Dirge of the Dead

by Reed Logan Westgate

  “What sorcery is this?” Efnysien wailed in protest. His skull still smoldering from her first blast. Amber’s spirit wailed in sorrow, letting loose a mournful scream that echoed in the domed chamber.

  “This is the last resort of a desperate woman,” Xlina snarled, pushing her hand forward and sending the ball of hellfire at the knight. The bulky armored behemoth lacked the mobility to dodge the blast, and his black armor was engulfed by the flames. He howled in rage and agony as the fires of hell roasted him within his armored shell.

  “It can’t be.” He staggered back and forth, trying in vain to fend off her devilish flames with his flapping arms. She drove on, sending wave after wave of hellfire at the undead knight until his blackened armor glowed hot at the edges.

  “You falter, Efnysien,” Xlina stood over the burning knight. His rotten skin scorched away until only a blackened skull remained. His arm dripped molten steel from the edges of his armor, forming orange drops of molten metal on the ground below him. She stalked him, an evil grin on her face. “You know, not the trials I have faced to stand before you. I’ve braved hell to secure that soul. I’ll not let the likes of an undead wretch like you stop me now.”

  Amber wailed, darting before Xlina, her ghostly form shimmered in a luminescent light. Her eyes locked on her and her face pleading.

  “Warlock,” Efnysien mouthed a waft of smoke puffed out from his mouth.

  “Stand aside Amber,” Xlina turned an evil eye on the fallen warrior, “I’ll send this maggot to hell.”

  “No!” Amber’s spirit stood resolute. It shimmered and solidified into an apparition before her. “Not like this. Never like this X.”

  “My power can save you.” Xlina’s lips grew into a wicked curled smile. Her features illuminated by the orange glow of hellfire in her eyes. “I can bring you back. We can kill anyone who threatens us. We can take a life together. Whatever we want will be ours.”

  “No, not your power.” Amber’s voice was barely a whisper. Her ghostly hand came up to rest on Xlina’s cheek. “It’s hers. It will always be hers.”

  “Who cares?” Xlina’s eyes went wide. “Between my dream magic and her hellfire, we’ll be an unstoppable juggernaut. We’ll destroy the council. We’ll destroy the druids. We’ll destroy anyone who stands in our way Amber.”

  “The first one destroyed by your new power...” Amber’s voice faded as the spirit dimmed from view. “Will be you.”

  “No, I can control it. You’ll see Amber, I can control it.” Xlina stepped back, looking around the room wildly. She spotted Amber’s spirit drifting away and lunged after it. She collided with the spirit, hellfire surging from her hands and burning the soul. Black wisps of smoke rose from Amber’s prone form as Xlina straddled the apparition. “You’ll see Amber, we’ll be together. Just like you wanted.”

  “I’m sorry,” Amber mouthed softly as she lifted her hand over Xlina’s heart. A torrent of bright light burst forth. Xlina froze. Her eyes dimmed and her head hung low. The light had been harmless. It passed through her without so much as a tickle. It was the scene before her that stung her heart. Xlina in throws of the demon’s power straddling Amber, just like in the council chamber. When Amber, lost to the demon’s mark and lusted with power, straddled her, ready to kill her. Those last words Amber said, a perfect replica of that moment when Xlina had blasted Amber’s heart from her chest. Only this time, it was Xlina in the throes of power.

  “I’m sorry Amber,” Xlina cried and as the tears fell from her cheeks, the orange hellfire in her eyes too fell away. She sobbed, feeling her regret. The pain of when she killed Amber returning to blot out the demon’s seductive power. Xlina pushed on the mark. Denying its hold. She bent over Amber, her hellfire faded she sank into the apparition, feeling the stone beneath her. Amber simply melted away. Fading into nothingness.

  Xlina covered her eyes with her hands, allowing the tears to come freely. The pain, the loss, it overwhelmed her, and she wept. Openly and honestly. She no longer cared about the undead knight or the surrounding room. All she could feel was her profound sadness. She lamented what she had done, what she had become to survive, feeling the regret growing in her stomach.

