“It may not be my desire to cause you harm, but don’t think I’m unwilling to do just that,” he said. “Now listen to me, Reyche: you are not yourself. You are being used as a pawn.”
Reyche didn’t seem to respond to his words. She bared her fangs at him, her eyes still retaining that same blank stare. Her pupils took a brief glance away from him and she saw something that caused a flicker of recognition in her face. Templar took notice and followed her line of sight to the image of Illuminist star above the altar. He also noticed she wore that same symbol as a pendant on her necklace. That would explain why she had come here.
“Who are you really, Reyche?” he asked. “Before you came here, who were you?”
Reyche snapped back to attention and growled. Templar raised his arms up. “You are not from Serenity, are you?”
Reyche shook her head. The sorcery that clouded her mind and controlled her actions began to dispel. There were flashes in her mind of something else...
“Reyche!”
The young woman looked up from the leather-bound book resting in her lap. She smiled at her mother’s approach from the house to the garden and stood, laying the book on the table beside her.
“Is he ready?” asked Reyche.
Her mother nodded. “You mean if that old jalopy of your father’s is finally working, then yes, so you’d best get moving before it breaks down again.”
“Perfect!” said Reyche and she practically jumped as she picked up the book, shutting it and clasping it to her breast. Her mother gently laid a hand on her arm.
“Are you certain about this pilgrimage? There are many dangers outside Tarzu.”
Reyche rolled her eyes. “How many times are we going to have this discussion?”
“I just want you to be careful, that’s all. You’ve never left the village and now you’re going on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.”
“I’ll be fine.” She patted the book. “The Presence will watch out for me.”
“I’ll pray for the angels to watch over you, but I still want you to be careful. It’s a dangerous journey you’re going on.”
Reyche smiled and went up to her mother, planting a kiss on the older woman’s cheek. “Stop worrying so much, Mama. Spiritual journeys aren’t supposed to be a walk in the park. If they were, what’d be the point?”
Her mother feigned a half-smile. “I suppose. Come on, let’s go see if your father’s ready to go.”
The pair walked around the back of the small two-bedroom house to the front yard. A man in his fifties picked up a sack and loaded it into the back compartment of a two-door rusted vehicle. He was a farmer by trade, pretty much the only kind of work in the village of Tarzu. A lifetime of labor added an appearance of ten years to his stocky frame, but his bushy, handlebar mustache maintained its black color.
“We ready?” he asked, upon seeing his wife and daughter. “It’s about a twenty minute ride to the station and the train leaves in an hour, so we’d best hustle.”
“Depends, is that rust-bucket in working order now?” asked his wife.
“It’ll make the trip, s’long as the damned radiator don’t spring another leak.”
“No blaspheming in the house.”
“Ain’t in the house.”
“You know what I mean,” she said as she gave a wave of dismissal to her husband and faced her daughter. She placed her hands on Reyche’s shoulders and looked her up and down. Sofi wrapped her arms around Reyche’s slim body, holding her tightly. “I can’t believe you’re really going off.”
Reyche gently returned the hug and patted Sofi on the back. “It’ll be okay, Mama. I’ll only be gone a year. Then I’ll come right back, promise.”
“You’d best, or we’ll have words.”
Her father leaned against the old jalopy and checked his pocket watch. He removed his pipe from the front pocket of his jacket and gnawed on the tip a little. “Time’s a’wastin’, ladies. You ready, sweetheart?”
Reyche pulled away from her mother and nodded. “Yeah Poppa, I’m ready.”
“No!”
Reyche clamped her eyes shut, hands gripping her head as she shook it violently, trying to get some clarity in her mind. Templar watched this all happen, trying to plan out his next move. He had to tread carefully, watch his words. The wrong one could snap her right back into a trance. But she seemed to be fighting off the influence.
“You’ve begun to remember, have you not?” he asked. “Stay with it, girl. Do not let it go just yet. You must fight whatever Vortai has done to you.”
