Death's Mantle: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Revelations Book 1)

by J. A. Cipriano

  Polyphemus tore his arm from Malcom’s grip and as he did so, his flesh ripped away, spilling golden blood on the ground. They both stared at the wound. Malcom swallowed and opened his hand. The creature backpedaled as a chunk of his flesh fell from Mal’s fingers and struck the ground with a thwack. A look of horror exploded across the creature’s face as he swung his hammer wildly at Malcom.

  The hammer came at him like it was moving in slow motion, and he easily stepped back out of the way. Polyphemus cleaved through the air as well as the pavement beneath where Malcom had been. How was that possible? Was it because of his mantle? Was it empowering him right now?

  The cyclops swung again. This time, Malcom stepped in close and struck Polyphemus’s wrist with his forearm. There was a loud snap, and the weapon fell to the ground, cracking the asphalt.

  “How?” the cyclops cried, flinging his still-bleeding other hand at Malcom.

  Malcom ducked and waited, and waited, and waited. He glanced up to see the fist still moving above his head, and he shook himself. Why was the creature moving so slowly? Or maybe, maybe he wasn’t really moving slowly at all. Maybe it just seemed like he was moving slowly.

  Malcom stood after the monster’s fist passed through the air above his head and reached out with his palm. He touched the cyclops gilded breastplate, and the armor decayed beneath his touch, blackening around the edges and disintegrating into powder.

  Polyphemus staggered backward, brushing at his chest, sweeping bits of rotten armor away like he was afraid it would infect him. Malcom took a step closer, green fire dancing in his palm, though he wasn’t quite sure where it had come from.

  “This is a fight you cannot win, cyclops. Please just leave,” Malcom said, holding his palm out in front of them. The green light cast dancing shadows across the ground beneath him, and as he took a step forward, he felt an army at his back.

  “Hades,” Polyphemus said, staring past Malcom’s shoulder and off into the distance. “Why have you come here?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Malcom replied, glancing over his shoulder but seeing no one. Had the creature gone insane? Or was he just referring to Malcom as Hades? He was death after all, right? He was about to ask when the creature staggered backward several steps and fell onto his butt. He sat there, wide-eyed and staring.

  “Is this the power that was foretold?” Polyphemus blubbered.

  “What do you mean?” Malcom asked, staring hard at the cyclops. Something told him the creature could tell him a lot. He took a step closer, reaching out toward the monster as Sabastin groaned and got haphazardly to his feet. The old man leaned against the car, his chest shuddering with every breath as he gripped the mangled door of the vehicle with bloody fingers.

  “Mors, we need to leave.” Sabastin’s voice was like the wind, full of force and yet strangely fleeting. “I’ve drained too much of my strength holding the portal open. I can’t do it much longer.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Malcom said as he began moving toward Sabastin. The older man nodded. He wobbled toward the portal and vanished in a flare of sapphire light. That was weird. Hadn’t it been emerald a moment ago?

  Malcom approached the portal and threw a glance back at the cyclops. Only… only Polyphemus wasn’t there. His heart hammered in his chest as he whirled around, looking for the monster.

  A blow rocked his body, flinging him to the side and sending him skidding across the parking lot. Agony burned in him. The world faded and blurred around the edges. He got to his feet only to be backhanded across the face. He wobbled as the cyclops loomed in front of him.

  “You’re not fully awakened, Mors.” Polyphemus smiled and reached out, seizing him by the throat. Malcom struggled, trying to suck in a breath but none would come. He seized the creature’s huge arm, his legs kicking in midair. “It’s a good thing too. I’m not sure Jormungand would honor his trade for my wife if I didn’t bring at least one of you back.”

  Polyphemus shrugged and began moving toward the magenta tear in the sky. Malcom struggled, trying to do something, anything as Sabastin’s portal winked out of existence.

