Dirge of the Dead

by Reed Logan Westgate

  Another low growl cut into the eerie night and her ears perked up again as she caught a shadow moving to left. Whatever was stalking them was either remarkably fast or not alone. She retreated a step, moving closer to the rest of the group to form a defensive circle. She nodded to Arrivan in the direction of the shadowy creature. He responded by drawing a sigil in the air, filling the area with the scent of pine and soil. She found the scent of his magic strangely calming and took comfort in knowing he was on her side at last. Arrivan finished his sigil summoning a dancing white will-o-wisp that bobbed in the air. With a motion of his hand, the will-o-wisp bounded out from the group, illuminating the surrounding cemetery. Arrivan extended his pointer and middle finger at the spot where Xlina indicated, and the wisp obediently bounced and danced through the air high above the tombstones.

  A hairless beast shaped like a German Shepard with a long tail sporting a vicious barb and an impressive leathery wingspan leaped at the wisp like a dog at a frisbee. It soared through the air, gracefully passing through the wisp and landing on a perch atop a headstone. The creature shuffled and turned a gleaming set of yellow eyes on them. Its face was lizard shaped, with an elongated, hooked snout and black slitted pupils like a snake.

  “Granite!” Xlina rushed forward, recognizing the Gargoyle from her first journey to the mausoleum where he had perched over Oxivius’ lair like a silent guardian. The gargoyle bounded down from the headstone and pranced around her like an excited puppy, jumping and rubbing against her.

  “Need one of them on the force,” Hawke grumbled with a low voice, “One look at that thing would scare half the criminals in Portland straight.”

  “A gargoyle,” Arrivan and Owen marveled in unison, observing the creature of legend.

  “Good boy,” Xlina laughed, patting the creature’s head as he sniffed her up and down before licking her in the face. She squirmed and fended off the gargoyle’s snout with her hands on the side of his head, pushing him back down to the ground.

  “Finally, some luck.” Valeria stepped forward, extending her hand to the creature. Granite shied away, retreating to the headstone perch and snarling at the demon.

  “Excellent judge of character,” Arrivan chuckled at the demon.

  “Shut up, druid,” Valeria cast a baleful glare at Arrivan.

  “Granite, can you take me home? Guide me to the Mausoleum.” Xlina reached a hand toward the gargoyle, and it nuzzled her outstretched palm happily before bouncing off in a glide down a path to their left. “Quickly!”

  Xlina chased granite over a winding dirt trail. The path forked and split a dozen times, but she followed the gargoyle without hesitation as it alternated between a run and a glide. Every so often, it would land on a headstone and pause to be sure she was still behind him. They reached an area raised on a slight incline from the rest of the cemetery, populated with tiny cairns and mausoleums. At the summit of the hill, she saw the twin sycamore trees and beyond the white crumbling columns of Oxivius’ home. The ancient tomb stood frozen in time, like a tiny dilapidated church with a pair of ominous cherry wood doors lined with an iron inlay that formed sigils and runes.

  “There at the crest!” Xlina pointed excitedly as Granite swooped to land on the high arched roof of the mausoleum. It yawned before turning twice and dropping lazily, allowing its barbed tail to hang over the apex of the roof.

  “Finally,” Hawke gasped, holding his hand over his chest as he panted roughly. He traded a knowing look with Owen, who found himself similarly huffing and puffing.

  A blare of trumpets cut through the night. The din of the horns so loud it caused Xlina to drop to her knees and hold her hands over her ears. She had heard this noise before. Sariel had come to the Necropolis. They were out of time. A bright light emanated from the horizon, its luster blotting out the night sky and hiding even the moon in its brilliance. All along the cemetery in the distance, shimmering gold arched portals opened. Men spilled from the portals like ants emerging from a hive. They dotted the cemetery, armed with torches and pitchforks.

  “Literal torches, how cliché,” Valeria sneered, drawing the sanguine blade from its sheath. The curved red blade danced before her as she gripped the bone hilt with two hands. Hawke dropped behind a tombstone, peering out over the cemetery with a wary eye.

