Dirge of the Dead

by Reed Logan Westgate

  “I should tend, my friend,” Arrivan nodded, turning a wary eye on the necromancer and demon once more. “Xlina, I don’t approve of the company you keep as of late.”

  “Ah, but the detective’s a good man, aren’t you?” Xlina shot Hawke a wink, “You’re not arresting any of us after all.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Hawke winked back. “I only have ten years until retirement, and I don’t want to spend them filling out the paperwork on this debacle.”

  “Go to Owen, Arri,” Xlina folder her arm across her chest. “He needs you.”

  “And you don’t?” Arrivan met her eyes with a look of remorse. A moment passed between them. She wasn’t the runt of the Dar’Karrow litter anymore. She was a woman, full grown, and independent. She needed a brother, not some latent father figure scolding her from on high. She held his gaze and answered firmly.

  “I have friends and loved ones.” Her answer was firm. It was the passing of childhood innocence to adulthood. Their relationship would forever be altered from this moment on. Any pretense of the joyful youth, the carefree days of play and camaraderie were gone. Arrivan had the Order. She was marked by a demon. Their lives had taken different paths and the road to what was vanished behind them like a long-forgotten dream slipping from consciousness.

  “I see.” It was all he could muster. Arrivan turned and started away, picking his path slowly away from the mausoleum.

  “If you let him go now,” Oxivius was behind her stealthy as a wraith. His beard tickled her shoulder as he whispered in her ear, “You’ll lose him forever. Bury your pride Baku and see the man. He is not your father. He helped you and defied the order. You owe him that at least.”

  “I thought you hated the druid,” she whispered softly.

  “He incites me worse than a severe case of fleas infesting my beard.” Oxivius nodded, “But druid or not, he is your brother.”

  “Arri, wait,” Xlina called out, chasing after him. She bounded over dirt and debris sprinting after him. He turned at her call and she wrapped him in a hug, holding him around the neck and squeezing for all her worth.

  “What now?” Arrivan stammered, caught completely off guard by the display of affection.

  “Thank you, for trusting me this far.” Xlina confided in him as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I know you don’t walk my path, brother. Nor can I walk yours. But I do love you.”

  “Aw runt,” Arrivan swept her up, meeting her embrace. “I love you too, just don’t punch me again, alright?”

  “Don’t give me reason to you, big jerk,” Xlina squeezed him tightly and for the moment, everything felt right. It was short-lived.

  The sky cracked with thunder, and a bolt of lightning split the night, illuminating the cemetery. Xlina and Arrivan looked at the sky in awe, seeing the coming storm. She swept her hair aside for the first time, feeling strong breeze in the necropolis.

  “The rain comes to wash away the battle” she turned to Oxivius, pointing to the sky where dark clouds roiled and formed. Oxivius, however, grew grim.

  “Get Owen and get inside, now!” he lifted Valeria from the ground and turned to the cherry wood doors.

  “A little rain never hurt,” Hawke stuck his hand out, feeling the night air.

  “There is no weather in the Necropolis, the moon is always full and the sky always clear.” Oxivius stormed into the Mausoleum with purpose. Xlina shared a worried glance with Arrivan.

  Arrivan bolted down the hillside Xlina hot on his trail The pair bobbed and weaved down the trail leading to the foot of the hill.

  “I left him over there,” Xlina pointed to a mound of debris covered with the felled sycamore tree.

  “Owen!” Arrivan called, scanning the cemetery with wide eyes. Xlina sprinted to the felled sycamore and looked around, seeing tracks and freshly dug earth.

  “Owen!” she called out as another crack of thunder split the night.

  “Here,” Owen poked his head around a shatter tomb, his face wet with tears. “She dead. You’re too late.”

  “Whose dead?” Arrivan rushed to Owen’s side and gasped as he saw Sariel’s lifeless form lying on the grass. “Morrigan’s ghost.”

  He traced the three rays of Awen in the air before him, a blessing to the druid order. Owen met his shock with a look of despair. Tears streamed from his eyes freely and he rocked, still holding the angel’s lifeless hand.

  “I couldn’t do it, Arrivan,” Owen sobbed, “I’m not you. I could not heal her. I’ve no real magic.”

