Disciple of the Dead (Seraphim Revival Book 3)

by Jacob Holo

  “We both know we can’t have those days again.” Seth stepped closer to her. “But I know what I want, what I’ve wanted more than anything in this universe.”

  “Seth…”

  “Quennin, I failed you so completely. The one thing I ever truly wanted, I failed to hold onto.”

  Quennin looked down, but Seth gently raised her chin. They gazed into each other’s eyes.

  “What we had was a wonderful thing,” Quennin said.

  “Yes, it was wonderful.”

  “But I’ve done too many horrible things since then. I’m not the same woman you loved.”

  “You know that isn’t true.”

  “Too much has come between us, too many mistakes.”

  “And I was a fool to let them happen.”

  Quennin laughed quietly. “I think we can agree we were both fools.”

  “All right.”

  “Seth… I thought I was over you, that I’d buried the past. But standing here in front of you… I realize I was just lying to myself. Now that I’m here, I don’t want to leave you again.”

  “And I don’t want you to go.” Seth placed a warm hand on the side of her face. “But the fact is the man who needs you most isn’t me. He’s outside those doors.”

  “How can you be so full of certainty when I feel so confused?”

  “He needs you and your strength.” Seth smiled sadly. “He didn’t change on his own. You changed him, and he needs you by his side to stay the course.”

  “It’s just… Seth…”

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and Seth wiped it away with a gentle thumb.

  “Goodbye, Quennin. You have been and will always remain my beloved.”

  “And you mine.” Her words were soft, almost a whisper.

  Slowly, hesitantly, she turned away from him and limped out of the command center.

  The doors shut, and Seth was alone once more.

  ***

  Jack put his boots on the table and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms, glaring at the unnatural sight across the rec center. Next to him, Tesset put her boots up on the table and, not to be outdone, leaned her chair back even more dangerously.

  He looked over at her. She raised her eyebrows at him.

  “It’s just plain disturbing,” Jack said.

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  “I mean, what is Jared thinking?”

  “I’m more curious about why Veketon is bothering to play against him.”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “I can understand chess. Jared had a chance with chess. But Za’Chei?” Tesset shook her head. “Jared’s going to get slaughtered.”

  “You mean more than usual?”

  “That should be obvious. Veketon’s strategies are required learning for any serious Za’Chei player.”

  Jack didn’t like the bit about serious players. He crossed his arms more firmly.

  “Well, it’s still disturbing all the same.”

  “I really don’t see what the big deal is,” Tesset said.

  “Okay, how would you feel if an evil clone of yourself was walking around the ship?”

  “Oh, you two are nothing alike.” She gave him a dismissive wave. “Sure, there’s some physical resemblance—”

  “Some?”

  “—but your auras are completely different. Veketon’s like… oh, I don’t know. He’s like a continuous pulse of energy, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Whereas you’re this icky, slithering blob of—”

  “Yes, yes. I know. Please don’t say it so loudly.”

  The Za’Chei game between Jared and Veketon was heating up. Even from across the room, Jack could see the holographic explosions and crisscrossing cannon fire. Jared frowned, contemplating his next move.

  Tesset cupped her hands over her mouth. “The left flank, Jared! Fortify the left flank!”

  Jared squinted at the floating formations of glass ships. With a sudden smile and a content nod, he sent his ships into motion and resolved his turn.

  “No, Jared! Your other left!”

  Jared glared at the game pieces, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked down at one hand, then the other. Finally, he shot an angry look at Tesset.

  She giggled so much she almost tipped her chair over.

  “Uh, Tesset?” Jack said. “He did move to the left.”

  “I know.”

  “You are such a troublemaker.”

  She giggled again. “You know you love it.”

  The game of Za’Chei progressed quickly. Veketon wore a bored, distracted look as his ships cut a bloody swathe through Jared’s. The game was over in record time, though if Jared had any say, it was only the first of several.