  “Soldiers,” Arrivan pointed to an arched portal formed at the center where men in gray camouflage fatigues emerged in a two-by-two pattern. They leveled assault rifles across the cemetery as they emerged from the portal. At the back of the group, the fiery-haired Archam emerged with a broken gait. In the air above the Heaven Host on six alabaster wings was the Seraph Sariel. Blazing sword in hand, she pointed her blade at them and a wall of flames darted through the cemetery toward their position.

  Arrivan was deep in the throes of casting the scent of pine and soil mixed with ash and smoke. He stood at the front of the group brazenly as if to challenge the heavenly host by himself. His arms shot out wide and his spell surged forth, a green wave of energy cascading down the hillside and deep into the cemetery. Roots and weeds came to life, springing up in rampant growth, forming walls and barriers between headstones.

  “We need to bottleneck their advance!” His arms wove in the air, channeling the earth of the cemetery as roots shot from the ground, cutting swaths between the soldiers and the angry mob of peasants. Shouts and cries to the angel rang out, the chaotic din of battle begun. Arrivan flashed a triumphant smile at Xlina, who nodded, amazed at her brother’s powerful spell. The moment was short-lived.

  Gunfire rang out from the soldiers. Bullets sent Arrivan diving to the earth as a hail of automatic fire ripped through the headstones and trees. Stone markers shattered as high velocity rounds impacted on their ancient surface. Bullets whizzed through the air, driving even Valeria to seek shelter among the dirt and tombstones. A continuous volley of fire swept across the hillside, sending dirt and debris free in the air as bullets collided with earth and stone.

  Xlina huddled close to Arrivan, who had dived for shelter behind a double headstone. Bullets zinged and pinged off the stone marker, causing the pair to cling to the damp earth. Xlina shuddered as a sizeable chunk of headstone broke free from the marker and rained down on them in a cloud of dust.

  “Not what you were expecting,” Arrivan winced, struggling to hug the earth as flat as possible.

  “Machine guns? No, Archam used a crossbow in the Cathedral.” Xlina called over the barrage of echoing booms.

  “Well, what’s your plan?”

  “Hawke, can’t you do something?” Xlina lifted her head cautiously and called to the police detective, hunkered down behind a headstone across the dirt path.

  “Sure, I got a service revolver and twelve rounds. That ought to slow down the fully equipped tactical team below.” Hawke’s sour voice bellowed over the chaos.

  “Arrivan, they are burning your barriers!” Owen cried from the ground to their left, pointing down the hillside. Xlina ventured a peek out around the tombstone to see the soldiers steadily advancing alternating fire as they worked their way through the cemetery. The mob had indeed torched the root barriers and roared as the soldiers cut their way through the cemetery.

  “The mausoleum, it holds a gate to a pocket realm where Oxivius makes his home.” Xlina had to scream to be heard over the roar of Heavenly Host.

  “Fat good that would do. Perhaps if they stopped shooting a tick, we could stroll up there.” Hawke bellowed loudly, venturing another peek around his tombstone, only to shrink back to the safety of the dirt as another volley of bullets chewed into the stone marker.

  Xlina looked at the cherry wood doors longingly. They were only ten yards up the path. A short distance, if not for the hail of gunfire pinning them down. She looked at Valeria helplessly, her eyes pleading for assistance. Valeria clutched the sanguine blade tightly and grimaced as a flurry of bullets cut into the surrounding ground.

  “Ertigan!” Valeria shouted as dirt and debris rained down on her. “S
ummon Amber’s master.”

  “I don’t think adding to our enemies is wise,” Arrivan hunkered down next to Xlina. Despite the situation, it was the closest the siblings had been in what seemed like forever.

  “Tell me Arri,” Xlina held his arm entwined in hers and moved close to his ear, “This Tamera girl, are you falling for her?”

  “Seems like an odd question at the moment.”

  “It might be my last chance to ask.” Xlina locked eyes with him as a serious glower crossed her features.

  “Yes, I think so,” Arrivan smiled.

  “I’m glad,” Xlina flashed a smile. Arrivan held her gaze for a moment, a look of confusion on his face. “Farewell, my brother.”

