“Wonderful.” Xlina moved around the front of the hearse, throwing her hands up in resignation.
“Me too,” Hawke scampered to the side of the hearse behind Valeria.
“Detective, please.”
“I’m arresting you when this is over, remember,” Hawke fastened his seatbelt in the back and flashed a smile that said his lame excuse was all the reason he needed.
“Fine,” Xlina plopped down in the driver’s seat. It felt odd to sit in Oxivius’ position, and she reached up to tap the fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror in reverence for the departed necromancer. “Buckle up folks.”
She put the hearse in gear, and the familiar magic washed over her. She heard Oxivius in her head, his constant prodding of ‘intent’ being the secret to magic. She stepped on the gas, nervous that she would send the vehicle catapulting into the solid brick wall of Pandora’s, but the engine roared to life. Sparks of magic flew from under the hood. The sensation of falling hit her and she embraced it, holding the wheel with both hands. She noticed the hula dancer on the dash. Like some gaudy ornament bought from a tourist trap except instead of a voluptuous woman, the figure was a skeleton playing a lute wearing a grass skirt that shimmied and shook with the vibration of the engine. In a flash, the hearse was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
Heart of Granite
The hearse crashed through the wrought-iron gates of the Necropolis. Xlina clutched the wheel firmly as the Styx bounced and careened over the uneven dirt road. The nearly black night sky was clear, with a giant moon hanging in the distance, illuminating the graveyard with a pale incandescent glow. Rows and rows of graves and tombs extended in all directions as Xlina brought the hearse to a stop under a white sycamore tree. The chaotic journey had roughed up the passengers and even the ever-flawless Valeria appeared temporarily disheveled.
“Any landing you can walk away from, right?” Xlina’s white knuckles on the steering wheel faded as she loosened her grip. Oxivius’ fuzzy dice still twirled and bounced wildly from the mirror.
“Sure, might have just left a donut in you back seat though,” Hawke groaned as he opened the door and stepped out into the necropolis. He let loose a low whistle.
“Nothing but graves and bones.” Valeria opened the passenger door and stood from the hearse. She looked around skeptically. “You said Oxivius lived here?”
“Yes, in the mausoleum.” Xlina exited the hearse and grimaced, grabbing her ribs. Her breath came in short, painful bursts. She looked at the purple inked tattoo on her arm. Barely an outline remained.
“You’re still injured?” Valeria flashed a scornful glare at her.
“I am. The tattoo is fading so my pain is returning.”
“How are your reserves?” Valeria squinted as if measuring her.
“Low, I fought with my brother in the alley outside of Coyotes.” Xlina looked at the ground and kicked a loose rock, sending it tumbling into the cemetery and clinking off a tombstone.
“You plan to fight the Heavenly Host injured and with dwindling nightmare energy?” Valeria’s voice lifted an octave. Xlina winced at the tone. The demon might as well have called her stupid.
“No, the faithful will come after, us but the plan is to take refuge in the Mausoleum. There we can ride it out while they wander the vastness of the Necropolis. Hopefully, we’ll also find the secrets of the Cauldron of Rebirth inside.”
“Fine,” Valeria spun on her heels, facing out to the vast cemetery. “Where is this mausoleum?”
“I don’t know,” Xlina looked around nervously. “Oxivius brought the hearse right to the foot of the mausoleum. It was in an area with a bunch of them. Standing like small tombs, like a village of tiny churches. All I see are graves and tombstones.”
“Well then, we are as lost as the Faithful will be. Wonderful. Come, let us venture into the cemetery and see if anything jogs your memory.” Valeria chose the direction, pointing away from the iron gates they had crashed through, and began walking with haste. Hawke shrugged, offering no alternative, and followed behind her. Xlina held her ribs with her left hand, feeling the ache return. She needed sleep, but there were few dreams in this place to call on. Instead, she followed Valeria into the cemetery, weaving through tombstones and grave markers as the demon charged through.
“How long before we are followed?” Xlina asked from the tail of the group. Even Hawke, in his burly trench coat huffing and puffing, was having a better go of navigating the cemetery.
