by Clayton Wood
“These are baseless lies,” Dominus growled. Conlan stopped pacing, rolling his eyes.
“Oh please father,” he retorted. “Don’t be stupid.” He smirked again, in that maddening way he had. “I bet you don’t even realize why you’re doing it,” he guessed. “You have no idea, do you?”
“I don’t know what you’re…”
“Bullshit!” Conlan snapped. “You started ‘corrupting’ yourself because of me, father.”
“What?”
“I told you,” Conlan stated. “My will is ever-so-slightly stronger than yours. You started dabbling in forbidden artifacts right before you sent me away, didn’t you?” he guessed. “You started to realize my effect on you, and you threw me out of Wexford to save yourself from becoming more like me.”
“Nonsense.”
“Is it?” Conlan pressed. He gave Dominus a broad smile. “Take heart father. Even after I’m gone, you’ll always have a part of me,” he added, walking up to Dominus and putting a hand on Dominus’s shoulder. “Inside of you.”
“I’m nothing like you,” Dominus spat, grabbing Conlan’s wrist and yanking the man’s hand off of him.
“Oh yes you are,” Conlan retorted, that maddening grin still on his face. “And as long as you’re alive, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”
Dominus stepped forward, shoving Conlan backward with one hand. Conlan stumbled, falling onto his butt on the floor.
“You’re a fool,” Dominus growled. “You’ve always been a fool.” He shook his head, staring down at his son. “What have you accomplished in your life? Hmm? What great deeds have you done to earn that pathetic ego of yours?”
Conlan got to his feet, striding forward and shoving Dominus back. Or at least he tried to; Dominus dodged to the side, using Conlan’s momentum against him and throwing him onto the ground. He pointed the butt of his cane at Conlan.
“You’re a sad little man,” Dominus muttered, watching as Conlan scrambled to his feet. “A pity you couldn’t be more like Axio.” He shook his head at his son. “He’s more of a son to me than you ever were.”
Conlan rose up to his full height, his chest heaving, his eyes moist.
“That’s because you never wanted a son who could question you,” he retorted acidly. “You never could stand to be challenged,” he added bitterly. “You always needed to be the wise, know-it-all father…you never learned how to treat me as a man!”
Dominus snorted derisively.
“You?” he retorted. “A man?” he smirked. “You’re not a man, Conlan.” He pointed his cane at the large bed at the other end of the chamber. “He’s a man. You? You’re just an impotent boy, all talk and no action.” He sneered at Conlan. “By the time Tykus was your age, he was already king.”
“I am king!” Conlan shouted, jabbing a finger at his chest.
“No Conlan,” Dominus replied. “You aren’t. You never will be.” He smiled then, pointing at the bed again. “But he will be.”
“Will he?” Conlan retorted, walking up to Dominus, his fists clenched at his sides. “Will he, father?” He stopped a foot from his father, his chest rising and falling, his eyes locked on Dominus’s.
“Oh yes,” Dominus replied, holding his ground. “And when he finally murders what little remains of your pathetic soul, I’ll finally be able to be proud of my son.”
Conlan stared at Dominus, his knuckles turning white. He turned away from his father suddenly, storming toward the leftmost wall of the chamber.
“I’m not dead yet father,” he shouted, reaching the wall. Various weapons hung on hooks on the wall, and Conlan reached up for a warhammer – Tykus’s personal weapon – and took it from the wall. He turned to Dominus then, clutching it in his hands.
“Are you trying to threaten me?” Dominus inquired, putting his thumb over the head of his cane, at a slight depression there. He pressed down, and the shaft of his cane separated from the head, revealing the cane-sword hidden within. He drew the blade outward, holding the shaft in his left hand, the sword in his right. He was hardly worried. The boy was a passable fighter, but nothing extraordinary.
“Not you, father,” he replied. Conlan turned toward the bed then, striding up to it and kicking the mattress off of it, exposing a pure crystalline slab below. Suspended in that slab was a whole skeleton, its skull facing upward, its jaw agape in an otherworldly scream.
