The Cult
Page 42
Baxter considered this. "The easiest way to sneak in is through the basement window."
"All right. Lead the way."
They followed the edge of the pines around to the back of the property. The main house was lit up as if a big party were going on but even from a distance it was clear all of the rooms were empty. The sense of quiet only lengthened here, grew dense about the now mist-shrouded Manor. Baxter paused to catch his breath.
"Thought I'd be in better shape, being freshly re-born and all."
Daniel shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. I could only restore you to what you were before your…dissolution."
Baxter chuckled. "Serves me right."
They detached from the greater shadow and quickly ran across the open expanse. Light from the windows reached them; if anyone were to glance out the two would easily be seen as they approached. Mindful of this they crouched low and, in moments, were kneeling down beside the manor's basement window. Luck was with them; it remained unlocked, providing ready access into the ominously-quiet building. Baxter slipped in first, dropping out of sight. He appeared a moment later to hold the window open for Daniel. A light flashed across Baxter's face then and he leapt back, panicked. Daniel caught his arm before he could make any noise.
"Penlight," he said simply, shining it up into his face. He swung the thin blade of light about, let it fall upon the dusty floor.
"This way," Baxter gestured. The two crept forward, past the packing-crates and draped furniture into the middle of the basement.
"So, now that we're here…" Daniel handed Baxter the light. "We need to get into the cavern."
Baxter looked at him blankly.
Baxter swallowed. "I… I've never been down there. I left just before that, remember?"
Shea cocked his head in the dim light. "But what about before?"
Baxter shrugged. "Nope. Ashton never even mentioned it. It's all news to me." A period of silence followed this revelation, and the old man swept the light around the basement walls. "Down here somewhere, I would guess?"
Shea shook his head."I don't think we have the time to search the entire basement. Even if we did there's no guarantee we'd find an entrance. We have to go upstairs, hope someone up there can tell us."
Baxter stopped them.
“Wait a minute. The rituals, the cavern – how do you know all of this? You've never even been inside the manor.” Daniel nodded.
“We have certain... allies. One of them saved your life, back in the forest. They've been showing me what I needed to know. Well,” he acknowledged. “most of it, anyway.”
“Well, ask them how we get down there!” Baxter demanded. Daniel shook his head. “It's not like I can make a goddamn phone call! There are rituals, certain sacrifices that need to be made...”
"Fuck!" Baxter whispered angrily. "Why didn't you bring a gun or something?"
"I don't believe in violence," Daniel stated simply. Baxter groaned.
"Oh, brother."
Baxter led them to the wooden stair. It wobbled beneath their feet uneasily, the once-sturdy boards now barely firm enough to hold their nails. Cautiously the pair crept to the top, stopping before the locked door.
Baxter whispered into the keyhole, rapping lightly three times. The lock snapped open and Baxter gave the door a small push. Stepping out, they were in the hall just off of the kitchen. The sounds of violence found them, shouts of anger and pain fairly close to where they stood.
"That sounds like Zak!" Baxter said, stepping forward. Shea grabbed his arm.
"Wait! We can't show ourselves yet!"
Baxter resisted this, turning angrily on the other man. "We came here to help them!"
"Wrong! We came here to prevent Paq'q from waking! Your friends will have to fend for themselves.” Baxter stood his ground.
"No! They needs us. Besides, if we help, they can lead us down into the caves."
There was no time for debate. Daniel slipped back into the study while Baxter hefted a chair over his head and stepped behind the doorway. A moment later a familiar figure sprinted past, followed closely by the sound of heavy footsteps. Baxter swung the chair then, bringing it down as hard as possible.
Metathias collapsed in a rain of wood and torn fabric, the chair striking the left side of his head. He hit the floor and bounced, carried forward by his momentum, only stopping when he crashed into a small telephone table. Legs and arms akimbo, he lay sprawled at the end of the hallway, clear liquid pouring from the deep vent in his head. A crossbow bolt was stuck in his chest.
"Baxter!" Zak was beside him then, staring at him in wonder. "Where in the hell did you come from?" Baxter shook his head.