  “Owen,” Arrivan sank next to the brewmaster and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not sure if even my magic could heal a celestial, my friend. There is nothing you could have done.”

  “I stole it.” Owen looked at Arrivan and then at Xlina. “Don’t you see? I took the scythe from you in the halls of the formorian king. The scythe was yours to claim Arrivan. It was your destiny. I did not want you to bear the burden. I thought I was sparing you... but I stole your destiny. If you had the scythe, it would have been you who faced Ertigan. You wouldn’t have cowered like a frightened child while others fought... while they died.”

  “You don’t know that, Owen,” Xlina placed a hand on his other shoulder.

  “But I do!” Owen shook his body, brushing their hands away. “Arrivan would have faced down the demon before the vile monster killed her. He is not like me. He isn’t scared.”

  “I’m terrified,” Arrivan’s voice was soft and compassionate. “I am afraid of failing, my friend. Of losing everything I hold dear. We are not so different, you and I.”

  The sky rolled with thunder once more, a resounding boom that shook the very ground. The dark clouds blotted out the moon, leaving the cemetery shadowed in darkness. Arrivan pulled on Owen’s arm, but the druid shook him away.

  “We need to go, Owen,” Arrivan eyes the sky nervously, “The storm is unnatural.”

  “Unnatural?” Owen turned a baleful glare on Arrivan and Xlina. “Unnatural? What do you think happens when you defy the natural order? When a seraph dies? You think the world just ebbs along? I wiped an Arch Demon from existence. A seraph fell in the lands of the dead. What is natural about any of this?”

  As if on cue, Sariel’s head lurched to face the sky. Her mouth fell open and a stream of pure light shot into the sky. Her eyelids burned off and as they turned to ash, light erupted from them as well. Pure light cut into the night sky. Owen gasped, dropping Sariel’s hand and falling back in shock.

  The night sky was ripped open by the beams of light emanating from the fallen Seraph. Long gashes of brilliant light tore the night sky asunder. An unnatural keen filled the air as the sound of muted trumpets rang out. Xlina grimaced, holding her ears as the keen of the trumpets filled the night. The beams of light subsided, and Sariel’s body fell limp to the ground once more. Her eyes and mouth burned away to ash.

  “Gods!” Xlina exclaimed, grabbing the druids by their sleeves and pulling desperately. “To the mausoleum.”

  Arrivan nodded and helped Owen to his feet as thunder cracked the night sky once more. An arching bolt of lightning reached from the sky and sparks and fire flew up in the distance. Owen swallowed hard and ran as fast as his tired legs could carry him. The trio sprinted up the hillside as torrential wind buffeted their bodies, stinging their eyes and slowing their advance. Another bolt of lightning struck behind them, immolating Sariel’s body in a gout of fire and stone.

  “Unnatural!” Owen called above the tumult.

  “Just run!” Xlina darted ahead, seeing the outline of the Mausoleum at the crest of the hill. The heavy sound of rain rushed in like a sudden onset of a hurricane. The sound was deafening as a sudden warm droplet pelted them, stinging their skin. Xlina raised her arms to shield her eyes from the downpour and she saw. Her arms dripped with blood. It was not rain at all.

  “The sky bleeds!” Arrivan called over the din of the storm as lighting ripped the landscape asunder. Bellowing thunder shook the earth as they were coated in the slick, warm
blood from the sky. It covered her hair and trickled down her face. She could taste the metallic flavor of blood on her lips and her clothes felt heavy on her skin. She raced to the door of the mausoleum and bolted through the open cherry wood doors to the safety of the tomb beyond.

  “It appears we are having a bit of weather,” Oxivius greeted them, pushing the door shut as Owen crossed into the tomb. The cherry wood door creaked in protest as he dropped the locking bar into place. The doors shuddered and strained from the buffeting winds and rain. Blood seeped in from all corners of the door.

  “A bit?” Xlina struggled to catch her breath, wiping the blood from her eyes.

  “Never would I have imagined,” Arrivan gasped, leaning on the door.

  “Come, let us retreat to the safety of my home.” Oxivius motioned to the far wall of the mausoleum.

