Rise Of The Soulless

by Erik Lynd

  A door had appeared in the wall between two shelves.

  “Just remember, when you step through that door and arrive in your body you will feel all the suffering that it is currently going through. Hunger and thirst like you never imagined.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Librarian, I can always count on your parting words of motivation and inspiration. If I still can’t make this work, I’ll be back for good.”

  With that, Christopher stepped back into the real world.

  23

  The first thing that hit Christopher, even before the fading darkness of his journey from the Library, was a thirst like no other. It surpassed the hunger he felt for souls when he was hunting. It was down deep inside of him; when he returned to his body he doubled over and retched. It was all dry, nothing there.

  His throat and eyes burned. A headache came on in full force and almost drained all thought from his mind. His life was suddenly pain and longing. His body ached all over, his skin felt dry and brittle. At that moment he would have given anything for a drink of water, he would have traded any soul.

  Even Eris’?

  For a moment he teetered on madness, but that thought pulled him together just a little. It was the training in his subconscious coming through.

  Even Hamlin’s?

  He sat up with those thoughts, his legs subconsciously folded under him. Instantly he calmed his mind and began meditating. He fell back on the first and most basic of what he had learned. He strove to still his mind over the raging thirst.

  After the first three breaths he had steadied his mind. Pangs of thirst and pain came to him. He acknowledged them and then dismissed them; they were still there but the desire could be compartmentalized. They were just another fact of his existence. Soon he could become dispassionate about it.

  When he had the madness at bay, he focused his thoughts on his dilemma. The room was still wrapped in darkness so thick it was like he swam in an inky sea. That could also be the lack of oxygen talking. He was finding it harder to breathe. He didn’t have much time left.

  At first, Christopher considered brute force. He might be able to summon up enough strength and energy to try and rip a hole through the ceiling or the collapsed tunnel. But what if he couldn’t bring that much power to bear? Until now he had only channeled infernal energy through himself and his Weapon. He wasn’t sure he could project that with enough force to make a difference, and if he did Christopher was just as likely to bring the ceiling and tons of rock and sand down on his head.

  No, that was too dangerous, he was still too new to his power.

  He seized upon the only advantage he had—darkness, the natural home of his power. The hellfire born power inside flared to life. The darkness was his home now, not just here but out there out in the real world. The night was his hunting time, the shadows his cloak and armor. And it was someone else's too. Hellcat.

  How could he use this? It was time to explore his power, time to work with some of the thoughts he had formed over the last ten years of his training. But the core of the idea came from a different source something that might be just as good a teacher as all that he had learned. Star Wars.

  He sent his thoughts out through the shadows. Starting with the darkness that surrounded him, he let his awareness spread out, seeking the limit of this room. At first, the darkness stopped at the walls and he could feel the shape of the room with his mind, letting himself fill every corner. Then he tested it. The chamber was sealed physically, but he discovered something. There were little pathways, hidden and obscure in the dark, not physical pathways of course, ones that only his mind, fueled by the Hellpower, could find.

  Controlling it like a spigot, he let the power flow through him, propelling his awareness onto these pathways. Instantly he recognized these dark shadow paths as a labyrinth. It would be easy to get lost in such a place.

  He started slowly searching down paths seeing where they led. He was too inexperienced to know where exactly he was going. But he tested the waters so to speak. He did know that his awareness could stretch out and just maybe seek others.

  There were other entities there, moving just beyond him. He could sense they were malevolent, hateful things. He stayed away from them, not ready to do battle with the denizens of the shadows. This was a new discovery; there would be time to explore the path of shadows another time.

  After testing for a few hours, learning the feel and movement along these dark paths, he pulled back and rested a moment. He spent another hour just honing his strength and focus. This escape would not be a quick thing. Then the thirst dug into him again and he changed his mind. It was now or never.

  This time he reached out relying on his newly honed Hunter instincts. He flew through the shadow paths, searching. He would touch upon alien beings so strange it made him question how they could exist so close to the real world. Perhaps there were worse things than those that had escaped Hell.

  He stretched out his awareness and cast it wide. He called to Hellcat. At least that was what he thought he was doing. He reached out like it was the Force and he was Luke, sending his call as far as he could. It worked in the movies, so why not?

  He was at it for hours, casting his mental net into the vast ocean of shadows before he felt something. Something he recognized. He focused in on it in desperation and pulled in closer. He thought it recognized him in return.

  And then Hellcat was there, touching his awareness.

  Come to me, he thought to her. Then he realized he was weakening. He could feel himself slipping back towards this body. The thirst and hunger were winning. Eventually he lost the connection he had made as the distance between his mind and the shadow network grew.

  “Help,” he cried in the physical world as well as this shadow one.

  And then she was there chasing after him. She whipped along the shadows paths as he retreated.

  That’s my girl, he thought even as he felt himself weaken further. His awareness, his hold on the shadows was dwindling. Save me girl.