She fell to her knees, still gripping her head. “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out of my mind!”
“Whatever it is you’ve discovered, do not let go of it. Keep fighting, get him out.”
Templar approached her, deactivating the pulse sword. He held his hand out, but still remained on guard in case Vortai’s influence reasserted itself. Reyche breathing heavily. She allowed herself to relax and her arms fell to her sides. Her eyes were open, but she just stared at the ground for a few moments, unsure of what to do next.
“Reyche, can you hear me?” asked Templar.
She swallowed hard and managed to weakly raise her head. Her eyes were her own once more, but they were slightly moist from newly-formed tears. It seemed as if she were about to stumble, so Templar held out his arm. Reyche accepted his gentlemanly offer and took his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet.
“Are you all right?”
She shook her head. “I-I’m not sure...the last thing I remember was speaking to you and then...I’m here. What just happened?”
“That is indeed quite a story, but first, I’d suggest we abscond from this place,” said Templar. “Our little spat has hardly gone unnoticed. Won’t be long before the local authorities arrive on the scene. Or worse, Vortai himself.”
Reyche nodded. “You’re right, we should go.”
They left the main hall and entered the atrium, the overhead sun beating down on them through the glass dome. Reyche started to move towards the front doors, but Templar pulled her away. She looked behind him and he shook his head. “Not through the front. Never through the front.”
They moved towards the side, ascending the staircase that led to the balcony for the choir. Templar darted across the balcony with Reyche following and at the other end was another door. Inside was a storage area for instruments, with dusty covers hiding pianos, organs, harps, and other lutes. Sunlight filtered in through a small window, the dust mites hovering in its glow. Templar went to the window and was able to pry it open. He climbed through the opening and ended up on the slanted roof. He peered through the window at the vampire still inside.
“Come along, we’re almost clear.”
Reyche hesitated slightly because of the light. She pulled her hood over her head, making sure it kept her face encased in shadows. Carefully, she climbed out, taking Templar’s hand for assistance. Once she had solid footing, Templar took the lead, moving towards the apex of the roof. He looked out at the steeple and how far it towered over the street below. Templar reached for his belt and drew a small grapple gun.
“I do hope you lack a fear of heights.”
“Not really...” said Reyche, trying not to look down.
“Well, if it’s some small consolation, I believe it would take more than a tumble to harm someone of your...constitution.”
“That’s not as helpful as you might think.”
Templar smirked and raised the grapple gun. He fired and the piton flew through the air, wrapping the attached cable around the steeple. Templar tested the cable’s strength and nodded appreciatively. He held out his arm to Reyche. She was hesitant, but stepped closer. Templar wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and her pale cheeks reddened slightly.
“Hold on, and please do not scream.”
He jumped from the roof, swinging on the cable, keeping a firm grip on his companion. Reyche clamped her teeth together, trying to keep herself from screaming
. They swung low and they began to drop lower. Templar increased the length of the cable until they were close enough to the ground. He glanced down at Reyche.
“I’m going to drop you now, okay?”
She nodded and Templar released her. She fell a few feet but landed harmlessly. Templar followed her and retracted the cable into the grapple gun. He peered around the edge of the cathedral and saw there were some officers standing out front, but they appeared oblivious to the strange reports they’d received from the parishioners. No doubt, once they questioned Vortai, he would convince them nothing was out of the ordinary. For now, at least, they would be safe.
“Come, we need to get to a secure location,” said Templar.
CHAPTER 11
The woods surrounding Nephelm had been nicknamed the Forest of Eternal Night, and it was easy to see why. Nephelm existed almost in a realm all its own, and though it had been mid-day when they arrived, once they entered the forest, dusk fell quickly. Zarim took point, his hood pulled over his head as he moved carefully past the trees. His hand lay atop the hilt of his blade, prepared at a moment’s notice to draw his weapon.
