Sacred Ground

by Alex Archer

  “Will it?” Annja asked.

  “Of course not,” Derek said. “Hansen and I have the means to control it. And we will.”

  “Fools,” Wishman said. “Let me go and I will gladly flee from this place. I will walk the countryside and take my chances with the environment. And if that beast comes for me, I will meet it on my own two feet rather than huddled in horror at the back of a cabin.”

  Hansen smiled. “I love the way you speak. Reminds me of an old horror film.”

  Wishman’s expression was almost sad. “You, my son, shall be the first to die when the beast is freed from its cage. You think you have the means but you do not. And tonight, you will learn how very awful that truth is indeed.”

  Hansen looked at him for another moment and then turned back to Derek. “Can’t we just kill them?”

  Derek shook his head. “We still need them for appearances’ sake. And besides, I will take great joy in seeing the shaman realize how wrong he is when we successfully control the creature.”

  Annja looked around. “Does this have anything to do with diamonds at all? Or was that just another one of your stories?”

  Derek shrugged. “There are plenty of diamonds here. But their value is inconsequential to what we truly desire. The company will mine here, yes, but our focus has forever been on the release of the creature.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we answer to a different god.”

  Wishman’s eyes narrowed. “You worship the dark gods.”

  “Different names,” Hansen said. “But I guess you’re in the ballpark.”

  “And your god told you to free this being?” Annja asked.

  “Our god is this being,” Hansen said. “And when it was imprisoned here, it reached out with its mind until it found a receptive consciousness that could understand it and learn from it.”

  “Learn from it how?”

  Derek flipped up a switch on the detonator. “We live in a world where money is an unfortunate necessity to the greater plans of man. Our god taught us how to realize riches beyond our wildest dreams. Those riches in turn fueled our quest to free our god. When we could buy anything, including powerful members of government, we became better able to realize the goal of freeing our dark master.”

  Hansen smiled. “And when we used Godwin as our unwitting counterfeit, all the Araktak saw was a half-breed they could despise. Their attention was so focused on him that they never sensed our approach until it was too late.”

  “And here we stand,” Derek said. “At the moment of greatness.”

  “Shouldn’t your corporate masters be here with you?” Annja asked. “Isn’t this also their moment of greatness?”

  “They’re far too old now to be here,” Derek said. “Hansen and I were chosen to lead this mission. And when we have freed our god, he will reward us all with immortality.”

  “Empty promises,” Wishman hissed. “He will promise you whatever it is your heart most desires. But he will never give your rewards to you in the way you imagine them.”

  “Is that so?” Derek said.

  Wishman spit on the ground. “Your immortality will be spent as an eternity of suffering in the fires of Hell. Your god will never share his freedom and power with you, but only subjugate you to the lowest pits of the flame.”

  Derek waved his hands. “All right, enough of this. Let’s get out of here and get this done. The sun will be up in an hour or so.”

  “That will be the optimal time,” Hansen said. “According to what they told us back home.”

  Derek nodded. “Get them out of here.”

  Hansen pulled a gun out from under his jacket. “All right, you two, let’s go. And Annja, no tricks. I even see you move funny and I’ll put a bullet into your heart from behind. And this gun is packed with the kind of bullets that will go right through whatever you’ve got on like it’s not even there.”

  “Fine.” Annja walked behind Wishman and her mind raced. Was there really a creature behind the wall? Why did they even need her in the first place?

  Derek came alongside of her. “You’re here because of what you represent, Annja. As I said at our first meeting, we know all about you. You helped sell the Araktak on our mission, but you and your sword are also quite the cherry on top of the lovely icy sundae.”

  Annja looked at him. “I am really going to enjoy killing you. And that’s not something I normally do.”

  “What? Kill people?” Derek laughed. “I beg to differ, given your rather bloody record.”

  Annja shook her head. “I’m not denying the deaths I’ve caused. But I’ve never enjoyed the act. I’ve always viewed it as a something of a necessity. Lives taken to spare innocents. But you are different.”

  “I like being different,” Derek said. “But you should know that I am not an easy mark. And I will not fall as easily as some of your other victims.”

  “Victims?” Annja almost laughed. “Those who have fallen because of my blade have all seen the justice they so richly deserved. You’ll see it soon enough, as well, Wainman. If that’s even your real name.”

  “My real name needn’t concern you,” Derek said. “And it’s such an inconsequential thing, you won’t even remember being concerned about it once we blow the wall in the next hour.”

  Annja climbed the slope and soon felt the icy gust of the exterior on her face. Wishman kept quiet as he clambered out of the burial mound.

  Annja glanced at Derek. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What if this is all wrong? What if Wishman is right? That your bargain with your god is just a sham. You could be spelling out your own doom and not even know it.”

  “Oh,” Wishman said, “but they are.”

  “Shut up,” Derek said. He looked at Hansen. “How long until the dawn breaks over the horizon?”

  Hansen checked his watch. “Perhaps forty minutes.”

  Derek nodded. “I’ll make a fire to keep us warm until then. No sense freezing to death while we wait.”

