God's Last Breath

by Sam Sykes

  The power was limitless.

  “Fucking shit, would you stop showing off?”

  Their numbers, however, were not.

  Asper stood before him, her shield upraised and shaking as one of the monstrosities raked a long claw down its metal face. She lashed out with her blade, hewing its hand from its wrist. It let out a shriek and recoiled, only to be replaced by another mad-eyed creature clawing over its wounded companion to get at her.

  She took a step back, holding the creature at bay with her shield as its long limbs tried to reach around it. She cast a furious, wide-eyed snarl over her shoulder.

  “Anytime now.”

  Funny, he thought. That look used to bother him quite a bit.

  But now, he barely even noticed it. He simply raised a hand, leveled a finger at the creature, and whispered.

  “Li—”

  Boy.

  The thought struck him like a glass bottle, left a shard lodged in his mind. It threw him off. He blinked, suddenly not quite remembering how the word was spoken, how the power flowed.

  “DREAD!”

  “Light … LIGHTNING!”

  He stammered the word, spit the spell. The bolt of electricity burst from his hand with such force that it knocked him to his rear. It almost sheared off Asper’s head, her hair standing on end as it tore across the sky and struck the monstrosity clawing over her shield square in the jaw.

  The beast fell. The others recoiled, shrieking back into the darkness. Asper, however, looked no more impressed.

  “If you’re going to kill me, next time do it faster,” she snarled. “That way, you’ll at least only disappoint me once.”

  “I … I’m sorry …” The power had come easily, but now he struggled for the words. “I thought I was going to …”

  To what? To simply wave your hand and make it all better? Or to make a very loud noise?

  A laugh rang out inside his head. He knew it.

  Or can you even tell the difference anymore?

  “No time.” Asper was already moving past him, rushing into the darkness. “Come on. They’ll be back at it before long.”

  He staggered to his feet and hurried after her. The things had emerged suddenly, pouring out from every shadow, their yellow eyes lighting up the darkness like stars in the night, their claws pulling their emaciated, gangly bodies along like hounds. He didn’t even have a name for them before he had a fear of them.

  They were mortal—or at least, fire and lightning killed them as surely as a mortal. But they were everywhere. And even now, he could hear them in the gloom surrounding them: shrieking, screaming, wailing inconsolably a name he didn’t know.

  “Up ahead!” Asper shouted. “The gate!”

  An archway loomed, leading into the Souk. Narrow and cramped, it was defensible enough, but it would offer no escape should the monstrosities overwhelm them.

  One of the beasts leapt out from the alley nearby, reaching for him with impossibly long arms. He snapped his fingers. The air shimmered and the thing went flying, shrieking into the air.

  Come, then, old man, he told himself. Being overwhelmed seems a little unlikely, doesn’t it?

  “Old man?” Is that what you call yourself?

  The voice. That glass shard of a thought. Not his.

  Is that supposed to be funny? Or just—

  “Over here!”

  Asper was at the gate, her shield up and bright even in the night, her sword flashing. She stood firm as he rushed behind her, a bulwark against the darkness, which even now began to light up with a hundred unblinking yellow eyes.

  “If they get past us,” she said, “that’s it for Lenk. We hold them off until he finishes what he’s going to do.”

  “Keep them back,” Dreadaeleon said, nodding. “I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Me doing the hard part while you make a bunch of loud noises and flashy lights?” She looked over her shoulder. Through the grime covering her face, her smile was white and big. “Just like old times, eh?”

  And despite all that had happened before—her many insults, all the things she had said, all the things he had thought—and the very imminent doom lingering around them, he found that he couldn’t help but smile back.

  It was like old times.

  Back when all this was simple.

  He had wanted to impress her back then, too. He had wanted her to respect him, his power, all he could do. The only difference was now he actually could.

  “MASTER!”

  They came again, pouring out of the shadows. Crawling over each other, slavering, reaching and shrieking and stumbling in their desperation to reach them. They didn’t even seem to appear to notice the woman and wizard standing in their path. Their eyes were locked on the Souk and the great demon looming over it.

  Dreadaeleon drew in a deep breath. He held out his hands. The power flowed, his fingers erupting into flame almost immediately.

  “Get back,” he whispered.

  Asper slipped behind him. The flames leapt out, great jaws of fire that opened wide to swallow the monstrosities. Like flowers of flesh, they wilted before the flame, their skin bubbling and blistering beneath the heat as their glistening bodies curled around themselves, becoming blackened husks in the span of the breath that was robbed from them.

  Just like that, old man, he told himself. Hold them back. Everything’s counting on you now.

  Oh, yes. The glass shard twisted in his skull. You’ve turned everything to shit before, but I’m sure you’ll do better now.

  Without you, Lenk dies. Without you, Asper dies. He gritted his teeth and forced that thought away. Without you, this city, these people, this world burns to cinders.

  Ah, it would be a shame if it all burned down before you got the chance to do it yourself, wouldn’t it?

  No, no, NO.

  He shut his eyes tight. He threw lightning into the darkness. In bright blue flashes, the monstrosities’ twisted bodies were revealed for but a moment before disappearing into blackness. Each time, they drew closer, their mouths gaped wider, their eyes burned brighter.

