Abruptly, the Glimloche surged free of his domination, sweeping Vain away on a river of ebony force. He fought once more to regain control, but the Glimloche pushed aside his efforts and surged forward to take full control of his body. Vain felt like a giant blanket was enveloping him, suffocating and cocooning him within its strength.
And then he was gone...
Antarsh released bolts of energy at Vain’s newly emerged demon alter ego. Turning these aside as if merely swatting flies, he pounced forward, piercing Torresh through the chest with the claws of his right hand, batting aside Antarsh with his left. The member of the Four flew through the air, crashing powerfully against the railing of the balcony and tumbling motionless into a heap between the staircases.
Looking into Torresh’s terrified features, demon-Vain wondered why he had ever feared these insignificant creatures. With a flick of his wrist, Torresh exploded into fragments of flesh, splattering around the room. Some quivered and slid to merge with other pieces, but demon-Vain released an ebony blaze that rendered them all to ash.
I am a god, thought demon-Vain, the power of the Glimloche now raging unchecked through his form. I will destroy these vermin and then this entire world. I will become the only power in the cosmos, crushing all who oppose me.
Striding slowly toward the motionless figure of Antarsh, demon-Vain spied movement coming from the staircase. “Ah, Bennael,” he whispered sibilantly. “So nice of the Demon of War to join us.”
Bennael glanced at the scene before him and let out a bellow of fury that shook the very walls. Clapping his hands together, a massive sword appeared, hovering in the air and quivering with intense force. He chanted in a language unknown to demon-Vain; guttural and seeming to pierce deep within his mind. The walls of the room began to shake in time to the sword that now spun rapidly in the air.
Flashing across the room, demon-Vain tried to slash Bennael in the same fashion he had attacked Torresh. When his claws surged down toward the Demon of War, however, Bennael merely raised his hands in a warding motion, and an enormous rush of energy from his sword flung demon-Vain helplessly across the room. Gathering himself painfully from the floor, demon-Vain crouched low to the ground and waited for an opportunity to strike.
Bennael ignored him and continued with the spell, raising his voice in pitch and power. Antarsh regained consciousness and moved briskly to Bennael’s side. Firing bolts of intense energy from his bow into the vortex that now spun where the sword had been, Antarsh intensified the force, expanding it outward until demon-Vain began to back away.
Just as the spell seemed to reach its crescendo, demon-Vain launched forward. He raced toward the two demons, and they threw their hands up, mimicking the same warding motion Bennael had used moments before. Yet instead of attacking directly, demon-Vain swerved and leaped at the wall behind the two, caving it in and then flipping high through the air to land back where he had previously stood.
The two demons paused, seemingly confused. Demon-Vain grinned maliciously, releasing a scorching blast from the Glimloche into the damaged wall behind them. Instead of exploding out, the wall was sucked backward, collapsing in a flood of enormous gray blocks of stone – crushing the two demons beneath it. Antarsh barely managed a choking scream before they both disappeared beneath the debris.
Demon-Vain instantly leaped atop the pile of rubble. The Glimloche responded to his thoughts, and a large ebony sphere of force swelled beneath his feet, swirling and pulsating, gradually opening a dimensional rift beneath the stones.
Concentrating intently, demon-Vain envisioned the realm of Lucifer and willed the sphere to travel there. Muffled wails rose from within the ball as the two demons were drawn from the corporeal realm into the depths of Hell. The roaring laughter of Satan echoed throughout the room before the portal clapped shut and an eerie silence filled the hall.
Nothing can defeat me, thought demon-Vain, power from the Glimloche streaming freely through his limbs. I will destroy anything that tests me.
This confidence however, was brief. Abstract thoughts began to interrupt his contemplation, and faint memories of a boy he had come to rescue began to resurface. But the thoughts were quickly overpowered. Such foolishness is not to be fretted now that I am a god. He roughly brushed aside the image of the child.
The one called Empeth could pose a problem if left unchecked. If he managed to complete the resurrection ritual, and bring Sordarrah into the mortal realm, demon-Vain would be forced to fight a war he could avoid completely if he simply destroyed both Empeth and the boy right now.
Having decided, the enormous black figure moved up the closest flight of stairs to find and kill the Avun-Riah.
* * * *
Sekiel had always served his Lord Sordarrah without question, but the incessant assault on his beliefs left him insecure. Strange random thoughts –
Help him!
— kept invading his consciousness.
A host’s memories were not usually a problem when taking over a new body, but the values the man held in life – combined with the power Priest had possessed – were so intense that Sekiel had been unsuccessful in his efforts at completely blocking them out. Like a tap with a tiny leak, the memories dripped into his consciousness. He found himself dwelling upon them more and more often, and the scariest thing for the demon was: they made sense!
Utter foolishness. Soon his master would be released, and Sekiel would be by his side as they conquered the cosmos.
Why, then, did he have reservations?
Help him!
The echoes of that thought, and the feelings he had been experiencing lately, deeply disturbed Sekiel. Perhaps Priest was not truly gone, maybe his soul lingered within the demon, and the human still hoped to save the boy.
