by Thom Erb
“You are more than welcome.” Elton bowed his head, stood and began to explore the room.
The golden light now filled the entire area around them. It reminded Warren of the Mines of Moria from Warren's favorite books, The Lord of the Rings. On the floor below him, Warren saw a large, intricate mosaic circle with strange runes carved into the marble floor. The gilded inscription followed the shape of the circle all the way around. In the center of the large circle was an inlaid pentacle and what looked like a large eye and the symbol of infinity. What looked like a once, pristine white, marble floor, now was covered in a thick black of ash and debris.
“Oh my,” Elton let out. “Dear Lord.” The low, shaken tone of his voice drifted up and out into the fleeing darkness. “No!” Before them stood a large granite and marble constructed chamber. Large bookcases and once mighty tables lay on the floor in cold ash and smoldering ruin.
“Where are we?” Warren asked. He stood up straight and shook the black soot from his shirt and pants.
“What the f—?” Dex coughed and shook the gray ash from his hair. A small cloud hung about him like a dark gray veil. Warren brushed the soot from his glasses and searched the room to gain his bearings.
“We are in the Traverse Chamber, in the Hall of the Keepers, my friends. Or what once was the sacred hall.” Elton’s voice trailed off, disappearing into the darkness. He walked further into the cavernous room. “It's one of several chambers spread across the globe by the elder Keepers many years ago, designed to aid us in teleporting from nexus point to nexus point. All to protect the children, like you, Warren.”
“Dude, normally I'd love to spend months learning about this, but what about Sam?” Warren shouted “We need to save her. She needs us.” He found himself yelling, and the harsh sound washed over the alabaster stone of the chamber.
“Yeah, man, I am feeling like a Mack truck ran over me, back-up and ran over me again. What happened and what do we do now?” Dex said, following behind the short Keeper.
“My fellows, I know, I know. They have found the hidden sanctum of the Keepers. This holy place that once housed all the tomes and relics of our order, and now, it stands in ruins and smoldering ash.” Elton walked through the remains of the chamber. “Bloody desecrated.”
In unison, they stopped moving as the room became fully illuminated. As far as the eye could see, lay large chambers and scores of smoldering dead bodies, mostly wearing the charred remnants of robes. Coagulated blood and cauterized flesh filled the antechamber as they approached.
The doors out of the chamber were littered with blackened bodies and shattered pieces of furniture. They set to work moving them from the large wooden door that took up almost the entire wall. Their senses were met with an overwhelming cloud of death and burnt wood.
The large doors creaked open only half way. Numerous rotted bodies pressed against them. The familiar robes of the Keepers caught Elton’s eye, and he shoved enough space to get through to the chamber beyond.
“Come, my friends. Beyond lays the High Council Hall, and there we can find—” Elton’s words were choked off as he gazed at the horrid visage before him.
The cavernous room held nothing but a smoldering ruin of darkness and death. As the light filled the large room, the air quickly made haste from Elton’s lungs.
Ahead of them lay the High Council chamber and all within it stood torched, blackened, and dead.
The High Council of the Keepers of the Eternal Flame were all dead, and the once sacred hall sat in smoking ruins and embers. Elton staggered, braced himself against the mighty wooden door frame and took several deep breaths.
“My young brothers, now more than ever, we need to find Lady Sam and the other Children of Light, wherever they may be.” Elton kicked at the thick ash of the once marble floor. A violent torrent of tears ran down his flushed cheeks.
“What are we waiting for?” Warren said. He pushed passed Elton and peered into the deathly gloom of the hall.
“Sam is...wherever the hell she is. Come on, Elton. I'm in. let's go.” He turned and looked at Elton and Dex.
Elton wiped the tears from his eyes, staggered over to Warren and laid his hand upon his shoulder. “I'm not certain you should go, Master Warren.”
Warren cocked his head and stepped toward the weary Keeper. “What? Why not?”
Elton held his shaking hands up in front of Warren's approach. “Hold on. I understand fully well why you're angry, but you must listen to me.”
Warren stopped a foot away. It was more than abundantly clear the Keeper needed to explain himself fast.