  Kim 01:06

  The light from the portal vanished, leaving Kim standing alone in the large, hollowed-out cavern. She turned in a slow circle, trying to get her bearings. The soot-stained walls felt like they were closing in on her as she looked around for someone, anyone, but as far as she could tell, no one else was here. Even if the others hadn’t made it through, Jesse had gone before her. He had to be around here somewhere.

  She tried to keep her heart from pounding its way out of her chest as she peered into the surrounding darkness. The sound of water caught her ear, a faint trickle just on the edge of her hearing. She started toward it for lack of a better place to go. As she approached, she realized she was heading toward the center of the cavern. A pale stream surged beneath her feet as she walked closer. She shivered as the cold water chilled her feet, but try as she might, she couldn’t seem to find dry land. She sighed and shook her head. Of course. Of freaking course, she’d be trapped ankle deep in chilly water.

  She squelched forward until she came upon a crystalline fountain. Pale water flowed from its center, splashing down over its diamond-hewn carapace and splashing to the ground in a shimmering waterfall.

  A man stood there, leaning on the fountain and staring at her. One of his eyes was covered by a black patch, but the other pierced her heart with its baleful gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as he took a step toward her and rubbed his chin with one leathery hand.

  “So you’ve awakened.” His voice was like a dreary melody, reminding her of a funeral hymn. “That’s interesting.”

  “Where am I?” she asked, trying to ignore her fear as it wrapped its icy fingers around her throat.

  “You should know quite well where you are. You don’t, not yet at least, but you should.” He waved his hand, and a black box appeared in his hand. It was a shabby thing, so badly splintered on one side the battered white wood beneath showed through. He reached one pale hand into the box and withdrew a single woodchip. He showed it to her. An ominous black dot was etched in the center of the white wood.

  Without warning, he stepped forward and pressed the chip into her hand. It was so cold and thin, it was like a flake of ice, and for a moment, she was worried it would freeze her solid.

  “What’s this?” Kim stared at the woodchip in her palm as the shape of the etching upon its surface began to shift and change shapes while never quite settling on any in particular, so in the end, it mostly looked like a writhing blob.

  “It’s the winning ticket,” the man replied. “It proves the darkness is ignorant.”

  “Ignorant of what?” she asked as he reached out and gripped her shoulder with one hand. His touch was strangely comforting.

  “Of your potential.” He grinned. “Everyone always says death is the strongest force in the universe. They say even gods can die. Blah, blah, blah.” He shook his head, and his long silver hair moved about him like a crashing wave. “But I’ve seen gods rebuke death itself. Hell, I’ve seen mortals do it. So how strong can it be? How strong can death really be if it can’t claim everyone? Not very, I’d wager.”

  “Okay?” Kim said. She shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The heat from his hand was spreading throughout her body, reaching down into her bones. “So what’s stronger than death?”

  “That reminds me of a story someone once told me. One morning a conqueror remarked to a long forgotten divinity, ‘A conqueror can conqueror anything he can, but death can’t conquer a conqueror, can he?’” He released her, and a chill swept over her skin. She hugged her arms to her body and waited as the silence between them stretched into an eternity. “And that old god smiled and looked upon the conqueror. ‘A conqueror can conquer anything he can.’”

  “I’m not following,” she said, gripping the token so hard in her hand her knuckles hurt with the effort of it.

  “T
here are four mantles, but one doesn’t quite fit as well as the others.” He held up three fingers. “War brings death. Famine brings death. And death is the third. It is what the other two bring, always and forever.” He held out his other hand. “Then there is conquest which does not always bring death. Sometimes it brings life. Sometimes it defies death. Sometimes the conquest is over death.”

  “So we’re back to the horsemen thing again?” Kim asked, squishing her eyes shut. Despite everything she’d seen and heard over the last couple days, she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. “That can’t possibly be real.”

  “Oh it’s real, my dear Victoria.” His words boomed in her ears, pounding against her brain like the hoof beats of an army. “And unfortunately, you’re the only one that can make everything right.” The chip in her hand pulsed, so cold it nearly burned her.