  “Wow, he is good,” Jack said. “I’ve never seen Jared lose that badly.”

  Tesset rocked her chair forward onto all its legs. She was suddenly sitting with perfect posture. A few seconds later, Seth walked into the rec center and stopped just inside the threshold. Conversations died off as all eyes turned to Seth.

  “We launch in two hours,” he said. “Briefing in one hour.”

  And that was it. No grand speeches. No inspirational messages. Just be ready in an hour. Seth stepped into line for a meal behind a few medics, and conversations across the picked up again.

  “That wasn’t very inspirational,” Tesset said.

  “Oh, he’s probably saving the good stuff for the briefing.” Jack glanced around the room. “Hey, where did Quennin go?”

  “She’s in the medical ward undergoing another round of surgery.”

  “Ah. Makes sense if she plans to fly in two hours.”

  Jack opened a link to the fusion warheads stowed on each throne. He didn’t think he’d need them, but he preferred to have the option and not use it over the alternative. If he was to guess, and he thought himself a fairly good judge of people, he’d wager a whole pile of worthless plastic discs on their full cooperation.

  Seth walked over to their table and set his food tray down. “Jack. Tesset.”

  “Hey, Seth.” Jack took his boots off the table.

  “Tesset, when you get a chance, could you take another look at Quennin? I want to make sure she’s healthy enough to fight.”

  “Sure. I’ll do that right now.”

  Tesset stood up and hurried out of the rec center. She seemed a little too eager to be away from them.

  Jack shrugged it off. “So, what’s up?”

  “Has Tesset talked to you about anything… unusual lately?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Uh, no, she hasn’t. Should she have?”

  “Hmm. I suppose she will when the moment is right.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone somewhere must find this all very amusing.” Seth turned around and looked across the rec center. Jack followed his gaze to Veketon.

  “Find what amusing?”

  “I lost Quennin to your clone.” Seth faced him again. “And then I lost Tesset to you.”

  Jack’s eyes went wide.

  Oh, crap. Oh, crap! OH, CRAP!!!

  “Uh, Seth…”

  Oh, what the hell am I going to say? What can I say? There’s nothing to say!

  “What’s done is done,” Seth said calmly.

  “Look, Seth—”

  “It’s probably best if you don’t try to apologize.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  Seth let out a long, tired sigh. “I think everyone knew I was always preoccupied with Quennin. That was a mistake, and in the end, it cost me both of them.”

  Jack waited in silence. Nothing he could say would make any of this better or easier.

  “Just promise me this, Jack. Promise me you’ll look after her, that you’ll treat her right. She deserves better than the loveless union I gave her.”

  Jack nodded slowly, almost afraid to speak.

  “Yeah, Seth,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  Chapter 17

  Vayl

&
nbsp; “Othaniel, where are you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Zophiel gazed across the endless storms of bruised purplish smoke that surrounded him. They billowed and writhed like living creatures, snapping at each other with forks of lightning. Only the vague silhouette of a distant tower and this realm’s crushing gravity gave him any sense of direction.

  Blood leaked from his chest, left arm, and two of his wings, but the wounds were closing. The battle with Veketon had exacted a heavy toll from him. And from Riv—

  Zophiel closed the thought off.

  He could not afford distraction, not when he was so close. What would the point of her sacrifice be if he lost faith now? He checked for Othaniel’s position and found her on the far side of the tower, almost the same distance from it as he was.

  There was no sign of the Gate. Through the portal lance, Zophiel sensed its presence, but it was vague and distant.

  “Do you see that tower nearby?” he asked.

  “Barely,” Othaniel said. “This storm is producing a lot of interference.”

  “Head for it. We’ll meet there.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Zophiel spread his aching wings and accelerated towards the tower. It loomed before him, hidden by huge smoke-storms and flashes of cloud-to-cloud lightning. Slowly, the tower came into view: a brass edifice one hundred kilometers wide and, for all Zophiel could tell, infinitely tall. Gothic structures, platforms, and strange buttresses branched out of the tower, and great eyes watched him.