“With Lady Samantha gone, there are only two Children of Light left, you being one. And the other one, I cannot set my eyes upon. We cannot let anything happen to you, lad. Don't you see?” Elton's words started strong but ended in close to a mumble. Tears ran down the man's weary-narrow face.
Dex put his hand on Warren's shoulder. “Maybe he's right, man.”
“Hell yes, I'm tired of losing the people I love, man. Where do we have to go?” Warren asked.
Dex shook his head. “I've got a bad feeling about this.”
“We need to gather some supplies before we go then, Warren,” Elton said, looking about the chamber.
“Okay, but where are we going?” Warren asked, growing impatient.
“I'm not certain. I've completely exhausted what Magic I have. I need to rest for a wee bit while you lads scrounge for weapons and such. The Armory is through those doors there.” The Keeper pointed toward an open set of gilded doors sitting opposite the way they entered.
“Then what?” Warren's words loud and impatient.
“Master Warren, once I've rested sufficiently, I'll be able to scry and locate Lady Samantha, and then the Great Creator willing, I'll have enough mana to teleport us three to the location. I am sorry, but that is the best this old man can offer.” Elton fumbled for something inside his jacket with clumsy hands. He pulled out a flask, opened it, drained what was left, and his head lolled to the side and fell fast asleep.
“What the hell was that?” Dex asked.
Warren lowered his head. “No clue, man. Let's go see what this place has and give the old man time to rest.” He headed toward the set of doors. “But I'm not giving him too much time. Sam is in deep shit and we need to go.”
“Agreed.” Dex followed behind Warren.
“Man, I hope Arnie is okay,” Dex said.
“Me too,” Warren replied as they disappeared into the dark hallway.
129.
World of Fantasy
The High Keeper’s Hall of the Eternal Flame
Inside an intra-dimensional Stonehenge,
Wiltshire, England, UK.
After several minutes, with the help of Elton, Warren and Dex discovered the hidden Armory—while its many racks stood empty and shattered, they loaded up on various weapons and gear, from Heckler and Koch M-4's, to odd fragmentation grenades that glowed with strange, white-colored runes upon them. Several forms of martial weapons from long, short swords, to axes and polearms, shared the same glowing runes etched into their metal.
Warren found a rack filled with a couple of new combat shotguns and stacks of metal ammunition. Looking closer, he noticed each shell and slug bore the same glyph as all the other weapons. He filled a large duffle bag with both slugs and buckshot and gave his Dad's old Ithaca Deerslayer a light pat as he loaded glowing shells into the old long gun. Warren watched Dex head off into the vast awesomeness of the ancient Armory. He stood still, letting his friend go.
Feeling very overwhelmed and the weight of everything beating at him, Warren needed a moment alone. Actually, he needed far more than that. Nearly everything was gone. A thunder-wave of brutal images and heart-wrenching sounds rushed through him. His mom’s dying gaze. Andy’s bleeding, red eyes and gnashing teeth. Jack disappearing into the swarm of biting dead, Barry blowing a hole into Frank’s chest. The horrified stare on Sam’s face before those monsters stole her away. The g
ruesome visage of Maico flashed through his cracked mind, and he let the tears come as his hand moved to the collar and snippet of hair Elton had given him. The crushing entirety all came crashing down on Warren. Letting it all go, as he loaded the bag with ammo as the tears washed down. He didn't care. This new world was an insane rush of impossibilities. Denying it would do him no good. No, it seemed the truth was an ancient demon lord was trying to gain entrance from its hell dimension to take back Warren's world. Yeah, that sounded sane. He wrestled with himself. The dead now walked the streets and ate anything with a pulse, a soul. He let more waterworks down his already rain-soaked jacket.
The rustle of metal on metal and an occasional giggle came from Warren's best friend, who was busy trying to decide between war-hammers, flails, and various pole-arms.
Warren finished loading two bags with ammo, then sleepily walked to an upturned wooden chair against a long wall, set it upright, and plopped down. He knew they had no time to waste but just needed a minute so to catch his breath and maybe rest his weary, swollen eyes.