  “You may now enter the dark waters and face your last test.”

  Xlina looked up from her hands soaked with tears seeing the man Efnysien. No longer adorned in the black plate armor, he sat hunched over on a stone by the dark waters of the cauldron. White robes hung loosely on his wiry frame. His face was ancient and weathered. His mustache was ghost white and hung to the floor in wispy cords that danced on an unseen current of air.

  “Efnysien?”

  “Xlina Dar’Karrow.” The ancient man, adorned in white, nodded with a faint smile.

  “All of that...” Xlina looked plaintively at the ancient guardian. “It was just another test.”

  “It was.” Efnysien nodded solemnly.

  “I didn’t unleash the mark. I didn’t become a warlock then?” Xlina shook her head, lost and confused.

  “No, but you have seen what you could become. You wielded substantial power and cast it aside.”

  “Amber,” Xlina looked around the domed room for the wayward soul of her friend.

  “She was with you. She is with you.” Efnysien pointed to the dark waters. “You have come further than many. There is but one last test. You have chosen your path, you have cast aside substantial power, but can you accept the truth of your soul?”

  “The last test before resurrection,” Xlina lowered her head. She did not quite feel like had won that last round. Doubts swirled in her mind.

  “The trial was to push you to the very limits of your power. In desperation, you reached beyond your limits. That was not the test. The test was what you would do with such power.”

  “If I had burned you to hell, had I succumbed fully to the infernal mark?”

  “Then both Amber and yourself would be consumed in the hellfire.” Efnysien nodded.

  “Amber snapped me out of it.” Xlina looked up at the ancient guardian. “I didn’t do it myself. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

  “When we walk with others in our heart, we can never truly be alone, young one. You found the strength within to cast aside the power you claimed. That is all I require.”

  Xlina rose to her feet, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. She moved slowly to dark water and stared down into the black void below. Hesitating, she turned to look at the ancient guardian once more.

  “I’m afraid,” she admitted, looking back into the dark depths of the void.

  “You should be.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Prince of Nightmares

  Xlina entered the dark waters of the cauldron and was immediately lost in the darkness. The empty void surrounded her. Her lungs filled with water, yet she did not drown. Nor did she draw breath. Instead, she floated in the darkness, in the abyss. She stood in an unfamiliar plane. The darkness enveloped her, drowning out the light. She looked around, seeing nothing in the darkness except her own luminous glow.

  “Hello?” she called into the abyss. There was no echo. No sound. Just emptiness.

  “Amber?” she called again to the void, but there was nothing. No sign of life, no sign of anything. She walked into an abyss of nothingness.

  “Is this the test? Am I supposed to find my true self in this place?” her voice sounded loud and ominous in stark to the vast nothingness. A cold sense of dread washed over her.

  “Hello?” she called again, a tinge of fear creeping into her voice. “Anyone?”

  She wandered into the empty. Her feet finding steps, though she saw nothing above or below. No walls, no light. Just empty and dark space. She shuddered, remembering the dark druid’s scythe. The weapon wielded by Owen that could banish a soul from existence. Is that what this was? An empty and cold nothingness?

  “What is this place?” She screamed into the nothingness. “Have I failed?”

  A faint figure appeared in the dep
ths of the void. She could barely make out an outline of a silhouette. It melted into the void as if it were one with empty. Xlina looked at her hand and focused on calling on her magic, willing even the slightest lick of energy to form. A small match sized flame sprang into being in her hand and she held it out to illuminate the void. A massive, shadowed face grinned it the darkness. Purple flames sprang to life around her, revealing a massive giant of a demon. Its eyes, a dark amethyst, narrowed on her.

  “Where am I?” she demanded, looking at the surrounding room. It was opulent in design, like a throne room littered with valuables, as if the dragon had discarded his horde as junk. Riches lay strewn about the room, glittering gems and golden crowns lined the floor. She looked back at the massive demon as it reclined in a throne of pure shadow. He stood as tall as a small building seated on his throne with pale white skin and blood red tongue. He leaned forward on his throne, resting his chin on a clawed hand.