  Xlina darted to her feet, springing from the cover of the tombstone and making a headlong sprint toward the cherry wood doors. Time seemed to slow at that moment. She heard Arrivan call out, could feel his hands scrambling to catch her as she bolted from their position. The scent of gunpowder and fresh earth filled her nostrils. Her breath came in heavy bursts as her legs pumped faster. Bullets whizzed by hear head, striking the cherry wood doors and blowing holes clean through. Rays of ghostly green light spilled from the Mausoleum. She extended her arm, reaching for the doors only ten feet from her grasp. She felt a sting in her back, then another and another. Her body shook from the impact as a dozen bullets found their mark. She fell, skittering in the dirt a mere five feet from the cherry wood doors. She drew a deep breath as she looked up, reaching desperately for her goal that was just beyond her grasp. She heard Arrivan’s cries; she heard Owen yelp. For a second, she thought she even heard Valeria.

  She focused on the doors; dozens of holes penetrated them, allowing an unnerving lime colored light to spill out in all directions. She reached in vain, as if by sheer will alone. She could cross the few lingering feet to the threshold, but she was overcome. Her vision filled with the light of the mausoleum as her extended hand dropped to the ground in defeat.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dirge of the Dead

  Xlina lie on her stomach, the wails of her allies ringing in her ears. The gunfire subsided to a raucous cheer from the Heavenly Host. She drew in a breath, amazed she could still do so. Her back ached and her ribs screamed in pain, but she was alive. By some miracle, she was alive. She looked at the surrounding ground, seeing shattered and squashed bullets littering the surrounding earth. ‘Penny wove it herself. Smooth as silk, but hard as armor. It’s a treasure’ Oxivius’ words as she opened the gift box rang in her head. The silken garment Penny wove made Kevlar look like cotton. She grunted, thankful to be alive as she looked up at the twin cherry wood doors. A dull green fog billowed from the mausoleum as light seeped from around the door. Something was there. Something evil was coming. Her stomach churned; the familiar sensation of necromancy’s vile taint hung in the air.

  The doors to the mausoleum burst wide as if blown from their hinges and the thick green fog billowed out, obscuring all view from within the ancient tomb. The dense fog was illuminated by the eerie green pallor that danced in the clouds like lightning. A dark silhouette appeared in the shadows.

  “By Morrigan’s ghost,” Owen gasped as all eyes turned to the mausoleum.

  Oxivius emerged from the roiling clouds. Dressed all in black, he stepped forth confidently, wading into the fray. His face and body half burned away from the fires of hell. He stood with an ominous glare, surveying his Necropolis. Xlina’s heart nearly leaped up her throat. Stunned in disbelief, she stared up at the ghastly form of the Death Eater. He lifted his arms out over the necropolis, showing no deference to the soldiers and their gunfire. His left side was naught but charred embers, burning his remains and ash.

  “Tread lightly when traversing the Necropolis, lest you wake the dead, love.” Oxivius flashed her half a grin. A grotesque image as hot orange embers still charred his flesh. His skin still simmering and sizzling. His left eye burned orange like a hot coal in its socket. A scream called out from below. Followed by another and another. Until there was nothing but a chorus of screams and gunfire.

  “An army,” Arrivan pointed down the hillside among the tombs and graves. Hands plunged from the earth, long dead and decayed, fingers grasping for life once more. Everywhere among the mob of the faithful, the dead pulled themselves from shallow graves, grabbing and tearing at flesh. The freshly awakened dead emerging from the thousands of graves surrounding the Mausoleum. Ghastly rotting corpses animates once more with ghostly green eyes that hungered to taste the flesh of the living once more. The soldiers, suddenly surrounded by the deceased, opened fire into the earth, but to no avail. They could not kill what was already dead.

  Gunfire once more filled the night, mixing with screams of anguish as the heavenly host met the dead in open combat. Soldiers unloaded their assault rifles, sending a spray of rounds into the freshly animated corpses to no avail. Bullets riddled the dead, blowing off arms and legs. Huge chunks of fetid meat exploded from the deceased as high velocity rounds ripped through, but still they came. An unrelenting mob of arms and mouths surrounded the soldiers, pulling them into the damp earth.

