Death Marked

by Sloan, Justin

  Corinne stood next to him, eyes wide at the stalactites hanging like spears about to fall and pierce them at any moment. The scent of sulfur was strong. When Rohan rubbed his eyes, he felt the sweat dripping down his cheeks. Heat filled his lungs with every breath.

  “Hell,” Corinne said. “I’ve only ever heard rumors of this place. I’ve never been below the first layer of the afterlife.”

  “The quicker we can get out of here,” he said, “the better.”

  Corinne looked at him, her expression full of worry. “If he’s down here, going deeper, there can only be one reason.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s like the old man said, he’s going after the Scepter of O’lin. If he gets it…. Let’s just say we don’t have much time.”

  Rohan stood with a groan, twisting to crack his back and rotate his neck. Falling through the afterlife was painful.

  They followed a winding path downward through the cavern, weaving around mounds of red earth. A skittering sound echoed off the rocks, and Rohan was appalled to see movement along the distant cave walls.

  “What could it be?” he asked.

  Corinne simply shivered in reply.

  They kept going, moving deeper and deeper into the afterlife, but the farther they went, the more Corinne seemed to fade. At one point, she even flickered out of sight for a moment before returning with a heavy grunt of pain.

  “This isn’t good,” she said. “I’d hoped to accompany you the whole way…”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know, exactly.” She pushed forward, but with clear difficulty. “It hurts, being down here, but I’m remembering… remembering life.”

  “The good parts, I hope.”

  “It was like trying to grasp at shadows before. But now… I remember my son, and the way his brow would furrow when he was sad or confused, the sound of his laugh when I’d pick him up in my arms… and the dread at losing him when….” She stopped talking, and they walked in silence for a while.

  They paused at a steep decline, looking for another way down. The footing beneath had turned to loose stones, black as coal and glimmering in the red light like a river of blood and darkness. But this was the only way, so they turned to face the rock and carefully started making their way down.

  Rohan’s foot found a ledge, just as Corrine exclaimed with excitement.

  “A way into the rock face,” she said. “A tunnel! And look!” She motioned to the ground, but Rohan saw nothing.

  “What?”

  She gave him a glance, then nodded. “Maybe if I….” She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt a surge of energy wash over him. When he looked at the ground again, he saw what she had seen—silver footprints, glowing slightly.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would Altemus leave a trail behind?”

  “He’s not doing it on purpose,” she said. “But he doesn’t fit into this world, and it shows.”

  With a glance behind him, Rohan saw that his own trail was glowing faintly. Turning with newfound determination, he made his way into the tunnel.

  They went deeper and deeper, and soon the only light was the soft, silvery glow of the footprints. At one point, the passage narrowed, forcing them onto hands and knees. When they emerged onto the ruins of a stone bridge, Rohan let out a deep breath.

  “Not a fan of tight spaces?” Corinne asked.

  “Sometimes they’re fine. But not when it’s in the afterlife.”

  “Fair enough.” She stood with hands on her hips, looking out over the side of the bridge.

  Rohan joined her and whistled softly. Below them was a river of gold mixed with red and black slivers.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I think it’s the spirits, when they first arrive.” She motioned toward a tributary in the distance, where indeed the gold waves went one direction, and the red and black waves another.

  “So, are they headed to…?”

  “You mean is there a God? All that?” Corinne shrugged, continuing along the bridge. “Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is what I’ve seen here.” At the far end stood two large, gold doors, barely visible in the rock wall.

  Rohan couldn’t stop staring at the confluence of souls. “But where do they go? Is it just a holding place, like purgatory?”

  Corinne started to answer, then faltered in her step. “Something’s holding me back. Can you continue?”

  He took a step past her, meeting no resistance.

  She sighed, her expression full of worry.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “You may have to go on alone from here.”

  “If I get lost, I might wander the afterlife forever. It’s not like I have a map.”

  “That’s a valid worry,” she said, concern in her eyes as she took in the doors. “But with your powers, you may have a chance.”

  “If I don’t succeed, Altemus destroys our world, I never see Senna, and all of this was for nothing.”

  “Exactly.”

  He looked into her eyes, seeing how she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “You know something you’re not telling me.”

  Her eyes darted away, then met his. After a moment, she nodded. “Not so much know, as suspect. Rumors, really.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “The spirits in the afterlife have spoken of a king of the undead—the Lich King, I’ve heard him called. I’ve never seen him, only felt his presence at times. The only true thing I know is that he wields the scepter of the damned, and it has the power to restore us to the living.”

  “If Altemus is down here, that’s what he’s after.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you think that may be where those doors lead?”

  She nodded.

  For a moment he stared, debating his next move. But he knew he had to go forward. Whatever terror lay past those doors, he’d have to face it if he meant to stop Altemus.

  He almost laughed at the thought—how had he ended up here? He’d played with moral lines in the hope of seeing his fiancée once again, but now he had to save the world from an evil necromancer.

  “If we must part ways here, it means I may be able to go find my family again,” Corinne said.

  “Good luck.”

  He held out a hand for her to shake, but she took him in an embrace and told him to be careful.

