Sword- Part Two

by D B Nielsen

  Gabriel then cauterised the wound with vodka, found in the self-replenishing drinks cabinet in the rear of the car, and loosely bandaged what remained of Pen’s arm. I never knew where the poisoned limb disappeared to, and I was grateful for small mercies; I could not have coped with the sight of Pen’s severed limb that only moments earlier had been a living part of this robust man.

  ‘Do you think it worked? Do you think you’ve saved him?’ Fi whispered into the darkened interior of the car.

  Gabriel’s voice was soft. ‘Je sais pas, ma petit puce. We can only hope. It may not be enough. Pen is weakened by his injury and needs time to heal. He may yet succumb to the darkness, if the poison does not get him first.’

  It was a terrible thought that all this could have been in vain, but I couldn’t let myself dwell upon it now – we had bigger troubles.

  Zeke interrupted, as the car hit a pothole and lurched crazily to the right, ‘I hate to break this to you guys, but we’ve still got a Rephaim pack on our tail.’

  Whipping my head around, I tried to spot the Rephaim out of the rear window but could see nothing, the landscape an undefined shadowy blur.

  ‘We’re almost there. Hang on.’ Zeke performed a quick manoeuvre and the Range Rover spurted forward with increased speed.

  Pen moaned and shivered as the car veered. Moonlight illuminated his face just enough for me to see his eyes as his head still lay upon my lap. I was afraid of what I might see there – the blank look of ignorance and forgetfulness which I was becoming all too familiar with – but his eyes remained clear and when he spoke he was lucid and he did not seem to be infected.

  ‘S-s-sorry,’ he slurred, his accent thicker with the heightened emotion and recent horror – but he still didn’t seem to understand what horror was yet to come. ‘I was stupid. Didn’t stick to the plan.’

  He slowly tried to push himself up from my lap. Then stared at the blood on his clothes and chest. On my hands. The bloody bandage where his arm once was. And then he began to scream – and this time it was pure despair, a sound that could have curdled air. This was not a nightmare he would ever wake up from. It was a sound I would never forget, no matter how long I was to live.

  But Gabriel wouldn’t have a bar of it.

  He was brutal. He was merciless.

  He hit the larger man with a force that for any ordinary mortal would have been a death blow and then grabbed Pen’s face between his palms and stared him down. The gesture was intimate, the sentiment was not. Silencing the injured Anakim with the sheer force of his will, they locked gazes until Pen’s eyes slid away in shame.

  ‘Mon frère,’ Gabriel said, and his voice conveyed his anger and heartache, ‘L'arbre ne tombe pas du premier coup. Set a brave heart.’

  Swallowing hard, I realised that Gabriel was right – “The oak is not felled with one chop” – and Zeke obviously agreed.

  ‘Mieux vaut plier que romper,’ he said hearteningly to his comrade. ‘Had you been less brave and more stupid, the Wise Ones would not be here with us now, Pen.’

  I shuddered at the thought.

  ‘Come on, gut up. We are not out of danger yet. The war is larger than you or I – or the Keeper or the Wise Ones. Do you stand with us, brother?’ asked Gabriel.

  Pen looked at Gabriel, his deep brown eyes intense with emotion. At last, he reached out with his good hand and clasped Gabriel’s in a fierce grip.

  ‘We will defeat the darkness. Whatever you require of me, I shall be at your side, brother,’ said Pen with great force.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Fi muttered angrily, tearing her clammy hands away from Pen’s solid shoulders. ‘Do you realise what you’re saying? You lost your hand because of this! Because of us! For a foolish sense of duty and honour, you risk your life!’

  ‘No, Wise One,’ Pen contradicted quietly, ‘I freely give my life.’

  Fi and I stared at the crippled Anakim in shock. How were we to accept so great a sacrifice?

  Zeke spoke up, ‘We must defeat them. You must return the Seed to Adam’s altar. You are the only ones who can do it.’

  My emotions were rising and falling like the BBC weather reports in response to their conviction. But I had no time to protest as there was a loud thunk upon the roof of the car, the metal crushing and buckling under the pressure, shredding as easily as the lid of a tin can peeling away under a can opener. Except that this was no can opener but the talons of the lurid Rephaim foe. In that instant as I let out an electrifying scream, the wind whipping my hair into my eyes so that I could barely see what dread fiends bore down upon us, the maimed Pen launched himself upon Fi and me, giving us the protective cover of his body.

