“It was you or the cane, I am afraid,” he replied sourly, looking back at the river of blood. “It’s for the best. Never could get that fetid cephalopod’s stink off the end.”
She chuckled lightly at first, then let loose with a laugh, finding it impossible to stay angry with the beguiling necromancer. She remembered their fight in the vacant lot down the way from the night club Pandora’s. The wily cephalopod had exposed its stomach and was preparing to squirt its ink on her again as it had in their previous encounter. Then Ox, with that gentleman like way of his, rammed his cane into the ink hole. ‘No, you don’t,’ he had said as the creature wailed ‘there is a lady present.’ She could not help but to laugh at the memory. How prim and proper the necromancer had appeared with his old English accent and quirky mannerisms.
“We’ll get you another,” she vowed with a nod.
“Eh, maybe something trickier this time,” Oxivius grinned, “I saw a cane that had a musket in it.”
“A gun,” she replied with a smile.
“Indeed a powder gun,” he nodded eagerly, “Blast a hole clean through a beasty it could.”
“Fine, a gun cane,” she laughed, feeling better. Her muscles still ached, but she was moving and laughing. She wondered for a second whether they had shared a tender moment or whether Oxivius was just buying time for her wounds to heal, keeping her mind from the horrors of the river of blood.
“Come now that there is a gun cane at stake, let us be off,” Oxivius grinned, “Into the lair of the demon we go, what dangers lie ahead we shall not know.”
“How quaint,” she smiled in return and followed as he walked past the two brutes. If the beasts noticed them at all, they showed no sign of it. Beyond the brutes lie a spiraling stair of obsidian glass leading to the upper levels of the compound.
“If we follow the lift,” he answered as if he could hear her thoughts, “We should find the torture hall and from there our wayward friend.”
“Lead the way, Ox,” Xlina nodded firmly, pushing aside her thoughts and doubts and focusing on the task at hand. Amber. They had come all this way for Amber. She could not lose sight of that now.
Oxivius picked his way carefully up the spiraling staircase of black glass. Xlina had never seen him in a state she would describe as nervous until now. The normally unshakable necromancer seemed to flinch at every step and sound as they ascended past the first floor. He peered down the obsidian halls, pausing for a moment before moving on.
“Shouldn’t we check that floor?” Xlina ventured a whisper and flinched at her voice echoing in the stairwell despite her hushed tone.
“No,” Oxivius replied, steadily advancing.
“But how do you know?” she pressed with a huff, tugging on his shirt from behind with her free hand. He paused once more and turned, looking down from his position three steps up from her, and let loose a deep breath.
“Too quiet,” he whispered patiently, leaning closer, “I assure you we’ll know the floor by the bloodcurdling sound of torture, love.”
He turned and continued up the stairs and Xlina just followed in shocked silence. Each step seemed to echo in her mind as they ascended floor by floor. She had not considered the next part. She had known that when they finally found Amber, they would free her. She had considered what they would need to fight, the odds of overcoming every adversity in their path. She had not considered what state Amber would be in when they found her. She had not reconciled how she would feel. The emotional toll following Amber’s tortured wails would extoll on her.
They continued, floor by floor, slowly ascending the spiraling stair until at they could hear last the distant wails of agony perhaps two or three floors above. Slowly, the clopping sound of their footfalls faded to the wails and lament of suffering souls. Oxivius turned quietly to her and held a finger to his lips, signaling for her to remain quiet and then pointed up the stairs before holding up three fingers.
She nodded. Three flights and they would find the torture halls. Three flights of stairs were all she had to come to terms with what she was about to see. She was Baku. She fed on the nightmares of the dream realm. People’s deepest, darkest fears laid bare for her each night when she slept. She had seen monsters and men, pedophiles, and perverts, even demons and devils in the dream realm. She wondered if any of it would prepare her for what she would see next.
Oxivius continued to lead the way, and the wails soon became louder. What had been just a few voices quickly became a discordant choir of frigid howls. The macabre cacophony of unending grief echoed in Xlina’s ears. Her eyes brimmed with tears as they cleared the last flight of stairs. As she crested the last step and snuck around the corner to enter the corridor beyond the door frame, a familiar sight greeted her. She had been here before, in Valeria’s memory, when the succubus had laid dormant within her.
