash was heard off toward the door to the kitchen. The sound of rolling tomatoes and apples came next. That was on the table right in front of them. The room was filled with a loud thunderous crack and a bright flash of red light. Harsh shrieks filled their ears, and then they were gone.
Maico yelped and howled.
A sudden explosion of pain wracked through Warren's mind and body, and he dropped to the cold floor. He watched his friends let out the same cry and they, too, dropped to the floor.
An unnatural blackness took him.
93.
She’s Gone
Mt. Hope Cemetery,
Rochester, New York.
The cold rain pelted down on top of the sea of gray tombstones and mausoleums that filled the centuries old Mount Hope Cemetery. A crudely carved stone gargoyle sat stoically on its perch atop a large granite mausoleum that had the name Kocher carved into its slick white surface. Lightning exploded down from the blackened sky and struck the ground with a loud crack. The smell of burning wood and ozone filtered through the gravestones and mixed with that of the roaming undead milling about the massive cemetery. The blank gaze of the ornate statues of angels and Gothic obelisks loomed over and watched as the sanguine-colored light flashed, and then dissipated as fast as it came.
More bright flash of light filled the entire area. In the blacktopped area of the cemetery appeared ten figures dressed in dark leather wrappings and armor, beneath black cloaks. Lord Vorkhal held the girl, the Child of Light. She lay limp on the rain-slogged lawn.
“It seems not even the rain wishes to stay in the Aether any longer, my brothers.” Lord Vorkhal's grating voice filled the air as he basked in the torrential downpour and let out a baying laugh that towered over even the myriad of deafening thunder claps and lightning crashes.
Before the Knights lay a courtyard. A magnificent three-tiered water fountain stood fifty feet from the parking lot area. Angelic cherubs held up the higher tier and their smiles could barely break through their chubby cheeks. Their curly hair hung about their granite heads while intricately carved swans sat motionless on the outer edges of the pool. Stagnant water filled the once beautiful water fountain. One lone hand jutted out from the brackish water of the fountain. Three fingers were missing, and one floated among the slime and algae that filled the fountain.
Beyond the fountain lay a large, wide open field. At one time, it was kept immaculate, manicured, and trimmed. Now it lay with overgrown, brown grass and weeds, mixed with dead, colorless wildflowers that ran rampant through the courtyard. Rust-colored, twenty to thirty-foot pine trees lined the perimeter of the area and funneled the view toward a large grave site surrounded by another wall of decaying pine trees.
Beyond the dead trees sat the Knight’s destination. A long time High Priest of Orcus laid buried there, and within the safety of the unholy parameter was the teleportation portal. They needed to return to their Master with their precious prize in tow.
“That is where we must go, brothers.” The jagged voice of the commanding Knight sliced through the summer breeze. Its black covered bony finger pointed directly at the hillside tomb beyond the rotted pines.
“Bring the fleshling. The end of this pitiful realm is at hand, brothers. Let us make haste!” Lord Vorkhal stepped onto the waterlogged courtyard. The other black-clad knights followed with the young girl, the one his divine sense told him to be the Child of Light. Soon, they'd regain their magics and travel back to the Master, delivering this she-bitch and set the final pieces into place.
“The others will soon be here. We must be ready.”
94.
No Sanctuary
The United States Armory,
Main Street. Rochester, New York
Pain...
Throbbing, agonizing pain.
Maico howled and barked, and the thunder pounded outside.
Every bone in Warren’s body streaked with burning pain. It hurt to move an inch. It hurt to breathe. His lungs burned and his brain ached with phantom spikes buried deep in his skull. He heard a muttering from all around him. He couldn’t make out who it was or exactly where it came from, but he heard cries of suffering and searing pain. He knew he wasn't alone.
The only sound inside the Armory was that of random dripping of the neglected water pipes and the moans of panic and agony from the darkness. They all came to about roughly the same time. Harsh breathing and gasps of air could be heard resounding off the cold walls.