  “Rohan, I’m rooting for you,” Corinne said. “And for what it’s worth, I hope you find Senna, too.”

  “Thanks. And let’s not let this be the last time we see each other.”

  Corinne gave him a wry smile, then waved as she faded away.

  She was gone.

  He was on his own.

  No safety net now.

  He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the journey ahead. No telling what he’d see.

  Rohan moved for the door, eyes fixed on the river of lights below. The spirits there would be weapons for Altemus in the next battle, but not if Rohan could do anything to stop it.

  He reached the doors and found one propped open just enough for a man to fit. A roar like a waterfall came from the darkness beyond, but Rohan gathered his nerve and slid through.

  Chapter 16: The Lich King

  At first, Rohan could see only darkness that slowly gave way to a green glow as he inched forward. Tiny balls of green light drifted toward him, like jellyfish pulsing through the air.

  He could see a floor below him, and he walked ahead carefully, peering into the darkness beyond the hovering balls of light.

  After a few steps, he came to a halt. The green lights pulsed into the ground, where the floor dropped off just ahead. The light gathered at the darkness's edge and flowed downward like a massive waterfall. It reminded him of Niagara Falls—luminescent and majestic.

  “How do I…?” he started, almost forgetting Corinne was no longer with him.

  He didn't even know what was on the other side.

  He closed his eyes, mind made up.
<
br />   Most of his life, he hadn’t believed in a higher being. What he did believe in was faith.

  He’d always had faith in Senna. Faith she’d return to him, or that he’d find her.

  Now it was time to test that faith.

  The green lights surged around him as he ran and leaped into the darkness. The lights twisted and turned with him along the fall, flashing into momentary images. First he saw Senna’s face, her hand reaching for him; but then she burst into a skull, eyeless, mouth open wide and ready to consume him.

  He twisted, trying to escape, but behind him a thousand spirits spawned out of the shadows and reached for him.

  Maybe he could think the spirits away.

  He closed his eyes, trying to remember his mother’s garden growing up, the days he spent on the swing with his father pushing him.

  For a moment, the visualization technique worked, and then the garden crumbled. A demon rose from the rubble. It was red, with horns that curved out from its temples and broken, yellow teeth. It held everyone Rohan had ever loved in its hands, and they were screaming.

  There was his mother, her kind eyes, scrunched up in pain. His father bent over in agony, and his sister…. But wait, his sister wasn’t down here, she was alive. Whatever this was, his own terrors were being projected back at him. It wasn’t real.

  Rohan screamed, trying to fight, to turn away and leave it behind. But the demon reached for him, laughing.

  “No more!” he shouted, and pushed away with all his energy.

  The demon dissipated and the world went white.

  The green lights returned. One by one, they exploded until the air was filled with green and white light. He touched down on a rocky surface and fell to his knees.

  He’d have to thank his sister when he saw her next. Thank her for being alive and for serving as the lifeboat for his sanity. Of course, he had to survive this place if he ever hoped to see her again.

  With a grunt, he turned to see where he was. A black lake spread out before him, and in the middle of the lake, a figure of a man was floating on the water, vanishing into a dense fog.

  “Altemus,” Rohan said in barely a whisper.

  His muscles ached as he willed them to move, his bones cracking as he forced himself into a sitting position. After everything he’d gone through to get here, he refused to give in to the limitations of his body.

  Remembering the spirits, he focused on the fog and pulled at it. It surged into him, and he could breathe again. He absorbed the fog, and then the energy of the rock face beneath him. With each surge of energy, his power grew.

  He climbed to his feet and held out his hands. The energy coursed through his limbs like a fierce fire. It grew and grew, until a thousand tiny voices appeared at once and shouted, “Enough!”

  Spirits flickered all around him, silvery mists, faces barely visible, staring at him with their fierce eyes. Their mouths didn't move, but their voices sounded in his head as they said, “What would you have of us?”

  “Carry me across,” he said.

  They bowed their heads and surged into the waters of the lake, forming a bridge of mist. He felt soft hands behind him, pushing him across the bridge.

  Soon, the figure he’d seen wasn’t far ahead. As Rohan gained, he saw that it was indeed Altemus—the old man was cursing as he sprinted down a long path, barely visible in the mist, and Anne was close behind him.

  A fireball hurtled at Rohan, exploding near his head. He ducked as another one shot past him.

  Ahead, Altemus absorbed a spirit from the air, turned it into a fireball, and flung it at him, but he missed.

  The mist cleared and a fortress appeared, in ruins. Dead vines hung down the side of the building, and gargoyle statues glared down at them from the battlements.

  At its entrance, Altemus ran up the stone steps and pulled Anne with him. He paused to shoot a wall of flames back at Rohan, but Rohan pulled at his bridge of spirits and used them to propel himself over the flames. He landed at the base of the cracked steps.

  Altemus laughed and pushed open the tall, rotting doors.

  “You won’t escape this!” Rohan shouted after him.

  Altemus didn’t respond.

  A great creaking sound came from above, and Rohan looked up to see that the gargoyle statues had turned to look at him. They grinned at him with their hooked beaks, ready to flap their stone wings and descend on him with their talons.