He had watched the archangel Gabriel willingly sacrifice his existence to ensure the Dark Man could access the mansion. He never imagined any immortal could possibly possess the conviction it would take to surrender to oblivion in order to help another, and wondered if he could do the same.
He doubted it.
In all of his eternal existence, Sekiel could never remember doing anything that didn’t advance his own motives. Even his devotion to Sordarrah was selfish, for without Sordarrah’s power, in all likelihood Sekiel would cease to be. He had to obey his master or he would vanish into the wisps of eternity.
Watching the Dark Man approach the gates, and the Souls of Sordarrah rush out to destroy him, Sekiel had suddenly been seized by an intense urge to throw open the window of the room in which he now sat and fly to the assassin’s assistance. This proved unnecessary, however, and he watched in stunned amazement as the Velearstk swooped into the courtyard and protected Vain all the way to the doors of the mansion. Sekiel knew he should move to intercept the assassin, but felt unable to.
Unable or unwilling?
This could not be right. Why had the Velearstk gone against their nature and helped the human? Sekiel knew very little about the beasts, but he did know they had not always been under Sordarrah’s rule. They had once roamed through the cosmos with virtually no limits prior to their imprisonment by his Lord.
Perhaps that was why they had helped the assassin. Maybe the good deed of helping him had somehow freed them from the invisible chains that had held them for so long.
Chains like his.
The man named Priest had believed so strongly in Vain that he had sacrificed himself in order to aid him. His memories spoke of peace and love, usually issues that sickened Sekiel, but after weeks of inhabiting the man’s body and knowing his thoughts, he now felt strangely comforted by them. Priest had spent his entire life preparing for the coming of the Avun-Riah, and his reasons were far from selfish.
Priest had wanted a better world for all of mankind, not just himself. Even if nothing else had depended upon it he would have tried to save the boy. At the last, when Empeth had torn the man’s heart from his chest, still Priest had not hated him. Compassion had filled his soul for the man wh
o would imprison it with chains of fire in the halls of Sordarrah.
Why would a man suffer so much to reach a goal if it wasn’t worth something? A strange feeling began to fill Sekiel and it took him a moment before he realized it was shame.
Help him!
Clearly the end was coming. Sekiel heard the battle in the hall below and sent his spirit through the floors to witness it. He saw Vain clashing desperately against Antarsh and Torresh before losing control of the power of the Glimloche and turning into a beast of hideous power. Even in his spirit form, Sekiel could sense the desperation of the man within the beast, struggling to regain control, but finally succumbing to the dark power.
The very same desperation had been battling within Sekiel ever since he had returned to the flesh.
Help him!
Vain would now become like Empeth, selfishly crushing any who opposed his lust for more power. The boy would die, either by Empeth’s hand or the beast’s. And then Lord Sordarrah would either be resurrected or he would not. Sekiel looked inside himself and found he no longer cared either way.
Every attempt to resurrect Sordarrah had failed. Now that he pondered it more deeply, Sekiel began to feel perhaps there might have been some other force at work against them.
When the guardian Gustav had tried to save the last Avun-Riah, there should have been no way that he could get through to the girl. Their defenses had been virtually impregnable – what with the whole of the German army at their disposal. But the human had managed to make it into the inner-sanctum and even killed Bennael and himself in the process. Killed their mortal forms, their spirits had returned to Sordarrah’s realm to be punished.
This is not right, Sekiel thought suddenly.
He had always believed their cause had been just; humans were simply glorified apes to be used and disposed of as the immortals saw fit. But with the memories of Priest flowing through his mind Sekiel saw things differently and began to understand why he had been feeling so unsure. The man had dedicated his life to the service of others, never harboring ill-will or malice toward any of his enemies.
That is how life should be, not the everlasting flood of hate Sekiel and the rest of The Four had always existed on.
Perhaps.... he thought, but quashed the idea instantly. There could never be redemption for one such as he. If God existed, most likely he despised the demon.
For that is what he was: a demon.
An evil demon.
What an interesting concept evil embodied. If a man killed another man defending his property, they hailed him a hero. But if that same man killed another man to gain something belonging to someone else, they branded him evil. Such idiosyncrasies of humanity had always made Sekiel laugh before, but suddenly he found a new perspective.
Now he understood.
Love created more than life. Hope brought more than existence. And this was why the Dark Man now approached.
Sekiel rose just as demon-Vain purposefully stalked up the stairs. Swiftly making up his mind, he strode straight-backed to the door and stepped out into the huge corridor to await the beast. The decision had left him with a curious feeling of peace, and no matter what happened now he knew he’d made the right choice.
The beast turned into the corridor and Sekiel sent out a thread of power, linking with the creature’s mind.
You must return, human, he pulsed deep into the beast’s mind. You must control the power that you have unleashed.
“You think to trick me, demon?” challenged demon-Vain. “What is wrong? Are you afraid to fight a god?”
Ignoring the creature, Sekiel increased the power of his mind-link. You must return, without you the boy will die! You will fail if you do not come back!
