Death Marked

by Sloan, Justin

  A low chanting filled the room, growing louder and louder.

  “I know that voice,” Rohan whispered. “It’s Altemus.”

  Altemus stood with two robed men at the altar, the glowing skull in his hand.

  The dagger hung on Altemus’s belt. He chanted, and handed the skull to one of the men. The second man held the skull up into the air. In a flash, Altemus plunged the blade into the man’s heart, then, before the other could react, stabbed him as well. He snatched the skull as it fell toward the ground and then tucked it under his arm. A smile spread across his face as he stood over the gasping men. With a swift kick, he sent their bodies plunging into the hot spring. Then he looked over his shoulder in Rohan’s direction, candlelight glinting off his face.

  “This place certainly took some finding.” Rohan climbed from behind the rock. “It’s over, old man.”

  “Is it?” Altemus asked, anger burning in his eyes.

  A swishing sound came from all directions, and a mighty wind threw Rohan to the ground. When he looked up again, the hot spring was swirling inward with a green glow, much like the Door to Hell had in the desert.

  It was happening again.

  A mighty portal opened in the hot spring, and Altemus held out his hands as spiritual energy flew out of the portal and brightened the cavern.

  “To think that all that time, we could have just grabbed the skull and come here. It would have spared at least two lives.”

  “You can’t keep doing this!” Rohan cried, scrambling to his feet. “Those were men, they might’ve had families!”

  “Their families are not more important than mine,” Altemus said, putting the skull into his knapsack.

  “You can’t do this!” Rohan shouted. “You can’t just kill innocent people!”

  “Casualties of war.”

  “You’re going to hell for what you’ve done,” Corinne said.

  “If it means that I will be able to see my Anne again,” Altemus said, balling his fist. “Then I’ll learn to love the fire.”

  The portal nearby was opening wide now, swirling and casting shots of silver light into the cavern. With nowhere to go, the light was gathering near the top of the cavern. In the reflection of the water, Rohan could see the eyes of thousands of spirits. They moaned, and hands reached out of the pool.

  “Anne?” Altemus asked, searching the faces of the souls. “Anne, where are you?”

  Rohan drew his gun. “Drop the skull and close the portal, or I’ll make sure you’ll never see her. I’ll shoot out your legs and leave you here, stranded.”

  “Put your gun away,” Altemus said with a scoff. “My reunion has already commenced.”

  “Use me,” Corinne whispered.

  Rohan remembered his training. He imagined invisible hands grabbing Corinne, and he imagined her entire body turning into lightning. He threw the lightning at Altemus, and with a flash of blinding, purple light, the old man flew backward.

  The knapsack fell out of Altemus’s arms, and the skull bounced out to roll into the portal.

  Rohan imagined Corinne back at his side, and she returned.

  Altemus looked stunned. "You’ve gained the power of necromancy,” he said.

  “And I’m going to stop you,” Rohan said.

  He had to keep the old man talking. The portal would only be open for so long.

  “A man like you has no chance against a god like me. I will have my Anne!”

  Altemus glanced at the portal, where thousands of hands were groping the air. Then he pointed at Rohan.

  Suddenly, the hands were firing orbs of energy at Rohan and Corinne.

  Rohan dove behind a rock for cover.

  “Whatever your power is, mine is infinitely stronger,” Altemus said. “A simple flinging of the soul won’t stop me." The old man walked into the hot spring as if he were descending a staircase. “Good day, Rohan.”

  Altemus’s head disappeared into the portal, and the hands seized the rock surrounding the hot spring.

  More corpses pulled themselves out, and Altemus’s laughter rung out from the portal.

  “I don’t have the energy to defeat them,” Corinne said.

  “Then we won’t fight,” Rohan said.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Rohan faced several shambling undead. He pulled out his gun and fired at them, and they stumbled back. Then he dashed past them and dove into the portal.

  “Rohan, no!” Corinne shouted, her voice vanishing as he plunged into the swirling lights of the portal.

  Chapter 12: The Afterlife at Last

  Rohan opened his eyes and beheld a brilliant sea of color. Tall grass waved over him. He was lying on his back, his head resting in soft dirt.