  Wishman smiled. “A fruitless gesture, fool. You’ll taste death sooner than you think. Once that wall comes down, this world will be a terrible place.”

  Annja felt herself slipping away from reality. Where was the truth in these words she heard from both sides?

  And would it be too late when she finally found out for certain?

  21

  Annja watched as Derek gathered a bundle of thick branches, long dehydrated by the pervasive winter winds, into a stout pile over a small bundle of tinder and kindling. He stooped and set a lick of flame to the smallest pieces and then stood back as the fire ate at the dried wood. After a minute, a blaze illuminated the area, spreading only a moderate degree of warmth.

  Derek gestured to Annja and Wishman. “You’re welcome to move closer to the fire, but Annja, don’t do anything to make Hansen put a bullet in you. Any move and he won’t hesitate to kill you.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Annja said. She moved closer to the fire listening as the twigs and branches crackled. Wishman stayed back, however, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that the temperature hovered around minus thirty-five degrees.

  Derek regarded him. “You’re not cold, old man?”

  Wishman’s eyes flashed. “I’ll warm myself with the thought that your bones will soon be cooked off of your pathetic body.”

  Derek shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Hansen checked his watch, but kept the gun trained on Annja. “About a half hour left.”

  Derek nodded. “You brought it?”

  “Of course.” Hansen shrugged. “Not much point in doing this otherwise, is there?”

  “Brought what?” Annja asked. She saw Derek glance at Hansen and she sighed. “Come on, guys. Don’t you want to prove what big boys you are and let me witness your obvious superior intellect? What’s the big secret? Afraid I’ll rain on your parade?”

  Derek shrugged. “I don’t much care what you think, Annja. If you’d rather
have me kill you here and now, just tell me and I’ll spare you any further discomfort.”

  Annja shrugged. “Like you’d kill me. You’d just have Hansen back there do it.”

  “I’ll kill you myself,” Derek said.

  “Right,” Annja said. “You don’t have the nerve.”

  Derek stepped closer to her but kept the fire between them. In the firelight, his face looked somehow different as shadows leaped and twisted all over his molten visage.

  “I assure you that I most certainly do have the nerve, as you put it. And I will gladly rip your heart out through your chest if you’d prefer it that way.” He sighed. “Or perhaps you think your god will come to your aid. Perhaps you believe that the sword grants you some type of invulnerability?”

  Annja frowned. “Well, it didn’t work out that well for the original owner, now, did it?”

  “Perhaps she found heaven through the fires of her death,” Derek said.

  Hansen chuckled behind her. Annja felt herself growing angry at their obvious derision.

  Wishman moved up closer to the fire suddenly. Derek smiled. “A little too cold for you back in the shadows, Wishman? Well, fine, warm yourself by our fire. Enjoy these last vestiges of humanity.”

  Wishman stared at him, but Annja noticed that he didn’t look especially cold. He glanced at Annja. “What he says about this blade you carry. Is it true?”

  Annja nodded. “Yes. I’m not sure why I was chosen to carry it, but I seem to have little to no choice in the matter.”

  “You were chosen to carry it for the same reason that the polar bear did not maul you.”

  “And that would be?”

  Wishman’s eyes softened just a speck. “Isn’t it obvious? You are a bastion of good in an otherwise evil world.”

  “I don’t want that role.”

  “We cannot choose our destinies. They are dealt out well in advance of our physical arrival on this earth. Here, we merely play the roles that the gods have assigned to us. Whatever they may be.”

  Annja watched the flames dance. “I feel like I’m in an old school play with the role that I never wanted.”

  Wishman gestured to Derek and Hansen. “Even these terrible men have their assignments they must act out on this stage.”

  “So you’re saying I should feel sorry that they were given the roles of evil people?”

  Wishman frowned. “I wouldn’t dream of telling you to have any sympathy for them. The dark gods have a different agenda from those of the light. As such, these tools of theirs should be dealt with as severely as possible. Mercy and compassion for them would be a mistake.”

  “That sounds rather cold and heartless.”

  Hansen cleared his throat. “And he says we’re evil.”

  Wishman glanced at him and then looked back at Annja. “I realize that runs counterintuitive to many spiritual teachings, but to give these men and any other agents of evil any quarter is to show weakness to them and further strengthen their own resolve.”

  “So you don’t believe people can change or be rehabilitated? You think that what they are is always what they are?” Annja asked.

  “I believe what they are is always inherently within them.”

  “But what if they could control those inherent traits such that they lived a useful and productive life?”

  Wishman’s smile deepened and showed the massive lines at the corners of his mouth. Annja couldn’t fathom how old he must have been to show such enormous canyons. “Your mistake is that you see this battle as only taking place across this lifetime.”

  “That’s a mistake?”

  Wishman nodded. “It is when there are many, many lifetimes yet to play out. This epic battle isn’t contained to any one of them. It is drawn long against the canvas of an eternity. As such, we are not at battle with the forces of darkness. Rather, we are at war. A long and terrible war.” He pointed at Annja. “And you are a soldier in this war.”