A long corridor lined with black obsidian columns stood before her. The air was heavy with the taste of soot and ash, and it clung to her mouth and throat. The cacophony of screams and shrieks played in her mind as much as in her ears as the horrors of Valeria’s stolen memory came flashing back. The floor looked slick and wet. She did not need to look at the ceiling to remember the blood-soaked membrane above that constantly dripped. She took a step forward to follow Oxivius, but her body resisted. Her legs trembled in fear as voices, so many voices, begged for an end to their wretched existence.
“Xlina,” Oxivius whispered loudly. He turned and closed the space between them, staring into her eyes. “Stay with me, love.”
“Erti..,” she mouthed, and he slapped his hand quickly, covering her mouth with an alarmed expression.
“Do not,” he commanded firmly. “Do not say his name, not in this place, his home. Else you summon him from the field of battle and then love our goose will be well and truly cooked.”
She nodded, and he slowly removed his hand and turned to look down the columned corridor. A dozen bronze doors lined the hall, each adorned with spikes and runes Xlina could not decipher. She followed the necromancer numbly, her mind retreating from conscious thought.
He carefully picked his way from door to door, listening and watching before moving to the next. Suddenly, he froze in place, his face pallid and blanched. Xlina heard it. Blended into the chorus of wails and moans was Amber’s voice crying out. In an instant, her fears and doubts vanished as adrenaline coursed through her.
She called on her nightmare energy. Violet flames ignited and cracked around her clenched fists. The crack rang in her ears, and she bolted down the hall.
“Amber!” she cried.
“Shh!” whispered Oxivius furiously from behind. He ran to keep pace. But she would have none of it. Her anger boiled over. Amber was in pain and torment, and it wracked Xlina with guilt. Raw emotion overtook her conscious thoughts. She bounded from door to door.
“Stealth!” Oxivius hissed. He frantically waved his arms.
“Amber! Amber, I’m here!” she bellowed loudly. A wail came from the left. She spun on her heels and looked at the door as if the frame itself were a mortal enemy. Both hands shot forward. A powerful wave of violet energy sheared the door from its hinges. It crashing to the floor with an echoing thud.
“There goes stealth,” Oxivius sighed helplessly.
“Amber!” Xlina growled, bursting through the frame. The walls beyond were dark gray. Chain manacles hung above over pits of molten rock and coal. Amber hung from a giant hook like a hunk of beef in a meat locker. The steel pierced her back just beneath her ribs and protruded just below her sternum. She hung nude, waist deep in the pool of molten rock. Her flesh burned away, revealing her roasting, bubbling innards. Her organs swelled and cracked like a hotdog incinerated over a campfire. What looked like red centipedes crawled about inside. They sank their pincers into exposed muscle, clearing her ribs down to the bone. Half her face was cleaved off. She hung limply, screaming blindly in torment.
Standing beside her was a red humanoid creature with a bulldog face and bones
protruding from his head, forming a dozen pointed horns. His eyes were pale and yellow, sunken and listless. His mouth bulged with fangs that hooked and curved as he tended the molten rock with an iron poker. Black armor covered his torso. It looked like the scales of the gila Oxivius had destroyed outside.
The creature’s cloven feet shuffled aimlessly. He looked up lazily as he stoked the coals—just in time to see Xlina’s enraged fists drive into his face. An explosion of violet nightmare energy cracked his jaw. Her heavy cross sent the dog-faced creature tumbling down.
“Get away from her!” Xlina demanded in a hail of fury. She batted aside his poker and drove second and third nightmare punches into the beast’s face. Its skin blistered beneath her wrathful hits. Bone crunched, giving way to the power of her strikes. He groaned and struggled, but he was no match for her unbridled fury. She mounted his prone form and brought her full weight crashing down on his barrel-like chest as she rained left and right crosses on his bloodied face.