The bones of Tykus. The Ossae of the Legend.
“Conlan!” Dominus shouted, a bolt of sheer terror striking him. “Conlan, what are you doing?”
Conlan ignored him, walking up to the side of the bed, then lifting the hammer high over his head. He swung it downward with all of his might, the head of the hammer smashing into the crystalline slab…right above Tykus’s skull. The hammer bounced off, the crystal cracking with the force of the blow.
“No!” Dominus cried, hobbling forward. “Stop!”
“I’m not dead yet,” Conlan shouted, raising the hammer up above his head again. “I still matter!”
He swung the hammer downward again, and this time the crystal cracked further, a chunk of the slab at the very edge breaking off and falling to the floor.
“Conlan no!” Dominus yelled, reaching Conlan at last. Conlan heaved the warhammer above his head a third time, his eyes wild, and Dominus cried out in horror. Conlan ignored him, bringing the hammer back, then grunting as he swung forward and downward.
Dominus lunged forward, thrusting his sword into Conlan’s back. The blade passed through him, burying itself to the hilt in his flesh.
Conlan stumbled forward, the hammer slipping out of his hands and striking the far edge of the crystalline slab, chipping it. He gasped, falling forward to brace his hands on the slab, his eyes wide with shock.
Dominus stared at the sword in his hand, his breath catching in his throat.
What have I done?
He pulled the sword out quickly, as if trying to reverse what he’d done. but blood gushed from the wound, forming a rapidly expanding crimson stain on Conlan’s robes. Conlan rolled onto his back, sliding down the side of the bed to sit on the cold stone floor. He clutched at his chest, blood oozing from between his fingers, staring up at his father in disbelief. He coughed, pink spittle dribbling down his chin.
Dominus stared at him mutely, letting go of his cane-sword. Or at least he tried to; when he glanced down at his hands, it wasn’t there…he’d already placed it back in its sheath. Like the attack before it, it’d been pure reflex…the result of years of exposure to powerful artifacts.
What have I done?
He stared at his son again, then found his eyes moving to the crystalline slab, to the skull of Tykus suspended within. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping; the skull was still intact, as was the rest of the skeleton. He turned to face Conlan again, dropping his cane and kneeling before his son.
“Why?” he asked, shaking his head. “Why would you do such a thing?”
Conlan coughed again, blood spattering the front of Dominus’s shirt. He shook his head.
“How,” he asked, his breath coming in short gasps, “…could you…do this…to me?”
“You tried to destroy the Ossae!” Dominus protested, placing his hands over Conlan’s wound and pressing on it. “What was I supposed to do?”
Conlan shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips.
“You could have…pushed me.”
Dominus swallowed past a lump in his throat, shaking his head mutely. Tears blurred his vision, and he blinked them away.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “It just…happened.”
“No,” Conlan retorted, falling into another fit of coughing. “It didn’t.”
“It did,” Dominus insisted.
“I always loved you,” Conlan stated, grimacing as he shifted his weight. “It didn’t matter…how angry I was. I still…loved you.”
“I love you too,” Dominus replied, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around h
is son, pulling him into an embrace. He could feel Conlan’s breath on his ear.
“Not as much,” Conlan mumbled, “…as you love Tykus.” Dominus frowned, pulling away and staring at Conlan.
“I had to protect the kingdom,” he protested.
Conlan just stared at him, his breathing rapid, sweat pouring down his pale skin. His eyelids fluttered, and Dominus gripped the boy’s shoulders tightly, shaking him.
“No Conlan,” he cried. Conlan’s eyes refocused on him.
“You saved him,” Conlan mumbled, giving another weak cough. His eyelids fluttered again, and Dominus shook him a second time.
“Conlan…”
“You saved him,” Conlan repeated, his breathing slowing. “You saved your…past,” he added. The corner of his lips curled upward. “By killing your future.”
And then, as his father watched, Conlan’s eyes glazed over, staring off into nothing, his last breath rattling in his throat. Dominus stared at his only son, watching as the last wisp of life left his body.