“Not sure, there is definitely a time dysmorphia here. I feel the ebb and flow of time moving differently. That might buy us some extra minutes or hours. I can’t say.” Valeria squinted into the distance, looking across the panoramic landscape for any identifying structures.
“Great ghost!” Hawke pointed to the horizon. An enormous set of wings on a shadowy figure glide over the cemetery in the distance. “What is that?”
“The necropolis is no doubt home to many things. Stay close mortal and you might live through this.” Valeria dismissed his excitement as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The nervous look in her eye betrayed her steely demeanor. At least for Xlina, seeing the powerful demon hold such a nervous expression was unsettling.
“Magic... incoming a portal.” Valeria spun back toward the hearse resting under the sycamore tree. Her hand reflexively went to the bone hilt of the demon blade as she dropped into a defensive crouch. The smell of dirt and pine wafted in the air.
“The druids,” Xlina sniffed the air, breathing in the familiar scent of her brother’s magic. A white light appeared under the sycamore dancing in the air, no more than the size of a match head. It bobbed and weaved whimsically around the tree. Then it expanded suddenly in a blinding flash that seared Xlina’s eyes painfully. She squinted and raised her arm to defend against the glare, drawing a wince for her efforts from her hurt ribs. As the flash subsided, the familiar voices of Owen and Arrivan filled her ears. She blinked out the blind spots as her focus came back to see the pair of druids standing under the sycamore, arguing like brothers.
“Aye for the last time. Arrivan, don’t portal us until I finish my drink. I nearly spilled my beer.” Owen raised a glass that was nearly full of a frothy amber liquid.
“It is not the time for that, Owen,” Arrivan pointed a gloved finger scoldingly at the portly bearded druid, who replied only with a smile and a chug from his glass.
“If it isn’t the prodigal druid duo,” Valeria purred, lowering her hand and moving to stand before Xlina. “Just in time we’ll be needing that weapon of yours.”
Arrivan turned, looking away from the banter with Owen to lay eyes on Valeria. His eyes were cold and unforgiving as he clenched his teeth. Owen too looked at Valeria and blushed, her allure clearly too much for the young druid. He waved timidly, like an awkward teen at a high school dance.
“Demon,” Arrivan spat the word as if it were a curse.
“Druid,” Valeria cooed, bringing her red pouty lips to a curled and wicked smile. Xlina could feel the latent command to kill Owen welling inside her and she clenched her fists, looking to Valeria pleadingly.
“You’ll not survive this day.” Arrivan scowled in her direction, making eye contact with Xlina. His eye was blackened by their last encounter. She felt a pang of regret as she looked at the shorter Owen, who stood with a dumbfounded expression staring at Valeria. The helpless sod had no magic to counter Valeria’s allure and was clearly enthralled in her charms.
“Threats? Is that how you greet your sister?” Valeria held out a hand, motioning Xlina to stay put and a wave of relief washed over her.
“That is how I great the demon filth that has corrupted her.” Arrivan barked in reply, his hands quickly searching his pockets.
“Will you protect her from the Heavenly Host? Or have you come to strike her down? I assume you have been using blood magic to track her. You must have needed quite a bit of your own blood given she is only your half-sister...”
Her words cu
t into Arrivan as his face slacked from rage to confusion. He looked at Xlina, who could only answer with a shrug before returning his glare to Valeria. He snarled and pulled an ash stick from his pocket.
“What truth can be found in a demon’s words? None.” He pointed the ash stick like a wand at the demon.
“You mean to banish me? Consume your little ash stick and send me back to the infernal realm? Not smart.” Valeria placed her left hand on her hip and lifted her right to cradle her chin thoughtfully.
“Why not?” Owen squinted his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Xlina noted the glassy look in his eyes and the awkward shuffling of his feet as his gaze remained locked on the lust demon.
“You whisk me back to hell. Then what? You pull that pesky soul everyone is after from Xlina here? Brilliant plan, then when Ertigan comes to collect his lost soul, and I assure you he will come, what will you do?”
“Give him what is his and end this,” Arrivan hissed as he weaved the stick, drawing sigils in the air. The smell of pine needles and earth filled wafted over Xlina as the druid drew on his magic.