“Xlina!” Oxivius barked, but still she raged, striking hammer fist after hammer fist down upon the beast. The sound of wet slurping soon replaced the crack of bone. Oxivius quickly pulled her away from the lifeless husk.
Tears flowed from her eyes as he spun her around. Still she swung, her nightmare energy spent, but her balled fists striking his chest. He tried to wrap his arms around her, but she continued, landing dull thudding blows on his chest. Tears flowed freely down her face.
He let her rage play out until her arms slowed, barely able to continue. He wrapped her in a hug, arms closed, and pinned her to his chest as he swept her up, his chin on her head.
She sobbed and sobbed as he held her in his arms, cradling her gently. Her fury spent, she was no longer the proud and powerful Baku. She was simply Xlina. She wept for her friend, for herself, and for all the souls condemned to this foul place. But most of all, she seethed and hated. She hated Ertigan; she hated demons, and she hated this place.
“Come, love,” Oxivius whispered as her sobs slowed. “Let us see what we can do for her.”
“Ox,” Xlina gasped, unable to pull her face from the safety of his chest. “Look at her. Just look at her.”
“I see, love,” he replied, gently stroking her hair. “Let me help.”
He released his hug and pushed her away ever so softly, turning to the tortured Amber. Her once platinum blond hair burned and scorched by the flames. It hung like a black streaky mop about her head. The insect-like worms burrowing through her flesh had gnawed half her face to the bone. He studied her slowly, looking from the molten rock to the massive chain supporting the hook by which she hung.
“How do we even begin?” Xlina asked.
“Remember the souls in the river?”
“Yes.”
“They were without form,” he continued, studying the scene before them. “Spirits without a body.”
“So?” Xlina asked. She looked at the coals, the floor, the walls—anything but her dear friend.
“So they have no body because they died in another plane,” Oxivius explained, eyeing the scene before them. “They came to this place as spirits. As did Amber, her body struck down in Otherworld.”
“That’s not her?” Xlina asked hopefully, still facing away.
“Oh, the soul is. But the rest... is just a mortal coil summoned by demons—to enhance the torment, I’m afraid.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, we can liberate the soul,” Oxivius replied, his face contorted with deep thought. “But I’m afraid the coil will need to remain. Not that it’s in particularly pristine condition.”
“So we bring Amber back as a ghost?”
“I’m afraid she’ll be trading one prison for another.” Oxivius cast a look of doubt over the tortured coil that contained Amber’s soul. “Similar to the spell I used that allowed Val to ride shotgun in your head, I can do the same with Amber. I warn you, though. Amber is no demon, but her soul, her mind... they’re fractured.”
“She’ll be in my head?” Xlina asked hesitantly.
He shook his head. “No, not consciously. Val is a demon. She’s more powerful than humans, and she had access to your soul through the mark. I imagine the splintered fragments that comprise Amber will linger in your subconscious. Perhaps with your shaman friend’s help, you can commune with Amber in the Dream Realm.”
“Lexxes said I have much to learn about my Baku nature. Perhaps she can help us when we return.”
“Oh, no. Although my exile is over, I am still quite unwelcome in civilized magic circles. Besides, I’m the last thing Lexxes needs while she struggles to rebuild the coalition and restore the Council. Rumors about intrigues and consorting with practitioners of the dark arts? No, that is a step you will need to complete on your own.”
“Fair enough,” Xlina answered, not wanting to press on the sore subject. She remembered the day in Holder’s Park when she’d accused him of working with the demon. He’d been so offended. So hurt.
“But a word of caution, love,” Oxivius continued. “While the respite from hell will provide her spirit a chance to mend, the clock will be ticking. She can’t linger in your soul forever. I fear your Baku side will feast on her hopes and dreams, only furthering the damage to her soul.”
“So we need to find a vessel?” Xlina felt impatience rise in her gut. Amber was hanging there suffering, and he was hesitating and planning. Xlina tapped her foot and wiggled her hands. She wanted to free Amber from her bondage, but her reckless actions with the Grillo and the imp had caused them dire consequences.
