The Fractured Fallen (A Dark Fantasy Horror): The Edge of Reflection Book 4

by Carver Pike

  “That was easy,” he said.

  He couldn’t believe it. He’d expected the fight of his life. He stood, tapped his bladed bow staff against the ground, and walked over to the edge of the ship, dragging the blade against the ground along the way.

  Changeling glanced over the railing to see Tact lying on his back, bent over a rock in an ugly fashion. He was clawing at his own thighs, looking desperate to end the pain. Changeling’s female voice called out to him.

  “I think your back’s broken, lover.”

  Even through the incredible pain the brawler must’ve been going through, Changeling was surprised to see his defenses still up. He was downright mean.

  “You’re as ugly as a woman as you are as a man,” Tact yelled back at him.

  Yes, downright mean.

  “It’s hard to tell the difference between the two,” he added.

  That was it. Changeling had had enough of the asshole’s smart remarks. He stood on the railing and aimed his bow staff, ready to skewer the shattered man and put him out of his misery. He stepped off the railing, letting himself fall towards Tact.

  About halfway into his descent, he felt a sharp pain cut through his right hip. His body spun right before he was nailed to the wooden ship with an arrow through his leg. He looked over his shoulder to see the warrior princess with her bow aimed at him. Where’d she come from? Apparently she was a friend of the brawler. Changeling looked over at her, smiled, and threw his bladed staff right at Tact’s chest.

  “No, Tact!” he heard the woman yell, but it was too late.

  Changeling had expert aim, and Tact’s blood spilled out of the hole in his chest, way too fast to be stopped. The next time Changeling looked at the woman, she was on her knees, sobbing, holding her stomach.

  ***

  Gabe fought for his life. His attacker wasn’t letting up, and Gabe wasn’t good enough with a sword to beat the guy. So instead, he kept dodging, running, and doing everything in his power to stay out of the blade’s way.

  “Just accept your death and hand over your sons,” the armored knight said. “It will be a good death. Any death at the hand of Traven is a great one.”

  “Traven?” Gabe asked as he slipped a thrust from Traven’s sword. “Traven from the Wraithens? Really? Sounds like the lead singer of a bullshit high school garage band.”

  Traven roared and lunged again, but Gabe dodged and the sword sliced through a car door.

  “My sons will not be yours!”

  Gabe backhanded Traven in the nose, then hit him in the crook of the arm, making him drop his sword. The sword stayed in place, still stuck in the door, but Traven was quick and rolled, throwing an elbow into Gabe’s jaw. He snatched Gabe’s sword out of his hand and swung it around in a giant arch. Gabe ducked just as the blade sliced a few hairs off the top of his head.

  “Colossus wants your sons, and Colossus always gets what he wants. There’s no use in fighting it!” Traven yelled as he swung the sword again and missed.

  Gabe’s adrenaline was wearing off and the many cuts, bumps, and bruises on his body had become excruciating.

  “Do you follow this Colossus blindly? Do you not have a mind of your own?” Gabe asked. “Why are you doing this? You fight like you have a personal stake in all this! Do you even know what’s going on?”

  Traven stopped to catch his breath. Gabe wasn’t positive, but it seemed like he might be getting through to the man.

  “What do you mean?” the brute asked through gasps for breath.

  “I mean, this is way above Colossus and whatever the other guy’s name is who sent that fucking ship!”

  “Lord Shiva.”

  “Yeah, him. Colossus and Shiva, they won’t win this. They’re not even in the competition at all. It’s all about the boys. Don’t you see?”

  Traven looked at Gabe with his tongue hanging out and his brow furrowed. He was losing interest in the fight, that much Gabe could see.

  “The babies,” Traven said.

  “Babies? Have you seen them? It’s like they shot up with supernatural steroids. They’re fully grown.”

  Traven didn’t reply. He just listened.

  “Vincent, the one in black…” Tears sprang into Gabe’s eyes. For the first time, he had a chance to mull it over, and trying to explain it was just too hard. “Vincent is evil,” Gabe continued. “Oddity said he’s like the antichrist.”

  “The what?” Traven asked.

  “The…never mind, I don’t suppose you people read The Bible. But whatever bad your boss is capable of, my son is going to bring it to a whole new level.”

  He stopped talking and tried to gauge whether or not he was actually getting through to this bastard.

  “You’re a stubborn enemy,” Traven said. “What they say about Cutter is true.”

  Gabe rolled his eyes and explained it for the millionth time. “I’m not Cutter.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone, brother,” Traven said.

  He pulled off his helmet and tossed it to the ground.

  Gabe couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. Was it? How had he never considered it?

  Standing there in front of him, in full warrior costume, was the image of his brother. He’d never thought about trying to find the dark version of his brother. His brother on the other side of the mirror had died years ago, but here was his dark doppelganger, in the flesh, and he’d been relentlessly trying to kill him.

  “Jimmy?” Gabe asked. “Jimmy, it can’t be…you’re…you’re Jimmy’s image?”

