Dirge of the Dead

by Reed Logan Westgate

  Xlina was stunned at the sight of the duo locked in combat. Her heart raced as Arrivan applied his full weight to pinning her down. Her ribs ached as he squeezed, sapping her strength. Yet still, the command called for her to pursue Owen down into the fray. To claim the Scythe for her master. She threw her head back, her skull colliding with the bridge of Arrivan’s nose. A sickening crack met her strike, and she felt his hot blood spill on the back of her head and neck. His hands fell slack for a moment. It was all she needed to wriggle free and scurry to her feet. Arrivan was quick. Following to his feet with a hand over his broken nose, he stood before her on the dirt path Owen had escaped down. Blocking her way.

  “For the last time,” Arrivan clenched his fist at his side as his words slowed to a threat.

  “Heathen!” an Irish voice rang out as a crossbow bolt slammed into Arrivan’s belly, sending him down on his knees. Xlina snapped her head to the left to see Archam limping in her direction.

  Hawke opened fire at the fiery-haired soldier, but a blue shield of energy guided the bullets harmlessly around him. The man glowered with a look of superiority as he drew his athamé from his belt.

  “Lodestone charm,” his Irish voice growled thickly. “Now time to claim a soul.”

  “Um help?” Hawke snapped open the revolver, allowing the spent casings to fall to the ground. He quickly fumbled replacement bullets into the pistol while looking at the dueling demon and necromancer.

  Xlina turned a baleful glare on Archam. Hate welling within her. The need for vengeance swelling inside, trumping the command to pursue Owen she lunged forth at the soldier. He met her advance with a sword arm parry stepping into her thrust his shoulder met hers and in a fluid motion he jerked, adding to her momentum. Xlina’s feet left the ground, and she fell. Archam directed her body at the ground, completing his shoulder throw and driving her into the dirt. She hit the ground hard, her breath spilling from her in a blast. He followed quickly, jabbing the athame at her ribs. The blade poked at her injured ribs painfully, sending a lightning bolt of pain rolling through her, but the magical garment held, and the dagger found no flesh.

  “Bloody witchcraft.” Archam’s eyes went wide. Xlina kicked his knee, planting her heel on the soft spot where the shin met the kneecap. His leg buckled, and he winced painfully. She swept her leg back across the inside of her foot, hooking the dagger and knocking it loose, sending it careening into the dirt. Archam was on her then, dropping his body weight on top of her, his hands lunged for her throat and he griped tightly, squeezing the air from her. Xlina’s hands batted at his powerful arms, but he shrugged them off.

  Arrivan propped himself up on a headstone. The bolt burned in his belly as he gazed at Archam straddling his baby sister. The soldier shook his arms violently, choking her and driving her head into the dirt. She winced, her face a mask of pain and turning blue. Arrivan reached into himself, drawing on his magic. He thought of her, of the time they had spent together in their youth. He thought of his love for his precious baby sister. Pulling on the earth, he extended his hand and sent a powerful spell of healing at Xlina. She felt his compassion, his warmth wash over her, and the pain in her ribs subsided.

  She grabbed both of Archam’s wrists tightly and pressed her fingers into the space between his wrist bones. Her strength returning, she peeled his right hand from her throat, then his left as they struggled in a test of strength. The soldier lashed forward with a headbutt aimed at her face, and she met him eagerly, throwing her forehead to his. Their skulls knocked.

  Archam leaned back, his eyes dazed from the collision, and he was met by a human missile. All three hundred plus pounds of the burly detective slammed into the soldier and the pair rolled on the ground. Xlina rolled to her side, her breath coming in gasps as her lungs ached for fresh air. She saw Hawke press to his feet, fist barred.

  “No magic, no problem,” the detective smirked at the soldier, who rose on wobbly legs. Archam lifted his hands defensively as Hawke swooped in with a flurry of lefts and rights. Archam, however, was a trained soldier. He had bested Xlina twice. The cumbersome blows from the detective were easily parried. The soldier answered Hawke with a deft striking combination of his own leveling heavy lefts and rights. As Hawke covered up to absorb the blows with his forearms, the soldier lunged forth with an elbow which collided heavily on the detective’s arms, breaking through his defense and staggering him.