  Lunatic Ziggurat, he thought. My lord must be close.

  He flew closer, bringing more of the tower into view. Great supports stretched downward from the tower in all directions, disappearing into purplish fog. The fog thinned as he drew near, and he could finally make out the ground the tower stood on.

  The Ziggurat’s cylindrical main body and a conical formation of brass support beams penetrated into a plain of cracked obsidian. A volatile ocean writhed beyond this jagged, stony expanse, but like no body of water Zophiel had ever seen. It was as if lightning had been condensed into a liquid and now filled an endless basin around the Ziggurat, the “waters” snapping and spitting in flashes of errant energy.

  Othaniel’s seraph approached.

  Zophiel slowed, coming alongside.

  “What happened to the Gate?” she asked.

  “The ends are unstable,” Zophiel said. “It must be moving through this realm, which is why we came out in different spots.”

  “How fast could it be moving? We went through almost simultaneously.”

  “There’s no need for concern. Vayl has made arrangements to secure this end, and soon his armies will flow freely into our universe.”

  “Speaking of his armies, I can’t locate any spawns.”

  “I don’t think they survived the trip back.”

  Zophiel studied the black plain of obsidian beneath them. His eyes traced up along the Ziggurat until the tower disappeared into the clouds above.

  “I’ve seen this tower before,” Othaniel said. “Vierj was here long ago.”

  “This is Lunatic Ziggurat,” Zophiel said.

  “It’s huge. How high do you think it goes?”

  “Why don’t you ask Vayl? He must be close.”

  “Then where is he?” Othaniel asked.

  “He called his home Ziggurat Necropolis. It should be nearby.”

  “Any idea where that is or what it looks like?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.”

  Zophiel turned in a slow circle. The sky of bruised smoke and the ocean of liquid lightning stretched out in all directions with the Ziggurat at the center. He could see nothing else, and his seraph’s artificial scanners struggled to make sense of this universe’s unfamiliar laws.

  “Well, we’re in his realm,” Othaniel said. “Why don’t you try to contact Vayl? It should be easier here, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, of course. How foolish of me not to think of that.”

  Zophiel focused for the briefest of moments, emptying in mind of distractions—

  —immediately, another personality connected with startling ease.

  “My lord?”

  Yes, my young disciple. Vayl’s voice echoed in his mind with crystal clarity.

  “My lord! We have successfully passed through the Gate.”

  Yes, I can already feel your strong presence in this realm. You have done exceptionally well, my disciple.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  And you are… yes, you are close to the Ziggurat’s base. Very good. I am not far.

  “I believe I can sense which direction your voice is coming from.”

  Good. Follow it to my Necropolis. I will dispatch an escort of spawns to greet you.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  I look forward to meeting you in person.

  “As do I, my lord.”

  Zophiel faced the source of Vayl’s voice, elation washing away doubt and grief.

  “This way. Follow me!”

  He led the way across the lightning ocean, flying high above its simmering energies. Huge waves of white light exploded from the surface, clawing upward until they crashed down in showers of light.

  The Ziggurat disappeared behind them in layers of dark fog. They continued across the strange ocean, their seraphs the only objects in sight for several minutes.

  “There!” Othaniel said. “A chaos spawn ahead of us.”

  “We must be close.”

  The spawn flew past them, its armor and sword glinting from the light below. It looped around and settled into a position ahead of them, leading the way.

  More spawns emerged from the smoke clouds. At first Zophiel thought there might be only a dozen, but more and more joined them until they flew within a mighty escort of one hundred of spawns.

  On the edge of thought, Zophiel could barely hear them.

  … the disciples are here…

  … the disciples of vayl have arrived…

  … we honor you, mighty disciples…

  A huge shape loomed ahead. At first Zophiel thought it was the base of another Ziggurat tower, but he soon realized this was much, much larger. A slope of brass loomed before him, rising to unknown heights. The ocean of lightning crashed violently against it, then drew away, revealing that this slope continued down into the ocean’s depths.