  “Is this another of your lies, Cutter? I don’t know any Jimmy, but I know Cutter when I see him.”

  “No. Cutter was my image. I’m from the other side of the mirror. Cutter’s dead.”

  Traven looked confused, and not convinced.

  “My God,” Gabe said, staggering backwards a couple of steps. He was exhausted, but more than that, he was stunned. “You look just like my brother. You’re him, if he’d survived the crash.”

  “Fucking liar!” Traven yelled as anger flashed across his face.

  He swung the sword again. Gabe tripped on something behind him and fell to the ground where he slid on his back and stared up at the enraged man who suddenly didn’t seem so sure about killing him. That slight hesitation faded away and Gabe knew it was his end.

  Traven screamed a maniacal, pissed off howl and swung his sword. Gabe watched the blade coming at him. But then something caused Traven to stumble.

  Bronc had leaped onto his back and caught him in a choke hold. He reached around and plunged his hunter’s knife over and over again into Traven’s chest and stomach.

  “No!” Gabe heard himself scream.

  He didn’t know where it came from, but it was his voice. He was on his feet, like a machine out of control. He yanked Bronc off of Traven and threw him to the ground.

  “He’s my brother!” Gabe yelled.

  Traven fell to the ground and tried to plug the holes in his body with his hands, but there were too many, and the blood gushed out. He didn’t say a word. He just lay there on the ground, looking disappointed.

  “My brother,” Gabe repeated.

  “He’s not your brother,” Bronc said.

  “He’s the closest thing I have to one,” Gabe said.

  Bronc looked at Gabe then back at Traven and it seemed that he saw the resemblance.

  “He is not your brother,” Bronc repeated. “He is image, like me.”

  “God, no,” Gabe said.

  “I come back to help,” Bronc said, confusion taking hold. “To save you.”

  “Yes,” Gabe agreed. “I saw something in him. Maybe if…maybe…maybe he can change.”

  Bronc shook his head.

  “Maybe he can change, like you,” Gabe said.

  “No, Gabe,” Bronc said as he continued to shake his head. “We no change. We suppress, but desire remain.”

  Gabe felt his eyes well up with tears. He didn’t want to lose his brother a second time, and even t
hough this one had tried to kill him, he felt a connection. And he had seen the understanding in Traven’s eyes when he’d explained the situation with his sons. A part of Traven had wanted to listen.

  Gabe fought back the urge to scream out in anger. It was all too much. Too much was piling up on his shoulders. He looked at Bronc, who seemed adamant that Gabe was wrong. He shifted his gaze to Traven, whose eyes were droopy. It was clear that he was about to leave the world for good. An insane amount of blood had pooled beneath his body.

  Traven smiled at him, and that made things even worse. Then he realized that it wasn’t a smile, but a grin. Traven was up to something, and Gabe was too far away to stop him.

  Traven pulled a dagger from his boot and slung it at Bronc. The blade hit Bronc dead in the Adam’s apple. He fell back and his body went into spasms as he tried to catch his breath.

  “Bronc!” Gabe yelled as he ran towards Traven and raised his sword, ready to shove it through the image’s face.

  Traven didn’t even try to defend himself. He smiled up at Gabe and let his arms fall to his side.

  “Brother,” Traven said, and it sounded more like a question, as if the answer were up to Gabe.

  Was he Gabe’s brother? Gabe wanted so badly to drive his sword through Traven’s teeth. He wanted to feel the blade sink into the back of the image’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Gabe’s hands shook and he could feel his veins pulsating through his body as he tried so hard to bury the sword in Traven, but he just couldn’t.

  He looked back at Bronc, who was dying, choking on his own blood. Bronc died right there before his eyes, while Gabe contemplated whether or not to finish off the man who’d done the deed. Gabe flipped the sword around, and instead of cutting through Traven, he slammed the handle down against Traven’s forehead, knocking him out cold.

  Chapter 19 - The Exodus of the Dark King

  Hawks took a knee to catch his breath. He glanced over at Lisa and flashed a smile. Her face scrunched up a little in an attempt to return the gesture, but she’d been through too much. The soft footsteps of Vision faded away as the gentle son moved towards the Observatory door to survey the damage and check on Gabe.

  The thought that just a couple of days earlier everyone had been sitting around a campfire singing kumbaya made Hawks wonder what was coming next. Things had changed so dramatically, so quickly, that it truly seemed anything could happen.

  For the first time, he was grateful that Savannah wasn’t around to take part in all this. The thought of her always opened a fresh wound, a wound that Ayana’s presence seemed to stitch up. He knew Savannah would always come floating back to the forefront of his mind at the worst of times. Like now, in the heat of battle.

  He’d promised to watch over Lisa while Vision went to have a “look-see.” He’d keep his promise, but the overwhelming urge to make sure Ayana was okay was hard to suppress.

  “Hawks,” Lisa called out.

  He looked over at her once more.