  Archam followed with a hard right cross that barreled through Hawke’s arms and landed crisply on the detective’s cheek, sending him crumpling down in a heap. Hawke’s eyes glassed over as he swung out with lackluster punches, hitting nothing but air. Xlina admired his tenacity and dove in, striking at the soldier with combinations of her own. She snapped rapid jabs with her left, keeping the soldier at bay and pulling her punches quickly enough to evade another throw. She mixed in low snap kicks, pelting the soldier’s knee and thigh repeatedly. The injured leg, too battered to respond quickly, had the soldier grimacing as her kicks numbed his limb.

  Xlina stayed light on her feet, sliding in and out of striking range as the soldier swatted with cross and hook combinations. His busted knee preventing him from keeping pace with the nimbler Xlina. She found her rhythm. Bobbing and weaving into striking range, she landed a thrust kick to his thigh, causing him to lurch forward awkwardly as his knee bent in the wrong direction. As his hand instinctively dropped to his injured leg, she closed the gap between them with a left-right hook combination, landing on the soldier’s temples, twisting his head back and forth violently.

  She rushed in, clasping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his face down as she lifted her knees in vicious strikes. Her left knee collided with his cheek, and she drove her foot down, following with a knee strike from her right that landed square on his nose. He struggled to break free, but she pulled him forward, putting his weight on the injured leg and returned with another knee strike from her left that crashed mercilessly into his eye socket. Xlina pulled his head up so she could stare into his battered face. The bolt in Arrivan’s belly still fresh in her mind. She held the back of his head in her left and pulled back with her right, hammering in a vicious elbow strike over his eye. Her elbow cutting a gash across his brow. She dipped her right shoulder, following the elbow strike with a close uppercut that hammered his jaw, causing his teeth to clatter. Finally, she released the back of his head with her left hand and swiped with a left hook once more, catching the soldier on the temple and dropping the man to a knee.

  She reached her right hand around his dazed head, holding him by the skull as her left grabbed his jaw. A grim look of satisfaction etched on her face as she stared down into the bloody mask of Archam, the bloodthirsty killer. The man who would have killed Tamera, who would have killed the homeless waif in the church.

  “Xlina no,” Arrivan reached for her, but coughed and sputtered. Blood dripped from his mouth as he clutched the bolt in his belly. He was dying. She gave him a fleeting glance as if to apologize, before whipping her arms back in a fly motion. Archam’s head twisted violently as she completed her motion. A sickening crack filled her ears as his neck exceeded its natural range of motion. Archam fell to the ground, dead as a doornail.

  Xlina looked back at the mausoleum. Hawke lay in a crumbled heap on the dirt trail as Oxivius and Valeria exchanged strikes and parries. She had never seen such an evenly matched duo. They moved in unison, as if they had spent a lifetime honing their strikes. Valeria danced and spun with the sanguine blade, performing circular slashes and cuts from left to right. Oxivius retreated and advanced between the cuts, thrusting and stabbing with his bone blade like a fencer in a musketeer movie. Each strike found the opposing blade ringing out as if it were a carefully rehearsed choreography.

  “Ox, he is dying,” Xlina pointed to Arrivan, desperately drawing a glance from both Valeria and the necromancer.

  “Good” Valeria spun the sanguine blade in a vicious tandem of cuts, making use of the curved blade as she pressed
Oxivius with a bevy of slashes that sent him retreating defensively.

  “I’ll tend to him,” Oxivius parried high, slipping past the backswing of Valeria’s sword and driving his blade at her face. The demon was quicker, spinning to the left. His blade found nothing but air as she twirled away like a ghost on the wind, swiping her blade back across her body and sweeping his thrust wide.

  “Why are you waiting, girl? Claim the scythe.” Valeria sneered with a wicked grin that sent a shiver down her spine. The words resonated through Xlina’s mark, and she turned obediently, leaving Arrivan on the ground behind her she broke into a sprint following the path into the melee below in search of Owen. Sariel still hovered in the night sky, her flaming sword a beacon in the night as her followers’ cries of horror rang from below.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ertigan The Defiler

  Xlina sprinted through the cemetery, carefully picking a path that avoided the myriad of ghastly hands emerging from their graves. She drew closer to the mob of the Faithful, who were engaged with throngs of the dead. Locked in a desperate struggle, the poorly armed commoners swiped at the advancing horde with flaming torches. The dead were unrelenting. The unfeeling masses of rotten flesh stalked forward, not shying away from the fire at all. They lumbered forward with grasping hands and hungry mouths. They overwhelmed the commoners, pulling the men to the ground and feasting on living flesh.