“That simple, just hand over the soul?” Valeria’s red lips curled into a mocking grin. “Ertigan is a wrath demon born of violence with a nearly insatiable bloodlust.”
“Maybe she has a point, Arrivan.” Owen shifted nervously. He wrapped his arms around himself and look to his friend. For the first time since arriving, taking his eyes from Valeria.
“She is lying, it is what they do.” Arrivan continued forming his sigils in the air.
“Not when the truth is so much fun,” Xlina came to Valeria’s side, offering her support. “Ertigan is a hulking brute of a demon with a wanton lust only for death.”
“He will take back the wayward soul, then he will peel your skin like a piece of over ripe fruit. He will bury his hooked talons in your eyes and pop them into his mouth like an hors d’oeuvre. As you writhe and squirm in untold agony, only then will he consider granting you the sweet release of death.”
“That sounds unpleasant.” Hawke stepped to Valeria’s other side, offering his support as well. Arrivan hesitated, flashing a glance at Owen whose ghost white face and wide eyes remained locked on him.
“Most unpleasant.” Valeria crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to her left, leaning toward Xlina. “But don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, burn up your ash stick and send me back to hell. I’m sure you brought a spare, am I right?”
Arrivan lowered the ash stick and allowed the sigils to dissipate. His shoulders slumped as he cast a forlorn look at his sister, Xlina. His eyes were full of regret and his lips moved as if to say something, but he hesitated instead, letting out a deep sigh.
“Listen to me.” Xlina seized the moment and stepped in front of Valeria, shielding her from the two druids. “The Heavenly Host will come for me. I have ensured they know to look for us here. They will come to the Necropolis and in doing so Portland will be spared their righteous furor. We will make our stand at Oxivius’ mausoleum. Hopefully, we can hide within the walls and buy ourselves some time. You can stand against me here, stand against me now. You can try to take Amber’s soul from me once more and we can fight if that is what you truly desire. Or you can help me. You can forget the order, forget your holy crusade, and remember that I am your little sister who desperately needs her big brother. You can choose, Arrivan, you can choose your path.”
Arrivan staggered a moment, and his face softened. Her words seemed to wash over him, and he turned away. Owen extended his arm, covered in the black tattoo pattern of a raven clutching scythe, and placed a hand on Arrivan’s forearm. It was a moment of reassurance. It was the gesture of a friend silently saying, ‘I’ll stand with you, no matter what’. Xlina’s felt a tug on her heart watching the pair. Seeing the unspoken bond between the pair, her heart sank, knowing that Valeria still pulled on her mark. The demon would, at some point, reissue her order to kill Owen and claim the weapon. In that moment, she would betray him. She would turn on them and take Owen from him. Not of her own free will, but because of the mark and Valeria’s lust for power. She searched for a way to convey the danger without tipping off Valeria.
“Tell me about this necromancer.” Arrivan turned back to face Xlina. “Tell me about the man who has enchanted you so?”
“Oxivius was like no one I have ever met. He was quirky and powerful, but gentle and kind. His dark magic scared me. I was terrified of him at first. Despite my prejudices, he continued to show me I could do better, could be better. He believed in me, Arrivan. He believed there was more for me in this world than being a voyeur of bad dreams.” Xlina emptied her heart in that moment. The words fell from her mouth without thought, without the careful consideration for tenor or tone. They were just raw emotion that had been fermenting in her since Oxivius’ demise, and now they bubbled out to the surface.
“Sounds like a good friend,” Arrivan shot a glance at Owen, who nodded in return.
“He saved me.” Xlina nodded solemnly.
“Yes, indeed, for a cannibal he was a veritable saint.” Valeria cut in impatiently. “Shall we search for the mausoleum or do you all want to hang around jabber-jawing until the army of faith shows up?”
“Alright demon,” Arrivan motioned for Owen to follow along, “We’ll help for now, but when this is over there is still the matter of my sister’s soul to attend to.”
“Naturally,” Valeria flashed a wicked smile, “Since trust must be earned, I recommend Xlina take Owen and the detective down the left flank, and I’ll accompany the debonair Arrivan down the right flank. We’ll span out just far enough to still keep each other in sight to cover as much ground as possible.”