  Zophiel flew closer, and the slope’s details came into focus. It wasn’t composed of one solid mass. Instead, thousands of gigantic broken cylinders had been piled on top of one another.

  As if a Ziggurat tower had fallen on this spot, Zophiel thought.

  An unknown catastrophe had piled the tower fragments at haphazard angles and had left every Ziggurat eye tightly shut. Zophiel could not find the edges of the slope or its top. His entire view ahead was a solid angled wall of fallen Ziggurat segments.

  Just how high did this tower stretch? he wondered.

  The thick swarm of chaos spawns sped ahead of the Disciples and formed two rows, each fifty long. Zophiel and Othaniel flew down the middle and, as one, the spawns raised their swords in salute.

  … they have arrived…

  … the prophesized time is here…

  … you humble us, mighty disciples…

  They came closer to Ziggurat Necropolis, and Zophiel noticed something else. Built on top of the ragged, jutting tower fragments sat a newer structure of brilliant reddish brass.

  The structure sprawled over several Ziggurat fragments, either built on top of those fragments or formed from them. He could not tell.

  Its towers and platforms and buttresses were miniature parodies of the Ziggurat’s massive scale, but the structure still covered an area over five hundred kilometers across. Chaos spawns darted about its gleaming towers and stood guard at passages leading into the Necropolis’ interior.

  Zophiel followed the faint sensation of Vayl’s mind until they reached an immense tunnel’s circular entrance. By the looks of it, the tunnel led diagona
lly down into a Ziggurat fragment. He could see the lip of the fragment hanging overhead in a wide arc of brass.

  Zophiel cleared his mind.

  “My lord? Where are you?”

  I am here, my disciple, Vayl said.

  “Wh-what is that?” Othaniel asked.

  “I feel it, too,” Zophiel said. “Do not be alarmed.”

  Around him, the chaos spawns scratched at his mind, each one a weak flicker of chaos energy barely worth noting next to the powerful furnaces of his and Othaniel’s seraphs.

  But the one approaching could match the heart of a star in awe-inspiring fury.

  “It’s coming through the tunnel!” Othaniel said.

  Spawns scattered from the tunnel’s mouth. In the circular depression, eight brass wedges broke from each other and slid aside, revealing a tunnel angled down into the Necropolis.

  A giant humanoid creature with night-black skin flew out of the tunnel, six leathery wings unfurling behind it. The creature was so huge, its wings spanned a full kilometer! Long spindly arms opened in a welcoming gesture, each finger taller than a seraph.

  Zophiel noted its flayed skin and skeletal face covered with thin sinews. Black teeth glistened within a lipless mouth. Its eyes burned like infinite blue furnaces, and despite their strangeness, they somehow communicated great compassion and kinship.

  “Vayl, is that you?” he asked.

  Welcome, my young disciple. Vayl’s words reverberated in Zophiel’s mind, clearly coming from the giant before him.

  “My lord!”

  Vayl held out his arm. Come to me, my disciple.

  Zophiel flew out to him and perched atop Vayl’s forearm, then folded his wings. Vayl brought him close.

  Welcome, Zophiel, to Ziggurat Necropolis, Vayl said. And welcome to you as well, Othaniel, sister of Zophiel. You may approach if you wish.

  With only a small amount of hesitation, Othaniel landed next to Zophiel and bowed her head to Vayl.

  “I see Zophiel did not exaggerate when he spoke of your power, Lord Vayl,” she said.

  And I have heard much about you. It is a great pleasure to finally meet both of you in person, though I believe someone is missing. Tell me, where is Riviel?

  “She…” Zophiel struggled to speak the words. “She fell in battle, my lord.”

  I see. Vayl nodded solemnly. You have my deepest sympathies. From the stories you shared, I knew her spirit to be fiery and faithful. She will be sorely missed.