by J A Raikes
The hallway was barren, the brick walls cold and damp. We walked until the hall ended in an arched doorway. It didn’t make sense to me why someone would build such a long and dreadfully boring hallway behind a fake wall in their cellar, but then again, I wasn’t planning a major overthrow of society so who am I to say what crazy people do and don’t do with their resources.
The door opened into a small room littered with crates, papers and all manner of things just haphazardly thrown about. Along one side was a wooden table with chains and harnesses affixed to it. In fact, it looked to me like a rendition of some sort of medieval torture device.
I allow myself to think too long about what the table might be used for and moved hurriedly to the other end of the room. There was a solid wooden door at the end of the room and light shining beneath it. Percipity held up a hand in a gesture of “stop” and she listened intently at the door. It didn’t take supersonic hearing to notice that there was a low murmur of sound coming from the other side. It sounded like there were a number of voices all singing together, but they weren’t a very good chorus. Scratch that, they sounded like they were chanting somewhat melodically and it sent a shiver down my spine.
I tightened my grip on the handle of my gun and readied to make an entrance. The Ekorius tested the doorknob and nodded that it was unlocked. She mouthed that she would count and then we would charge in.
“One.”
The hair on my neck started to stand up and I could feel my heartbeat pick up.
“Two.”
Sweat beaded my brow. Tension pulsed through my arms and legs and I felt like a coiled spring ready to engage.
“Three!”
As Percipity pulled open the door, something detonated to our right. A blast from behind sent me flying forward and I slammed into the wall. My head cracked into the bricks and then I blacked out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I awoke. The first thing I noticed was the daggers hammering away at the side of my head. Every heartbeat blasted away a new throbbing sensation in my skull and everything hurt. It took a moment for the pain to lessen enough that I could even think straight, let alone open my eyes. That's when I saw that I was tied to a table, surrounded by hooded figures. My shirt was gone and there was a menacing black dagger suspended over my body.
“We would’ve done this sooner, Finn, but it is so much more effective if you’re awake for the experience,” an older man said, smiling down at me. He wore a dark crimson robe with the hood drawn back. He was probably in his mid to late fifties and sported a sophisticated crop of salt and pepper hair, cut close to his scalp in a military fashion and a nicely groomed beard. All in all, he was a handsome fellow, save for the scar dragged through his right eye.
“And now that you’re awake, let’s begin!” he said, pushing up the sleeves on his robes. A glance at his arm showed a tattoo similar to the one that was imbued above my heart, a cog with a skull in the center.
“Let him go Thornsby!” I heard Percipity call from somewhere off to my right. I turned and saw her and Eva both in chains, tied to a chair across the room from where I lay.
“Oh hush, you she-ape!” he snapped back. He eyed one of the hooded figures nearest to him and motioned towards where Emerson was bound. The hooded figure disappeared from view. A moment later Percipity spoke up.
“Don’t you dare pu…” Her voice went muffled and the figure stuffed a gag in her mouth.
Thornsby centered himself and then looked down at me again.
“Now where were we. Ah yes, the ritual. You, my dear Finnegan,” he said as he removed the dagger from the perch above my chest, “you are the main event.”
“Or, and here’s a thought. No.” I shot back. Sarcasm isn’t always the most refined discourse when in a stressful situation, but it certainly does make me feel better. I stole a glance at the rest of the room. It was a bland cellar room like all the rest, with the exception of this table and a creepy, legitimate cultist altar at the far end of the room. It stood several feet tall and sported the same symbol as our tattoos, only the skull was life size and I’m fairly confident it was a god-honest real human skull. The altar was covered in all manner of trinkets and splashed with different dark colors that I was hoping, realizing the situation I was in, was not dried blood.
Thornsby let out a small chuckle, reminiscent of the one heard earlier upstairs in the dark.