Warren heard movement from his left and reached for his shotgun, but found nothing but his wet pant leg.
He heard Elton speak in a forced breath.
“Ego scisco vestrum, valde sator ut suggero providentia quod a regimen lux lucis,” Elton finished.
A harsh white light filled the assembly room. Warren began to take inventory of what was around them. His thoughts turned to Sam. He looked about the room, but she was still gone. He heard himself screaming her name as he stood up. Every bone in his body punished him for it.
“No!” he screamed. His hands found his head, and he fell to his knees, which made his legs spasm with pain even more. Everyone turned to see the source of the screaming, and they immediately knew and their hearts sank. Maico ran to him and nuzzled Warren’s face as he sat down.
Sam was gone. The only thing that remained behind was her pistsol and a half-eaten apple that rolled like a lopsided top on the table. Warren couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let loose. Tears came calling and didn’t stop. It wasn't just the cute girl he'd only met a few hours before, no. It was his mother, brother, all the lives he'd never meet that were all gone. Even his father had a place in tears as they poured down. His rotund body rippled and shook. Cold sweat ran in chaotic torrents over his goose fleshed skin.
Warren felt Dex's arm around him. “Hey, man, it’s gonna be okay. I promise,” he said in Warren’s ear.
Warren caught his breath and cursed his weakness. “What the hell was that?”
Elton offered Warren a hand up, “Servants of the Cult of Orcus, no doubt. I am deeply sorry I didn't detect their presence before they...they stole away with Ms. Sam. Unforgivable.”
Warren took his hand and stood up. “What do we do now?”
“Good question, Ringo,” Dex said.
Arnie got to his feet and helped Capt. Al right his wheelchair and get him back into it. Warren saw they all had bruises and unexplained cuts and contusions.
“We must be steadfast, my brothers,” Elton stated and stood, dabbed the blood that gushed from a cut on his forehead and felt desperately for his flask.
Warren gave Dex and Arnie an “Are you kidding me?” look.
“We must be strong now. This is our defining hour, fellows. We must gather ourselves and act accordingly,” Elton said.
He sensed the Keeper of the Eternal Flame was struggling to gain his bearings by the bleeding gash on his forehead.
“Come here, bro!” Capt. Al waved at Elton.
Warren watched as Dex helped the swaying man to Capt. Al, who began checking him over.
“The attackers knew what they were doing, guys.” Warren picked up his shotgun and checked to see if a shell was still in the chamber. “They knew who Elton was and how to disorient him.” He struggled to keep his calm and took a long breath, looked around him, before he spoke again.
“Damn, smart.” Capt. Al nodded and pulled a gauze bandage from his backpack.
Elton winced. “That they do, Warren. They must have been watching us for a long while. Waited until I sought to regain my magic, and then distracted us with that...that,
dead soldier.”
“What the hell do we do now?” Warren looked to Elton. Hoping, praying for some kind of divine guidance. He kicked the half-eaten apple across the large room. It bounced off the far wall and sloshed back onto the floor.
“Elton, if you are right, and those things have this Child of Light, then we are all screwed, right?” Dex asked. “We still have Warren but, man, that still doesn't sound too good to me.” He knelt down and picked up Sam’s pistol and checked the chamber.
“Well, that's true. They do have Ms. Samantha, but my friends, I think I may have a way to find them,” Elton said. He knelt and reached deep into one of his canvas bag.
“More magic?” Arnie asked. “I'm getting a little scared of that stuff. Just saying.”
“I fully understand, lad. I do. But what I need to cast is very passive. You must give me at least ten minutes to prepare the spell to locate Samantha. During that time, you must remain completely silent and make sure that I’m not disturbed.” Elton ran his hand through his bushy hair and licked his lips, then dropped to his knees, brought out his thick book, and began to read.
“Maico, keep Elton safe, okay?” Maico growled, his large pink tongue bouncing as he panted and stayed close to the diminutive mage.