  “Ox, do you know what is happening?” Xlina snapped her arms, sending droplets of blood splattering on the floor.

  “No, but if I were to guess, I would venture it is your doing.” Oxivius cast a glare on Owen, who huffed and puffed, sucking in air greedily. He looked back at the necromancer innocently.

  “What did I do?”

  “That’s no ordinary trinket you carry,” Oxivius narrowed his good eye on the raven shaped tattoo. “Some weapons should never be wielded.”

  “I am the Druid of Morrigu,” Owen puffed out his chest proudly.

  “I’m a death eater.” Oxivius growled, “Hypocrites.”

  Oxivius moved around a raised dais where a black coffin rested and motioned for the other to follow. He led to the back of the crypt, where five bronzed plaques formed an X on the wall. He motioned to the one in the center, which read ‘Oxivius Soulforge, a loving husband and father’.

  “Time to go home,” Xlina obliged, placing her hand on the bronze plaque and looking at the two druids who shared a nervous glance. “I trust him. Do you trust me?”

  Arrivan nodded, lowering a cautious eye on Oxivius as he placed his hand on the bronze plaque. Owen tentatively followed suit. Oxivius grinned and thrust his hand to the plaque, and a resounding boom caused them all to flinch reflexively.

  When Xlina opened her eyes, she was once more the in the necromancer’s home. She stood in the small living area across from a burning brick hearth. The room was decorated in a gothic style, like something you would see in an old Dracula movie. Still, it fit the necromancer perfectly and she looked around, remembering the first time she had set foot in the necromancer’s home.

  Valeria lay on a dark leather couch, unconscious but alive. Amber’s spirit lingered above her, watching the demon like a pruning mother hen. Hawke reclined in an oversized chair by the hearth, sipping on a steaming cup of tea.

  “Welcome back, love,” Oxivius swept past her, walking to the center of the room and sweeping into a low bow. “Please make yourselves comfortable as we weather the storm. There are plenty of treats available in the kitchen, and the amenities of this room should be more than adequate. I caution you against exploring, however.”

  “Afraid we’ll find the skeletons in your closet?” Arrivan raised a brow and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Oh, the skeletons are the least of your worries.” Oxivius flashed a wicked grin. “Xlina and Amber, if you would so oblige me with your company. I believe we have a spot of unfinished business.”

  “Of course,” Xlina crossed the room, heading toward the sole door without question.

  “Runt, I still don’t trust him,” Arrivan called to her.

  “I do,” Xlina cast a stern gaze over her shoulder, “And if you’re that uncomfortable in his lair, then feel free to weather the storm in the Necropolis.”

  “No need, I can open a gate back home right here” Arrivan placed his hands on his hips and looked at Owen, who nodded impatiently.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that.” Oxivius turned and knocked on a stained wood panel. The wood lit up with arcane runes and sigils that glowed a dull orange. “The warding is a bit finicky.”

  “Trapped in the lair. How droll.” Arrivan’s tone was mocking as he mimicked the necromancer’s accent.

  “Precisely,” Oxivius sneered, opening the door and bowing low. Xlina walked through into the hall and called for Amber’s spirit to follow. When the soul passed into the hall, Oxivius shut the door and motioned for the pair to follow down a long corridor of doors.

  “What happened back there?” Xlina looked from door to door curiously, remembering his warning not to explore from her first visit. “With Valeria, when I headed after Owen you were locked in combat.”

  “It was a stalemate.” Oxivius opened his arms and shrugged. “When we saw Ertigan and Sariel in the air above the necropolis, she snapped into her demon form and took flight. I assume she was worried about you.”

  “She appeared from nowhere and struck Sariel down from the sky.” Xlina looked back to Amber’s spirit, which floated along behind them.

  “I saw as I was healing your brother,” Oxivius snickered. “Funny guy.”

  “The dogma of the druid order blinds him to... well, everything.” Xlina rested a hand on the necromancer’s shoulder, stopping him and turning him to face her. “How are you here?”

  “Well, long ago a man fell hopelessly in love with a woman.”

  “You know what I mean, Ox!” Xlina playfully slapped his arm. “Why aren’t you dead?”

