The citizens of Elysia scurried through the streets, fleeing to find any safe haven they could from the crazed man who seemed bent on destroying the city.
Carrying a busted plank in one hand like a torch, George stomped down the cobblestone road, overturning the carts of vendors and setting fire to everything in his path. Ahead loomed his biggest challenge thus far, a towering stone fortress looking like one of the enormous castles from a fairytale. He almost half expected Rapunzel to be leaning from one of the upper windows, her golden hair cascading down the walls, waiting for some idiot to use her locks as a rope to climb up and save her.
No such sight greeted him as George strode purposefully toward the enormous structure. Instead, armed guards began pouring out from the gaping archway at the bottom, locking their determined eyes on him and raising their swords.
Somehow he managed to keep their attacks at bay for a short time, swinging the burning plank like an ogre with a giant club. Bones crunched beneath the inhuman power of his blows, sending quite a few of the guards desperately trying to crawl away, leaving smears of blood to coat the cobblestones in their wake. Others were fleeing, their cloaks set ablaze, searching for a trough to douse the flames before the flesh on their bodies began to sizzle and pop like meat on a campfire.
Grinning, George paused for a moment and relished the sight of them fleeing like frightened sheep heading for the slaughterhouse. Within seconds he was caught off guard and his legs were swept from under him by one of the castle legions, causing George to land hard on his back. Since he was already dead and just inhabiting the body, he felt no pain. A twisted smile played across his face as he stared into the man's eyes.
Uttering a loud battle cry, the soldier brought his blade down in a frenzy of strikes. Every limb of the body George was inside of was severed, leaving him twitching on the ground like a turtle on its back.
Retreating deeper inside the machine, George pulled his head back from the faceplate and watched the flickering lights begin to fade once the power source of his energy had disengaged. Soon the only light he could see came from the openings of the severed appendages. Hoping that since the machine seemed beyond repair he would be able to break free, George tucked his ghostly form into a tight ball and concentrated on drifting toward one of the larger openings.
A thin mist seeped out of the stump of one leg as George floated up and away from the body. As he allowed his shape to re-form, he couldn't help but cackle with mad laughter as he gazed down at the guard, standing with one foot on the machine's chest with his sword thrust high into the air, crying out triumphantly in what he thought to be victory.
Fool! You can't kill someone who is already dead! Your moment of glory will be short-lived, I promise you. I only have to grab another body. Then I will come back. When I do, you will wish we had never crossed paths. You are nothing more than a tiny, pathetic ant, and I am the boot that will crush you from your puny existence!
The guard looked up nervously as he felt a cold presence brush past him. Quietly stepping down from his victory pose, he glanced at the corpse before him and raised an eyebrow. His jaw dropped open in disbelief when he noticed the tiny sparks and wisps of smoke dancing from the stumps of the man he had just killed. It wasn't the shock of seeing a machine that caused him to stagger back, he had seen plenty of them in his time of service, but never one which looked human. Before today they had all been insects and animals. "I have to warn the elder," he mumbled, spinning on his heel.
Far above the scene on the street, Jonas the Wise glanced from the window in his chamber, roused from his nap by the commotion outside. His gnarled, arthritic fingers stroked his long, gray beard worriedly when he saw what appeared to be dead soldiers lying in the blood soaked streets.
Where is Edward when I need him? Stepping away from the window he closed his eyes, raised his withered arms above his head, and began to softly chant. When the last word was spoken, a conjured hawk ruffled its wings from the sill.
Quickly, Jonas went to his desk and grabbed a piece of parchment, scribbling an urgent plea for Edward to return to Elysia. When he finished, Jonas rolled the paper into a tight coil and secured it with twine. Placing the message into the hawk's open beak, he whispered to the bird, "Go now. Find Edward and make sure he gets this message." The enormous hawk uttered a muffled cry of acknowledgement and sprung from the window, flying swiftly to the east.
Hearing the sound of rushing footsteps approaching in the hallway, Jonas turned toward the door to his chamber just as a sentry burst through into the room. "Sir, we have a big problem," the guard cried after a quick bow of his head to show respect to the elder.
Jonas sighed. "I know, my son. I've seen the blood in the streets below," he added gravely.
The guard looked nervously into the old man's pale blue eyes. "There was a small battle outside the walls of the castle a short time ago, but that isn't the biggest part of the problem."
Wearing a confused and haggard look upon his face, Jonas spun around and returned to the window, his waist length gray hair fluttering in the light breeze coming through it. "Then what is?" Looking down into the streets below, he could see the town returning to their business. Chaos averted for the time being, the citizens began picking up the mess, dousing flames where they could still keep them under control, and tending to the wounded.
"The trouble below was caused by a machine unlike any other we've encountered in the past. It wasn't one resembling an animal or insect ... it looked human."
The guard shrunk back in fear as Jonas whipped his head around to meet his gaze, making the elder look like a crazed hermit. "Human, you say?"
"Y-yes, sir," the guard stammered.
"Go swiftly, my boy! Fetch Victoria for me, and please ask her to hurry," Jonas commanded.