  Gabriel, who had dropped the glaive upon the carpeted floor of the Range Rover in revulsion after severing Pen’s forearm, swiftly retrieved it to swing it ruthlessly at the creatures through the ragged open gaps of the once-solid roof. The three beasts reared back, just out of range of its wicked sharpness but did not cease their attack. And Louis was nowhere to be seen, though I couldn’t discount the fear that he was waiting for us in ambush up ahead.

  ‘I think we have a problem,’ Zeke shouted back at us as he concentrated on what passed for a road.

  ‘Epic fail!’ growled Fi – because the car roof wasn’t the only thing that was being shredded to pieces; the sky tore apart as it followed our path to the Watcher.

  Seconds passed that seemed more like an eternity – the anticipation of trying to guess what the Rephaim would do next was nerve-wracking. Their shrieks were the stuff of nightmare and wouldn’t be ignored. Their attacks were fast and furious – viciously clawing and ripping; the harsh, clamorous beating of their wings; trying to reach us through the jagged gaps in the roof.

  Then, without warning, there was silence. The world instantly stilled. Both the Rephaim’s attacks and the storm had stopped completely.

  A moment passed. Then two. More.

  Still, nothing.

  No movement, no screeches, no noise.

  And, finally, Pen hauled himself off from us. The wind whipped through the gaping holes in the Range Rover’s roof, torn metal and fabric fluttering wildly above my head. I held my breath, barely making a sound, listening for the next onslaught.

  Then, quite suddenly, in a sudden burst of movement and clamour, the car door next to my sister was ripped from its hinges and Fi plummeted backwards, arms flailing wildly, trying to save herself from falling; the screech of tyres and the roar of the wind silencing her screams.

  But it was Pen’s lightning reflexes that saved her.

  An explosion of fear tore through me as I blindly, desperately, grabbed at Fi, hauling her back into the car with Pen, barely escaping the outstretched, poisoned talons of the Rephaim. Zeke spun the Range Rover to the left to avoid them as they lunged towards the gaping hole where the car door used to be and reached out towards my twin.

  And then Kal and Gabriel were there, providing protection, with Fi hovering ashen-faced and trembling beside me. The Rephaim’s eyes were cold and vacant, their actions mechanical and devoid of reason, as they repeatedly darted towards the car.

  ‘We’re here!’ cried Fi, clasping at the talisman round her neck as if it was burning her, the same one given to her by the fortune teller which had saved her from Semyaza. ‘We have to hurry!’

  ‘They’re coming!’ Kal yelled. ‘We have to stick to the plan! Do it now!’

  Gabriel nodded once, a steely look of determination hardening his perfect features. ‘We head straight for the catacombs. What matters most is getting you two to Elijah. Ready?’

  My voice barely above a whisper, I answered him, ‘Ready.’

  Then he turned towards his men. ‘Bon chance, mes frères. Now clear a path for us!’

  Pen and Kal launched themselves out of the Range Rover. They took to the air, gaining altitude, engaging the foe in a daring aerial battle. I watched only for a moment – for a moment was all I had.

  Without giving the Rephaim time to work out their
strategy to attack them, Kal dived into them at full speed, a blur in the night sky like an asteroid falling to earth. The sky once again lit up behind them, like fireworks exploding in jagged streaks of light, and Pen, letting himself fly on his wing, turned over completely in order to rocket up behind one of the Rephaim – the one who had lost him his hand. The vertical dive was so sudden and steep that it was like a bird of prey attacking – and it gave me an odd and helpless feeling that I could do nothing but watch as they risked their lives for our sake. I felt like a coward, but I knew that it would all be in vain if we didn’t convince Elijah of the necessity to help us. I did not have time to analyse my conflicted feelings; only knowing that it was essential to fight and win.

  Zeke braked hard, tearing up the hard ground, just before the entrance to the catacombs.

  Without further delay, Fi and I charged behind Gabriel, following right on his heels. Zeke followed to form a tight pack then disengaged, joining Pen and Kal, fighting wildly to push the Rephaim back as they took to the ancient ruins of the way station to form a line of defence.