“Well, that would be interesting, for sure. But no, I’ve been working for days to get you here and now it’s finally time to finish this. To be honest, it was easier getting you here than I expected. We’re ahead of schedule!” His voice was an odd mixture of accents I couldn’t quite place and though excited, carried a cold, sinister tone. An impish grin crossed his face and he gingerly felt the edge of the dagger to check its sharpness.
“Why me?” I asked, struggling against the hand holds on the bench. Turns out, I now know what the table out in the other room was going to be used for. Weird ritualistic cult people sacrifices where I would get to play the main role. Yippee for me.
“The question of the age, isn’t it, Finn?” he replied, moving around the table from near my head to standing by my side.
“You see,” he continued, his voice grizzled with age, “you have something no one else can replicate. And I need it.”
“And what’s that?” I pressed. Something to my right caught my attention and I flicked my eye toward it.
The older man just smiled down at me and patted the darkened spot on my chest. Burning white hot torment ripped through me and gave me a whole new understanding of the notion of pain. I stifled a cry and heaved against my restraints at the sensation. After a moment, the feeling subsided.
He ignored my question and turned to his companions.
“The ritual cannot be stopped,” he said, his tone cold and businesslike, “Tau, Jabek, Gamma get to the package. Alpha, Laer, Sigma - Rendezvous at the shrine.”
Six of the hooded figures turned and walked to a wall on the far end of the room. A moment later, the wall slid open as it had in the cellar and the men departed. Even with them gone, there were still a lot of creepy hooded figures filling the room.
Thornsby then motioned to his companions and the figures encircled the table. The chanting resumed and the older man lifted the black dagger high above his head. The chanting didn’t sound like a language I was familiar with and the entire situation felt otherworldly. Wind started to rush into the small room and caught the robes of the cultists. The eye sockets in the skull on the altar along the back wall of the room light up with a blue-black intensity.
The chanting grew louder and I frantically tried to think of a way to escape. I pulled against the restraints but they were securely fastened to my wrists and ankles. My arms started to burn as I pulled harder against the shackle but they simply wouldn’t budge.
Thornsby’s voice rose above the others and the chanting grew to a frenzy. The wind continued to rush into the room, getting stronger each moment and was so loud it was nearly deafening at this point. Papers, dust and anything not nailed down swept through the air and the eyes on the skull at the altar burned bright. The dagger in Thornsby’s hand began to glow a dark, fiery orange, and weirdly enough, occasionally pulsed with darkness. With each beat, all of the light in the room seemed to slowly drain into the dagger. Everything seemed dimmer and a muted darkness swept through the room. Even as this otherworldly symphony cast around me and the hooded figures drew in close, I saw Eva and Percipity wrestle against their restraints ineffectively.
This was it. This is where I die. I was saved and put back together like Humpty Dumpty by a nice man and his daughter just to be killed two days later by a crazy man with a black glowing dagger and his psychotic cultist friends. Great.
Finally, Thornsby called out in a loud voice “AND THUS WE ENTER THE ABYSS. THE DAY OF TIR’KALIS IS NIGH.”
He brought the dagger down swiftly and plunged it toward my chest just above my heart. A deafening crack of thund
er pierced the maelstrom in the room and suddenly everything went still.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Time seemed to slow and stretch. The maelstrom of wind seemed to hover for a moment. The chanting cries of the cultists sounded distant and muted, the note they held, dragging on for an eternity. A crack of thunder echoed through the room. I braced for the worst and looked up.
An expression of confusion and pain spread on Thornsby’s face. The dagger flew from his hands and instead, a gaping hole went straight through his wrist. A second crack of thunder crashed through the air and I felt one hand free from its restraint.
At once, everything sped back up again and a cacophony of yells and screams filled the air. I wasted no time. I reached over and unlatched the other brace holding my wrist to the table. I shoved Thornsby away and then quickly worked at the restraints on my legs. Thornsby stood stunned for a moment, but not long enough to let me get away. The older man grabbed me and started clawing at me. His right hand wasn’t working, however, and the hole in his wrist spewed blood all over the table and, grossly enough, me. Soon, my chest and torso were covered in scratches and his blood.