“Yes. She’ll need a coil sustainable in Earthrealm,” Oxivius was saying. “And if Val catches any whiff of Amber’s soul bouncing around inside you, she may very well consume it.”
“There’s—there’s quite a bit that can go wrong—”
“—And that’s all assuming that the forces of heaven and hell aren’t hot on our heels for breaking her out to begin with.”
Xlina finally looked at Amber, her friend’s face filled with agony from the torment. Xlina stifled her hurt and allowed her rage to seethe in the deepest corners of her soul. The demons, their schemes, her father, the blasted Druid Order—all of it fed the flames growing inside her.
“Let them come,” she growled. Oxivius rarely saw her so ferocious. His eyes flashed with concern. “Heaven and hell can drown us, Ox,” she continued. “Let them come. I’m tired of the ‘saviors’ and tyrants of the beyond dictating my fate.”
“There she is.” Oxivius grinned that roguish smile, the same one he wore in Holder Park the day they first met. “There’s the alpha wolf, the Baku, ready to hunt.”
“We’re taking Amber back,” Xlina repeated, “devils and angels be damned.”
“Hold still, love,” Oxivius answered, raising that eyebrow of his. “This will be—well, it’ll be unsettling.”
He began slowly, wisps of black smoke curling from his sleeves and collar as the souls that were imprinted on his flesh burned. His hands followed, weaving intricate patterns and sigils in the air. The scent of death and decay filled the room. Her stomach flipped and turned in repulsion, and a chill ran down her spine. No matter how many times she had seen him perform his necromancy, it still gave her a dreadful sense of profound evil. Still, so far, he’d been the only one who hadn’t steered her wrong.
Amber’s burned soul coiled and writhed as Oxivius focused on it intently with his dark magic. Black smoky tendrils lashed out from his hands, scoring her body and luring her soul from its flesh. Slowly, a white form, barely visible, emerged. The black trails guided the wisp-like form to Xlina. They danced around her, tickling her skin as the white soul took form before her eyes.
The rough shape of Amber passed fleetingly through Xlina’s mind, the gentle caress of the dark magic becoming increasingly pressing. It intruded on Xlina’s flesh. Tendrils of acrid magic wove their way over her body, settling at last over the skin on her belly. Without warning, it plunged like a vortex, swirling int
o her navel as if to suck the apparition into her flesh. Amber’s tortured soul tried to resist, but it was trapped within the necromantic spell and drawn down into Xlina’s body. As the last of the apparition disappeared into her navel, Xlina felt a twinge that could only be described as Amber. It was akin to the sensation one feels when entering a room moments after a loved one has left. Stillness—that moment when their scent lingers in the air around you and you can almost feel their presence hanging tangibly about the room in their wake.
Oxivius gasped and crumpled against the wall. Dark circles hung under his sunken eyes and tired lines carved his face. Xlina remembered the heavy toll the use of his magic had on him in this place. He grimaced as his skin visibly writhed and churned under his damp shirt.
“O—”
An alarm of roaring wails echoed down the corridor behind them.
“I w—was afraid of that,” he gasped through gritted teeth. Xlina instinctively covered her ears as the high-pitched wails assaulted her.
“What is that?” She yelled reflexively, raising her voice to be heard over the ear-shattering wails. “That isn’t human.”
“They kn—know,” Oxivius grimaced, using the wall to push himself up. “A soul is missing.”
Xlina stumbled toward the door. “So quickly?” Her sense of balance twisted and turned as the piercing wails caused her vision to blur. Oxivius was beside her then, supporting her with his arm around her waist and guiding her into the corridor. Faces had appeared on the obsidian pillars—faces of monstrosities beyond human recognition. They wailed and cried, letting loose the chorus of deafening shrieks.
Metal scraped against stone somewhere down the corridor. The sound echoed down the hall and cut through the wails. Xlina’s back stiffened at the noise. Wait—the screaming faces were silent.
Xlina sighed, thankful for the moment of relief as the world stood still. Oxivius slung his arm around her waist and squeezed tightly, pulling her close and guiding her down the corridor. Behind them, the scraping sound drew ever closer.
Dirge of the Dead Page 7