  The entire cemetery had become a macabre feast of blood and flesh as ghoul and spirit alike stalked the living. The gunfire had ceased, replaced instead with sickening howls of agony and the slurping sound of flesh being ripped from the bone. She scanned the road ahead, searching for any sign of Owen and the dark druid’s scythe.

  In the distance, she saw the portly brew master, scampering across a set of graves and fending off an undead ghoul with a stiff right cross. She sprinted after him, running at full speed, she shoulder blocked a ghastly looking ghoul, barreling the undead over and crashing through in hot pursuit of the fumbling druid. She bounded gracefully, weaving between tombstone and exposed graves, nimbly traversing the cemetery, and gaining ground on the winded Owen who caught sight of her and nearly stumbled into an open grave.

  “I’m not your enemy,” Owen raised his hands up, plainly hoping to talk some sense into the blood lusted woman.

  “It’s not my fault.” Xlina skidded to a stop mere yards away from him. She brought her hands up before her and clenched her fists.

  “I know it is your mark,” Owen shook his head, backing away. “It’s just like the Morrigan predicted. Us squaring off. Do you really want it to end that way?”

  “I just wanted Amber back,” Xlina sniffled, a look of remorse crossing her face as she inched closer.

  “Aye, and I wanted to brew the perfect ale,” Owen chuckled halfheartedly as he withdrew another step.

  “I’m sorry, Owen,” Xlina advanced quicker, bridging the distance between them. She pulled back to strike and felt a powerful hand grab her arm. She looked over her shoulder to Sariel, hovering inches over the ground behind her. Xlina’s heart froze in terror. She still felt the sting of the angel’s last strike. Her single heavy blow had felled Xlina without so much of as an effort.

  “It’s time,” Sariel swung her arm wide, lifting Xlina like a child and discarding her in the dirt. The angel stood between Xlina and Owen. Sariel lowered her gaze and her six alabaster wings stretched to their full breath behind her. The angel was flawless, with perfect blue eyes that matched her blue corset. Her long black hair seemed to dance in the wind despite the lack of a breeze. Sariel lifted a hand and closed her fist, and Xlina’s body lurched violently. She could feel Amber’s soul being ripped from hers.

  Xlina cried out in agony as Sariel tore Amber’s spirit from her. Ghostly white stands of ether emerged from Xlina. She howled as if her innards were on fire as the strands coalesced in the air and formed the spirit form of Amber. Xlina reached out, her body trembling from the violent act.

  “Amber.” she clawed at the ground, raking the earth under her fingers as the pain washed away. Amber’s spirit stood, looking confused on the open earth.

  “It’s time for you to return, dear wayward soul,” The Seraph gestured to the ground, and it collapsed into a fiery sink hole. Xlina recognized the scent of sulfur in the air and looked at the open portal to the infernal realm. A sense of desperation crept into her and knowing she was no match for the Seraph, she acted with a frantic hail Mary action.

  “Ertigan the Defiler,” Xlina shouted into the infernal realm, “Come claim what is yours.”

  The seraph shot Xlina a glare of pure malice, but it was too late. The earth rumbled and the gate to the infernal realm shimmered with a foul black cloud. A strong taloned hand emerged from the portal. It was followed by the horrific face of Ertigan. His yellow puss filled eyes leaked down his cheeks to a lipless maw of serrated teeth which curled into a wicked smile. A purple tongue lashed from his mouth as his bronzed torso pulled free of the portal. He was a sheer wall of corded muscle. His skin marred with scars and cuts, the demon emerged fully from the abyss, flapping his massive leathery wings and landing on his reptilian haunches. He eyed the angel with contempt.

  “No, Angels and Demons shall not clash in the mortal realms until judgement day,” Sariel stepped back as the arch demon snarled in her direction.

  “This is the realm of the dead,” Ertigan snapped a taloned claw forward, snatching up Sariel by the throat, his gravel like voice bellowing, “Not the mortal realms, angel.”