“I don’t trust you,” Arrivan glowered at Valeria with a disdainful look in his eyes.
“I know,” Valeria purred in response, like a cat playing with a mouse. Xlina struggled; searching for a way to subtly convey the threat. Valeria was separating Owen and Arrivan, ensuring an easier target for claiming the weapon.
“Perhaps the druids should stay together?” Xlina blurted quickly, “I mean they are already familiar with each other and if we are set upon by the faithful, they stand a better chance together.”
“Seems silly to split us up at all. If Xlina is the only one who’s seen the mausoleum, what good are the rest of us going to be, anyway.” Hawke piped up, clearing his throat and assuming a more authoritative tone. “We form up around her and move through the cemetery as quickly as possible. If this army of faithful is coming, they will probably enter from the gate, just like us. I figure we head for the highest point towards the center and move from there.”
“I’m not taking orders from him.” Valeria scrunched her face up in disgust at Hawke. “He just learned of magic like an hour ago.”
“I like Hawke’s plan, besides each of you has a stake in how this all ends for me.” Xlina turned away from the group and started down between a row of tombstones. She brushed her fingertips across the tops of the headstones as she passed, feeling their rough stone exterior. “The area where Oxivius lived seemed older, with a more European design. There were columns like in the Greek buildings you see in old Hercules movies.”
A grumble of responses echoed back to her. A chorus of disgruntled voices all demanding their plan be considered. She shrugged it off and continued walking, hearing the group continue to bicker behind her but keeping pace. She focused on the horizon and quickened her pace, leading them from the iron gates and deeper into the cemetery.
The necropolis was vast, a collection of forgotten and lost graves throughout human history. It was a place of magic existing between the worlds and its eerie feel chilled the bones. This plane of existence was one of death and decay. A perfect home for a necromancer like Oxivius. She doubted the sun ever rose here, instead she assumed the cemetery was locked in an eternal night. Perhaps it was just one long night because of the time dysmorphia? She mulled over the thought of a hundred-year long night followed
by a day of the same length. As if time were stretched thin like a piece of leather being tanned. She wished Oxivius were still here to guide her.
Xlina absently allowed her mind to wander, finding the constant sniping between Arrivan and Valeria tedious. Instead, she focused on Owen, the rotund and portly druid brew master who had somehow come into possession of an ancient and fearsome weapon. He was not a warrior, nor was he a formidable druid acolyte. In truth, he seemed like an accident. A bumbling and socially awkward man who had been chosen by the druid god of fate and death to be a harbinger. She empathized with him, feeling a fate not of his choosing to weigh on him. Owen would have no doubt been perfectly content tending his herbs and barley. A life well spent mastering the perfect combination of hops to make an amber ale worthy of legend. Instead, he was here in the necropolis, bearing the weapon that could erase a being from existence. She ran a hand over her mark, just under her right breast, and wondered when the command would come from Valeria to kill the poor brew master and claim the weapon.
They walked for what seemed like an hour, passing rows and rows of decaying headstones. The iron gates they entered through now a far-off reminder of how far they had traveled. Xlina looked back past the huffing and puffing detective, his shirt damp with sweat, to see the lone sycamore tree standing next to the iron gate that marked the entrance to the Necropolis. She felt lost as her eyes scanned the cemetery. A low growl snapped her back to the moment, and she spun to see a shadow slip between a pair of headstones not over thirty feet away.
“We are not alone,” her voice was hushed as she held up her hand behind her, signaling the other to stay still. She relaxed her eyes, scanning the road ahead for any trace of movement. She strained to hear. Any shuffle, the slightest noise that would give away the creature stalking the shadows, but the heavy panting of Owen and Hawke muffled any sounds from afar. She waited silently, standing still in the moonlight for their stalker to make a move. She cast a sidelong gaze over her shoulder and saw Hawke drawing his service revolver. Arrivan crouched next to Valeria behind a large cross shaped headstone while Owen leaned heavily on an obelisk shaped grave marker.
Dirge of the Dead Page 24