  With a nervous gulp, he followed Altemus into the darkness.

  The first step in the fortress sent a chill up his legs and into his body. For a moment, he wondered if he had stepped in water. Rohan held out his hand and summoned spirits, but none came.

  It had to be a spell. A magic barrier that kept him from being able to summon. And if that was true, maybe it meant that Altemus wouldn’t be able to use magic, either.

  Rohan called the old man, but no response came. A jittery feeling washed over him, and something told him that silence was best in this place.

  Dark passageways trailed into deeper darkness, and the dank smell of the place reminded him of dead, rotting bodies. Somewhere, water dripped slowly and steadily, the sound reverberating off of cold walls.

  A shiver rippled through Rohan’s body, but he pushed forward into the fortress.

  At a creaking sound, he jumped out of the way just in time as a chandelier crashed onto the floor.

  Altemus’s laughter echoed out of the darkness, then disappeared.

  Instinct drove Rohan to the nearest wall. He made his way through the darkness with one hand against the wall and the other reaching out into the shadows. Venturing deeper and deeper down the hallway, the shadows enveloped him. A thumping sounded a hundred feet ahead, like a distant heartbeat. The smell of rotting flesh grew thicker, and he resisted the urge to hold his nose.

  Finally, Rohan passed through a great hall with a vaulted ceiling, where shapes lurked in the dark. And now, he saw where the smell was coming from.

  Men. Women. They looked like humans, but they were not. Their glowing, red and green eyes stared at him suspiciously as they shambled aimlessly. As Rohan passed them, he cringed to see that their pale skin—what little skin they had—hung over their bones like clothes draped over the back of a chair.

  The beings let out low, quiet groans, but did not touch Rohan. They only stared as he walked by.

  Rohan reached a double door at the end of the hallway and hesitated. The evil souls he was used to would have tried to stop him. They would have grabbed him and tried to rip him apart.

  But these shapes only lingered, staring at him to see what he would do.

  “You will fail,” a voice said from the group.

  An especially large being in a cloak appeared from the darkness. Its hood was drawn over its face, and its red eyes flashed like beacons.

  “What do you mean?” Rohan asked.

  “You have come to challenge me for my scepter, and you will fail,” the figure said. It lifted the hood just enough to reveal a skeleton’s face with sagging green flesh clinging to it. “You will be my slave, just like all the others who came before you.”

  “So you are the—”

  “The Lich King, yes,” the Lich King said. “And these are my necromancers, sworn to my service for all time, as you will be.”

  Suddenly, all the corpse-like creatures put their hands on their heads and wailed. They filled the hall with their cries, and Rohan put his hands to his ears.

  The Lich King stepped toward Rohan, eyes wide with a burning fury. “You lied!”

  “What?” Rohan asked, looking around frantically.

  “You thought to distract us while the other human stole our prize?” The Lich King’s eyes flared with a flame that burned hot even from where Rohan stood. “Destroy him!”

  The necromancers surged forward.

  “Wait,” Rohan said, hands up in defense. “If you’re talking about Altemus, you and I are on the same side. I’m here to stop him, and I’m not here to take any
thing from you!”

  The Lich King gestured, and the necromancers came to a stop, their clawed hands inches from Rohan’s face.

  “If you’re lying, you’ll taste my wrath,” the Lich King said. “Then you’ll wish I’d simply let the spirits have you.”

  He rose into the air and disappeared through the door with a flash of red light, not bothering to open it.

  Rohan opened the door and ran into a narrow chamber, where he found the Lich King standing on an empty dais. The wraith raged, cursing as steam rose from his hands. Rohan waited silently until the fit of anger died to a low murmur.

  The Lich King spun on him, allowing the hood to fall back more fully. Rohan gasped when he saw the being’s skull. It was covered with the same markings as the skull that he’d helped Altemus steal from the temple in the mountains.

  “The Scepter of O’lin,” the Lich King said. “It was never meant to leave this room. If it’s not returned, you are doomed. We are all doomed!”

  Before Rohan could ask any more, the being surged toward him, a crackling fire rising from his right fist, sparks of lightning from his left. With no powers of his own to call on, Rohan ran. He ducked behind a marble pillar as the first shot of lightning came at him, cutting the pillar in half.

  He ran back into the hall. The necromancer corpses were there, waiting with hunger in their now fiery eyes. Their hands glowed with lightning and they all reached for him.

  “Stop!” Rohan yelled. “I didn’t take the scepter. I’m after the one who did!”

  A blast of dark energy knocked Rohan into the wall. His head hit the stone, and he rolled across the floor. As he pulled himself up, the ground shook, and a stone fell from the ceiling to shatter next to him.

  CRASH!

  Another stone fell. Another, then another. The ground rumbled, long and powerfully.

  The fortress was collapsing.

  Even the necromancers were taken off guard, looking around with wild confusion.

  Rohan seized his chance and dashed through the crowd, toward an opening—a side door. He could see the gray mist outside.

  “Return our scepter!” the Lich King cried. The king flew over him and rose through the ceiling of the fortress.