Warren shoved all the tears and sadness down inside a deep hole and prayed he'd have time later to deal with it. A flurry of dark thoughts attacked him. Old memories still held fresh wounds. Maico, Dex, and Arnie, and now, Sam, Capt. Al and this odd dude calling himself a Keeper had become his new family. And he bared witness to their loss and pain. The bloody scene at the school and garage broke his heart. Moreover, he was angry. Angry at the fact that in the beginning he thought he would be better off without people. He was a fool.
No more jokes. No more feeling like shit because some jock called him names in gym class or in the halls. No more having unrequited crushes with girls and having his heart broken time and time again. No, sir. He thought the Sanctity Virus was a godsend. A blessing. Now he was terribly wrong. Dead fucking wrong and he was furious with himself for feeling this way again.
A pistol blast filled their ears. They all turned toward the source of the blast, and they found Dex standing at one of the once chained doors. The smoke spiraled upwards into the magical illumination, and he looked back at the rest of them and forced a smile.
“Sorry, Allanon. Hold on to your spell mojo thingy. If we are gonna go after them, we are gonna need help.” Dex yanked the chain to the floor with a loud clunk and kicked the double doors open with a loud bang. They watched as his small frame entered the next room.
“Shannara. Nice.” Warren wiped the tears from his face. He pushed his glasses up and followed Dex into the dark room.
As the doors flew open, and the dust inside filled the air and they both coughed uncontrollably. Once the air cleared, they found an entire Armory of weapons and ammunition, enough to defend the city of Rochester. That was a bit much. All they needed was to find their lost friends. All five of them loaded up with weapons and ammo for the rescue they hoped to be performing.
Capt. Al smiled wide and froze, his eyes locked on an old friend from his Army days sitting inside the Armory. “Bro, let me have a gander at that baby,” The gravel-voiced DJ said as he rolled into the room pointing at the double tanks of a genuine, United States Army, issued flame thrower. His eyes were as wide as his bearded smile.
“Damn,” Dex said, retrieving the flamethrower, and bringing it to the Captain.
“Hot damn, indeed, bro.” Capt. Al grinned from ear-to-ear.
The vet was still fondling the weapon while Warren and Dex loaded up for zombie bear.
95.
Burning Like a Flame
The United States Armory,
Main Street. Rochester, New York
Elton took out a large piece of white chalk and drew a large circle around him, then added several glyphs of different sizes and shapes all around the perimeter of the circle. Inside, he chalked off the circle with a pentagram. In the main circle, he poured another large circle, this time made of salt. He knelt inside the inner circle and pulled seven candles from his bag and placed them evenly about the inner salt circle. Next, he took out a white bowl and small water-skin. He poured water into the bowl and set the skin back into the bag. From the bizarrely roomy bag, he brought a double-edged dagger and placed it in his belt.
He grabbed the largest white candle and stood, closed his eyes and spoke.
“I light this candle...
In the name of the Aether. That ancient presence,
which is, was, and ever shall be
male, female, all-knowing, and all-powerful
and present everywhere.
And in the names of the Great Creator and the Divine Celestials,
the rulers of the elements,
may power and blessing descend
in this hour upon this place
and those gathered here.”
He lit all seven candles and they bathed his thin face in a yellowy glow.
“Blessings be upon thee, o’ Creature of Salt; let all malignity and hindrance be cast forth from thee, and let all good enter within. Wherefore do I bless and consecrate thee, that thou mayest aid me. In the names of the Great Creator and all the Divine Celestials,” Elton’s voice became steady and firm.
He reached for the onyx bowl and small dagger and placed them before him. He reached into a black bag and knelt inside the pentacle and placed the water bowl in the center. He then purified the water by plunging the tip of the athame into the water. He spoke again after a long moment.
“I exorcise thee, o’ Creature of Water that thou cast out from thee all the impurity and uncleanliness of the world of phantasm, in the names of the Great Creator and the Divine Celestials.” He bowed when he finished.
