by Luke Romyn
* * * *
Vain met with the short, pug-faced gun shop owner that afternoon. At first the man refused adamantly to sell the assassin anything without the proper ID or licenses, but soon changed his tune when Vain produced a thick wad of bills from the pocket of his black jacket.
“I really need these guns to take my son hunting this weekend,” he lied smoothly. “Could you please assist me? I’m willing to pay whatever you want.”
Whatever he wanted turned out to be almost four times the normal price, but Vain simply smiled stiffly and handed over the money.
“Come again,” called out the shop owner as they left.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Vain returned coldly over his shoulder.
When they arrived back at the church they found arrangements had been made for them to stay in a small villa close by. Several days passed and they rarely left their rooms except to go to the library where Father Armadeuso had left the secret tomes of Sordarrah for Vain to read. He refused to let the assassin take the books from the church grounds and vehemently denied Vain when he’d tried.
“I need these books you old bastard,” Vain had protested. “I need to know my enemy and I don’t want to sit in this stuffy hole to study them.”
“You can ask me,” Father Armadeuso replied, “I know everything there is within those pages.”
“You’re even stuffier than the library,” Vain snapped. “I could just take the books you know. There’s nobody here who could stop me.”
That had brought a chuckle from the old priest. “If you take the books from holy ground, Empeth will feel it. He will know where you are and come to Rome looking for you.”
“More bullshit.” Vain rolled his eyes.
“Maybe,” agreed Father Armadeuso, “but do you want to take that risk? I think you’re starting to run out of countries willing to accept your fake passport.”
Finally, Sebastian settled the matter, convincing the Dark Man to come to the library with him. “It will give us a chance to get out and see the town a little bit, just in case we need to get somewhere quickly again.”
Vain caught his meaning and reluctantly agreed. It would be good to see the area around them in case they had to run again, and going to the library afforded a reasonable excuse. During one of these sojourns, a visitor arrived to see them. The library was empty, and Vain heard the light footsteps slowly approach.
“Well, well. Finally I have found you.”
Vain reached for the Glock pistol concealed within his jacket. “There is no need for that, Dark Man, we are old friends and should have no use for weapons.”
The speaker moved into sight. Sebastian gasped. It was Priest! Yet something chillingly darker lingered about the man that Vain couldn’t quite place.
“Stay where you are, boy.” Vain slid smoothly to his feet. “What’s going on Priest? We were certain you were dead when we left you. There’s no way you could have survived those wounds.”
“Ah yes, the wounds. Well, Empeth was nice enough to heal those so that I could come here for you. Unfortunately your friend Priest couldn’t come as well. There wasn’t enough room in here for the two of us.” The visitor smiled darkly.
Vain noticed a mark on the man’s brow, briefly caught in the candlelight. A pattern of interwoven lines constantly moved beneath his skin, almost as if something were crawling in the same pattern just below the surface, over and over again.
“Who are you?” asked Vain coolly. Sebastian looked on quizzically, but remained silent.
“Perhaps you have heard of me, Dark Man,” Priest’s form pronounced calmly. “I am Sekiel. I am Death. The last of The Four to be reborn and I am hungry, so give me the boy or get out of my way!”
Two cracks echoed from the walls. The shots were possibly the fastest in Vain’s career, but they were to no avail. Both bullets hit Sekiel square in the chest, failing even to draw a pause. The bullets simply stopped short and crumpled on impact, making two light clunks dropping to the floor.
Sekiel brushed the spot where the bullets had struck with the back of his hand, like shooing away an annoying insect. His hand shot forward with lightning speed making to grab the assassin, yet equally suddenly it was flung back roughly seeming to have hit an invisible barrier.
Sekiel cradled his hand, apparently stung from the incident. “Unfortunately my powers are weak here and I am unable to deal with you whilst you cower on holy ground.” He almost spat the words. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for you to leave. You can’t stay in here forever.”