  The mob fared little better. Men with pitchforks and torches formed defensive circles in a futile attempt to fend off the reanimated corpses. For each corpse felled by fire or fork, a dozen more spilled forth. Biting and scratching, tearing and rending, the undead met the army of men with an unearthly resolve. They could not be broken; they could not be tamed. The freshly animated host crashed like a sea of hungry piranhas on the Heavenly Host, eliciting screams of terror and anguish.

  Oxivius stepped forward, and the cloud of green fog bellowed from the mausoleum rolling down the hillside. In its wake, ghastly pale spirits, skeletal remains wrapped in white linen, appeared and shrieked down the hillside, eager to feast on the living. The Necropolis itself seemed to come to life under the pale glow of the moon as Granite howled before taking flight. Joining the undead host, he swooped down, striking at the soldiers. He lifted one with his powerful claws, sweeping him twenty feet into the air before dropping him into the hungry mob below.

  “You’re dead,” Valeria scampered to her feet, quickly coming to confront the necromancer. “You’re dead!”

  “Not today, I’m afraid,” Oxivius leveled a hard stare with his remaining good eye on the demon before turning back to Xlina and offering an outstretched hand. “You found your way.”

  “I used Styx, just like you planned.” Xlina took his hand gingerly as he pulled her to her feet.

  “Xlina, stand back,” Arrivan and Owen stood together side by side, a look of horror etched on their faces.

  “It’s okay Arri, it’s Oxivius. He is alive.”

  “It’s not... look out there.” Arrivan pointed to the cemetery where the Faithful were locked in mortal combat with the dead and still more graves burst open, adding to the ranks of the deceased. More things crawled from the earth, eager to extoll their wrath on the living. “The ends never justify the means.”

  “Brother?” Oxivius’ good eye narrowed at the sight of the druids. “The order has finally come. Well, hold thy ground most holy of the order or you too will learn the folly of challenging a necromancer in his home.”

  “Now Xlina,” Valeria pointed at Owen. “Claim the scythe!”

  It was an instinct. The mark calling to the command buried deep in her soul, Xlina sprung into motion, her fists summoning the power of her nightmares as she lunged at Owen. The hapless druid brew master stumbled, falling backward over a tombstone and crashing on his backside to the dirt beyond.

  “Xlina, no!” Arrivan lunged at her, wrapping his arms about her and tackling her to the ground.

  “Valeria, end this madness!” Oxivius grabbed the demon by the shoulder, but she just shrugged him away.

  “Run Owen!” Hawke called, pointing down at the hillside. Owen looked at the demon and looked at Arrivan, struggling to hold Xlina down. He nodded and scrambled to his feet, bolting down the hillside, weaving between tombs and d
odging the grasping hands of the dead.

  Valeria raised the sanguine sword high, aiming to cut Arrivan in two. She stalked over to her prey as Xlina struggled in his bear hug. Hawke opened fire. His service revolver ringing out as round after round slammed into Valeria. She turned an angry glare on the insufferable human and raised an outstretched hand, sending a gout of hellfire at the detective. The flames licked at his trench coat as the ends of his jacket burst into flames. He dove to the ground, rolling in the dirt to extinguish the fires. Valeria shrugged off the rounds, making a pouty expression at the holes in her black shirt.

  “Valeria, that’s enough.” Oxivius shot his hand out and a thin bone blade appeared in his grasp. He stalked the demon, a sharp look of hatred in his eyes. Valeria turned, leveling the sword at the necromancer.

  “We finally come to this, love,” Valeria’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

  “You’re not my love.” Oxivius raised the bone blade to meet the sanguine sword.

  “At last, you’re learning,” Valeria shuffled forward, striking with the sanguine blade in two quick feints, drawing Oxivius to retreat a step as he parried the blows.

  “You may wield the blade like her demon, but you lack her heart,” Oxivius snapped the bone blade left and right, forcing her to parry high and to the outside with the unwieldy demon blade. He pressed his attack, following with thrusts alternating high and low. Valeria snapped the sanguine blade up to her face, then low to her belly, picking off Oxivius’ bone blade with ease. Her demonic vigor would not allow her to tire despite the heft of the blade she wielded. She spun to the left, circling wide and out of his reach while bringing the sanguine sword around her in a whirl of crimson fury. As she completed the rotation, she advanced once more, slashing out at the necromancer with a left right combination that once more set Oxivius on his heels.