by N M Thorn
In a split-second, all hell broke loose. The demons charged all at once. Aidan stepped forward and met their attack with a mighty blast of his godly power. The blinding white light rushed forward, devouring the demons possessing the human bodies, evaporating their hosts and their demonic essence in place. But the pure-blood demons withstood the attack. Their furious battle cry rose as they charged at Aidan and Mrak Delar.
Yaroslav turned to Gunz and moved forward into a frontal attack with his katana at his shoulder. Gunz sprung to his feet, manifesting his sword just in time to deflect Yaroslav’s attack. He connected with the elemental Fire, powering his way through the resistance of the gray stones magic. Now, using his Fire Salamander’s senses, he could detect Yaroslav’s movement, despite his vampire’s speed. And as fast as the vampire moved, Gunz was able to avoid his every attack.
“Yaroslav, wake up!” he yelled, stepping aside to avoid his next strike. “Slavik, stop!”
There was no way of reasoning with him. His dead-empty eyes set on Gunz, Yaroslav moved with one deadly purpose – to destroy the Fire Salamander.
“Ignius!” shouted Gunz raising a smoldering circle of fire around Yaroslav and turned around, searching the lab for Mrak Delar.
Between the dark swirling smoke of the demons and blinding brilliance of Aidan’s godly power-strikes, it was hard to find him. Finally, he spotted the Ancient Master. He was standing not far from Aidan with his black sword in his hands.
Gunz sent a small amount of his power energy toward him to attract his attention. Mrak Delar snapped around, a silent question in his eyes, swirling with the colors of power.
“Master, can you break the necromancer’s control over Yaroslav?” yelled Gunz.
“Yes, but—,” started to say Mrak Delar, but was interrupted by Aidan.
The god of the Otherworld grabbed three arrows from his quiver and positioned them on his bow. “Mrak, help Gunz!” he yelled over the noise of the howling demons. “I’ll be fine here. Almost done anyway!”
He infused the arrows with his power and let them fly. Blazing with the white light, the arrows cut through the suffocating smoke of the demonic energy, finding their targets. Three more demons fell on the floor, slowly disintegrating, leaving a puddle of disgusting goo behind.
Mrak Delar rushed back to Gunz and halted before the flaming circle. Within the circle, Yaroslav was pouncing like a wild tiger in a cage. He couldn’t go through the fire without killing himself, yet the necromancer’s magic was demanding that he do it and kill his target.
“Mrak,” yelled Gunz into Mrak Delar’s ear, “we need to get Yaroslav back to normal! He is the only one who can kill Novak. He’s the trigger, and Novak knows it.”
“Keep his attention on you,” said Mrak Delar and circled around the fire.
“Slavik,” yelled Gunz, “come get me, dimwit!” He walked through the fire and stopped at the edge, waving his hand at the vampire.
Yaroslav snarled, exposing his blade-like fangs but didn’t get a chance for another attack. Mrak Delar’s arm wrapped around his neck, squeezing it. Applying his magic and his physical strength, the Master of Power brought the vampire down to his knees and started to chant softly. Yaroslav groaned, dropping his katana and leaned back powerlessly. Mrak Delar kept chanting until Yaroslav passed out. The Master of Power gently lowered him on the floor and waved his hand, ordering the fire to cease.
“He is clean,” said Mrak Delar, looking up at Gunz. “Now what?”
“Now we’re going to kill Novak—”
A loud scream interrupted him. The howl of anguish mixed with horror was rising over the noise of Aidan finishing up the remaining demons. Gunz spun around and fear locked him in place, breathless. Angel was screaming, but it wasn’t only the pain that forced this terrible sound out of him. With his eyes fixed on Novak, he appeared to be scared and furious and desperate at the same time.
The necromancer stood next to Angel, a carnivorous smirk distorting his face that hardly looked human. His eyes, the eyes of a serpent, shone with a malevolent gleam and large fangs that would put Yaroslav’s vampire fangs to shame, protruded from his mouth.
He was holding his hand out, parallel to the ground, and a silvery orb made of pure essence of death hovered an inch above his opened palm. Novak touched the orb, muttering something under his breath and set it on fire. But it wasn’t a regular fire. The black flames rose ominously over the orb.