  Sariel struck the demon in the chest with a single powerful thrust that sent a resounding thud into the air. Bones cracked under the powerful blow, but Ertigan barely flinched. The massive brute backhanded the angel, sending Sariel spinning in the air and through a series of tombstones that crumbled under the weight of her impact.

  “Gods!” Owen performed the sign of Awen, the three rays of light from the druid order.

  “Quickly now Amber,” Xlina called to the spirit still hovering in the air, but she did not respond. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Ertigan stalked the angel viciously, his grating laugh echoing through the night. Xlina had faced the demon twice, but in both instances, he was at only a fraction of his true strength. First in the Council chambers where he was bound by a summoning circle, then again in the dream realm where her strength was amplified and the demons diminished. Here in the Necropolis, Ertigan had come through an open gate. He was bound by no circle; he was hindered by no dreamscape. This was his element and Xlina shuddered, uncertain of whether any would survive this clash.

  Sariel rose to her feet and turned a malicious glare on Ertigan. She lunged forward, pushing out with both hands as a vibrant white light burst forth, blinding the massive demon. He wailed and covered his eyes, recoiling from the brilliant flash of light. Sariel was on him in an instant, striking his ribs and torso with rapid fire punches that hit with a resounding force, which sent shock waves through the air. The demon lord shuddered under the blows, roaring in protest.

  “Amber, quickly, you must flee with me,” Xlina darted to the spectral form of her friend, pleading for the wayward soul to acknowledge her, but Amber just hung in the air as if frozen in time.

  “The soul is fractured,” Owen, careful to keep his distance, called to Xlina, “She remembers her death. Her mind is splintered, putting together memories like a broken puzzle.”

  “What do I do, Owen?” Xlina cast a helpless eye on the druid, but the command from Valeria lingered and she could feel her killer instincts returning to the surface.

  Ertigan swept his arm from his face, lashing out at Sariel, causing the angel to slink back away. He raged and thrashed with both arms, swiping at the angel with his hooked talons viciously. Sariel backed away, lifting into the air on her six wings and with a forceful flap she glided back over the earth the picture of elegance. Landing on the ground with the distance between them, she once more extended her hand and summoned the holy sword of fire.


  Ertigan sneered mockingly as he flapped his wings in pursuit, covering the ground far too quickly for a creature of his size. He called out in an infernal tongue and a flail of shadows took form in his hand. He swung the heavy flail, leaving a trail of acrid smoke in its wake. Sariel dodged to the right of the foul flail, dodging the blow. As the tip of her wing passed through the acrid trail of smoke, it withered and burned, sending feathers falling to the ground. The angel grimaced in pain. It was an expression Xlina swore she would never forget.

  Sariel struck back with her holy sword, sweeping across with a wave of flame that washed over the demon, searing his skin. The sizzle of flesh filled Xlina ears, like a steak hitting a hot grill. Ertigan bellowed a wail of anguish at the holy fire, returning with a gout of hellfire from his free hand that bathed Sariel in flames. She instinctively wrapped her six wings about her, shielding her from the hellfire. Smoke and burned flesh hung heavy in the air as the two powerful entities clashed.

  Ertigan returned to the offensive, swiping his shadowy flail left and right, driving the Angel to retreat from the withering trails of smoke left in its wake. Sariel spun to the side and lifted into the air, her ascent slightly hindered by her topmost right wing, which had been burned by the acrid smoke. She took to the air, staying high above the demon. Ertigan roared in protest, flapping his leathery wings and lifting slowly from the ground in pursuit. Xlina guess the angel Sariel was far nimbler that the massive demon, reckoning the aerial combat, favored her lithe form and speed over his brute strength.

  Sariel swung her holy sword once more, sending a wave of fire down on Ertigan, who met the blast with his own torrent of deep red hellfire. The two flames clashed in the air, forming a fiery explosion that sent a blistering wave of heat in all directions. Xlina’s face felt as if she had been in the blistering sun too long on a warm summer day. The display before her was enthralling as the two titans of the celestial and infernal clashed in an epic display. She no longer doubted the thought of Armageddon seeing these two powerhouses trade blows she shuddered to think what an army of angels colliding with an army of demons would wreak in collateral damage.