Bowing his head briefly, the man turned and rushed back into the hallway and disappeared.
Why aren't the Gods helping us? Has the darkness of our world somehow overthrown them? Questions fluttered about in Jonas' mind as he paced the cold, stone floor of his chamber, waiting for Edward's mother to arrive. Knowing she would likely be as clueless about how to deal with the situation as he was, it would still calm his frazzled nerves to hear her soothing voice.
Hearing the sound of hurried footfalls in the hallway, he walked toward the door. Victoria stepped into the room wearing a look on her face which reminded Jonas of a frightened rabbit. "I'll be right outside if you need me, sir," the guard stated, poking his head inside before pulling the sturdy wooden door closed.
"What's all this nonsense about machines that look like humans?" she inquired, crossing the chamber and sitting in the ornate chair by his desk.
It was obvious to him that the guard had interrupted her sleep. Her shoulder-length gray hair was sticking out in every direction, as if she'd had her head buried beneath her pillow, the black streaks in her hair looked like the snakes on a Medusa's head, and her normally soft brown eyes were puffy and red.
"I'm afraid it's true." He frowned. "One of the guards told me of the battle that he and others fought against the machine, which they'd thought was a man at first. I'm at a loss on what to do about the situation."
"What about the Gods? Won't they help?"
"They haven't spoken to me in quite some time. I despise saying such a thing out loud, but I fear the darkness which threatens us may have encroached upon them as well, perhaps even killed them," Jonas replied, walking back to the window and absently looking outside.
Gasping, Victoria put a hand over her mouth, shocked that he would say such a thing. "It can't be! Maybe they are too busy dealing with the problems arising from whatever evil force is causing these incursions, but they surely can't be dead! They are immortal after all."
"Has it always been so? How did they become immortal in the first place? What power exists in this world to make them so?" Jonas turned to regard his long time friend, hoping he hadn't upset her by questioning the Gods she revered.
"That's blasphemou
s!" She couldn't believe the words that were pouring from his mouth. Had the very forces they were battling against gotten to him and somehow corrupted his mind?
Jonas was silent, his eyes moistened with sadness as he glanced over at her, contemplating his words before speaking in such a manner and upsetting her again.
"Say something, please," Victoria begged.
Twirling his fingers in his beard he sighed heavily. "I sent out a hawk to deliver a message to your son, hoping he would make haste to return," he finally replied.
"Edward? How is he going to help if the Gods can't?"
"I'm not sure that he can, but at the very least we could send him to the Throne of the Gods. Perhaps he can find out why the Gods aren't answering our pleas for help," Jonas suggested.
"That's a very long journey for you to send him on. By the time he reaches it, everything we hold dear to our hearts could be in ruins," she argued.
"It's our only hope in my opinion, and a chance we will have to take."
Chapter 21
"What is this?" The Black Knight scowled at the monitor before him. At first he had nearly dismissed what he was seeing as one of his ghostly minions performing a security patrol in the town which had become his dumping ground. A city filled with the corpses of the worn out husks of the people he used to fuel his ever increasing army of cyborgs and some of the machines as well. After all, once his human subjects expired like dead batteries the device they were powering died as well. With the host life force gone, there was nothing to do except pile their useless shells up like firewood since each cyborg he created was attached to a specific person like a baby on an umbilical cord.
Soon after he began studying the monitor, however, the Black Knight came to the realization that what he saw before him was not one of his minions. "George," he growled menacingly, baring his jagged fangs. Now he understood why the bones his servant had brought to him were in the state that they were; his spirit was no longer attached to them.
Watching with hate filled eyes, rapidly shifting from their normal yellow glow to a depthless obsidian, he observed George doing what his minions did ... infiltrating the shell of one of his creations and taking control over it. Until now he had deemed the machines useless once their host expired on Cemetery Hill, but as he continued to look on, the Black Knight saw this wasn't entirely true.
Within moments of his disappearance into the defunct cyborg, George had somehow managed to awaken it and take control as if it were his own body. His movements appeared clumsy at first, but it was only a matter of minutes before George seemed to figure out how to make it move more naturally. The Black Knight looked on helplessly as the machine strode out of the graveyard town, his face twisting into a hideous sneer.
Rising from his throne, the Black Knight angrily paced back and forth in the chamber, contemplating what he could do about this new problem. Minions cowered in the corners doing everything they could to avoid their master's fury.
Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the room and turned his gaze upon the formless, ghostly demons packed tightly in one corner of the chamber, a flicker of yellow returning to his eyes. "Two can play this little game," he hissed under his breath.
Striding with purpose, he approached the formless ones. "I want each and every one of you to go to the dumping grounds and infest the corpses there. Our friend," he spat the word out venomously, "has shown me that the dead can still be useful."
Before the Black Knight could utter another word, the formless ones had departed to do his bidding, leaving nothing more than a cold draft of air in their wake.
Returning to his throne, he sat down in eager anticipation of what would unfold on the monitor before him next.
Chapter 22
As George approached the corpse-littered streets of the city, he sensed something wasn't right. The female ghost he had encountered outside of Elysia was no longer following him, but there was a surge of energy flowing from the dead town before him that he couldn't identify.