Sekiel turned and strode from the library, his words taunting the frustrated assassin and terrifying the boy.
* * * *
“We have to get you out of here now boy.” Vain quickly grabbed Sebastian’s hand.
“Wait,” pleaded Sebastian, pulling his hand from the Dark Man’s grasp. “They will know the exits. We must find another way.”
Vain weighed their options and cursed himself for his stupidity. What had he been thinking? To tell the truth, Sekiel scared the assassin in a way no other living thing ever had, even before his display of power. Gritting his teeth, Vain pushed aside his panic and calmed his thoughts.
Escape.
Looking around he noted four main exits. Anticipating his enemies would have all four covered, he examined other possibilities. The windows above were too high to carry the boy to, and even if he could, he doubted they could both jump to an adjoining rooftop, the closest being at least twelve feet away.
A priest entered the library to investigate the noises and instantly Vain grabbed him and pulled him aside.
“Did you see anyone outside?” Vain hissed at the startled priest.
“A man dressed in black, like you. His eyes were the same.”
“How do you mean?” asked Vain.
“They were... dead.”
Vain grimaced and released the frightened priest. “What lies below the library?” he asked.
“Nothing... except for the sewers.”
“Can we get to them?” asked Vain.
“Well, yes I suppose you could go through the grill in the basement, but why would you want to do such a thing?” The priest frowned.
“Just for the atmosphere of the place, father,” grunted Vain dryly. “Can’t get enough of it. Now shut up and show us the way.”
The terrified priest moved to the corner behind the unattended library desk and lifted a rug. Beneath it lay a square trapdoor which the assassin quickly pulled open. The priest handed Vain a small torch from underneath the desk and stepped back.
“Is there anything you want me to tell Father Armadeuso?” he asked tremulously.
“Yes. Tell the old bastard to pray for us,” muttered Vain, descending the iron ladder.
Sebastian thanked the priest politely before following the assassin into the dark basement where Vain knelt near the corner.
“Here, hold this,” said the assassin, handing Sebastian the torch. Vain then grasped the metal grill with both hands and strained to tear it from the bricks setting it into the floor. The Dark Man’s muscles bulged beneath his jacket until, with a low groan, he finally tore the grill out and flung it aside with a loud clang.
“You didn’t have to be so rude to him you know,” Sebastian rebuked him softly.
“What?” Vain turned roughly to look at the boy, incomprehension furrowing his brow.
“The priest. He only meant to help. You could see he was scared.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Vain incredulously. “You’ve just seen a guy we both know was dead, up there walking and talking again, even after I shot at him–which by the way, didn’t even crease his shirt–and you’re worried about my manners?”
“No, I’m not kidding,” said Sebastian, his confidence growing. “Sometimes you can just be rude for no reason. It doesn’t hurt to be nice once in a while you know.”
“Jesus, you sound just like my wife,” grumbled Vain, returning his attention to the entrance
of the sewer.
“Was she always right too?” asked Sebastian quietly.
Vain paused, realizing what he had just said. He had no wife. He had another man’s memories of a wife floating around in his head, but that didn’t make them his. He shook the thoughts away.
“Shut up boy, or I’ll give you some horror stories about premature ejaculation that will keep you awake for a month.”
“What’s that?” asked Sebastian innocently.
“Don’t worry, kid, you’ll find out on your own soon enough,” Vain chuckled. “If we live though this,” he added softly to himself.
Vain led the way into the dark of the sewers, and the two marched through the filth for almost an hour before he felt satisfied they were far enough from the library and their pursuers. They soon found an overhead manhole cover that they hoped would lead outside and into some fresh air.
Climbing an iron ladder bolted into the wall, Vain put his shoulder to the cover and heaved it open, gasping at the fresh air filling his lungs. Suddenly his senses flared and he felt the onset of danger. Before he could react however, a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and easily lifted him from the hole. Sebastian quickly followed up the ladder, stepping out to see the Dark Man on the ground surrounded by four figures. Sekiel smiled maliciously.