Then he pulled the boy to his breast, embracing him tightly, and wept.
Chapter 33
Hunter groaned, opening his eyes.
He found himself in a small room with mortared stone walls, facing a single wooden door. He looked down, realizing he was sitting in a wooden chair; four huge black hands gripped him from behind, holding him fast to the chair by his shoulders and hips. He struggled against them, but it was hopeless; the hands were far too strong.
He looked forward, at the door not ten feet away, trying to remember how he’d gotten here. He vaguely remembered the hallway he and Vi had been in, the Ironclad grabbing him from behind. And then…and then…
He couldn’t remember.
Clunk.
The door swung inward, something huge stepping through. A massive Ironclad, its head nearly brushing against the ceiling, with a glowing, pale blue mane of gel-filled membrane rising like a mohawk from its head, a broad, glowing tail hanging between its thick armored legs. It shut the door behind it, stepping forward and staring down at Hunter.
Hunter stared up at those horrible eyes, that grotesque face, and felt his breath catch in his throat. The beast looked identical to the one who’d attacked him at the Gate so long ago.
The thing bent over until its head was level with his, gripping two of its hands on the armrests of his chair. Its hot, putrid breath blew in Hunter’s face, making him want to gag.
“WE MEET,” it growled, its voice deep and guttural, each word forced from its lips as if it were painful to do so. “…AGAIN.”
Hunter stared at it, his eyes widening, a chill running through him. It couldn’t be the same Ironclad he’d met…he’d shot that one in the face, and Alasar had crushed its head. Twice.
“YOU ARE…THE ORIGINAL,” the thing growled. It was a statement, not a question. Hunter hesitated, then nodded. He swallowed in a dry throat, realization coming over him.
This is their leader, he realized, his heart pounding. The one we’re supposed to kill.
“YOUR…NAME?”
“Uh…” he mumbled. “Hunter.”
The Ironclad made a low, guttural sound deep within its throat, its eyes locked on his. Hunter stared back at it, breathing through his mouth, the stench of its breath nauseating.
Where the hell was Vi?
“YOU CAME…THROUGH THE GATE?”
Hunter nodded, and the thing let go of the armrests of his chair, rising up to a standing position. It stared down at him.
“WHY?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“WHY DID…YOU GO THROUGH…THE GATE?”
“To find my mother,” Hunter answered. The Ironclad just stared at him, and he cleared his throat nervously. “She found the Gate years ago, and went through it. I came after her.”
The Ironclad leaned over again, its head inches from his. It rested its hands on his arms, making some sort of gesture with one of its other hands. The arms holding Hunter to the chair slipped away. Light from the lone lantern in the room reflected off the leader’s eyes, embedded in wet, sunken sockets. Hunter resisted the urge to pull his arms away from its grasp.
“COME,” it growled.
It stood up suddenly, letting go of Hunter and turning to open the door. It stepped through, using one hand to flash rapid signals to the Ironclad standing behind Hunter. Hunter hesitated, then stood from the chair, watching as the leader walked into the room beyond the doorway, its glowing tail swinging behind it.
He glanced back, seeing a half-dozen Ironclad standing at the other end of the room, staring at him.
“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he muttered.
He turned back to the leader, then walked through the doorway, following it into the room beyond. His eyes widened; a huge cavern opened up before him, a truly massive cave. The ceiling rose upward in a dome over fifty feet above his head, a circular hole at the very center. A large waterfall fell from this, cascading down into a large, shallow circular pool in the middle of the cavern. The waterfall obscured a small island in the center of this pool, the roar of water crashing into the pool almost deafening. Sunlight streamed through the hole in the ceiling, glowing beams striking the island below, dust swirling like fireflies in their light. The pool drained into a narrow stream that flowed rapidly down an incline in the cavern floor to the left, vanishing into a small tunnel in the rock wall.
And there, lining the walls of the cavern, were bones. Lots of bones.
Hunter stared, hardly believing his eyes.
They were human bones, he realized. Countless skeletons piled several feet high against the walls. More bones were strewn across the cavern floor, but none were near the pool.