  Don’t lose focus now, old man. Ignore that. Ignore everything. You need to fight! You need to save this city! You need to save Liaja!

  Liaja? The glass shard thought purred, wedging itself a little deeper in his skull. All this effort for a common whore? And yet all you give a proper lady is death? Priorities, I suppose.

  His hands fell. His eyes widened.

  He recognized the voice.

  “Shinka …” he whispered.

  That took long enough. I’ve been devoured by a moron. Outstanding.

  “How are you …”

  How? You can barely understand the magic you already hold, let alone the kind that permits you to pervert life like this.

  “No, you’re not real.” He shook his head. “You’re a side effect, just …”

  “Dread.” Asper’s voice was low in a warning growl as she stepped in front of him. “If this is you being dramatic, it’s poorly timed.”

  You always were a fool. It’s suitably poetic that an imbecile like you should have such power, isn’t it? Perhaps they’ll write an opera about it.

  “No.” He clutched his head. “No.”

  Perhaps your whore can act it out …

  “Don’t you talk about her.”

  “Dread,” Asper snapped. She looked up as the beasts came roiling forward out of the darkness. “Dread, get up!”

  I can see everything about her in here, you know. I hear her voice. I remember her smell. I can see that sad little smile on her face when you couldn’t satisfy her but she was too kind to hurt you.

  “Stop!” He screamed into the darkness. “STOP!”

  “Gods fucking damn it,” Asper snarled, “does everyone just start talking to themselves these days?”

  I can hear her, that little name she calls you … what was it?

  “No …” he whimpered, “please no.”

  “Northern boy.”

  H
e collapsed. The pain was too much, that shard of a thought twisting itself over and over in his skull. He could feel memories bleed out of it. His mind flooded with images of her: Liaja’s smile, Liaja’s hair, Liaja’s eyes …

  And slowly, they twisted. The memories grew darker in his mind, the color seeping out of them, the life leaking out of her. And when he thought of her again, all he could see was the last way she had looked at him.

  Mouth twisted into a frown.

  Hair hanging dirty around a sullen face.

  Eyes wide and full of fear for him. What he could do, how easily he could kill. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. And neither could he get the voice.

  What would she say if she could see you now, “old man”? Would she know what you do to people now? Would it even matter? Or do you think she already knew what a monster you were?

  He couldn’t move. He felt his jaw lock, his teeth set on edge. His fingers dug so deeply into his skull he could feel their pain, as though he might claw the thought out of the bone. He could barely hear anything but Shinka’s words, her morbid cackle.

  Yet even still, the sound of battle was too loud to ignore.

  Asper had given up talking to him. Her sword lashed out in silver arcs, pulling back crimson each time. The beasts came surging forward, reaching and shrieking and groping for a way to get over her.

  She cut deep gashes in their limbs. She carved scars into their faces. She snatched bulging eyeballs with stray strokes and hewed hands from limbs when they reached too close. Each time, they would shrink back from her blows. Each time, another would surge forward to take its place.

  She was retreating, step by step, giving more ground even as the ground before her became littered with severed flesh and spatters of blood. It wouldn’t be long before she was overrun, before she died cursing his ineptitude, his weakness.

  Shinka hissed in his skull. This is how it ends, “old man.” You pretended to be a great man when you couldn’t even manage an average one.

  He tried to simper out a reply, to gasp some protest. His mind was numb, his body followed, and his mouth managed nothing more than a sucking gasp. Long shadows of long limbs descended on him.

  For all this, you are still just a boy.

  He opened his eyes. He saw the great, gaping jaws. He felt a long claw brush across his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

  And then he heard the roar.

  Even through the numbness in his body, he could feel his bones shake. Even through the laughter echoing in his skull, the sound of fury split apart his thoughts like an ax through stone. Even against the darkness, the flash of bloodred skin burned brightly.

  Gariath just had that kind of effect.

  Just like old times.

  The dragonman came howling out of the blackness. His claw shot out, seized the monstrosity looming over Dreadaeleon by the throat, and slammed it to the stones. His foot followed, heel coming down hard on the creature’s skull. Dreadaeleon flinched as wet, glistening matter splattered against his face.

  He looked up. The dragonman stood over him, scarred and bloodied and bruised. His left arm hung dislocated and limp from his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, the dragonman appeared covered in blood that was mostly his own. And yet for all the hell he had been through, he still looked down on Dreadaeleon with a sneer.

  “Die useful,” Gariath growled, “or die quickly.”

  “On that, at least, we agree.”

  Asper stepped forward, the sound of droplets of blood falling from her sword heralding her footsteps. She approached Gariath and exchanged a long, hard scowl with him. He met her with a pair of empty black eyes, unflinching and unapologetic. And whatever wordless conversation was exchanged between them was brief and harsh.

  And yet they turned as one.

  They strode out as one.

  And, as one, they began to kill.

  Claw and blade. Jaws and shield. Flesh rent. Bones broke. Metal rang as roars shook the night. Asper led the charge, smashing aside monstrosities for Gariath to bring his foot down on. Gariath caught them by limb and by throat, hurling them toward Asper to stagger themselves upon her blade and fall lifeless to the ground. Without a word but the sound of their anger, they fought together, cutting down foe after foe.