Gunz stared at the black fire knowing perfectly well what it meant for him. Mrak Delar put his hand on his shoulder and he flinched, tearing his eyes off the magical flames that were his imminent death. Aidan, finally done with the demons, stepped between Gunz and Novak, shielding him with his body.
“Do not move, Gunz,” Aidan said, holding his arm back.
“But he has to,” hissed Novak mockingly, his disturbing smile getting wider. “The Black Flames fueled by the essence of death. Master Mrak Delar, I’ve heard you were one of the most knowledgeable Masters of Power in the history of Kendral. Please enlighten your friends on the meaning of it.”
Mrak Delar visibly shuddered, throwing a haunted gaze at Gunz. “The Black Fire sustained by the essence of death and touched by a Fire Salamander,” said Mrak Delar, his voice thick and hoarse, “creates the Living-Dead Flame – the most powerful magical weapon, capable of destroying anything it touches, mundane or magical, tangible or immaterial, dead or alive.”
“Very good, my dear partner,” jeered Novak, strolling toward them. He halted a step away from Aidan and smirked. “Now, Master, I have a feeling, your young friend thinks he has a choice in the matter. Why don’t you explain to him and all of us here, why he has no choice but to touch the Black Fire, sacrificing his young life.”
Mrak Delar bowed his head and sighed. “If a Fire Salamander doesn’t complete the process, the burning orb will continue growing, expending exponentially and consuming everything in its way until…” His voice faded into silence and he turned to Gunz, true tears glistening in his black eyes. “I’m sorry, Gunz…”
“No!” shouted Aidan. “We’ll find some other—”
Gunz put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Aidan. I don’t think there is any other way,” he said quietly. “You know how it is. The needs of many… the greater good… and so forth and so on.”
“The greater good?” echoed Aidan, his eyes shifting to Mrak Delar. “Every life has a meaning… every life counts… The lives of those we love even more so.”
Gunz walked around Aidan and approached Novak. The Black Flames were crackling over the silvery orb. Gunz moved his hand over the fire without touching it. The flames stretched up, trying to lick his skin and he pulled his hand away. It was his death… What happens when a Fire Salamander dies? Where will he end up? In which realm of Death? He glanced up over Novak’s shoulder, looking for Angel and froze, astounded.
Angel was gone. The broken chains were lying on the floor and the rune that was holding him in place had been partially destroyed. Gunz spun around, searching the lab, but he was nowhere to be found. Novak also twirled around, and his mouth dropped open. He looked from left to right, fear twisting his face.
“Who?” mumbled Novak, the hand that was supporting the deadly orb trembled. “How? None of you could… You were all busy…”
Abruptly, a muscled arm wrapped around Novak’s neck, squeezing him in a deadly choke. “You forgot about me, master,” growled Theron. “I’m not going to wait for you to deal with me later. I am going to deal with you now. On my terms.”
Novak wheezed something incoherent as Theron started to transform, his figure growing taller and burlier. A cold breeze rushed through the lab, extinguishing every single candle and only the Black Fire kept burning, providing neither heat nor light. The silence became absolute and it seemed like the darkness swallowed every sound.
Slowly and soundlessly, Angel descended from the ceiling, the magic of Death surrounding him with a blackness darker than the
darkness of the room. He glided on the floor and walked toward Novak. His long black hair and his torn shirt were flowing as if in the wind, even though the air was absolutely still.
Novak twitched, but couldn’t get away from the bearhug of the weretiger. Angel carefully took the flaming orb, supporting it in the palm of his hand, just the way Novak had been doing just a moment ago.
“Gunz, please step away,” he whispered and in the silence of the room his hushed whisper sounded louder than any shouting would and scarier than an explosion. “It is not your time to die yet, young Salamander.”
His other hand slid over the orb, his long fingers moving slowly, drawing complicated shapes. As his fingers moved, a small dark portal opened up under his hand. He brought his hands together, pushing the orb through the portal and when he lowered his hands, the orb and the Black Fire were gone.
Angel turned his deadly gaze at Novak, his face darkened by rage. Novak met his eyes with a cold smirk.