There was no telling what would be found in this place, as very few ever returned from the journey. Stories existed of children becoming lost in the woods and then getting snatched up by the faeries, becoming one of them. Zarim had no way of knowing if there were any truth to these legends. Swul never offered up any information about his past or his brethren and none on the Excalibur had ever asked.
Zarim’s training in Xanadar provided him with a form of mystic sense. It was what enabled him to perceive the Soulstones when he was near them and gave him a better understanding of his surroundings through the sensing of energy fields. But in the Forest of Eternal Night, he felt blind, deaf, and anosmic. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ekala and further behind, Tanus. They all kept some distance from each other to try and decrease the chances of an ambush.
A twig snapped. Zarim’s sword was drawn in the instant it took for him to pivot towards the sound. He could hear something else, like a low sobbing. He stepped carefully, inching past, tree by tree. Ekala and Tanus noticed his change in course and readied their own weapons, but still kept their distance. Zarim raised his blade and prepared to bring it down...
“Please, don’t hurt me!”
He halted, his sword still held above his head. Zarim’s gaze softened at the young boy who looked up at him with glassy eyes. He lowered his sword and knelt down beside the child, carefully reaching out his free hand. The boy retracted, curling into a ball. Zarim smiled, reached his hand up and pulled his hood down so as not to frighten the child.
“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said.
Tanus moved behind Ekala, leaning in towards her. “What’s he doing?”
“Dunno.” She moved closer to Zarim. “Zee, we’ve got to keep moving.”
Zarim ignored her, staring into the boy’s eyes. “Are you alone?”
The boy nodded.
“How did you get here?”
“Zee!” Her voice was still hushed, but the intensity was stronger. Yet as far as Zarim seemed to be concerned, no one besides the boy even existed.
“I don’t like this,” said Tanus, keeping his gun-arm at the ready.
“That makes two of us,” said Ekala. “Zee, c’mon!”
“Where are your parents?” asked Zarim. “Do you live around here?”
“Y-yes, I live nearby,” said the boy.
“Okay, why don’t you come with us? We’ll take you where you need to go.”
Zarim stood, about to slide his sword into the scabbard, when he heard a snarl behind him. He instantly fell back into a fighting stance, bringing his sword to bear. He pushed the boy behind him with his free hand, guarding him from the creature that he faced off against.
It was a werewolf, eerily similar to the ones he’d encountered on Rolyeh. Somehow they must have escaped the island and managed to track him down. “Guys, I could use some help here,” he said. The only response he got was the snarling of the werewolf and the sobs of the child. He did a quick glance to take in his surroundings, but he couldn’t see any sign of Ekala or Tanus.
“Guys!”
The werewolf lunged for him. Zarim jumped back, pulling the child with him. He swung his blade, but the wolf slapped it away, sparks flying as if his claws were made of flint. Zarim thrust and the werewolf evaded, moving nimbly around his blade. The pirate pivoted on his left foot, his right leg flying up in a roundhouse kick that connected hard with the werewolf’s chest, knocking the beast on its back.
He gathered up the boy in his arm. “Come on, we have to get out of here!” Zarim broke into a sprint, moving quickly between the trees. He glanced over his shoulder every few steps to clarify his pursuer’s position. Every time he did this, however, the entire landscape seemed to change. Zarim had mapped out a path based on what he could see, but when he looked again, that path was gone. The position and locations of the trees had somehow shifted in that brief instant.
“There was a path just ahead...” He looked down at the boy. “You saw it, didn’t you?”
The boy just buried his face in Zarim’s chest.
“Gotta find a way out...has to be something...”
Zarim felt hot breath on the back of his neck accompanied by the guttural, beastly growl of the pursuing werewolf. Zarim jumped, the wolf’s claws tearing at his hood. He jumped again, to the side, and this just as the werewolf lunged, so that the snarling, spitting fiend rolled past, clawing at the earth, tearing up plants, and snapping saplings in half as he missed his prey. This bought Zarim just a few moments, and he brought the boy to the bole of a sturdy tree.