Cautiously he moved through the streets searching for the source, and as he traveled deeper into the city he began to notice something drastically wrong. Where are all the bodies? There were more here when I left than you could shake a stick at, but now there are none?
Continuing his search, he began to get the feeling he was being watched, which initially he dismissed. It's probably the Black Knight, he thought, almost tempted to give a sarcastic wave to his former master. Turning a corner, George finally found what he was looking for, but it was only a single corpse. Where are all the others?
Glancing around nervously, he began to think it was a trap of some sort. Wagging a finger in the air, hoping the Black Knight could see it, he shouted, "I'm not falling for it."
Suddenly, the sound of cracking and splintering wood came from all around him. Bursting through the doors and walls of nearby structures, an army of possessed cyborgs and reanimated corpses surrounded George. Thankful that his intuition had warned him of the potential danger he did the only thing he could ... he quickly levitated into the air high above them, knowing the Black Knight's servants would be unable to follow.
Considering what to do next, George looked down at the throng of outstretched arms and laughed. It only took a moment for him to figure out his next move, though he was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to latch onto another machine just yet. He would have to possess a mortal this time. Taking one last glance down, George waved good-bye to the Black Knight's minions and set off for Elysia.
Chapter 23
Though it was only midday, Edward and the others were huddled beneath the mechanical horses. After the sun had come up over the horizon, he had seen the dark cloud rapidly approaching them from the west. The same cloud he had originally thought to be smoke, rising from his hometown, had turned out to be a massive cluster of thunderheads.
They were traveling through a large, open expanse of grassy plains when Edward first saw the ominous clouds rolling toward them. Instead of stopping at daylight like he'd told the others he would do when Amber disappeared for the day, he urged them to greater speeds, hoping to get to the next patch of forest before the storm reached them.
As the angry, roiling clouds began to pass over them, the sky opened up. A torrential downpour rained down upon them, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of them. That was when Edward decided enough is enough. They clustered the animals, live and mechanical alike, as closely together as they could and huddled beneath them. Shivering and cold, their teeth chattering uncontrollably, they waited for the storm to pass.
Hours drifted by endlessly as the drenched group continued to wait. The storm was showing no signs of letting up, and for as far as they could see there was a never-ending procession of black clouds. Suddenly a loud screech erupted above them, piercing through the deafening sound of falling rain. Before any of them could even begin to wonder what had made the awful noise, a giant hawk landed in front of them, standing about three feet tall. Ruffling its feathers to shed the rain from them, it stepped beneath the horses and stretched its beak toward Edward, emitting a deafening squawk as it did.
Clapping his hands over his ears a moment too late, Edward looked curiously at the giant bird. Something was clenched in its beak. Reaching up, he stroked the top of the hawk's head affectionately. "Do you have something for me?" The bird's eyes darted suspiciously at the others taking shelter from the rain, then turned to face Edward. Opening its beak, it dropped the rolled up parchment into his outstretched palm.
Quickly he unwrapped the twine securing it and unrolled the paper. It was soaked from its journey through the storm, the words scribbled onto the page blurred and nearly unreadable, but Edward was able to pick out bits and pieces here and there.
Leaning in, Katie shouted in his ear in an attempt to be heard over the steady drone of raindrops clanking off the metallic bodies of the machines above them. "What does it say?"
"I can't make it all out," he bellowed, turning to fa
ce her, "but it looks like one of the elders is summoning me back to Elysia. By the way the handwriting looks, and the fact a magical bird was used to bring the message to me, I would say it is an urgent summons."
"Magical b—" Katie turned back to the hawk, wondering what, other than its size, was magical about it, but it was gone.
"I hate to say it," he shouted, "but I think we need to go right away. We can't let this storm keep us mired in this spot, waiting for it to pass." Looking from face to face, Edward waited for a sign that everyone had heard and understood what he had said. The grim looks upon their faces told him they had, but they were obviously reluctant.
***
After slowly trudging through the pouring rain for several hours, the weary group finally reached the next patch of wooded area, but by the time they had it was growing dark. The lone bright spot was the fact they now had Amber to lead them once again. It was still raining heavily, but the canopy overhead provided them with enough shelter from the storm that it felt more like a light drizzle, which allowed them to pick up the pace a little.
Keeping one hand on the pommel of her saddle, Katie rubbed her eyes lightly with the back of her broken hand, wincing as the pain flared, and yawned. She wished Edward would at least consider stopping for an hour or two so she could get out of the saddle and take a nap, but somehow she knew he wouldn't go for the idea. Her joints had stiffened painfully from the long, damp ride and she could feel another streak of bitchiness creeping into her mind.
Without warning Edward pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a stop. "Hold on, Amber," he called after her. She spun around with a curious look.
"Is something wrong?" she inquired, floating closer.
"No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to keep my eyes open any longer," he stated softly. A collective sigh of relief erupted behind him. "I'm sorry," he told them, turning in the saddle to face the group. "I feel as if I've been acting like a slave driver," he admitted.
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