by Anton Le Roy
He turns away from us and then the Newborn swarm. They need no orders to know what they have to do.
“You go get that bastard,” spits Gregor, rolling his big shoulders as he faces the closest Newborn approaching from a platform to our right, “I’ll take care of these pesky flies and join you in a bit.”
While there’s too many of them for the old Gregor to handle, he’s something totally new now. A quick warrior handshake with hand to wrist and I can feel the latent strength in his big arm that was never there before, even when he was in his prime. There’s no need to worry about him. Leaving Gregor to it I sprint up a continuously rolling deck of steps, stumbling and tripping upwards towards my other old buddy. Almost impale myself on my own sword at one point. A lone Newborn member steps in front of me. She’s off balance too and I easily shove her over one side. She falls with a brief scream.
It’s right about now, when I start getting out of breath and my joints start straining and my recent wounds start throbbing, that I wish I could have had a couple more days recuperating back in Wetlock’s home. Too late for that!
Finally at the top platform and Satipo turns to regard me with a hinted smile. “Dammit, Vet! Fine, I’ll kill ya myself.”
“No, Satipo,” I hiss, approaching him slowly till I stand in the centre of the platform, “We need to put the past behind us or we’ll never be free!”
“The past defines who we are, Vet. There’s no escaping it.”
“True, however, there is acceptance,” I say, not just for him, for me too. Accepting the past, now there’s a thing. Finally being free from the shackles of regret and living life without the burden. Living with the past and not ignoring it. Knowing that it made us the person we are today and being happy with being that person. Could I really do it? Could I really let go of my ghosts? The thought of it excites me.
Satipo smirks. “Acceptance. Ha! That’s the same as surrender.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Everything. I prefer wiping the slate clean.”
I look up through the weird magical dome above and at the approaching comet. It looks as big as the moon now. “Destroying the world is one crazy way of doing that. What’s happening now is far bigger than our past, Satipo. You’re going to kill a lot of innocent people.”
“Fuck ‘em. There’s no innocents in this bullshit world. They all deserve it!”
“No,” I say, thinking about Wetlock and Eve in particular, “They don’t.”
“I’ve a new family now, Vet. One that cares about each other.”
“Oh, come on. I know you don't give two damns about anything these Newborn believe in!”
He chuckles and begins pacing along the edge of the platform in a circle around me. “Well okay, ya got me. Of course not! I don't care about them or Umbra but I do care about what she can do. She can give us anything we want; power, youth, immortality!”
“It means that much to you, to be young again.”
“Of course it does! How long before we’re unable to wield weapons and are doddering old fools like Daida? Not long I bet. Just imagine having eternal youth! I can start over again as a young man. I can have a life!”
“And the only price is the end of the world.”
“Aye, well you gotta break a few eggs, right? Besides, new me why not new world too? Ya know, maybe I should let ya and Gregor have the same reward from Umbra too. Just think! I'd like to have a nemesis or two in our new world. What fun that would be! Three demi gods duking it out, our subjects watching in awe.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
Laughter. “Gregor’s already surpassed ya anyway, just look at him. He’s a damn monster already!”
I glance back to see Gregor amidst about ten foes and he doesn’t seem at all bothered. He grabs one by the neck and tosses the body into the air as if weighing nothing. Then a spin and his axe cleaves another poor guy completely in two.
Wow…
Satipo whistles in admiration. “The big fella certainly has got some new tricks thanks to those vamps.” He shrugs and reaches a hand out behind him without even looking, just as a magical artefact floats by, typically a great big sword glittering with magical lightning. I remember Razor talking about that one. Great! Hefting the powerful item Satipo winks and holds the pipe between grinning teeth. “Well I got a few tricks of my own.”
The sky is falling. Various sized meteors, nightmare heralds of impending doom, punch through the scattered clouds and blaze a trail through the night sky to burn it a bright red. Impacts on the surrounding mountains erupt into molten earth and shrapnel the size of wagons while other meteors obliterate buildings within the city. Tall and beautiful spires shatter on impact and disappear into rolling dust and occasionally roaring fire. The ground repeatedly shudders and in the distance I can hear terrified screams as the comet grows bigger and bigger up above. If the small meteors can do this sort of damage, what will the comet do and what would such devastation look like that can wipe out most life across the face of the globe?
Down below me Blackwater Platoon and Newborn clash in a maelstrom of violence. If I were a betting man I’d say that Blackwater are doing some serious damage to the Newborn numbers. However, they’re still getting swamped and with there being no defensive terrain like Dead Man’s Drop to use to their advantage there’s a danger of them being overrun completely. In fact, there are a few Newborn who manage to slip through and into the portal. I need not worry about them right now – gotta trust in Gregor to handle them all.
With this background carnage, Satipo attacks, his eyes a wild blue and his grin manic. That greatsword of his clangs against my own and an electric jolt flashes from the metal and up my arms. I stagger backwards, watching magical electricity play upon the surface of his weapon. Bastard. Arms tremble from the magic onslaught. Dodging the second swipe as the static ruffles my beard and hair. Satipo is a near impossible man to fight before magic swords come into the equation because his style is chaotic genius, impossible to read and very powerful. Not as quick as he used to be, although neither am I. My own attack is blocked and even that electrocutes my limbs. Satipo laughs with glee as I reel from the shock.