“Need you to climb this tree, okay?”
The boy shook his head. “No, I can’t, please!”
“Don’t got a choice here, buddy,” said Zarim. “Just trust me, okay? I need both hands to deal with this guy.”
The boy slowly nodded and reached out, his tiny hands gripping one of the branches. Zarim helped him to move up slowly, but the wolf had ceased catapulting through the thickets, and had regained his footing among a pile of broken saplings. The wolf stared at them with baleful, lambent eyes and snarled. “Okay pal, start climbing now, and don’t come down until I say so!”
The boy pulled himself up to a large branch, continuing to move higher. He settled onto a spot some distance from the ground, staring at the battle below. And he smiled.
Once the boy was safe, Zarim turned in time to see the wolf hurtling toward him. He ducked a split-second before the wolf embedded its claws into the bark. Zarim threw his shoulder into the hairy chest of the beast, and the two tumbled, with Zarim ending up on top. The werewolf’s head came down hard upon the broken bole of a tree, temporarily stunning it, and so Zarim was able to move away without being slashed to bits by those great, flinty claws. He drew his gun, taking aim at the wolf. The wolf paused, staring at Zarim with beady red eyes, saliva dripping from its monstrous jaw. Zarim’s finger strained against the trigger and just before he pulled it back, the gun was blown from his hand.
Zarim spun to see the source. Another wolf, this one with a glowing hand. Zarim did a double-take at this. Since when were werewolves capable of magic? Another blast fired, this one going right past Zarim and hitting a tree. Regardless of how the werewolf could use magic, it was certainly a terrible shot.
And then another thought crossed Zarim’s mind. What if the shot wasn’t intended for him? What if it were a warning shot? But what would these creatures be warning him against? And why attack him in the first place if that’s what was happening? Zarim grew light-headed, and he was having difficulty concentrating. It felt as though he were waking up from a drunken stupor. He even had a headache to match.
The first wolf who attacked him was now right in front of him. She had her claws—or were they hands?—on his shoulders and began shaking him. Wait...she? How did Zarim know it was a she? The wolf’s visage blurred, shifting in an
d out of focus, but slowly was replaced with the face of another. A face that he’d grown very accustomed to waking up beside every morning.
“—Zee! Snap out of it!”
Zarim blinked several times and there was no mistaking who he faced. “Ekala? But what about...?”
He spun towards the other wolf, but only saw Tanus, his gun-arm still trained on Zarim. The sky-pirate looked back and forth at his partners, unsure of what exactly had just transpired. “Wait...where were you guys? What happened to the werewolves?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Tanus. “One minute you’re talking to yourself, the next you’re trying to stab your woman.”
“Stab...?”
Ekala held up her boomerangs, which were scuffed up. “Fortunately, I’m a better fighter than you.”
Zarim scowled. “Let’s not get crazy here. But wait...you said I was talking to myself?”
“Yeah, all of a sudden you just stopped and started talking. It was like you found someone or something.”
Zarim struggled to remember. “There...there was a boy. I saw him in the forest, and I was trying to help him...that’s when—”
“I think you were taken in by an illusion,” said Tanus.
“What kind of illusion?” asked Ekala.
“The kind faeries are known for,” said Tanus. “They know we’re here.”
“But the boy...he was so real...”
“Forget about it and let’s get back to the trail.” Ekala looked around the area, and just like Zarim before, she found she didn’t recognize anything. “Umm, does anyone remember where the trail was?”
“What are you talking about, it’s right...” Tanus trailed off as he searched his mind and came to the same realization as Ekala. “It’s gone.”
There came a whistle from above. The three looked towards it and saw a child smiling down at them. Zarim moved forward and jabbed a finger in the youth’s direction. “That’s him! That’s the kid I was telling you about! You can see him, can’t you?”
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