  “Why my dear sweet child, you are home.” His voice was powerful, and it resonated in her.

  “Home?” Xlina tilted her head and stepped forward cautiously. “I am supposed to be facing my true self.”

  “What better place than here,” the demon mused, leaning back in its throne.

  “I don’t understand.” Xlina shook her head, wary of the massive demon. “I’m already marked what more does your kind want from me?”

  “Child, why have you come?”

  “I am supposed to face myself, find my inner truth.” Xlina answered stoically.

  “And what truth do you find here in this place?” the demon curled its lips into a wicked smile, revealing sharp pointed teeth.

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know where I am? Is this the cauldron? The Cauldron of Rebirth?”

  “No,” the demon shifted on its throne, annoyed. She shuddered. The monster in front of her made Ertigan seem but a child. “Reach out... you know where you are.”

  She looked around, not believing the demon for a second. Still, she had encountered two illusions already perhaps this was another manifestation of the cauldron. She pushed out with her feelings, extending her failing magic in all directions. The energy coalesced around her. She felt her reserves grow rapidly. Her hunger sated, she felt herself brimming with nightmare energy. More than she could hold. Her body burst into violet flames, the nightmare energy seething around her.

  “This is the dream realm,” she drew her breath, feeling her muscles relax. Her body mending awash in nightmare energy. “What is a demon doing in the dream realm?”

  “You assume I am a denizen of the infernal realm,” the being chuckled, its deep baritone voice filling the room.

  “My apologies,” Xlina took a formal tone and gave a curt bow, “With whom am I speaking.”

  The dark figure loomed over her. His purple eyes and shadowy body filling her with an overwhelming sense of dread. He drummed a clawed hand on his throne of darkness as his face contorted into a scowl.

  “In your tongue I am called Phobetor, the primordial being of the nightmare realm, my child.” His voice cut through her, sending waves of fear cascading through her body. She trembled.

  “You’re the source,” she stammered, her words filled with terror.

  “The prince of all nightmares, my child. Welcome home Baku.”

  “Home?” Xlina mouthed softly.

  “At the bottom of the dream realm, where the darkest depths of fear dwell, lives the Oneiroi, black-winged primordial beings that feed on fear.” Phobetor raised his hands, illuminating the darkness with a purple light. Xlina noticed the dark shadows crawling down the walls. Winged lizard like creatures that snarled and recoiled from the light.

  “This place, the nightmare realm, is the source of my magic. Fears...” Xlina trembled, her body shivering in terror. “Why? How?”

  “Have you not seen it? Cambion?”

  “Cambion?” Xlina shrugged absently.

  “You don’t know what you are? Baku... descendant of human and nightmare. You’ve a bit of primordial in you. A bit of... demon.”

  “No, that can’t be...” Xlina withdrew a step, her mind racing in denial.

  “Why not, eater of dreams? Why not my child?” Phobetor seemed to relish in the revelation. He leaned on his throne of shadow and the purple flames dimmed, allowing the creatures on the walls to descend once more.

  “My family. My father. My mother. My brother.” She answered in defiance.

  “Your half-brother.” Phobetor leaned in, his lips curling into a devious grin. “Only your father’s blood do you share. You, my child, are the only living descendant on your mother’s side. My descendent.”

  “No, that’s not right,” Xlina searched her feelings, throwing up mental walls against the terrifying being before her.

  “You think the druid order would make such a mistake? Your father had a Celtic bride. Your mother was a dalliance. A lapse of judgement.”

  “You lie, it’s in your nature. You try to work my darkest fears against me.” Xlina backed away from the monster, refusing to believe the tale.

  “How did your mother die? Did the druids ever tell you?”

  Xlina spun on her heels, eyes wide as she stared up at the glowering entity. Her anger flared and the nightmare magic responded in kind, wrapping her in violet flames.

  “My mother died naturally.”

  “Yes, as one naturally does when pressed to death under stone.” Phobetor raised a clawed talon to his face, absently observing his hooked nail. As if she were but a nuisance.