While his tired gaze drifted on the row of ornate long swords, they reminded him of the pictures from the Player’s Handbook and elicited a small, yet uplifting smile. His eyes slowly traced the shapes of their hilts and blades. Although there were many slots for the weapons, only a few remained. Reaching the end, Warren was about to start over again. The calming counting of the swords had a meditative effect and he finally felt himself relax a bit.
As Warren turned back to long sword number one again, a small, bright white light split between two tapestries behind the rack. The tiny light nearly blinding him, and he squinted as he stood up and approached the weapons and tapestries.
One of the finely crafted tapestries pictured a royal couple. Both wearing intricately designing, bejeweled crown, crisscrossed with Celtic knots. The strikingly handsome man, with graying dark and matching closely cropped beard. His intense eyes captured demanded respect and admiration. The woman was blindingly beautiful and her bright, captivating doe-eyes drew Warren’s full attention as well. Dressed in fine clothing and wearing glistening jewels. They both had full animal fur-cloaks over their backs and their hands were tightly interlocked with the hilt of a sword rising up between them. Around the edges of the image, was another large Celtic knot, when Warren looked closer, there were several tiny scenes depicted in each twisted stitch.
Some were epic battles of men in full armor and on horseback with lances. Others were of a round table surrounded by similar knights in full plate armor, drinking. Others held scenes of hunting a great white stag, and another featured water and a feminine hand reaching out from under the calm surface; a sword thrusting from her pale grip.
The light flashed again, Warren’s attention turned to the tapestry to the right. This one was far simpler. It was of a large chalice with a bright orange and yellow flame jutting up from the simple cup. Beneath it was an embroidered red dragon perched on a golden crown. Both images rested upon an azure field. There were two banners flowing above and below the images. There were words Warren didn’t recognize. Another flash of light burst between the two tapestries.
Warren split them apart and discovered a small room beyond. He hesitated, then cautiously stepped in.
Before him stood a waist-high alter made of the most exquisite marble Warren had ever seen. It topped even the works of Michelangelo and Donatello.
Upon the pristine altar lay an oblong box—this one seemed to be crafted from roughly hewn-stone. As he stepped closer the beams flickered again from inside and caught his teary eye.
The ante-chamber was small. It only contained the altar and the box. Warren paused-waiting for a trap to be triggered, send a wall of spiked to impale him. After a long moment, nothing; save the gleaming light emanating from beneath the lid of the stone box. He set the bags down on and approached the altar.
On the thick lid, were engraved more foreign words—possibly Latin, but he wasn't certain. Warren’s shaking, sweaty hands carefully touched the lid and Warren was about to lift it, the thick lid flung open, the once faint glow flourished into a blinding flash of brilliant white light—sending him stumbling backward.
He nearly fell to the floor, but his hand grabbed it and held fast to the lip of the altar. Warren peered down as the glow slowly faded, and he gasped at the weapon that lay inside.
“Sweet Christmas,” Warren whispered.
An ancient looking long sword, Warren guessed it was of Nordic or Celtic design, lay in its scabbard. He expected a jewel-encrusted, Glamdring, Excalibur, Stormbringer kind of weapon, but this was a well-worn sword. Its only distinguishing marking being a series of glowing runes similar to the other items in the Armory, along the hilt. A solitary, carved eye glowed inside the pommel. Warren, without thought nor concern, reached in and snatched the artifact from the box. It felt natural in his hand. He stepped away from the box and gazed at the museum-quality, but unimpressive scabbard.
The worn leather grip seemed to perfectly form to his sweaty, large fist. Warren slid the blade from its scabbard, and it rang out, causing Dex to call out from another room.
The blade was unremarkable as was the scabbard, save for the eye and the runes. They began to glow with a warm, white light, filling Warren with an overwhelming sense of comfort and ease. He held it out before him, the light illuminating the entire room.
A sudden voice exploded inside his head. “The sword has chosen you, young lord Brennan.”
Warren staggered backward, through the tapestries, knocking the racks over and falling onto his rear end.