  He stood, blinking several times as the assault of color made it difficult for him to focus. An expansive, heavenly meadow stretched in all directions. The grass was green, but shifted colors to red, purple, and blue, glowing as if it were backlit. The sky overhead was a deep shade of saffron. There was no sun in the sky, yet it was the brightest landscape Rohan had ever seen.

  “It’s even more gorgeous than I imagined,” he said out loud, even though no one was around.

  His body felt light. He looked down at himself and saw that he was still human, though his skin had a faint glow to it. He wasn’t sure if it was from this new world, or if it was his spirit.

  He propped himself up on his elbows and tried to orient himself. There was a mountain range in the distance with houses built into the side of the rocks, their windows lit up like yellow squares.

  The mountains were mesmerizing, and he found himself walking toward them, a warm sense of relief washing his worries away.

  This was the place that he had always dreamed about, thought about, and philosophized about with Senna. Those conversations were among the many moments he missed with her. This scene reminded him of one in particular: a cool summer night, when they’d sat on the patio of their apartment and talked about what the afterlife would be like.

  Senna believed in heaven and hell. Rohan wasn’t so sure. He had just read Descartes, and was in the season of life when he questioned everything. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in God—he just didn’t know what he believed. He couldn’t, like Senna, just accept the laws of Christianity. He wanted to know everything. Then, he could make a decision.

  Senna told him he was foolish to try to know everything, because that was impossible. She wasn’t one hundred percent certain about heaven or hell either, but she believed. A leap of faith. She wasn’t mad at him because he wanted to explore, but because he had no faith.

  Being here in the afterlife affirmed that Senna was right, at least to some degree.

  He hadn’t had any faith. Until now.

  Happiness bubbled up inside him, not because of the great abundance of everything that Senna had been right about, but because he had faith in the fact that Senna wasn’t far away. All he had to do was keep walking, and he’d find her. He’d hold her again. He’d tell her she was right (something she always liked to hear), and he’d bring her back.

  “I told you I’d find you,” Rohan said, knowing she couldn’t hear him, but not caring.

  An oak tree was growing in the middle of the meadow, its branches outstretched like something in a storybook. It had a brilliant, fanning canopy, and its leaves rustled in the wind. Rohan reached out and touched the bark—it was unlike anything he had ever touched. It was soft, with memories inside. He could feel the delicate membrane of the memory. The vision of two people holding hands and caressing each other flashed into his mind. He sensed their emotions, and he felt the love between them.

  As he stood, his hand on the tree, Rohan began to experience the emotions of more people, as if these emotions were blowing in the wind, flowing into him. They were strong, and they distracted him from his own feelings and memories.

  But the voices stopped when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned and saw Corinne.

  She wasn’t a ghost. She wa
s in human form, with long black hair, curvy hips, and bright hazel eyes. The spectral glow that he had grown so used to had been lifted, revealing her human self. She smiled at him, but had a worried air.

  “Nice to know what you actually look like,” Rohan said.

  “You made a mistake coming here, Rohan.”

  Anger swelled in his chest. “Mistake? Don’t lecture me about making mistakes when I’m trying to save the world from a maniac!”

  “It’s not that,” Corinne said. “It’s—”

  “I don’t know,” he said, spinning to face the tree again, the onslaught of emotions making him confused. “Maybe I won’t be successful in beating Altemus. But at least I can find Senna.”

  He had just finished his sentence when the light from the sky slowly began to darken. The ground shook.

  Rohan stepped back as a crack in the ground opened up behind him. He stumbled but caught himself, and when he stabilized, he saw that the grass was no longer there. In its place was a field of wavering roots.

  The grass had inverted itself. The sky had turned inside out.

  In the distance, the ground shook as a mudslide roared down the mountains, taking the houses with it.

  The sky filled with a strange light, white and orange, like the inside of an agate marble. It flowed all around, covering the land with orange particles that stuck to everything they touched.

  “What’s going on?” Rohan asked.