"Doesn't matter. Where are the girls?"
Zak shrugged, silver hair falling from his shoulders. "They ran in the opposite direction. Adam and Ashton..." Even as he spoke the sound of footsteps came down the hallway. Zak loaded another bolt into the crossbow. "I'll slow them down. Go find the girls.” Zak stepped out into the hallway but stepped back just as quickly. A millisecond later the corner next to his head exploded in a spray of paint and plaster. "They have guns."
"How unsportsman-like."
The two men ran into the study, bolting the door behind them.
"What's goin' on?" Daniel demanded, rushing forward.
Zak looked taken aback by the unkempt older man, not recognizing him as his mentor's son. “Out, through the veranda!"
They raced across the big room, towards the beckoning exit. Behind them another blast tore through the lock of the door, blowing it wide. Adam and Ashton rushed inside, just to catch a fading glimpse of their fleeing prey.
"Damn it! Keep after them!" Ashton stopped short of the veranda doors, watched as Adam leapt from the railing and into the ring of darkness around the manor. He returned to the hallway, considered the immobile form of Metathias. "Get up, you fool!" He kicked him swiftly in the shoulder and a sound escaped the manservant's lips. It was not a shout or a cry or even a whimper, but a sound nonetheless, a halfhearted exclamation of air from troubled lungs. "Come with me. We must find those women." Ashton stalked off without offering aid. The old manservant slowly struggled to his feet, wordlessly following his Master.
~*~
Annie and Erica found themselves in the living room. The space was little used, too large and close to the front of the manor to be comfortable.
"Where do we go from here?" Annie asked desperately. Erica hurried over to the fireplace. Above the mantle hung the Ashton family crest, a large shield faced with crossing blades. She pulled a small ottoman from its place at the end of a chair and climbed up onto it. "Here." She handed Annie one of the swords; taking the other for herself she hopped down. "We have to go back. Get into the caves. We'll have to fight."
Annie smiled. "Good."
She let out a sudden startling shriek. The sound was both fearful and invigorating, the tiny woman at last giving voice to her blistering rage. In understanding Erica joined in the timeless war-cry; the two charged down the hallway, swords poised for battle. The carpet came apart beneath their pounding feet, creating a cloud of roiling dust. It swam in the air around them, swirled and swarmed in dazzling patterns before their eyes. The women ignored it, unflagging in their pursuit. They leapt over the fallen curio cabinet in tandem, shaking the walls with their rage. As they approached the parlor they saw a black-robed shape break from the shadow and run from the parlor.
"No! He's leading you away!" Erica cried. Annie ran on, unheeding. She chased the robed figure down the hallway, her voice now fired red with blood. Erica chased after, knowing they were being misled but unable to stop her friend. They were at the front of the manor now, near the main stair. The black-robed figure was swept up the steps, suddenly scowling down upon them from above. White hair streamed out of the hood, where a pair of pale blue eyes flashed.
"DIE!" Chloe threw up her arms, fingers splayed.
A crushing gale swept down the steps, knocking both Annie and Erica from
their feet. In the space of five seconds the temperature plunged thirty degrees, turning breath to vapor. Frost rapidly began to spread from where Chloe stood, coating the stair and banister. Annie and Erica fought to their feet, resisting the punishing wind. Step by step they climbed, their bare feet providing little traction. They began to use their swords, driving them into the spreading ice and pulling themselves upward. Chloe smiled and doubled her attack, sending a blizzard down upon their heads. In snow so cold it burned, Erica felt herself slip. Reaching out she caught the banister and found to her horror she could not let go. Her flesh was stuck fast to the wooden dowel, just as the flesh of her feet was freezing the sheet of ice that spread ever downwards. With an agonized cry Erica ripped her hand and bare feet free, struggling upwards in a slick of her already-frozen blood.