  “What now?” she asked.

  He had no answer for her. He couldn’t imagine that Vincent would stay locked inside the mirror forever. Even if he did, they’d seen things. She’d lost one of her sons. How could things ever go back to normal?

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Rebuilding, I guess.”

  Rebuilding. Seemed like the best possible answer. It kind of encompassed everything they’d need to do. They’d need to start over with a brand new hideaway, as it seemed Sanctuary was no longer safe. They’d need to find another plot of land on some other mountain. The mountains seemed safer than everywhere else.

  “Let’s go,” Vision called out from the door.

  Hawks walked over to Lisa and offered his hand, which she took as she climbed to her feet. He turned to go meet Vision when he heard Lisa scream. His heart raced as he swung around to see a hand reaching through the mirror behind her, gripping her by her hair.

  Vincent’s head and shoulder emerged from the mirror, a crazed grin on his face. He pulled at her hair as if trying to rip it straight out of her scalp. She screamed with a mix of agony and fear. Hawks raised one of his tomahawks and prepared to throw it at Vincent, when the dark son let go and disappeared into the liquefied glass.

  “How is he able to do that?” Hawks yelled as he looked back to see if Vision was coming.

  He wasn’t. It seemed that he’d walked out of the building, probably right after shouting for them to join him. Hawks was scared, but he was angry too, and his feeling of rage was much stronger than the fear. Lisa backed away from the mirror, while keeping her eyes glued to it.

  “Come on. We need Vision,” Hawks said as he took her hand once again.

  Before they could flee, Vincent dove through the mirror, head first, tucked, flipped, and landed in a crouched position on his feet. His hair hung in front of his face, sweaty and stuck to his forehead, as his evil eyes peeked out from the dangling strands. He looked like a hungry beast.

  Hawks had hunted hungry beasts before. No problem. He swung his tomahawk up, aimed it at Vincent’s head, and launched it. Vincent either didn’t have time to dodge or thought he was tough enough to take the hit because he stayed crouched down as the hatchet slammed into his shoulder, sinking into the bone. He let out a low grunt, but that’s all.

  Hawks was shocked. A hit like that should force someone to the fetal position, screaming in agony. His tomahawk should have cut through muscle and bone.

  Vincent reached to take out the hatchet and Hawks knew it was now or never. He leapt through the air with his other tomahawk raised. He was only inches away when Vincent grabbed him by the wrist, crouched lower, then sprung up, flinging Hawks towards the mirror. Hawks prepared to shove his feet off the mirror behind him and catch Vincent by surprise.

  With Vincent still clutching his wrist, Hawks felt his feet sink through the liquefied glass. There, half in and half out of the mirror, fear gripped him. What if Vincent let go of his wrist? Would the mirror solidify with his body halfway through it? He thrashed his legs around wildly. Hawks tried to pull himself out of it, back to the dark side, but Vincent was too strong.

  “Vincent, please!” Lisa yelled as she slapped and pulled at him, trying to get him to let Hawks go.

  “Vincent, you don’t have to do this!” Hawks yelled.

  Vincent grinned.

  “It’s not about what I have to do, you ignorant fuck. It’s about the pleasure in the experience.”

  He pushed Hawks farther into the mirror, and Hawks realized he was about to throw him all the way through and leave him there.

  “Your image was a violent murderer on the other side, right?” Vincent teased. “So that would make you what? A murderer there, too?”

  Hawks wished there was a better way to get out of this, one where he wouldn’t have to hurt the son of his friend, but he saw no other way. He reached all the way back into the liquefied glass to gain momentum and swung his tomahawk at Vincent.

  “I killed my image,” he yelled. “So I guess that would make me officially dead!”

  The hatchet hit Vincent at the top of the forehead. Vincent howled in pain and toppled backwards, pulling Hawks out of the mirror in the process.

  Hawks crashed to the ground and leapt to his feet. He looked down at Vincent. His eyes were closed, but no blood seeped out of the wound.

  “Go!” Hawks yelled at Lisa as he chased after her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Vincent called out.

  Hawks turned just in time to see Vincent throw the tomahawk at Lisa. Hawks pushed her out of the way and fell backwards just in time to miss the hatchet attack.

  “Enough of this nonsense,” Vincent said as he stalked towards them.

  Hawks thought they’d make it to the door, since they were several feet ahead of him, but he’d forgotten about Vincent’s powers, assuming he’d fight like a man.

  As they raced for the door, Hawks fell face forward, his chin stopping only inches above the ground. Then hi
s body was lifted up by an unseen force. He floated and was turned towards Vincent. He stared at the dark son and could only watch as Vincent squeezed his hand closed in a tight fist. Hawks felt pressure at his throat, like Vincent’s hands were wrapped around his neck, squeezing. Hawks clawed at the invisible hands and kicked his feet as he desperately fought for air. His eyes watered as he watched the look of amusement on Vincent’s face, who looked to be studying Hawks’ desperation.