  “What do you mean?” Kim asked, opening her eyes to see him bend down and pick a posy that had sprung to life as he’d moved. The posy was a dreadful thing, purple in all the wrong places and green in even less befitting places.

  “I mean, my dear, when your friends destroy the world to save it, you will be the only one who can bring us back from the brink, the only one who can conquer death.” He held the flower toward her. “That is always the job of your mantle. To bring us back from the edge.”

  “You mean the world is going to end?” Kim asked, and the words barely squeaked from her lips. If the world ended what would happen to her parents, to her friends, to a million little kids all around the world?

  “Unless you save it.” He tapped her on the forehead with the flower. “But only after your friends destroy everything. They must be allowed to save us first. That’s important.” He took a step onto a staircase that appeared simply so he could move upward. “You, my girl, must be ready to claim your victory, to snatch it back from the jaws of death. But you cannot do this when the time is not right. If you do, it will be like a delicious grape plucked from the vine much too soon. Sour and hard.” He shook his head. “Your conquest will be no good at all to eat, but picked none the less. You do not want that. None of us want that.”

  Kim found herself drawn forward, shuffling awkwardly up the stairs after him. As her feet padded up the crystalline stairs, she forced herself to take a deep breath and willed her heart to slow down. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what was going on, right? Surely this person living in a cavern wasn’t totally insane. Surely her portal had deposited her here for a reason? Surely?

  “Such a pretty doomed thing you are.” He reached the top step and turned. He reached out and caressed Kim’s cheek.

  “I’m not doomed,” Kim’s voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to pull away from him, but found it impossible to do so.

  The man looked at her for a long time, his head cocked to the side as though he had heard something he never thought he would hear. “I know this isn’t all it is cracked up to be, my dear sweet girl, but whispering in my ear won’t change anything at all.” He grinned. “That is all up to you. Only you can save us, but only if you act when the time is right.”

  “How will I know when the time is right?” Kim asked, surprised to realize she believed what the man said. It sounded so impossible, but given everything that had happened, was it really so impossible?

  He took one look at her and smiled. “If my heart could beat for you, it might break my chest.” He touched his breast with one absurdly long finger. “Look where you are. Nothing can be done from here. If you want to do something, you’ll have to leave.”

  Kim’s lips formed into a hard line of angry determination. “So why am I here if I can do nothing?”

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing this whole time,” he replied, his teeth flashing like miniature daggers in the jaws of a piranha. “Figure that out and all will be clear.”

  Ian 01:08

  “Please. Oh please. God, don’t let me die. Don’t let me die. Don’t let me die. Don’t let me die!” Ian cried, his voice a hoarse gasp that seared his throat and ripped him open. He shut his eyes, but the force of the dream was too much, too strong. It forced his eyes closed as the voice spoke into his ears, lulling him back into the nightmare.

  “The ground weeps the widow’s blood for our souls. The rain falls like blood, and in falling, it cleanses in blood. The blood soaks into the earth so nothing can grow…” The voice of the serpent ripped through his thoughts. It felt… barren, desolate, ruined, infertile, useless, worthless, scarred, tormented…

  “No… not again,” Ian whispered, the words barely slipping past his lips as he struggled for consciousness, struggled to ignore the pull of the dream world as he fell back down into it.

  “You’re nothing without me,” the voice cooed like a snake in his ear, leaving a sickly, sweet residue on his skin. “You were nothing before me, but with my help you can be something. Won’t it be nice to matter? For once?”

  Ian looked up slowly. His vision was broken and fragmented, nothing but dull wisps of color flashing in the endless darkness dragging him under. Blood oozed slowly from his sockets, thick little globs of pain all wrapped up in a glistening red shell. It leaked down his face, dripping down his cheeks and pooling on the base of his chin.

  “Every lie you speak,” Ian said, voice cold and empty. “Is drowning me.”

  “The longer you resist, the sweeter it will be when you are mine,” the voice built like a wave that washed up over him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe lest he drown. The color left his face. His mind spun, and in spinning, broke all at once.