“Run boy! Now!” roared Vain, but even as he turned, Sebastian’s arms were pinned behind him in a vice-like grip.
“You forgot, Dark Man: your friend Priest could read your thoughts,” derided Sekiel. “That power is now mine. We were able to follow you easily. You might as well have been walking through the main street with a flashing neon sign above your head.” The Four chuckled mirthlessly.
Sekiel loomed forward, but the Dark Man leapt to his feet and drew his two Glocks. The Four now laughed with genuine amusement, and Sekiel slapped the pistols aside with lightning alacrity.
“I thought you would have learnt by now Dark Man,” he sneered, “your puny weapons have no effect on us. Like using a pea-shooter against a rhinoceros.” His right hand shot forward, gripping the assassin by the throat and lifting him effortlessly from his feet. Vain fought frantically against the grip, but his blows had no more effect than a feather against a mountain. Gradually he weakened and his struggles lessened. Sekiel scornfully threw him to the ground like a doll, leaving the assassin gasping for breath.
“Really Dark Man, I thought you would have given us more sport. I’m not going to kill you just yet, though. Let me introduce you to somebody you have something in common with. This is Bennael, another member of The Four. He also answers to ‘War’,” said Sekiel, pointing to one of the figures standing with him. The man he indicated wore a long black coat that did nothing to disguise the muscular frame beneath it. His hair burned fiery red in stark contrast to his pale skin. The only other color in his visage came from eyes–a deep crimson with no visible pupil.
“Bennael possesses the body of a man named Gustav, the supposed protector of the last Avun-Riah, who shot the girl, destroying Empeth’s incantations, thus delaying our master until this time. Gustav’s reward for his efforts was to have his soul shredded from his body. He wanders eternally in the blood-drenched halls of Sordarrah, his servant for all time. At least he put up a good fight, not like this petty tussle you’ve displayed. If you’re the best our enemies could find I almost pity them....”
“Anyways Dark Man, I think I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Bennael. He hasn’t been able to have much fun since his re-incarnation and he seems a bit distressed of late. Do try to cheer him up won’t you. Goodbye Dark Man, we won’t meet again,” finished Sekiel before turning away.
“Don’t count on it, boogieman,” rasped Vain through his damaged throat, “I’m not finished yet.”
“Yes you are. You’ve failed,” Sekiel commented without turning. The three figures strode down the deserted street, casually dragging the screaming Sebastian behind them, leaving the Dark Man to face Bennael alone.
Something inside Vain cracked at the sight of the boy shrieking. Slowly, he rose from the street and faced his opponent, wrath radiating from within him.
He would not fail again, not like before.
Bennael saw the look and laughed. “Well,” he said beneath a thick German accent, “perhaps there is more bite to you after all.”
Vain simply stood motionless and waited for his opponent to move. A sword materialized in Bennael’s right hand–right out of thin air! Vain tried desperately to visualize a way to defeat this demon. If he were anything like Sekiel, Vain knew he had little chance of surviving this encounter unless he out-thought his opponent.
Bennael leapt forward with a lightning slash of his sword. The assassin half ducked, half slid beneath the blow and the sword impacted with the brick wall behind him and smashed straight through, raining a minor avalanche of brickwork down upon the demon.
Momentarily, Bennael’s larger figure was immobilized, his arm and sword wedged in the collapsed wall. Vain stole the chance to roll out of the way and managed to collect one of his pistols from the street. Rising up, he strode to where Bennael stood and raised the pistol to the back of his head.
“Try to stop this one, demon,” whispered Vain, his finger tensing on the trigger. But Bennael wasn’t finished. With a surge of immense strength, he pulled his arm free of the wall, demolishing the entire corner of the building. Lunging backwards, his elbow connected with Vain’s ribs and flung him through the air to land in a motionless heap yards away.
Bennael chuckled and strode to where Vain lay. He hoisted the assassin easily by the collar of his jacket and prepared for the final blow.