  As Dreadaeleon, paralyzed, watched from the gate.

  Oh, this is familiar, isn’t it? Shinka’s voice chuckled. How many times has this happened before, boy? You, the great and powerful wizard, shitting yourself helpless on the ground as your friends do the work?

  He struggled to find his breath, long and slow and heavy. He drew in shallow breaths, growing deeper. He closed his eyes.

  Yes, I can see them all. So many memories of uselessness. The mind boggles to understand how so much power can accomplish so little. But then, you do think you’re quite special, don’t you?

  He gritted his teeth, pushed blood back into his limbs. He forced one foot to rise and find ground. Then another. Then he pushed himself up to his feet. With every step, the glass shard in his skull twisted.

  I owe you an apology, old man. It’s not a monster your whore will see. When she looks upon you, all she’ll see is a useless …

  He opened his eyes, let the fire burn bright.

  … weak …

  He called to mind a word.

  … pitiful …

  And then …

  … boy.

  He shouted it.

  “FLY.”

  The air shimmered beneath him and shot him up into the sky. It radiated out from him, an invisible wave of force that roiled along the ground like a shook carpet. And every monstrosity it touched flew as he did. With bursts of magic beneath them, the beasts were hurled shrieking into the air. One after the other, flailing and screaming and reaching, they tumbled helplessly into the sky as a twisted mass of limbs and panic.

  He held his arms out and closed his hands. He felt more of them out there in the shadows. And, as though he were picking berries, he simply reached out and plucked them up. Soon he hung in the air, haloed by a ring of shrieking monstrosities. The power strain was immense; he could feel himself burning from within.

  But there was simply no other way.

  No other way to prove he was powerful. No other way to save this city, the people within it. No other way to make this world safe for Liaja. And …

  What are you doing?

  Most importantly …

  Stop! The power is too much!

  No other way to make her shut up.

  “DIE!”

  His shout shook the sky and the creatures trapped within it. Power burst out of him in a massive ring of shimmering, twisting wind. It flew in a great circle, coursing through the ring of monstrosities hovering in the air with him. The force of the gale, thick and fast, struck them like a wall of iron.

  And, like a wall of iron, unmade them.

  Magic flashed in bright crimson blasts. They burst like overripe berries. They cracked like dry tinder. Some erupted in ways that defied explanation, let alone metaphor.

  And in the pervasive darkness, for one glorious moment, the sky was alight with bright red life as hundreds of monstrosities became mere flecks of gore.

  He opened his eyes.

  Fragments of bone and scraps of sinew hovered in place around him. A broken tibia tumbled lazily through the air. The collapsed remains of a fanged jawbone floated past him. Droplets of blood hung glistening in the sky and quivered at the slightest sigh of wind.

  And everything, even his own head, was silent.

  “Nothing now?” he whispered into the darkness. “Have you nothing else to say to me, you vile shrew? Where are your insults now? Where is your laughter?” His chuckle echoed off the wall of gore. “I have won. I beat you, as I beat Annis, as I beat everyone who opposed me and—”

  And everyone was dead.

  This was it, then. This was how he found peace. Only when everything else was dead and quiet.

  The limitless power he
had, and all he had done was kill.

  And for whatever Liaja might see when he came to her, that was all he would ever have. And that was all he would ever be able to—

  A surge of pain flooded his thoughts. He felt his body go bloodless, the air quivering around him.

  It had been too much power. All that magic, all at once, to kill so many. Shinka had been right.

  No, no, NO. He roared inside his skull. She was not right. She wasn’t right about you being a boy, she wasn’t right about you being a monster, she wasn’t right about how she thought she could use you. She’s been wrong this whole time. You’re better than that, right, old man?

  A long moment passed.

  Right?

  And his thoughts were silent.

  And the sky was dark.

  His eyes drifted long over the ruined buildings and blackened city, far out to the desert and the Green Belt. And in the gloom beyond the city, like a night unto itself, he could see a thousand tiny lights dancing far beyond. He could not see so far as to make out what, exactly, they were. Yet from here, he could feel them: the heat of their torches, the beating of their hearts, the thunder of their footsteps.

  An army.

  An army was approaching, coming from the pass and flooding into the Green Belt. They would be here soon.

  And they would find no demons to slay, no monsters to threaten them. All because of him. He had saved everyone. And now, they would all have to realize it and acknowledge that he—

  A surge of pain shot through him. He felt the power ebb out of him, the fire in his eyes dim. Slowly, he began to sink to the ground. Gariath and Asper stared up at him, agog, as he descended. And even when his feet touched the cobblestones and he found that his legs couldn’t support him, they still stared at him in awe.

  “Dread,” Asper whispered. “You killed them …”

  “I did,” he wheezed in reply, his voice a ragged gasp.

  “Hundreds,” Gariath muttered. “There had to be hundreds.”

  “Four hundred fifty three.” Dreadaeleon stared at the ground, slick with gore. “And I felt them all die.”

  “Are you …” Asper winced. “Are you all right?”