Annie was nearly to the top of the steps. Through the freakish storm Erica could see a shadow of doubt pass across Chloe's face. She threw her right hand forward and a spray of silver icicles shot towards Annie. With a precision born of desperation Annie deflected these with her sword, shattering them in a dazzling prismatic spray. Chloe stepped back and tried again, sending twice as many of the deadly frozen missiles Annie's way. Most were stopped but this time a few found their mark, the razored ice lancing into Annie's flesh. Unhindered, Annie dove forward, swinging her blade in a wide arc. The sword just missed Chloe, whose head snapped back fearfully. The other woman quickly lost ground as Annie pushed forward. There was a sudden and complete white-out then, the air filled with blinding snow.
Erica finally made it to the landing. Then Annie was beside her, dragging her up and away from the treacherous stair.
"We have her!" she shouted. Swords raised, the two women once again charged forward. And though the wind wailed it could not drown out their screams of defiance; though the air froze around them it could not stop their flashing blades, as they carved their way into the heart of the storm. Again and again they swung their swords until, at last, the weapons found their mark. The white-out went red, blood freezing in a mist around them, each arc of their blades a crimson slash across the blizzard's face. There was screaming then, the ugly sound of metal cleaving flesh and the dull thunk of parts unseen hitting the floor. In a fever the two women fought on, muscles screaming with effort, arms and legs trembling as their adrenalin waned. They chopped and cleaved until they could see there was nothing left of Chloe but a bleak red stump stuck upwards in a pool of its own frozen gore.
"Now let's go get my kid."
Annie walked through the rapidly-melting snow, crushing one of Chloe's eyes underfoot. The irony of this did not escape her.
THEN
Zak opened his eyes to find himself in a wide clearing at the edge of a wood. Wherever he was, it appeared to be summer by the robust green of the trees and the bright sunshine. The sounds of the natural world were all around him; the wind whispering through the high grass, the buzz of honey-laden bees and the endlessly-changing medley of birdsong. Above, the sky was unclouded, the bluest of blues.
"Where am I?" he asked aloud. To his surprise an answer was forthcoming.
"Where you belong."
Zak looked around for the voice's source but could see no one.
"I have looked deep inside of you, Brother Pan. I know what it is you seek." The voice was practiced, smooth, as if it were selling him steak-knives on late night television.
"I want an empty field?" Zak asked perplexed.
"Not as such."
In an instant the sun had set. Zak was now standing before a large bonfire, was surrounded by a group of others making up a wide circle. He thought of hippies, gypsies, but these people were much more than that. They seemed to be of another time, one far earlier than his own. It was clear they were unfettered by the obligations and expectations of his day, were somehow free of the restrictions imposed upon his own people. While each of them were different all were somehow the same, united by some wonderful truth he could only guess at. The range of the gathered was incredible to him, spanning the newly-born to the greatly aged. All were smiling, clapping, singing or drumming to a joyous rhythm that made the countless stars above shine brighter.
"Brother Pan, you have long sought that which is missing from your life. You have not found it and, in your realm, you never will. That is because what you seek lies here. This is your home. These are your people. They are here, waiting for you to join them. They wait for you to give the word, that together we may remake the world."
"I don't understand…"
"Of course you do!" The voice hissed, filling the air around him. "I offer you this, a piece of Eden. Thus it shall remain forever, if only you do as I ask."
Zak looked around him. The faces were all impossibly familiar, a thousand best friends he'd somehow forgotten. The men shouted and cheered his name; the women smiled, promising much in the long nights to come.
"Well, Pan? Your tribe awaits you."
~*~
Chloe woke seated upon a high dais. The throne beneath her silk-covered bottom was of shimmering gold, inlaid with a dazzling array of gemstones and jewels. Before her was an enormous hall filled with finely-dressed men and women. Seated at long, wide oaken tables they ate and drank merrily by candlelight, consuming a vast supply of food and wine. She turned to the man beside her, a hawkish-looking fellow in flowing purple vestment.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice barely heard above the clangor.
He looked down at her and smiled thinly. "M'lady, this is your court. The finest of guests from the seven provinces have come to make merry and help you celebrate your ascension to the throne."
She stared hard at him. "Throne?"