Jesus.
The huge Ironclad strode forward toward the shore of the shallow pool, stopping before it and turning to look at Hunter. Hunter hesitated, then followed behind the thing, glancing behind him as he walked. The half-dozen Ironclad behind him were walking through the doorway into the cavern, and more Ironclad strode through several tunnels hewn into the cavern walls. They formed a loose circle around Hunter and their leader, stopping to stare at them.
Then, to a one, they dropped to one knee, bowing their heads.
The leader’s gaze swept across the kneeling Ironclad, then turned to face Hunter. It reached out with one hand, placing it on Hunter’s shoulder.
“WELCOME,” it growled, its voice barely audible over the roar of the waterfall behind it. “MY…”
And then its head snapped to the side with a loud crack, its hand slipping away from Hunter’s shoulder. It stumbled to the side, barely keeping its balance.
Hunter stumbled backward, his eyes widening. There, sliding to a halt on the cavern floor beside the huge Ironclad, was a very familiar person.
“Vi!” he cried.
“Catch!” she shouted, tossing a sword at him. He caught it by the hilt, and she threw him his bow. He caught this too, slinging it over his back. The huge Ironclad turned toward her, its jaw caved in on one side, blood pouring from its mouth.
It roared, a horrible gurgling sound that echoed through the chamber.
The Ironclad surrounding them got to their feet, rushing inward toward Vi!
“Watch out!” Hunter warned. He flipped his sword around so he was carrying it by the blade, stepping forward to intercept one of the Ironclad before it got to Vi. But the leader shoved him backward, standing between him and Vi. Vi sprinted toward the nearest Ironclad, dodging as it swung at her, then smashing it in the face with her mace. It stumbled backward, and she leapt at it, spinning around and back-kicking it in the chest. It flew backward, slamming into two Ironclad behind it. All three tumbled to the ground.
A fourth Ironclad rushed at Vi, reaching out for her with all four hands, and she ducked underneath them, swinging her mace into its knee. It tripped, falling face-first into the cavern floor. Vi chopped downward at the back of its head, cracking its skull, then switched to her longsword, thrustin
g the blade deep into its skull.
Hunter tried to step out from behind the Ironclad leader, but the massive beast barred his way with one arm. He gripped his longsword tightly, his heart pounding in his chest.
The Ironclad leader shouted something unintelligible, its mangled jaw hanging uselessly.
Two more Ironclad rushed at Vi, and she ran toward one of them, dropping to slide on her back at the last minute, passing right between its legs. She got to her feet, spinning around and smashing it in the back of the knee in one smooth motion. It fell onto its back, Vi’s mace cracking it in the temple in mid-fall.
The other Ironclad reached her, kicking her in the flank.
Vi grunted, flying onto the ground and rolling on her side for a few feet. She got to her hands and knees, then stood, clutching her injured side.
“Little help here?” she called out.
Hunter hesitated, staring at the leader’s broad back. Then he flipped his sword around, grabbing it by the blade in both hands. He grit his teeth, then swung it as hard as he could at the back of the leader’s head.
The cross-guard slammed into the thing’s armor, bouncing off harmlessly.
Shit!
It turned to face him, slapping his sword to the side, knocking it out of his hands. He froze, waiting for it to pulverize him…but it just turned back to watch Vi. Hunter hesitated, then reached down, picking up his sword by the blade.
The Ironclad who’d kicked Vi rushed her again, and she turned to it, swinging her mace at its head. But it blocked the blow, grabbing her by the front of her uniform and lifting her right off the ground. She reached out with her free hand, sinking her thumb into one of its eyes.
It roared, releasing her and stumbling backward, covering its injured eye with one hand.
Another two Ironclad rushed at her from either side, and she spun around, dodging one of the Ironclad’s punches and smashing it in the temple. Hunter slipped out from behind the Ironclad leader, rushing toward the other Ironclad attacking Vi. Hunter swung the hilt of his sword at its head with all his might, the cross-guard smashing into its temple. It fell to the ground, sliding to a stop in front of Vi.