  I sprinted behind Fi, her natural athleticism giving her an advantage, as the battle raged around us. The fighters clashed brutally but I had no time now to look; my heart pumped loudly, my breathing coming in ragged gasps, but I kept on running.

  Though no more than a hundred metres from the catacombs’ entrance, it felt a hundred times that distance still; the muscles in my legs burnt from my efforts. Steeling my nerves, I kept pushing forward, until I almost ploughed into my twin.

  ‘What the hell?’

  Fi was shouting at Gabriel, desperation in her voice. ‘Get it open, Gabriel!’

  Grabbing her attention, he shouted, ‘Salaud! I cannot!’

  We were standing at the entrance to the catacombs, darkness all around. The sounds of battle receded into the distance as an intense cold filled my veins and Gabriel’s words sank in.

  ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

  ‘St. John!’ yelled Gabriel, trying to make the solid door budge, but to no avail. ‘He has warded the catacombs against all Nephilim!’

  ‘Sage!’ Fi screamed from beside me, and I turned to see her pointing at a spot in the roiling sky above us – Andromalius was bearing down upon us, with all the fury of a high-velocity bullet.

  Before Gabriel could do anything, I was already moving, crouching on my knees beside the door. Dazed, I didn’t know what I was looking for but, consumed by fear and curiosity, Fi collapsed to the ground beside me. Getting a better look, she asked, ‘Gabriel, is it the same as the wards at the cemetery or in the catacombs in France?’

  ‘Non, non, non! That would be far too easy!’ Gabriel said absently, staring up to track Louis’ rapid approach. The Rephaim was coming, only a couple of metres away.

  But a lone Anakim crept past all defences and swooped on the foul fiend, barrelling into him and deflecting his course.

  ‘Pen!’ muttered Gabriel – and I could hear the fear and concern lacing his voice as he watched his maimed comrade struggle with the seemingly stronger adversary. Yet there was no doubt in my mind that Pen was resilient. Just moments earlier, he had been at the end of his strength but through sheer force of will had recovered quickly, and now attacked the monster with an equally vicious force.

  Shock snapped me out of my stupor and, as it suddenly dawned on me, I yelled, ‘It’s for me! For me alone! He’s sealed the entrance so that only I can open it!’

  I reached out and pushed my hand violently against the door – a barrier of impenetrable titanium and wardings that had not been here when I had visited previously – and felt the mark of the Seed flare to life as my palm made contact with the cold metal. Tingling with awareness, everything seemed to go perfectly still and silent. Then, from somewhere inside the catacombs, came the sounds of whirring and clicking and motion.

  And then the metal barrier slid open to the hollow blackness inside.

  I quickly reached out and grabbed Fi’s arm, propelling her through the opening with a strength I didn’t know I had, and then turned back for Gabriel.

  ‘Gabriel!’ I yelled at his back, his wheat coloured hair damp with sweat. ‘Let’s go! In here! Now!’

  He turned to look down upon me, his face a mask of pity. ‘Je suis désolé. Je ne peux pas y aller. Je ne peux pas aller avec toi.’

  ‘Wh-wh-what? What do you mean?’ I stuttered in horror, my stomach turning over in presentiment.

  ‘No Nephilim can pass through the catacombs now. Not even St. John himself. The Keeper has decreed it.’ He pulled something from his pocket and hastily threw it at Fi. It spun in the air, catching the light and dazzling my eyes in a lightning flash as she caught it. Silver-grey eyes flashed a final warning as the sturdy titanium barrier began to slide shut, locking him out ... and us in. ‘Do not trust the Watcher. Stay alive, Wise Ones.’

  THE WATCHER

  CHAPTER NINE

  There was darkness. And there was death.

  So absolute, that it was smothering; the air was thick with it, this fluid darkness like the ocean floor. It blanketed the space around me, weighed me down, but was nothing that I could grasp or push away. And the sound of the darkness – the silent seconds and stillness – was haunting. Only remembrance gathered in the darkness beside the bones, under a cross, or lurked within a coffin.