“No!” he yelled in my face, mania touching his features. Again, I pushed him off of me as best I was able and flung off the restraints at my ankles. I jumped off the table and backed away from all of the robed figures. Harris stood in the doorway with his pistols, unleashing torrents of electric globes into the chaos, each shot punctuated with a crisp roar. Percipity and Eva were working to free themselves from their shackles and I turned to see one of the cultists throw a punch my direction.
I barely had enough time to register the swing and dip to the side, catching the blow in my shoulder instead of my jaw. I threw an arm up, blocking a second blow and immediately returned with a solid jab at the guy’s stomach. I’m not a great fighter and I wasn’t going for anything fancy. I just needed to buy time to get to the others. Thankfully, enough years of playing soccer and having a bunch of guy friends who like to show their affection with ‘playful jabs’ has taught me that you have a nice block of nerves right above your stomach, below your ribs that sends shooting pain through your system and is what most people refer to as ‘getting the wind knocked out of you.’ My fist made purchase with his stomach and I was met with the satisfactory “oof” sound of the cultist not expecting the blow.
I pivoted and rushed past the guy as he cradled his stomach and got to Eva and Percipity just as they finished breaking free of their restraints. The general feeling of chaos and confusion delayed the other cultists from beating us to a pulp. Percipity flung herself from the chair and dashed to a small crate near the door, throwing off the lid. She reached inside and slid out her katana as well as a gun. In the same motion, she tossed the gun toward Eva and the young woman deftly caught it and in a second, had it leveled at the cultists with the safety turned off. Harris spewed an array of suppressive fire and managed to clip a few of the cultists. Thornsby cradled his arm, his expression wild and crazed.
“Kill them all!” he screamed. Without preamble, an array of weapons slid from the concealment of their robes into the hands of the hooded figures and they charged toward us. The torrent of wind picked back up again. The sound overwhelmed the room and I saw Harris’ bullets start arcing off target. Percipity tossed a gun to me and managed to snake out Eva’s staff before one of the cultists was upon her. She turned and threw her arm in an upward arc, her katana in her right hand, catching the cultist full bore in his chest. Continuing the motion, she twisted and pulled her left hand up behind her and uppercut the guy with the butt-end of Eva’s staff. The cultist screamed and was knocked backward a foot, landing hard on his back.
Finishing her turn, Percipity tossed the staff to Eva, who caught it as deftly as she had the gun before. To my side, Harris slowly made his way out of the arched doorway and over to us, still laying down a decent flurry of gunfire. They still had the numbers on us and I had lost track of Thornsby.
I checked the gun in my hand and raised it toward a frenzied cultist who thought of bringing a scythe to a gunfight. He managed to close the gap astoundingly fast and I barely had time to fire off a round before the curve of his blade met my skin. A burst of pain ripped across my arm and I felt the warmth of blood pool out in a gush. I hopped backward a step, sighted the maniac and pulled the trigger twice. Small ripples of piercing blue electricity shot through the man’s stomach and continued into the floor beyond. Oddly enough, that didn’t seem to phase him whatsoever. He charged at me again. I took another second to aim and pulled the trigger again. This time, the spark sailed through his forehead and his entire skull snapped backward with the force. A shower of blood and brain matter covered the room.
“I think this one is a bit overpowered!” I called out over the roar of combat to Eva.
“I don’t think it’s meant for people!” she yelled back, shooting her own pistol at a pair of frenzied cultists.
“I think it’s more meant for the Voidkin!”
“Oh! Right!” I said.
Just then, a torrent of blue-white sparks and bullets soared through the air our direction. I grabbed Eva by the shoulder and yanked her behind the chair she had been tied to. Bullets sailed past and wood from the tables and chairs splintered into shrapnel around us. I hadn’t seen any until this point and there was something weirdly comforting that the cultists had relatively normal-looking guns. Not everything was weird sci-fi laser blobs and nightmares. The feeling passed quickly, though, as a cultist sprayed the wall next to me with lead.