  “I’ve never seen this light before,” Corinne said. “Someone must be opening a deeper level of the afterlife. This is just the surface.”

  “There’s only one reason that could be happening,” Rohan said, his determination returning. “Altemus.”

  “And there he is,” Corinne said.

  Altemus was walking away from then, a few yards ahead. With each step, his boots crunched the roots into the ground.

  Rohan and Corinne took off in pursuit, but as they ran, the ground below them began to crumble. Ahead, the roots extended, pushing Altemus farther away as Rohan and Corinne fell back.

  They ran faster as the ground collapsed into nothingness. Rohan looked behind him and saw a void of darkness, and yelled as he scurried forward.

  “Altemus!” he roared.

  But it didn’t matter how fast Rohan ran, the old man remained too far ahead and out of reach, even though Rohan was running and the man continued walking. Just when Rohan got close enough to reach out, the area would reset and carry him farther away.

  The rumbling grew louder, and Rohan couldn’t hear his own shouting.

  Then it all froze as a pillar of light shot out of the ground, consuming Altemus. It vanished, leaving only a pentagram that fizzled and then burned out.

  The ground beneath them sloped down, and Rohan and Corinne slid without control. Roots gave way to darkness, then flowing water that circled around them in a thick, red mist. With a thump, they landed.

  Everything was blurry, then Rohan’s eyes adjusted. He saw they were in the temple from above, or a similar version of it.

  Dead bodies in robes were scattered all over. As Rohan stepped between them, a hand twitched, then another. Soon, dead eyes were flicking open.

  The bodies began to slither toward Rohan, pulling themselves with slimy, rotting arms.

  “What is this?” he asked, his voice quivering.

  “He’s opening the next level….”

  A hand gripped Rohan’s arm, but Corinne pulled it away and ushered Rohan forward.

  Thicker and thicker the bodies became, until hundreds of bodies surrounded them, blocking their path and trapping them in their midst.

  They heard Altemus’s voice, laughing. The laughter grew louder and louder, mingling with the voices of the bodies. The hands pulled at Rohan’s clothes, one ripping his shirt at the sleeve.

  “They’re being controlled by Altemus,” Corinne said, pushing another hand away.

  One of the body’s faces started to glow, and when it opened its mouth, Altemus’s voice said, “You’ll regret coming here.”

  “Run!” Corinne screamed. “Follow Altemus's voice!”

  Instinct took over. Rohan grabbed Corinne’s hand in his, warmth shooting through his limbs, and he spiritually latched himself to the body Altemus had chosen to speak through. He picked up the body and slammed it to the ground, breaking its neck.

  “No!” Altemus screamed, pulling back in retreat and leaving the body behind. His soul descended downward through the floor.

  Rohan pounded at the ground as it closed up behind Altemus. He clawed at it, calling out, “Altemus! Altemus!”

  He closed his eyes again, focusing on the sound of Altemus’s voice and on the image of him descending.

  The ground gave way and a gray mist burst forth, surrounding Rohan and pushing the spirits away.

  Chapter 13: Strafford

  Rohan and Corinne found themselves in a void of shifting shades of gray and black. The world shimmered, and it looked different and darker compared to the brilliant world they had just come from.

  “Where are we?” Rohan asked.

  Corinne shook her head.

  A man took shape in front of Rohan. He was a middle-aged man in a blue Oxford shirt, with sallow skin, a goatee, and soft, gray eyes. Though he looked human, there was no mistaking that he was dead.

  “Who are you?” Rohan asked.

  “Who indeed...” The man floated in front of Rohan for a moment, assessing him. Finally, running his fingers along his chin, he said, “Call me Strafford.”

  “Where are we?” Corinne asked.

  “The afterlife.”

  “But this… it’s not what I saw when I first arrived,” Rohan said. “It’s…?”

  “Different, yes,” Strafford said.

  They floated downward. Gray earth materialized below them. Rohan's feet touched the ground and he felt a wave of relief.

  “It’s time for me to ask the questions,” Strafford said.

  Corinne whispered, “Do we trust him?”