He smiled at her patiently and continued. "Today is your twenty-first birthday. You are at last our Queen."
Chloe looked at her surroundings disbelievingly. It was an impossible facsimile, an idealized creation of her subconscious mind sprung to life.
"All you have wished for is nearly yours, Sister Zephyr," a different voice said. She turned but found she was now alone on the dais.
"Why? How?" she asked, still uncomprehending. The new voice boomed.
"All you must do is rejoin your brothers and sisters on the outside. Re-assemble the circle, complete the ritual. Then you shall have all you see before you. Only then will you become the queen you have always dreamed of being."
The gathered began to chant her name. Royal subjects all, how could she disappoint them?
~*~
The sky filled with fire. Adam ducked as the winged horse swept by his head, its armor-clad rider rushing to join the melee. He felt its wind singe him and he dropped into a crouch upon the edge of the plateau. Adam watched as the battle was joined, as blood and lightning streaked the blazing heavens. Massive ebony steeds galloped down from the clouds, bronze chariots flying behind them. Warriors hurled massive spears at one another, shattering the craft of their opponents and sending their flaming remains to the battlefield far below. Thousands fought down in the valley, men making war on the corpses of their fallen brethren, forcing the line ever forward. Hammers, pikes, and swords flashed by the light of the fires, their blades black and encrusted with the gore of defeated foe-men. The stink of the carnage was swept up to him on a hot wind, as a ferocious winged steed set down before him. Through the armor plating on its head its red eyes flashed, ready for combat.
"Your steed and equipment, my Lord," his squire cried, rushing forward with a new sword and shield. Adam reached forward but the scene abruptly halted before his eyes. All had stopped, the carnage and bloodshed stilled in mid-flow.
"If you wish to reside in Valhalla, you must first die a warrior's death."
The voice came booming out of the sky, nearly knocking Adam from his feet. Staggered, he watched as a misty apparition appeared in the air before him. He was massive, blocking out the meager sun. Though Adam could not see his features, he knew his identity by the massive helmeted silhouette who now spoke.
"All-Father" he sai
d, kneeling.
A single eye blazed in the darkness, gazing down at the man who would live in death with the Gods. "Your steed and sword await you, Fenris. Return to the circle, then return to me."
~*~
Erica stood at the edge of a road. At its end, in the far distance, sparkled a magnificent city. Terraced palaces of emerald and turquoise made up its skyline, gilded spires ascending into the pale of morning. Enormous domes glittered in the rising sun, their mosaic roofs adorned with strange and breathtaking patterns. Ornate towers and conical temples pointed heavenward, cast lengthening shadows across the sea of rooftops. Smaller but no less remarkable buildings lay below, their architecture a dazzling melange of climbing steeples, swirled turrets and massive ramparts. Every structure had its own open terrace covered in lush greenery, gardens which looked wild and inviting from a distance. A series of ramps and steps connected nearly everything, from homes to stores to the abundant, open park spaces, creating a stately sky-walk suspended above the city. A massive red wall of stone shored up the kingdom, its bronze gates flashing in the morning light.
How had such a thing been brought to life? Who within had the wisdom to construct such a wondrous creation? Most importantly, how had she come to be here? The answers to her questions inevitably lay before her. Erica began to walk down the dusty road.
"You will never reach the City of Dreams that way."
It was a voice, close as if by her ear. She turned but found she was alone as before.
"How do I get there?"
"You must make a choice."
~*~
Annie did not open her eyes. She did not need to, for she knew exactly where she was. The sand was warm beneath her feet, the breeze gentle across her face. She felt the heat of the sun upon her skin, could taste the salt in the air on the tip of her tongue. A quiet music filled her ears; the high piping tune of the seabird, the voice of the wind in the tall grass, the endless rhythm of the Ocean forever the same and yet ever-changing. She lifted her arms from her sides and splayed her fingers, letting the breeze blow through them. It was cool, mysterious, had been at play in the shadowy coves further down the beach. Left behind were the scents of rich earth and rotted vegetation, stranded starfish and rare island blossoms. It was just as she remembered it.