“Waited a long time for this, Vet,” he chuckles.
“You know what, I still want to make peace with you, save our friendship, but first I’m going to beat the shit out of you! At least until you come to your senses.”
“Haha! Yes! This is the crazy sort of shit I fucking love!” He twirls the sword and blue sparks shower down over his bald head. “And I know ya love it too.”
“You’re right, Satipo. I thrive on this stuff. Have done for years. That’s why I’m going to win.”
In delight Satipo attacks and for a while I forget about all the crap happening around us and the way it now appears to be raining fire outside. There’s just the impact of metal blade against metal blade and the numbing shocks reverberating through my arms. There’s just me and him. Memories flooding my brain in a torrential flood. The past, always the past drowning my consciousness. Days that seem centuries old. Friends that seem to have never lived. Friendships that seem to have never existed. Another life, another time. I can feel them all around me, those ghosts, each one a key to a memory, to history. Not just mine, thousands of other people too. Not just people, but places and things. All connected forever. The thousands of ghouls that have persistently haunted me are all within the opaque walls of Umbra’s sanctuary. It’s as if they’re trapped in here, as if locked within a prison, because they’re pounding the portal walls vainly trying to get out. The Coyote is standing upon the surface outside, unable to get in and they’re… calling for it. Wait a minute, they’re not trying to escape they’re trying to let the Coyote in.
Arms are heavy. Brain is fried. Damned magic sword is sapping my reserves. Those stitches of Wetlock’s that’d been pulled before in my last fight now pull more and I can sense leaking blood under my light armour and clothes. I’m weakening at an alarming rate
and Satipo knows it.
“Vet!” screams Gregor from a pathway leading onto our platform. With a trail of dead Newborn behind him he’s about to charge in and help.
Satipo smirks and puffs on the pipe. The pathway disappears and Gregor falls, would plunge to his death if not for embedding the blade of his axe into a lower platform on his way down. Any normal man would have been wrenched from the handle, or had their shoulders dislocated. Not him. He hangs there for a bit before dragging himself up slowly. There’s no way he can reach us now, though. Before he properly gets to his feet the small crowd of Newborn who recently got into the portal attack him, surround him and jump onto him in a great rush, trying to drag him down to the ground. He roars in retaliation, briefly overwhelmed, trying to pull them away in order to use his axe properly.
“Has he tasted blood yet?” asks Satipo as his weapon jolts against mine, “Has he turned into the creature hiding within? Ya know he won’t be able to fight it forever.”
I don’t bother answering, instead I try to slip my weapon below his guard and almost gut him. Nearly. Another block of his weapon and my arms spasm from the electricity. Unresponsive fingers drop my blade. Then Satipo steps in for the kill and I dodge and elbow him in the face. We both go down without weapons, just using hands. My arms are practically useless, still in recovery from the magical onslaught and he’s on top of me, smiling, pipe in teeth, hands about my neck. Squeezing. Nothing I do lessens that grip. Nothing I can do finds the breath to fill my lungs, especially when he head butts me. Vision is swarming. Fading.
I glance downwards and see that Blackwater are also being overwhelmed, the sheer volume of Newborn are simply pushing them to one side. Soon, they’ll surely break into the portal and Gregor will be done for. And up above, so very close now, is the falling comet, my reckoning: Umbra.
Spittle from Satipo’s grinning mouth splatters onto my face. “At last! Die, Vet!”
Chapter 28
Elsewhere.
I think I’ve blacked out…
“Release me, Veteran.”
A loud voice, from where?
I’m in the mountains again, on hands and knees. Nearby is a headless corpse. Snow is pounding into my side. Can barely see. Can barely breathe. Feeling uncomfortably cold.
“Release me, Veteran,” booms the voice again, almost thrusting me to the floor. I fight it and surprisingly the force lessens.
Looking up I see the Coyote. No, not the real Coyote, it’s instead the obsidian statue Coyote. Although, wait, that is the real Coyote, right? The remaining power of Loktie. All that was ever good and pure still locked away in this spiritual animal.
The inanimate object growls, “Set me free,” and once again I manage to stop the power in its voice from crushing my skull and slamming me into the ground.
Set you free… Let you become a god in Loktie’s place? That wouldn’t be too bad, I suppose. “How?” I manage to ask, lips cracking.
“Give them to me.”
I push my face into the hurricane that are its words. I stand against the weight of its syllables. “What? Give what to you?” I scream, snow filling my briefly open mouth.
“Your followers. Let them be mine!”
What? Followers? Then it all suddenly makes sense. Of course, they’re all here swarming around me. Every single snowflake is one of them. The ghosts. I know why the phantoms of my past have forever haunted me, because I’m the one that called them. I’m the one that damned them into service, to follow me everywhere I go, to never be free. To never know peace.