  He was going to lose her. It was going to be all over. Then he saw her, a black physical manifestation in front of him. This is her world, as physical to her as the real one was to him. She lunged forward, biting into his awareness.

  He was almost startled enough to snap back into his body. But the jaws clamped down on him. It was an odd sensation, her powerful jaws clamping down on his insubstantial presence. Then again, she was created to bite into the souls of mortals.

  It didn’t hurt, at least not enough to detract from the insane thirst that was crippling his body. But he felt it physically as though the jaw had sunk into his shoulder, awakening memories of the old wound. Then she pulled.

  She was both in the shadow realm and in the room with him. Pulling him deeper and deeper into the dark paths. With a final pull, his physical body followed his awareness into the dark with a wet sucking sound that made Christopher think of the moment of birth played backward.

  He must have lost consciousness for a moment because the next thing he was aware of was a coldness. It was seeping into him, but the hellfire inside seemed to welcome it and warm him. He knew he was in the shadow world now and he had the sensation of movement. He looked up and there was Hellcat dragging him by his shoulder. He could hear the noises she made and the quiet hissing sound of his body being dragged across the ground. But it was muted, like the darkness around him absorbed most of it.

  The shape of Hellcat shifted and moved as though here in shadow it could not find a permanent form. It blurred too, the darkness did something to his vision. Like she was going in and out of focus. It could have been the dehydration, but he thought it had something to do with this shadow realm.

  He was tired, so tired and he felt his strength draining away. He could do little but hold onto consciousness as Hellcat pulled him through. Eventually even that was too much and he faded into unconsciousness.

  He awoke in brightness and heat. Thankfully he was in the shade of a large r
ock. He lifted himself up onto his elbows and rolled over until he leaned on the large boulder. It was part of a pile of sand and rock. He thought it might have been the rubble that sealed his tomb, at least that’s what it looked like from the outside.

  The outside!

  He had a sudden burst of energy at the thought. He was outside! They had made it. Next to him sat Hellcat quietly cleaning herself in the shade. She had done it, she had pulled him through the shadow paths, it had almost killed him, but she had saved him.

  Then the thirst rolled over him ten times stronger perhaps because of the insane heat out here in the desert. He moaned and Hellcat looked at him. He wanted to thank her, but his throat was as dry as the sand around him. Where ever here was. The world stretched away in a beige rock and sand blur.

  He needed to find water, or he was going to lose it. His new strength of mind would only go so far. Even now he was pushing beyond any mortal limits. Christopher reached out to Hellcat and gripping her fur, slowly pulled himself upon her back. It was his only choice. He couldn’t get to his feet, let alone walk out of this place.

  He pulled himself forward so he could lie on her broad back. Into her ear he was able to croak, “Water,” Before passing out. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he opened his eyes again. But it seemed to be later in the day, the sun was low on the horizon. He didn’t think about that, he couldn’t think about that. He needed water.

  He was even hallucinating. He could hear children paying and the voices of people talking. Why would there be people in the middle of the desert? Why would children be playing in a hell hole like this? They would die of thirst. Then the voices rose in alarm, the kids suddenly stopped their laughter and started yelling.

  The commotion was too detailed to be a hallucination. Christopher used the last of his strength to turn his head toward the sounds. Through the haze of dehydration and exhaustion even as he felt himself slipping from Hellcat’s, back he could see small brown structures with tents mixed in. It looked like a small village. His last thought before fading again was that they probably had really, really good water.

  24

  Christopher awoke to the sensation of cold water flooding his mouth. It might have been the greatest feeling in the world. He found himself lifting to meet the source of water.

  “No, no, slowly at first. Otherwise, you will just be sick. It does no good all over the floor of my house and not in your belly.” The speaker was an old man leaning over him. He had dark, leathery skin and spoke in some form of Arabic. Christopher could understand him clearly with the gift of his power, but he had no idea what language they were conversing in.

  “Thank you,” Christopher said. He voice was still a croak, but a little better than before. “Can I have just a little more please?”

  He hoped the man said yes because he was not sure he could keep from taking the water if the man said no, and that would be no way to thank his host. The man just smiled and poured a little more into Christopher’s mouth. He drank deeply, relishing the water.

  The room he was in was plain, dirt floor stone walls; a think rug and some pillows made the bed he was laying in. He could smell food cooking and while he wasn’t sure what it was, he was positive he could eat all of it.

  There was one door to the room and several windows. A crude shelf ran along part of one wall with a radio and some other odds and ends on it.

  “Where is my cat?” Christopher asked. Hellcat was nowhere to be found.

  “You mean that giant beast you rode in on? I don’t know. After you fell off its back it stood over you briefly. We could see you were sick, but none of us would get close. It was terrifying. Then it ran off. Then we could come check on you.”

  “Where am I?”

  “The village of Al-Bul not too far from Cairo.”

  “I have to go, I need to get to Cairo,” He started to get up, but he was still weak. He sunk back down.

  “Not so fast my friend. We are still stunned that you are even alive. In fact, I would not believe someone so dehydrated out of the desert would still be alive. You are a miracle, from Allah himself.”