  “Drafted,” Annja said. “How wonderful.”

  “At least you get to fight,” Wishman said. “And your purpose seems noble and honorable.”

  “Seems?”

  He shrugged. “I do not know you well enough to judge if all of your actions are on the side of light. Or perhaps you are merely duping me as these others have done so already.” He sighed. “I am growing old and weary of this fight in this body. Soon, it will be time to move along. In my younger years, I would never have fallen for the lies they told me. Never.”

  Hansen suddenly placed the gun barrel against Wishman’s skull. “Say the word and I’ll be glad to splatter your brains all over the snow, old man.”

  Wishman didn’t flinch. “You think death scares me, boy? Do you know how many times I have done battle on this plane? How many times I have looked into the gaping maw of Hell’s fires and lived to tell the tale? Your puny pistol and the death it delivers would be a vacation from the likes of what I’ve endured.”

  “Death is death,” Hansen said. “One way or another, you’ll be done before the sun is fully up.”

  Wishman chuckled. “If only you knew how wrong that statement is. One death is never the same as another. And to imagine that death by bullet and death at the hands of the thing you wish to unleash are the same shows how truly ignorant you really are. If you understood how the universe actually works, you would run from the place where you stand now and never look back. You would drop that weapon and leave this sacred land. You still have the ability to act rationally. But once you die, you will not have the option to reject the darkness.”

  Annja could see that Derek was watching Wishman intently. She glared at him. “Are you hearing this?”

  “Of course I am.” Derek shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what he says. The truth of the matter is in about fifteen minutes we will carry out what we’ve come here to do. And no amount of Inuit psychobabble is going to change the course of events at this time.”

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing. It’d be a shame to go to all this effort just to find out you’re wrong,” Annja said.

  “As if you’d shed a tear. Didn’t you just listen to Wishman? No mercy should be shown to us,” Derek said with a laugh.

  “I don’t have to agree with everything Wishman says,” Annja said. “I’ve always considered myself merciful. Not to a fault, mind you, but compassionate enough when the situation demands it.”

  “That is a fault you will have to eradicate,” Wishman said. “Or else evil will eventually triumph over you.”

  Annja sighed. “You’re really bringing me down, Wishman.”

  “No, these two men are. If they succeed, we are all dead. This place, this countryside, and eventually all the world, will fall into absolute darkness, fueled by the insatiable lust and hunger of the very fires that burn in the heart of absolute evil.”

  Annja looked at Derek. “That must be some science project you’re getting ready to unleash.”

  He smiled. “Oh, it is.”

  “You mind filling me in on it? Just because, you know, I’ve always been really curious about that sort of stuff. And I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff, but giant monsters are new to me.”

  “What once was a monster of the flesh is no longer,” Wishman said.

  “Meaning?” Annja asked.

  “Meaning that the creature is no longer visible in this realm.”

  “But it still exists?”

  “Of course.” Wishman sighed. “It really is difficult to explain to people who see things so one-dimensionally.”

  Annja frowned. “Well, sorry.”

  Derek smiled. “Now, now, old man, I wouldn’t piss the little lady off if I was you. She’d be quite adept at kicking your ass.”

  Wishman sighed. “All this silliness when the gravity of the situation should be entirely evident.”

  A sudden wind whipped up around them, scattering a few of the smoking branches from the fire. Their burned orange tips glowed and hissed as they touched the snow, suddenly extinguished in a
blast of steam.

  Wishman clapped his hands. “You see? The spirits of this place know what is about to unfold here.” He looked at Derek. “You anger them with your presence and your intentions.”

  “Tough,” Derek said. “They can stand in line if they want to condemn me for what I’m about to do.”

  Wishman said nothing more, choosing instead to watch as the breezes continued to rise and fall, like some tidal flux against the shoreline. His eyes had narrowed into tight slits. Crow’s-feet deepened on either side of his face and his lips were pursed tight to prohibit any sign of emotion.

  Annja wasn’t sure if she bought into the notion that there was some great evil stored behind the wall in the burial mound. Still, she couldn’t deny that the existence of the wall itself was a little odd. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you would expect to find such a thing. But it could have been put there for a more earthly reason. Such as making sure no one fell down the shaft that suddenly went almost entirely vertical.

  And that didn’t involve some supernatural entity.

  But something about Wishman’s face made her wonder if perhaps there was something more to this than she realized.

  22

  The trunks of the trees that surrounded them in the clearing began to take on a subtle yellow glow as the sun started its inevitable climb. The pines started to glow in the bitter light, as if surrounded by a halo, but even with such an idyllic picture forming, Annja could feel something else worming its way up from somewhere far down below them. It was a true sense of foreboding.

  Annja wasn’t sure if she was cold or hot. She wondered if it was possible to be both.

  Next to her, Wishman had started chanting something quietly under his breath. Annja watched him, but his closed eyes barred any conversation. She saw Hansen was still alert from the corner of her eye.

  Annja closed her eyes and checked for the presence of the sword. In her mind’s eye, it hung there in the otherwhere between her world and wherever the sacred blade rested when she didn’t need it.