  “This isn’t the world of the living,” Strafford said. “Your thoughts and your words are not private.”

  The man was strange, but something about him put Rohan at ease. He gave Corinne a subtle nod.

  “Ah, a man that knows how to discern friends from enemies. That’s rare these days. But I would expect no less from an otherworlder, I suppose. So my question to you, otherworlder, is—why are you here?”

  “We came to stop someone.”

  “I tried to warn you that night, in the desert. I told you to turn back then, but you didn’t listen.”

  The spirit from his dream, in the tents of Turkmenistan. It all came back now, that same gray mist.

  “So that was you,” Rohan said. “Why didn’t you stop Altemus?”

  “Ah, yes. Altemus,” Strafford said, his eyes turning cold.

  “You know him?”

  “Not as a friend.”

  “Then you can help me.”

  “If you mean to stop him, then we have the same goal. But I fear you’re off to a bad start.”

  Strafford walked ahead and motioned for Rohan and Corinne to follow.

  The gray world morphed into a dark, cloudy landscape that reminded Rohan of a stormy moor. Shapes like castles loomed in the shadowy distance. The bodies of men and women appeared in the darkness, blooming from the mist and reaching for Rohan, but unable to touch him.

  The air grew thick as they walked up a staircase that appeared out of nowhere.

  The strange mist was accentuated by streams of water that flowed through the air. Rohan tried to touch a nearby stream, but it shrieked as if alive and then pulled back. Corinne moved forward and shook her head, warning him to stop.

  “Be careful,” Strafford said. “This place does not know how to react to an otherworlder in its midst.”

  They walked toward a glowing ball of light at the top of the stairs. Rohan looked at Corinne. She walked ahead, not seeming nervous, so he mustered the strength to keep going.

&nb
sp; “So what’s your story, Strafford?” Rohan asked.

  “I was murdered.” He paused, letting it sink in. “Altemus murdered me.”

  Rohan stopped and stared at Strafford. How many lives had Altemus destroyed?

  “How long has he been at this?” Corinne asked, sensing the question lingering just out of Rohan’s reach.

  “Long enough to be proficient in the dark arts.” He stared at Rohan, weighing him. “By the time he killed your fiancée, he was too powerful to be stopped.”

  “No, she… she took her own life.” Anger boiled up inside of Rohan, almost as strong as the confusion. Even as he had said it, though, he realized it couldn’t be true. Maybe he’d always known it, and that was the reason he couldn’t move on. “Tell me.”

  Strafford considered him for a moment, then nodded. “I was a doctor at the psychiatric hospital. Altemus and I were colleagues. I didn’t treat Senna, but we died around the same time. We were Altemus’s sacrifices. I believed his philosophy of trying to learn more about the afterlife. We both had lost a spouse. We were both grieving. I was what you might call a good Wiccan. I didn’t realize his evil convictions until the knife was in my gut.”

  “And Senna?” Rohan asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. He noticed Corinne’s look of pity, but ignored it as he said, “They told me it was suicide.”

  “I suppose they would tell you that,” Strafford replied. “Considering that Altemus would have had the final say on what they told you.”

  “I….” He wanted to argue this, but knew there was no point. Instead, he asked, “How do you know this?”

  “He couldn’t kill her outright, so he had to give her an overdose. When she passed, that’s when I began the ritual, and that’s when Altemus killed me.”

  Rohan remembered Senna’s room after she died. It had been immaculate—no blood on the floor, no stench of death.

  “He moved me, Rohan,” Strafford said. “You would never have suspected foul play.”

  Rohan nodded. “But Altemus didn’t have the skull when he killed you.”

  “He didn’t think he needed it,” Strafford said. “There are many myths on how to open the portal to the afterlife, you know. As many as there are countries. Altemus and I were practicing the ritual when he killed me. It didn't work, you see. So he shifted his focus to the Russian ritual. If that hadn’t worked, I’m sure he probably had at least a hundred other rituals he would have resorted to, and he would have duped another unsuspecting believer into joining him. But the skull he found is not enough. He needs the Scepter of O’lin, the scepter of the dead.”