  Christopher did not bother to tell him how far off he was.

  “Besides, it is late,” the man continued. “You need to at least drink some more and eat. Cairo will still be there in the morning.”

  He was already feeling better as the fluids and his fast healing did their work on him. But then a thought occurred to him.

  “Did you see three men come through here? Strangers?”

  The man sat back on his heels and studied Christopher. “A few days ago, three men came through. Men that were no men, they had the stink of death about them. The passed through only to take some water from the well. We kept away from them. Are they with you?”

  Christopher could tell by the tone of the man he had to be very careful how he answered. “They are my enemies, they left me to die, but now I hunt them.”

  The man continued to look at him suspiciously as though deciding, then his look suddenly softened. “Then I am glad I helped you. I don’t know who they are or who you are, but they are up to no good. You will rest tonight and then tomorrow I will take you to Cairo. I have a jeep.”

  He said that last part with a measure of pride, and Christopher couldn’t help but smile. Then a woman came in from the back; she wore a simple dress and a scarf on her head. Christopher was not sure if it was technically a hijab or not, but her face was not covered. Her clothing quickly became irrelevant, however; she had food in her hands and that was all Christopher had eyes for.

  She handed him the plate. He had no idea what he was eating, but it was the better than any five-star restaurant in New York.

  25

  Despite his imminent death, Hamlin couldn’t help but laugh at how much this was like a movie. Of course, he was only laughing on the inside.

  The tattooed men had hung him by the wrists from a beam in what must have been the most psychotic teenage girl's room ever. All metal, glass and wood, old books and jars on every shelf. With a splash of pink and silver and what looked like a stuffed unicorn. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Grace. This is what Anabelle and Golyat had done to her. A twisted and monstrous witch, with a little girl trying to come out.

  But all this was secondary. Waves of pain washed over him as they hung him up, his bruised muscles and ribs pulled and stretched. He winced and grunted but was able to keep from crying out.

  “You should go,” Grace commanded the guards once they had positioned him. They looked at her, hesitating. Obviously they thought leaving her alone was a bad idea. They were probably right. Hamlin felt sorry for her, but if he had the chance he would escape, even if that meant going through her. “I am not asking. Go.”

  There was something in her voice Hamlin thought, something odd, but he couldn’t place it. He just knew that, if he were able, he would have left at that moment. Her voice compelled him. The guards seemed to agree and left the room rather quickly. Hamlin looked back at Grace only to find her staring up at him.

  “This will be cool. So far, every specimen I have had to work with died immediately as I extracted the soul. But you are a challenge. I’ve been told I need to keep you alive, at least for the moment. It will be a challenge deciding how to manipulate your soul from the outside. But I think it will involve a lot of pain.”

  A flash of light over Grace’s shoulder caught Hamlin’s attention. A glass container with a shimmering substance writhing in it sat on the shelf. Grace followed his gaze and smiled.

  “Ah, you recognize your master? That’s my little trophy. It is the Hunter’s soul shard.”

  It was small Hamlin thought. If he could find a way to escape, it would be easy to grab it and bring it back for the kid. He needed it.

  “I like it and it has taught me a lot. Like how to twist the essence of a person into something more useful,” then she sighed. “But it’s not a whole soul, so it has its limitations. I had trouble gleaning inform
ation from it. It will however, serve me well when the Hunter comes to try and retrieve it.”

  “He won’t,” came a dry, grating voice from the back of the room, darkened by shadows. Hamlin was not the only one surprised by the sound. Grace spun and backed almost close enough that Hamlin could have kicked her if his broken body would have let him. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t get close enough.

  Three men stepped out from the shadow. They were dark skinned, Arabic perhaps? Hamlin saw the way they stood, calm and in control, but ready to explode into violence; he recognized the hardness in their eyes. These were cold-blooded killers. And there was something else. They seemed familiar.

  “Who are you? And how did you get into my room?” asked Grace. She raised her hand and curled it into a claw. The table nearest the men slide across the floor blocking their path to Grace.

  Now that is new, thought Hamlin. Her power isn’t just about souls.

  “Peace, mistress. I have no desire to harm you in any way. On the contrary, I wish to serve you. My name is Apophis.”

  “You did not answer my question. How did you get in here? If you come any closer I will have guards here instantly.”

  “Mistress, I can tell you how I came to be here; getting in and out of places like this are trivial for my skills, but it is a long story and not the most important one. For now, know that I have chosen you to be my mistress. I wish to serve you.”

  “Ha, so just like that you show up in my bedroom and tell me you want to serve? And I’m supposed to be all like, I got three more random guards working for me? Why should I believe you? Why shouldn’t I, like, call the guards? It makes no sense.”

  “I am no random guard. Look at me. Really look at me with your witch eyes.”

  Grace was quiet for a moment, then she gasped and leaned forward. “You have no souls,” she whispered. “But how are you not mindless zombies? Wait.”