That day I decided to find Satipo and confront the past, I became much more. Just like Wetlock had said, I became a lodestone for any lost spirits because I was willing to take them, however unwittingly. My grief, my regrets and my sadness called to them and their ranks grew. Is that why the Coyote chose me? Not to compensate for handing over the stolen pipe to Satipo, but to give the Coyote power again. To give it followers. To give these lost souls a home. And this time, unlike Loktie, the godly Coyote will look after them and they will at last know peace. They just need me to release them.
I think back to when the Six fell. I think back on all the things I blamed myself for that day and I finally realise: it wasn’t my fault. Not truly. It wasn’t my fault! I’d tried my best. I’d tried and mistakes were made. I’d tried my best!
Whistle, Rum, Blunt and many, many of the others from the Six who died are all here with me except Pitt, strangely enough, and the reason for that I don’t know. Maybe it’s a good thing she isn’t here, that her soul is free elsewhere. These other ghosts all crowd me and I no longer fear them. I was blind before and now I can see them properly. Whistle is right in front of me, just as I remember, without any of the decay or undead disfigurements. He gives me a nod and then a wink and I’m that kid again, looking up to him as if one searching for something called home. I bask in the glory of his fatherly affection and it makes me feel wholesome and loved. Rum and Blunt, they’re smiling too. They don’t blame me. None of my old pals do. And what of all the other souls? Even they don’t blame me because they know that the Coyote will finally give them peace.
As tears blur my vision I can finally hear their voices and feel the words I never understood before. Let us go, they all say while they swirl about me in a mighty whirlwind. Let us be free! All they seek is release and for their lost souls to find a peaceful home on the other side. That realisation breaks a barrier inside of me and I feel lighter, free from the binds that hold me down. I stand up against the snowstorm as if there was nothing there and the snow doesn’t even seem to touch me anymore.
I think of Wetlock and I smile. I think of Gregor and I smile too. Then I think of all my old friends, dead or alive and I smile some more. Time to remember the happy times. Time to live as a free man.
Time to let go of my regrets. The hurt. The sorrow. The guilt.
All these souls that I know you will look after with love and affection: have them then, Coyote. Take from me that which I no longer need. No longer want. They are yours!
In response, the obsidian statue cracks, and then it opens.
Now.
My vision returns as the tension about my neck lessens.
“No! It cannot be!” I hear Satipo utter in surprise.
All around us, as white as snow, the thousands of phantoms spin and whirl like a blizzard plain enough for everyone to see. It’s incredible how many of them there are.
Satipo’s face drops as he spots all the old faces known to us. “Why are they here?” he wails, “Ya brought them! They came from ya!”
“They’ve lived inside me all this time,” I say, spotting Gregor watching from his platform, covered in the blood of those freshly dead Newborn at his feet. The others still alive are momentarily retreating, fearful of the spirits. There are tears on Gregor’s cheeks as old friends swirl about him and then there are new friends too, like Sephan and Miller. “It’s time to let them go,” I say.
“Why?” Satipo whispers to me again, eyes wide. “Why are they here?”
“To bring forth the Coyote.” His confusion almost makes me laugh. “The owner of this.”
Snatching the pipe from his lips I hurl it high into the air to the sound of his scream. The phantoms immediately coalesce into one being, one form, inside this shadowy world: the Coyote. It jumps and swallows the pipe in one gulp. The Coyote would never have been able to get inside Umbra’s realm on its own, that’s why it needed me here inside instead, knowing that I would release the ghosts, and now the pipe is within the Coyote then the magic is too, that same magic entwined with this realm.
“I don’t understand,” mutters Satipo in numb shock. “Why’d they help ya and not me? Why’d they help the man who destroyed them?”
“If you really don’t know then there’s no hope for you, Satipo.”
He stares in awe. “What’s it doing now?”
The Coyote is howling and from its mouth clouds of smoke twirl into a column pointing upwards.
I push Satipo off me. “It’s ending this.”
“No…” he gasps in horror.
Too late.
Down below, the Newborn have paused in their maniacal onslaught against Blackwater, obviously distracted by what’s happening. That means Blackwater are able to surge back at them and many a Newborn are cut down while simply standing there stupidly gazing skywards.
Meanwhile, the Coyote’s column of smoke blazes into a column of fire. Green. Blinding. Surging upwards like a pillar of burning jade. High into the sky past the falling meteors, past the lowest clouds and up into the belly of Umbra’s comet.
“No!” Satipo furiously screams.
Too late.
Chapter 29
The comet visibly shudders, brightens. Its descent slows. Then the comet cracks. Suddenly a blinding light and I’m falling while a sudden booming sound reverberates through my skull. Feels like I’m plummeting through a magical sun and then the ground punches any breath I had from my lungs. Am on the real ground and a violently shuddering ground at that. The shadow sanctuary is gone and the walls of the temple are splintering into huge stone portions that separate and lift into the air as if not subject to the laws of gravity. The Coyote hovers high above, its howl vibrating through my bones while it emits that powerful beam of energy that batters and hammers the damaged comet.