“Looks like there is only bark left in you, old dog.” Bennael smirked.
“Woof,” whispered Vain, raising the pistol to Bennael’s head and discharging it point-blank between the eyebrows.
No blood. No grey brain matter splattering against his clothes. Bennael simply dropped the Dark Man and staggered backward. Vain collapsed weakly to the ground. The larger man’s red eyes slowly rolled back in his head, his sword clattering useless beside him.
Vain struggled to his feet and probed his injured ribs with the fingers of his left hand whilst keeping the Glock trained as steadily as possible on the figure lying before him. Satisfied he’d broken nothing, Vain shuffled forward and gazed at the face of the demon.
Not a mark creased Bennael’s brow. He had taken a ten millimeter bullet from an unsilenced Glock 20 in the face and didn’t even have a bruise to show for it. Vain contemplated emptying the magazine into the demon, but he guessed it’d make no difference and only attract unwanted attention. He collected his other pistol and shuffled away in what he hoped was the direction of the church.
He’d need all the help he could find–even if it had to come from a God he despised.
* * * *
Father Armadeuso answered the heavy knocking on his front door with dread in his heart. Deep within him he’d known something bad had happened when he arrived at the library to meet up with Vain and the Avun-Riah and found the ancient building deserted. The librarian, Father Fellici, had confirmed the priest’s fears with his recounting of events, and the message the assassin had given him.
Opening the door, he found the Dark Man slumped weakly against the frame, holding his side. “They took the boy,” he grunted before collapsing into the old priest’s arms.
* * * *
Vain awoke in a simple bed, the tightness of the bandages around his chest indicating his ribs had been expertly bandaged.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” said a voice from the doorway. Father Armadeuso’s features paled with concern.
“I know,” he answered simply. “I underestimated them. I have never met anything more powerful in my life. How long have I been here?”
“You have been unconscious for three days,” said the old priest, moving to the bedside.
“Three days!” exclaimed Vain. “I have to go!” He made to sit up, but winced and slumped back down.
“You have been grievously wounded, both physically and mentally. You must rest longer,” said Father Armadeuso.
“I have to find the boy,” rasped Vain.
“And do what? Save him? How will you do that when you can barely walk?”
“I will do it,” hissed Vain vehemently.
The old priest gazed at the assassin and sighed. “I do believe you would try, Dark Man, but I’m sorry to say you will fare no better in your current condition. They would annihilate you without thought and then destroy the Avun-Riah. You still haven’t told me how you survived this encounter.”
“They came for us in the library,” said Vain weakly, “Priest appeared and introduced himself as Sekiel.”
“Sekiel! Priest!” Father Armadeuso released a long breath. “I had not thought it possible, even for Empeth. Priest’s powers were extremely strong, as evidenced when he managed to survive his previous encounter with Empeth. If Sekiel has taken over Priest then Empeth has become mighty indeed.”
“That’s how they found us,” said Vain. “He used Priest’s powers to track us when we escaped through the sewer and caught us when we came out. They took the boy and left me with one called Bennael.”
“Bennael used to be a man named Gustav. He once held the mantle of guardian like yourself,” said the old priest. “He had to kill the child to save her–and the world–from Sordarrah. It seems the stories are true; he was made to serve Sordarrah as his punishment.”
“I need to know everything about these ‘Four Horsemen’. Tell me what you know, but be quick–the condensed version.”
Father Armadeuso paused, gathering his thoughts. “When the first seal opened, the first horseman, Antarsh–also known as ‘Conquest’–emerged. His powers revolve around the use of a figurative ‘bow’, possibly meaning he is able to produce projectile weapons or powers.”
“What is a ‘seal’?” interrupted Vain.
“Oh yes. Of course you wouldn’t know something like that. Forgive me. There are seven seals and, according to the Bible, when Armageddon arrives Jesus will return to Earth and open the seven seals to reveal the contents of the scroll that was handed down to him from God. Now the first–”