“Whoa, what? I-what? Wait! Whoawhatsis?” Warren uttered, staring as the bright, glowing runes on the blade slowly morphed into familiar letters. A heavy wave of sleep washed over him as each letter came into focus. Warren felt his body grow slack, and his weary eyes rushed in and out of focus as he read the Latin inscription: Arthur Praevidentiam. Warren’s mind focused and suddenly, he was able to understand the old language. It read: Arthur's Foresight became crystal clear before the darkness of sleep pulled him under.
130.
The Mission
“Lads! Lads! I have it!”
Warren felt rough hands on him, shaking him to consciousness. He swung wildly to find Dex standing above him, fighting back his spastic attacks.
“Easy, man, easy. It's the British dude, he's found out where your girlfriend is,” Dex said. A tired, crooked smile stretched across his thin face.
“Not funny.” Warren got to his feet, the sword still gripped tightly in his hands.
Dex helped him up and shot him an odd look. “What ya got there, Aragorn?”
“Keep it up, man. Keep it up,” Warren said.
“There's no time, gents. We must make haste, now!” The Keeper's voice sounded strangled and worn. He gazed down at the long sword in Warren’s hand and smiled at him. Nodding, Elton motioned for them to follow.
Warren and Dex snatched up their bags and ran out of the Armory toward the chamber where Elton called from. Their heavy footfalls echoed like old memories throughout the dead Keeper's Hall.
In the center of the chamber, Elton stood. The inlaid pentagram lit the room with white light. The diminutive man waved them onward. “Come on, lads. I've located Lady Samantha. We must go now.”
Warren lagged behind Dex, as always. The two bags of gear didn't help much and Elton shot him an odd look as he approached with the strange sword and scabbard in his hands.
He noticed a small smirk crack across the Keeper's slight face.
“Where is she?” Dex asked.
Elton looked hard into Warren's eyes. “Are you certain?” he asked as he crossed into the glowing star.
“Yes. Where is she?” Warren asked.
The moment hung in the thick air.
“Very well.” Elton nodded, patted Warren on the shoulder. “I do hope you enjoy lederhosen and strong ales. Have you ever been to Germany?”
In unison, Warren and Dex replied, “No.”
&
nbsp; Elton placed his hands on Warren and Dex's shoulders and said, “We are going to Germany, lads.”
"What?" Warren and Dex asked in concert.
Within moments, the Keeper of the Eternal Flame spoke the ancient magic language and touched the large glowing stone perched on a stone column in the center of the cold room.
Elton started toward the Traverse Chamber. “Hold on, young lads. It's bound to be a bumpy ride, I'm afraid.”
The room vibrated with a loud hum.
"I've got a bad feeling about this, man." Dex shifted on nervous feet as the stone erupted into a blind white flash.
“You only live once, remember? Come on, man, let’s do this.” was all Warren said.
The light faded to darkness and they were gone.
-END-
Epilogue
Deliver us to Evil
Mt. Hope Cemetery
Rochester, New York
The hunt for his punk-ass brother and fat-boy friend was over...for now. And Barry Lee was left with an insatiable rage and hunger and the mocking memory of the flash of bright white light would not let his twisting mind go.
He would have his revenge on those two fleshy-bags of shit, one way or another.
The night was waning and soon the morning would come. Barry needed to do something. As if on command, the familiar voice of the thing that first spoke to him back at the school, said. “Every dog has his day, Mr. Lee.” The man with the hat stepped from the shadows and came to stand next to Barry, staring down at the army of staggering undead in the valley below.
“What the hell you doing here?” Barry asked, refusing to look in his smug direction. “That little shit got away. What the hell am I gonna do now? Nice bill of goods you sold me, pal. Being dead kinda sucks, man”
The rain shifted and felt like its sole purpose was to piss down on Barry’s rotting head. He flipped the bird to the downpour and wished he’d just stayed dead.
The man laughed, never moving his gaze from the throng of dead. “Oh, Mr. Lee you cut yourself too short and I am a little disappointed in your lack of faith and vision.”