A low groan seemed to sound within the mind-link, the man inside the beast struggling to regain control. Using all of Priest’s telepathic powers to pierce the veil around the man’s memories, Sekiel managed to glimpse an image of a beautiful young girl, screaming out in horror. He also grasped a name before he was shut out. The beast stood silently now, unable to move while trying to control the battle raging within his mind.
Sekiel brought the image into his sight, and hurled it back along the mind-link into the beast’s brain. Angelique! he screamed. If you don’t return, the boy will die just like Angelique! Return now or it will be too late!
Demon-Vain stood quivering now at the end of the hallway. Holding his head in his enormous hands, a sound not unlike a whimper emanated from his mouth. Pain etched across the features of the beast while the assassin struggled valiantly to prevail in the battle for self. Hurling his massive frame across the floor, a silent howl gradually rose into an audible scream:
“ANGELIQUE!!”
The beast slowly shrank before Sekiel, and he watched the ebony features shift and change back into those of the Dark Man. In his human form, clothes reappeared upon his frame and he finally stood, shaking, still with his head in his hands.
Looking up at Sekiel, he said softly, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I may have just taken away the only chance you had of defeating Empeth.”
“Why did you help me?”
Sekiel stood silently for a moment. “Let’s just say your friend Priest can be very persuasive.”
“What do you mean?” asked Vain.
“He never left. I thought I had defeated him, but his essence continued lurking in my head, speaking to me and convincing me of the beauty that is human life. I have existed for an eternity, but I don’t think I have ever had a single day of life as a human would know it.” Sekiel paused.
“Today I feel alive, and it is wondrous,” he explained finally.
Nodding his head in understanding, Vain silently followed, Sekiel leading the way down the stairs to where the ritual was swiftly drawing to a climax, where the boy would be released and then sacrificed. Sekiel now knew why Priest and Gabriel had surrendered themselves:
In life, some things were simply more important than living.
Chapter Seventeen
Embrace Your Enemy
Sebastian wailed against the walls of his cell. Every attempt to pierce the powers that held him had met with abysmal failure. He’d used his powers to their limit now and fell exhausted to the floor, knowing instinctively that the time drew near, and the ritual had already begun. It echoed within his soul, and the thought chilled him. Sebastian had no idea how long he had been in this place without day or night, and his mind seemed close to breaking.
No amount of pleading with his captors had motivated them to any emotion except scorn. Empeth had laughed heartily and whipped the boy with images of his dead parents until he felt his heart would simply shatter.
At first he had responded with pleas to Empeth’s taunts, but this had only increased his anguish. The images playing across his vision became more and more graphic: scenes of his foster mother tied down and repeatedly raped, his father flayed alive. Their screams still echoed within his mind.
Sebastian soon became so withdrawn that even a harsh word could send him into tears. Yet now, as he sat alone on the floor of his cell, his anger increasingly began to burn within him. The Dark Man had failed him; he had promised to protect him and he had not come. They had all made promises, throughout his life, and they had all lied. They were probably sitting together laughing at his stupidity. Rage began to burn slowly in his heart. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling such intense fury, but it overwhelmed him until he barely recognized his emotions.
The anger burned within him, and suddenly he shouted out into the empty cell, “I’m still here you useless assholes!”
The words echoed throughout the room, and something changed, but Sebastian failed to notice it. His rage had all but consumed him. “Let me out of here, you fucking bastards!!” he screamed at the walls.
Sebastian’s fury bounced around the cell, and suddenly the walls shifted and swirled. Sebastian felt his anger disappear like mist on a breeze.
With a loud crack, th
e cell shattered, and Sebastian fell onto the floor of a large room. Strange symbols had been marked over the gray stone walls and floor, etched in human blood. In the corner of the room, a large pile of bodies were heaped one atop the other in a gruesome mound of discarded flesh. Looking up, Sebastian saw Empeth staring at him with a look of extreme shock upon his face.
“How did you – ?” he began, but the door crashed open, cutting him off.
Bursting into the room appeared the demon known to Sebastian as Sekiel, followed by the Dark Man. “Let the boy go, Empeth,” demanded Sekiel.
Empeth’s shock became an expression of thin-lipped ridicule. “My, my. A demon changing sides, whatever are you thinking? Do you suppose you will be accepted anywhere else but at Lord Sordarrah’s side? Do you think these humans will care about you? Give up this foolishness now, Sekiel, and slay the Dark Man before it is too late. Maybe our Lord won’t destroy you for your impertinence.”
“He is not my Lord anymore; I don’t think he has been for a long time.”
Empeth chuckled with genuine humor. “Do you think you can achieve redemption by doing this? Do you think your sins against their God will simply disappear? He will despise you just as these humans do.”
“I don’t care.” Sekiel’s defiance rose. “Today I live.” Leaping forward, he almost caught Empeth off guard, but at the last moment the leader of the Souls of Sordarrah raised his hand, and Sekiel halted mid-air. Vain moved to help the demon, but Empeth raised his other hand, and the assassin froze.
“You are a fool, Sekiel. I have always despised you,” said Empeth casually. “But I never thought you would become a traitor to our cause. Now you will learn what it means when you oppose our Lord Sordarrah!”
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