  When I was a child, I used to fear the darkness. The lone quietude of the long hours of night and dreaming always held terrors – where the shifty creaking of the house, the wind singing a requiem, crying through the gaps in the door frames and window frames and rain weeping the panes, the rumble of a solitary car turning into a driveway along our street, and the possum or fox skiing down the roof tiles or scampering beside the fence, would wake me from a fitful slumber. Even when Fi and I used to share a bedroom, the regularity of her breaths were far too loud in the silence. Even when I could see the moon and stars through the gap in the curtains, I intuited the reason why men gave names to them and made shapes of them – charting the zodiac of my future – because they feared, like I did, what was beyond their ability to change or control.

  Something flashed brightly and hissed in the darkness.

  And then Fi was holding up Gabriel’s lighter to the torch made of sulphur mixed with lime, and I was hesitant to breathe, in case the light went out. But the flame immediately roared to life. It was a minor miracle. The wan light it cast was but a small pool on the floor, a lantern world of rippling shadow and we were but fish treading the darkness, but I was grateful for it nonetheless.

  ‘Better get moving,’ Fi said pragmatically, taking charge.

  As neither of us were in the mood to discuss what was happening outside the catacombs or whether the Anakim were any safer out there than we were in here with Elijah, the deathly silence prevailed for a moment while we adjusted to the crypt. We began to walk down the steep, narrow staircase and towards the city of the dead with its broken burial niches, beneath the grey and murky volcanic rock in single file, Fi taking the lead as she held aloft the spluttering torch.

  I had wandered this path before but it did not appear the same as the last time I was here. Perhaps it was because of St. John’s absence. Perhaps it was because I did not know then what to expect, and now I did. Whatever the case, these deathly halls were an unknown maze to me.

  ‘Okay, I have to say it.’ Fi’s voice was unnaturally loud in the solemn stillness. ‘You were right and I was wrong. Your fiancé did all he could, I guess, as the Keeper to keep Belladonna in check. He kept his word to us too and visited Elijah. Not sure how that went but I guess we’re about to find out.’

  ‘It must have been when he came to Rome.’ I paused, swallowing regret. ‘I didn’t realise then what little time we might have together.’

  Fi sighed. ‘Who does, Sage? Look around. No one knows when their time is up. All you can do in the time you have together is love a lifetime’s worth.’

  Despair flooded me. Maybe it was foolish to live with regret – but I
wished I had seized the moments when they had come and shown St. John the intimacy I’d always felt. Was it now too late?

  ‘But what is it with Nephilim and catacombs? I seriously don’t get it.’ Fi’s voice echoed in the darkness as she continued speaking, distracting me from my morbid thoughts.

  ‘Mortality,’ I replied, my voice holding conviction. ‘There is something fascinating about death to the immortals.’

  ‘It isn’t as if they can’t die,’ challenged my sister, briefly pausing to look back at me through hazel eyes which held mockery.

  ‘Yes, but it takes an awfully long time for it to happen naturally.’

  She shrugged, and I caught sight of the amulet at her throat eerily glowing a silver-violet in the darkness as we slowly approached the Watcher’s lair.

  ‘I guess it has something to do with the challenge that death poses to them.’ My breath rasped in the darkness as it was expelled from my lungs. ‘It is the one thing we have that truly defines our human condition. Our awareness of the inevitability of death makes us value life, makes us want to leave a legacy, to create, to build, to imagine, to remember. You know. Existence or non-existence. Being or non-being.’

  ‘You’re not going to whig out and go all Shakespeare on me, are you?’ Fi demanded, and I managed a laugh.

  ‘No, silly,’ I stated. ‘What I’m trying to say is that everything grows old, everything else or everyone else decays or dies, nothing poses a challenge except this cosmic battle between the Anakim and the Grigori, and they grow ... tired and bored, I guess ... because ... well, what’s the purpose of existence?’

  ‘Bored?’ Fi huffed her displeasure, and her breath came forth in a short burst that momentarily produced a tiny puff of steam and as quickly evaporated into the chilly air of the underground labyrinth. ‘It’s hardly Groundhog Day. I’d gladly trade my mortality for their kind of boredom any day.’

  Giving a snort, I cautioned, ‘Don’t be too sure about that. I doubt immortality is all that it’s cracked up to be.’

  It was her turn to snort as she retorted, ‘So says the one who’s immortal!’ but she left it at that. For even before she looked, she felt the presence of death, then saw the dark passage that led us forward into darkness.