  “In hell you mean?”

  “Exactly,” Xlina looked him in the good eye. His body smoldered and burned as if the fires of hell kissed his flesh mere moments ago.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” He grinned and raised his brow, “There are fates worse than death in the infernal realm, love.”

  “But how did you survive? How did you get back to the necropolis? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

  “I will answer all your questions in due time, love.” Oxivius gestured to a door marked with a burning rose engraved on it. “But the tale is quite long, and we run short on time.”

  “Where does it lead?” Xlina reached for the door, her hand lingering over the engraving of the burning rose.

  “The well of souls,” Oxivius answered candidly.

  “That sounds terrifying.” Xlina swallowed hard, glancing at Amber’s spirit.

  “You followed the trail,” Oxivius explained, placing his hand on the door. “The cauldron of rebirth awaits you Baku.”

  “You never intended it for me.” Xlina pulled her hand back and studied the necromancer. “She told me... about the two of you.”

  “She did?” Oxivius tilted his head curiously. “And that changes the situation how?”

  “Lies of omission, Ox, are still lies.” Xlina stopped and studied his expression, searching for answers.

  “I never lied.” Oxivius shrugged. “You only heard what you wanted to hear.”

  “I thought you...”

  “I care about you, love.” Oxivius placed his good hand on her shoulder. “Never have I hidden the truth from you. From the day we met I told you I returned from exile seeking someone.”

  “You intended to bring her back.”

  “I wished to. I hoped I could.” Oxivius let loose a deep sigh. “When I returned from exile, I was determined to find her spirit and bring her back. I had already found the cauldron and four hundred years studying necromancy under the Witch of Endor taught me all I needed to know about death and the transition. Imagine my surprise to find my beloved, walking the earth in demon form.”

  “What then? I don’t understand.” Xlina shook her head, eyes pleading for answers.

  “I assumed I could still save her,” Oxivius’ voice grew faint and his eyes distant. “Until that very moment when we stormed into Ertigan’s citadel, I held hope that I could free Val from her bondage. Then when I saw the spawning room in the flesh of the Marilith. I had to know. I had to see it for myself.”

  “The spawning room wasn’t about me,” Xlina whispered, drawing a solemn nod from Oxivius.

  “I had
to see the birthing.” Oxivius swallowed hard, the words coming slowly. “In the spawning room, seeing the last of the light being squeezed from the soul. I had to accept in that moment that my Val was gone. Everything that made her the woman I loved was drained into a brass collection bowl. All that remained was darkness. Emptiness. I knew in that moment that the cauldron and its secrets would not bring her back to me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Xlina saw the pain in his eye. She felt guilty about her own feelings of betrayal, having never stopped to consider things from his point of view.

  “In that moment, I knew the cauldron could save her.” Oxivius looked at Amber.

  “The vanilla bean,” Xlina snickered, using Ox’s nickname for the girl.

  “Precisely,” Oxivius grinned, turning to the door.

  “Why? For the second time you come swooping in to save the day.”

  “If the cauldron can’t be used to save the woman I love, it might as well be used to save the woman you love.” Oxivius shrugged, motioning for her to pass through.

  “Ox, I...,”

  “Shush,” he smiled in return, placing a finger to her lips. “I’ve lived many lifetimes. I see the way you look at her. I know it well. Your eyes light when you look at her, as if they were greeting the morning sun. You feel happy, but don’t quite know why. You long deep down for every moment with them to linger on and you think of them long after they have gone. I know this look because it is how I used to look at Val.”

  “Thank you,” Xlina hugged him, wrapping the necromancer in a warm embrace.

  “Go now, the cauldron awaits,” Oxivius motioned to the door. “I can’t follow you there. This is a path you alone can walk.”

  “Okay, what do I do?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest, love.” Oxivius grinned and shrugged, “I never thought we would make it this far.”

  “But you said time grows short?”

  “I figure between the death of the angel and Owen’s wielding of the scythe, the storms that rage outside are the cosmos settling into a new order. I reckon now is the perfect chance to sneak a resurrection in, while the powers that be rearrange themselves. Sneak one past your proverbial goalie, I think they say.”