  “Why would the druids kill my mother?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe? They came for you, didn’t they? Baku. Why do you think your father pushed you away? Why would they send your brother after you? When the Order learned of her heritage... well, we know how the Order feels about such things, don’t we?”

  “No, my father... he wouldn’t have allowed it. He loved her.”

  “A rebellious tryst. Nothing compared to his fealty to the order. Come child, welcome home... your actual home.”

  “Never,” Xlina turned, running from the Prince of Nightmares, running from the truth she knew deep inside. Running from herself.

  “We are not done.” Phobetor snapped his fingers, and she froze. The nightmare magic she so relied on for strength betrayed her. It held her firm. Frozen in place. Phobetor twirled his finger in the air, and she spun helplessly, lifted to eye level with the monster.

  “You are mine,” Phobetor’s voice cut through her, filling her with an overwhelming sense of dread. “There is nothing you can do Baku, your powers are mine to wield. Mine to control. You have no allies here. No strength. There is only... fear.”

  She shuddered, trembling in terror. He was unworldly strong. Like nothing she had ever encountered, and he held her locked in terror. Phobetor moved his finger and her limbs, encased in nightmare energy responded by moving at his whim.

  “No!”

  “You should never have come here, child.” Phobetor grinned cruelly. He dropped his finger low, and her right arm bent down, snapping the elbow in the wrong direction. The nightmare energy encasing her body pulling and tearing her apart.

  “You are alone here in the dream realm. There is no escape. In your heart you know it’s true.”

  Xlina felt her fear, tangible in her gut. Phobetor was feeding on her. Relishing in her terror and she was powerless to stop him. Her Baku magic, her greatest strength, turned against her. There was absolutely nothing she could do in the face of the Prince of Nightmares. Her power had reached its peak. She trembled, thinking of Amber, of Oxivius. All her efforts had come to this moment, all of it just to fail now. In the end, could she accept her heritage? Was this the true source of her nightmare magic? The true source of the Baku? She saw her friend’s flash before her eyes and she relaxed, letting her fears go. She accepted this was her end. When Phobetor killed her, it would be the end of Baku. The last living heir to the lineage. There would be no other Dream Eaters. No one would suffer her f
ate, no one else would bear her burden. She smiled, content, feeling the love of her friends wash over her. She could accept her end, because of them. Her friends lived in her heart. She looked up into the purple eyes of the Prince of Nightmares, and she was not afraid.

  “I am not alone,” she retorted, lifting her eyes to Phobetor, “I’ve brought my friends with me.”

  “Insolence!” his voice bellowed with rage.

  This was the dream realm. It was a place of thought, a place of emotion. A realm guided by the subconscious.

  “Bloody right, love,” Oxivius answered, appearing below her. His black magic coiled and wrapped about him as he flung spears of bone at the Nightmare Prince. He recoiled, covering his face as the bone shards slammed into his forearm.

  “No,” Phobetor howled in rage, “It’s not real. It’s just a dream.”

  “A right powerful one at that.” Penny answered from the ceiling. The manifestation of Xlina’s heart, the mother of spiders spewed webbing at Phobetor, covering his face and arms as he howled.

  “It’s my dream, Phobetor...” Xlina grinned, looking down at Oxivius. The necromancer flung his arms wide, sending a green spray of acid over the Prince of Nightmares. “I am never alone.”

  “Brick!” Amber called and the flames of the magic wolf appeared as if the fire spirit had just jumped from the fires of Heart’s Hearth. Amber absorbed the fire spirit, a streak of blonde hair turning crimson red as her nails grew pointed. She spun, losing a volley of hot fireballs at Phobetor, causing the massive creature to rise from his throne.

  “Pointless, desperate attempts. A few dream mirages are no match for the Prince of Nightmares!” He bellowed, striking at Penny, the mother of spiders clinging to the ceiling.

  “That’s me, Penny!” Burglecut’s scream split the air as the burly tattooed man appeared above Phobetor, falling on his outstretched arm and hacking with his dual meat cleavers. Phobetor spun, swinging his arm defensively to shake off the stinging brute of a man.