  Kim 01:07

  “Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?” Kim’s hands were balled into tight fists. She whirled around, her eyes blinking as she struggled to get used to the light. She was back in the parking lot. Everything around her had vanished so suddenly, it was like she’d imagined the whole thing.

  “You don’t look quite as pathetic as the last time I saw you.” Polyphemus’ voice boomed in her ears. She turned to see the huge cyclops standing there. One huge, bleeding hand gripped Mal by the throat, hoisting his struggling form into the air like he was weightless. She stumbled backward, landing hard on her butt as fear wound itself up inside her. How had the creature defeated Mal? He had the power of Death at his beck and call, and still he had been beaten. What was she supposed to do?

  The woodchip in her hand pulsed, so cold it made her shiver all the way to her soul and she stared at it wide eyed. So her vision had been real, then.

  “Jormungand will be pleased indeed. Two for the price of one.” The cyclops took a step toward her, the asphalt splitting like an eggshell beneath his weight. “You don’t know how much trouble you’ve caused me by escaping.”

  She looked up at him as the man’s words came back to her. She could do something because she was stronger than death.

  “If I were you, I’d put him down.” She gestured to Mal. “You people have been calling me Victoria, telling me I have been given the mantle of conquest.” She smiled, letting her teeth show. “Well, there is no beating conquest. Victory always wins because whenever anything happens, there is victory. I am that victory. When the darkness swallows the light, I am its victory, and when the light revolts, throwing back the darkness, I am there again, still winning.” Kim smacked her palms together and steam rose from her skin as she took a menacing step toward the creature. “You should do as I say.”

  “Okay.” The cyclops flung Malcom straight at her. Without thinking, she stepped to the side. Mal’s body smashed into the guardrail behind her, and the sound of it made her breath catch in her throat. She spun, eyes open wide in shock as Polyphemus leapt at her like a wild animal.

  His crushing weight slammed into her back, but instead of knocking her down, he seemed to slide off of her. She whirled toward him as his fist cleaved through the air, but instead of hurting her, it evaporated into red mist upon impact.

  He screamed, and the sound rippled down her flesh, making her hair stan
d on end. The cyclops staggered backward, clutching his ruined arm with one meaty fist. Bits of blackened flesh flaked off the stump of his hand, drifting through the air on lazy currents.

  Instead of pressing the attack, she ignored him, sprinting toward Mal. He lay in a heap, one arm speared through the bicep by a piece of torn metal. Blood gushed into his eyes from a cut on his forehead faster than she could wipe it away. With a grunt, she jerked him free of the wreckage, and he leaned heavily on her, barely able to stand.

  “Kim…” Malcom sputtered through bloody lips. “How did you come… to me?”

  “I honestly have no idea.” She touched his face gently. “I remember stepping through the portal with Jesse, but instead of winding up with the others, I was alone in a cave with a crazy old man.”

  “Watch out!” Malcom cried, and she turned to see Polyphemus’ huge hammer flashing through the air. Though she never felt the actual impact, her vision went blurry as she bounced across the ground like a rag doll.

  The cyclops’s smile faded from her darkening vision like a Cheshire cat grin. She tried to get up, to fight the creature, but try as she might, she couldn’t get her body to move. The cyclops reached out and seized her by the hair. He lifted her into the air as white hot agony shot through her scalp. Her eyes went wide as she reached out, trying to grip him, but it felt like she was moving in slow motion.

  He flung her at Mal. She crashed into his barely standing body, and they hit the ground in a heap. Polyphemus wrapped his hand around the hilt of his hammer and pointed it at them.

  “Right now, you look a lot like a weakling that came a long time ago. You know what the best part of that was? I learned I could kill God if I wanted it bad enough. Isn’t that something, to kill God?” With that, Polyphemus slammed the weapon into the ground. The wind changed, carrying the gloomy decay of torn flesh and broken bones with it. It swirled around them, ready to consume everything and anything all at once.