The two teens’ faces hung slack jawed and they turned to one other, searching for any fragment of understanding, Elton surmised as the surreal events rolled up tightly into a chaotic filled moment. Dex shot Warren a wink and smirked. His freckled face looked jaundiced in the light from Elton’s magic flames.
Elton used the tip of the athame, then took three measures of salt and put it into the water, then stirred it counter-clockwise seven times with the dagger and spoke.
“But ever mind that as water and salt purify the body, so the scourge purifies the soul. So, mote it be!”
Elton then drew a circle with the athame, from north until he reached back due north, chanting continuously The actions and words made Warren’s stomach churn, but he knew he had no alternative plans to offer and swallowed hard.
“I conjure thee, o’ Circle of Power, that thou beest a boundary between the world of men and the realms of the Divine Celestials; a meeting place of love and joy and truth; a shield against all wickedness and evil; a rampart and protection that shall preserve and contain the power that we raise within thee. Wherefore do I bless thee, and consecrate thee, in the names of the Great Creator and the Divine Celestials."
The glow of Elton’s previous spell began to wane. From within the center of the pentacle, a small blue light began to emanate. Elton lowered his head and continued the spell preparations.
* * *
Capt. Al watched on in amazement. He had seen many Buddhist rituals in Vietnam and Laos and sat through a few Satanic ones while in a drug induced haze in his time at Anton Lavey’s commune in San Francisco, but this was different. This he could feel in his leathery, tattered soul. There was something special about this scrawny cat from England. He knew his shit and cast a good vibe. Al felt warm inside, and he watched on intently, absentmindedly caressing his assault rifle in a twisted dichotomy of peace and violence. The bluish glow expanded. It spread to the rest of the gymnasium. Maico barked at the new light.
The blue light illuminated the entire mess hall and chased away all the dark shadows and chill in the room. “Everyone step inside. It’s safe now,” Elton continued to speak in a confident and monotone voice. His thin hands mot
ioned for them to come to him.
“Careful not step on the circle and salt, if you please,” Elton commanded, holding the bowl of water and dipped his fingers into it.
Once everyone was inside the large circle, Elton lifted the consecrated water and flung drips at the circle with his wet, glistening fingertips, from north until he reached the north again. He then touched each person within with the water. He then took the censer and likewise censed the circle from north back unto north once again.
96.
Magic Power
The United States Armory,
Main Street.
Rochester, New York
Warren looked about the circle, not sure how to take the events transpiring about them. Dex shot him a look. They both had experienced the supernatural in their short lives, but it was Warren who learned early not to doubt all things possible. Dex was more the skeptic, but the current state of affairs and bizarre happenings were beginning to beat down his pessimistic resolve. Warren pulled Maico closer, trying hard to find the familiar, the comfortable. He caught Capt. Al watching on in fascination and couldn’t help from smiling with each captivating move the thin, short, bristly-haired magician performed.
* * *
Elton placed the bowl at his feet and stood in front of the group and faced east. With the athame, he drew three deosil circles, and then an invoking earth pentagram, and spoke in a loud, booming voice:
“Ye Lords of the Watchtowers of the east, ye Lords of the Aether; I, now, do summon, stir and call you up, to witness our rites and guard the circle.”
This process was repeated until each directional of the compass was met and spoken for. Each time, Elton evoked the protection of the Great Creator. He wasn’t taking any chances any longer. He had trusted too much to chance and luck over the past few years, turning a blind eye to many of the signs of this apocalypse and the rise of the dreaded demon cult, not unlike the rest of the elder Keepers had done. Now those seeds were being reaped and the evil seeds that were planted were far greater, viler, and more powerful, than even the wise leaders of the keepers could have ever imagined. Now it was up to Elton, a lowly reserve Keeper to save their literal fat from the fires. The fires of Hell, to be precise. And that, he intended to do.