“You can’t kill me, Death. You no longer have a say so over my destiny,” he hissed, pushing against Theron’s hold. He laughed maniacally, his serpent eyes glowing brighter.
“You’re right – he can’t… But I can…”
Gunz heard Yaroslav’s voice and shuddered at how deadly the vampire sounded. He glanced at him over his shoulder and saw Yaroslav levitating a few inches above the floor. In his right hand, he was holding the old revolver, aiming it at Novak.
“Prince Yaroslav Potemkin,” hissed Novak, venom dripping down his chin.
“Grigory Rasputin. I pray this time the Dark Nav will keep your soul from rising,” responded Yaroslav coldly and slowly pressed the trigger.
Chapter 32
~ Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz ~
The sound of the gunshot tore the silence to shreds. Time slowed down, and Gunz held his breath, following the fiery trail the enchanted bullet was leaving in the air. The bullet reached its target and burned through Rasputin’s skull right between his eyebrows.
Time stopped.
Just for a heartbeat, everything stilled.
The deafening silence was louder than the gunshot.
Then an ear-piercing shriek broke through the silence, restarting the flow of time. The necromancer screamed, the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls, repeating over and over. As the bullet exited the back of his head, he pressed his hands to his forehead and dropped to his knees, leaning backward. His snake-like eyes bulged, threatening to explode out of his skull, blood streaming from his ears, nose and eyes.
For a moment, Gunz thought Rasputin’s head was going to blow up, but it didn’t happen. Slowly, his body started to melt away, dripping down into a disgusting puddle of slime. In a manner, it reminded him of the way pureblood demons disintegrated when they were killed in this world.
No one said a word, watching with horror the slow demise of George Novak. Yaroslav landed on the floor. Still holding the revolver in his hand, he stared at his disintegrating enemy with so much loathing that if Chernobog’s curse didn’t kill him, the vampire would do it with his own hands.
A few minutes later, it was all over. George Novak was no more, just a puddle of gunk left on the floor. The dark spirit of Grigory Rasputin levitated ominously above the revolting remains of his body.
“Gunz, summon Chernobog. Now!” barked Yaroslav, his whole body locked by rage.
“Allow me,” whispered Angel and his eerie whisper was louder and scarier than Yaroslav’s shouting.
He expanded his arms wide, throwing his head back. The wind picked up inside the lab, fanning Angel’s black hair around his face. The dark vortex of a portal opened up in front of him. Angel threw one look at Rasputin and the evil spirit visibly shrunk under his deadly stare.
Angel touched the blackness of the portal, slowly drawing an invisible shape with his long fingers and whispered, “Chernobog… I summon thee…”
The whole building shook like during an earthquake. The vortex of the portal swirled faster, and the Slavic god of Destruction materialized in the room accompanied by Voron. He surveyed the room, his heavy dark eyes stopping on each person present and waved his hand, igniting every single candle at once.
Without saying a word, the Lord of the Dark Nav approached the spirit of Rasputin. The spirit wailed, a chilling horrifying sound escaping the gaping hole of its mouth. Its outline got blurry and he shimmered in and out of focus.
“Nothing that’s dead should be in the realm of the living,” said Chernobog, glowering at the malignant spirit. The spirit shrieked, struggling to get away, but he couldn’t move.
Chernobog opened his hand and a wooden box materialized in his palm in a puff of dark smoke. It was made out of dark oak and sealed with strips of iron. The ancient god touched the box and it slowly opened up. As it gradually sucked the spirit inside, the box lit up with the magical energy of the Dark Nav.
Chernobog closed the box and sealed it. He turned to Yaroslav and nodded to him. “For now, it’s over, Yaroslav Potemkin,” he said with a sigh. “But for as long as you walk the realm of the living, you are the trigger of the curse I placed on Rasputin’s soul. It’ll never change.”
“I understand, my lord, and I’ll keep it in mind,” replied the vampire coldly, “but I pray, I will never have to come face to face with Grigory Rasputin again.”
The god of Destruction smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little. “Fire Salamander,” he said turning to Gunz. “Did you find out what Rasputin’s purpose was? Why did my wife release him from the Dark Nav and infuse him with the energy of Chaos?”