We hurried behind a table near the wall and with a heave, I forced it to its side. It wasn’t a heavy duty table or anything and it wasn’t going to stop a hail of bullets for long, but it was cover. If the crazy guys couldn’t see us, it was harder to hit us. Blood dripped from my arm, but it wasn’t a deep cut. The scythe earlier didn’t manage to knick anything major.
I glanced over and saw Percipity holding her hand in front of her and bullets seemed to whiz by without hitting her. Occasionally, one would streak right at her and instead of harming her, a dome of purple light would materialize in front of her outstretched hand deflecting the projectile. She stood between the cultists and Harris, who was quickly reloading one of his pistols with another blue canister of super juice.
I nodded to Eva and the two of us both peeked out from around the table simultaneously. Immediately, bullets whirred past my head, only inches from my skull. I focused on a target and pulled the trigger. I had played enough video games that I should be good at killing cultists by now, but that just simply isn’t the case in real life. When you’re in the middle of a firefight, you aren’t thinking about the loot the bad guy is going to drop or going for style points. In reality, I was freaking out and scared to death that one of these guys was actually good at their marksmanship and was going to send me back to Arizona in a body bag.
By now, the fight had devolved to where both sides were hiding behind what cover they could find in the cellar and repeatedly showering the others with bullets before needing to duck back into cover. Percipity was still holding a hand in front of her, but was now charging into the midst of the cultist forray. She caught the first guy unaware with blinding speed and strength and simply hewed him in half. Her katana crackled with a menacing purple electricity as she ran and bolts of lightning zipped out in front of her, stunning her opponents before she got there. By the time she made it through two of the cultists, Thornsby reappeared and was once again holding the dagger.
Phantomsong.
“Enough!” he said, raising the curved knife over his head. The light in the room diminished drastically and the blade glowed eerily dark. He stood fifteen feet from Percipity and halfway across the room from the rest of us. The Ekorius was slicing her way through a mob of ten or so cultists who were trying frantically to bring their weapons to bear before she tore them to shreds, but it was evident that most of them were not going to make it.
Harris and I turned to Thornsby and started
unloading our weapons at him. He, too, held out a hand and the bolts sailed past him with ease. He swung the dagger downward in front of him and a monstrous black wave sailed out from it and cut a path through the room to the fray where Percipity was fighting.
“Look out!” I yelled, but not quickly enough. The black force sliced straight through the cultist feebly trying to duel with Emerson and smashed into Percipity mid swing. She was lifted from her feet and thrown backward. Thankfully, the blow did not manage to sever her in half, but I was certain that another attack like that would not be good.
Percipity scrambled to her feet, blood trickling from her ear. I unloaded my pistol at Thornsby and ducked back behind cover to reload my gun. I heard Eva’s gun click with an empty cartridge and she ducked back behind the table as well.
“So, this is fun,” I remarked sarcastically, sliding the lever and popping out the empty cartridge.
“I think you need to rethink your notion of entertainment,” Eva replied, face set like flint.
“Any thoughts on what to do with Thornsby?”
“Give me a minute, I’ll think of something.” she said, her red hair whipping around in the wind.
I reached to my pocket to pull out another cartridge only to realize that they’d taken everything from me when we were knocked out earlier. I was tapped out and had nothing to help.
“Shoot! I’m all out of ammo!” I hissed.
“Me too,” Eva said, tossing the gun aside. She hefted her staff with both hands. I peeked out around the table and saw Percipity backing up, putting a wall behind her for safety while cultists surrounded her. Her blade flashed purple for a second and then she moved with lightning speed arcing the blade in a halfmoon around her. Three cultists cried out in pain and fell back, holding their stomachs as blood pooled around their hands.