“No, my lord,” Gunz said quietly, bowing his head. “The only thing I know is that he was trying to conjure the Living-Dead Flame. But why and how he was planning to use it, I don’t know.”
Chernobog frowned and turned to Mrak Delar. Under his reproachful stare, the Master of Power shrunk. “You failed, Ancient Master,” said Chernobog. While his voice was heavy, he didn’t sound angry. Just tired. “You had one mission and you failed it.”
“I did, my lord,” replied Mrak Delar without meeting the ancient deity’s eyes. “There are no excuses for that, and I accept the consequences of my failure.”
Aidan stepped in, raising his hand. “That’s not true,” he said calmly. “Mrak Delar didn’t fail his mission, but he couldn’t proceed any further. It was too risky. Rasputin didn’t trust him entirely and to allow this dangerous maniac to conjure the Living-Dead Flame was too dangerous.”
Chernobog nodded. “Be that as it may, Aodh mac Lir, the Ancient Master failed his mission. I’m not here to judge him or reprimand him in any way. Don’t get me wrong, while I understand his reasons, now we are all going to pay the consequences of his failure and they will be severe.
“Rasputin wasn’t the only dark soul that was released that night from the Dark Nav. I believe they were all infused with the energy of Chaos and each of them had their own purpose. We had one piece of this puzzle in our hands and we failed to discover its purpose… What a shame.”
“Maybe we failed but not entirely,” said Gunz. “We know he was planning to conjure the Living-Dead Flame. We just need to puzzle out what he planned to do with it.”
Both Chernobog and Voron exchanged a quick look and laughed.
“That can take a while,” said Voron, patting Gunz on his shoulder. “You can destroy anything with this weapon. I mean – anything at all. No exception.”
“Let me ask,” mused Gunz. “He could rip the veil with it. Couldn’t he?”
“Yes,” replied Voron.
“From what Mrak Delar explained, the Living-Dead Flame can destroy even non-tangible things, like ancient curses. Am I right?”
“Yes,” replied Voron and swallowed hard as understanding transformed his expression.
The silence became eerie. Gunz observed everyone in the room. It seemed everyone had the same horrifying thought on their mind.
“Perhaps, I should talk to Veles about keeping an eye on Mount Karasova,” said Cher
nobog, shaking his head.
“Sounds like a good idea,” agreed Gunz quietly.
“It’s time for me to go. I can’t leave the Dark Nav unattended for long,” said Chernobog with a light bow. “If something new comes up, do let me know.”
He took Voron’s elbow and both went through the portal. As soon as they were gone, Angel closed it and turned to Mrak Delar. The Ancient Master withheld his furious gaze, but his body stiffened.
“It’s time we had a little chat, backstabber,” hissed Angel.
Slowly covering the distance between them, he stopped in front of the Master of Power and raised his hand. A dark energy of death swirled in his open palm, blue electrical discharges flashing within it. Mrak Delar’s eyes darted to Angel’s hand and he smirked mirthlessly.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he kneeled before Death. “Do it,” he said calmly, exposing his chest.
“No!” shouted Aidan, grabbing Angel’s arm. “No, Angel. You know it’s not his time. And there is a reason for that.”
“There had better be,” hissed Angel, lowering his hand, dissolving the energy of his magic.
“I’ll tell you all the details when we get back home,” promised Aidan, pulling the Master of Power up, back to his feet. “For now, you all need to know one thing – Mrak Delar never betrayed any of us.”
“It had better be a good explanation,” muttered Angel, irritation breaking through in his voice. He extended his hand toward the table and his trench coat flew to his hand. He put it on and vanished from the room.
Gunz looked at Mrak Delar, pain ripping his soul apart. The Master of Power caught his gaze and a haunted expression shadowed his features.
“Gunz, let me explain…”
Gunz came closer to him, shaking his head. “I understand. If Aidan said you didn’t betray us, I believe him… But how could you? How could you do it to me and—” He swallowed and bit his lip. Fueled by pain, anger rose in him. He swung his arm, infused with his magic, and punched Mrak Delar in his jaw.
