by Erik Lynd
Silas tried to stager to his feet and lunge at Mephisto. Out of the darkness stepped the giant, Coth, a massive, clawed hand swung and smashed into Silas’ face. He flew through the air and landed on the ground inches from the water. Pain throbbed through his head. His jaw wasn’t broken, but it had come close. His vision swam and the room spun.
“Not quite the same is it? Being mortal that is,” Mephisto said. “You know what those bracelets are don’t you? They are quite rare; in fact, I know of only three pairs in existence. They don’t really make you mortal--you will always be hell spawn--but they make you as weak as one. All that demonic fury that powers our existence… poof! Gone.
“You are a fool, Mephisto, for joining him.”
“The deal was simple,” Webb interrupted. “Mephisto approached me, and since I knew him from a long time ago, we let bygones be bygones. I allowed him to find me.”
Mephisto harrumphed, but Webb went on.
“He told me what you were and that you were going to try to stop me. Since you had proved very hard to kill so far, Mephisto’s advice was appreciated. I agreed to stage the ambush, and he gave me the means to defeat you. In return he gets the Saint.”
“Don’t worry. I will treat her great right--up until the time I kill her, painfully,” Mephisto said and gestured for the Bone Gnawers to take Abigail. Two came forward and lifted her up, carrying her like sack of potatoes. “Of course she can’t really be killed, so I will have to settle for destroying her mortal form and condemning her to hell for eternity. But you take what you can get.” Mephisto looked at Silas quizzically.
“What are you going to do with him?” Mephisto asked Webb.
“I have never seen what my transformation would do to a supernatural being. I think it will be fun to experiment, of course, after he is more pliable. I think Coth is eager to help with that.” Webb said.
Coth chuckled deep in his throat.
“And the mortal girl?”
Lily was coming to and moaned softly.
“I’ll do the same. I will convert her. She will see the light, or I will dispose of her. Perhaps she can be used to control Silas.”
Mephisto laughed. “Good luck with that. Demonic nature suppressed or not, he will not be an easy one to control.”
“We shall see,” Webb said.
12
They pulled Silas through the caves; most of the manmade tunnels were left behind. He stumbled a few times, cursing his now mortal weakness. His body was bruised and ached from the battle he just had with the Elemental. He now he had to endure it like a human. It made him sick.
Occasionally Coth would strike out with his hand and hit Silas in the back of the head or his back. Each blow was like a hammer. He was sure he had a concussion and a severe headache to prove it. Each time Coth struck his back he thought his spine might shatter. But what really pissed Silas off was that he knew Coth was holding back.
“When we get you to your cell I will show you the price for defying the will of the father. This pain you feel is nothing compared to that,” Coth rumbled behind him.
Silas couldn’t understand why Mephisto had done it. What Webb had planned was much worse than the trophy of a Saint. When the infernal ranks discovered that he precipitated the end of the world and the final judgment, they wouldn’t care if he dropped the Pope, Jesus Christ, and the Dali Lama off on their doorstep. They will tear him to pieces. It just didn’t make any sense.
Coth slammed him up against the rough wall of the cave. Silas grunted in pain and Coth chuckled again.
Unless… unless Mephisto thought he could take care of Webb himself and planned some sort of double cross for his new partner.
Silas moaned, and not from the pain in his body. Mephisto had no clue what he had gotten into. He probably thought Webb had a small handful of these creatures hidden away, not the army of blood thirsty lizard creatures he and Abigail had discovered. Mephisto had some clout in hell, but there was no way he could raise a sizable demonic army. He probably thought he could deal with Webb using just his henchmen, some Screamers and maybe a small group of Bone Gnawers. Silas didn’t know exactly what Webb had down here, but from everything they had learned he had a feeling they would be no match for Webb. Besides, Mephisto was an idiot.
“Silas are you there?”
The voice was so loud that Silas almost jumped. It was like somebody speaking directly into his ear. Then he realized somebody was. Mort. He almost answered in surprise, but caught himself. Apparently, they had not noticed the small device in his ear. Tiny and flesh colored, in the pervasive dark of the Undercity it would hardly be noticed.
“Silas, what happened? I heard you mention Mephisto. Is he down there?”
Silas wished he could make use of this fact.
“I see that your signals have become separated. Have you split up? Dammit Silas, answer me.”
They stopped abruptly at a line of doors. They had not gone far, perhaps only a few hundred feet from the river where they had been ambushed. A lizard creature opened one of the doors and dragged Lily inside. Coth opened the next door and threw Silas in the room beyond. He tried to stand, but Coth’s fist met him on the way up, slamming into his gut. Silas doubled over and would have thrown up if he had any food in his gut.
“Are you okay Silas? You sound like you might be sick,” Mort said in his ear.
Being mortal or not, if he got out of this the first thing he was going to do was strangle Mort.
“Not now, Coth. Time enough for that later; we need to prepare for this evening,” Webb said.
Coth grunted and reluctantly backed away. Webb knelt near Silas. With a wave of his hand the manacles separated, and they were back to being bracelets. “You should feel privileged, Mr. Robb. You will witness the birth of a new race tonight. It won’t be easy and there will be much bloodshed, but in the end we will prevail and the weaker races, the scum that think they are so important, the ones that think they rule this modern world, will be crushed and exterminated like ants. I know you don’t believe we can accomplish this, and that is alright. You will understand.”
“All I understand is that you are a spoiled little brat who thinks the whole world is against him, and so instead of just manning up, you are throwing a tantrum,” Silas said, his face aching with each word.
Webb didn’t take the bait. He smiled and dabbed at the blood seeping from beneath his sunglasses. “I am not mad at you for those words, my child. You just don’t understand, but you will. You will see our glory with your own eyes. I know you think that the mortals with their military will defeat us. But we have a surprise, an ace in the hole so to speak.”
He stood and walked toward the door. “Tonight Mr. Robb, tonight you will see the truth, and it will be beautiful.”
He left with his words ringing down the hall. Coth gave one swift kick to Silas before he followed Webb. The kick connected with Silas’ ribs, and he heard a crunch as pain shot up his side. He cried out. When Coth left, he eased himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling wondering what the fuck he was going to do now.
“Whatever happens, whatever he says, don’t open that door.” Silas heard Coth say to a guard outside.
Surprisingly, he still could see in the dark; it seemed his demonic vision was still a part of him. It was a small thing, but for some reason it made him feel better.
“We’re fucked Mort,” he whispered; he was not sure he could have spoken above a whisper even if head wanted to.
“Silas! You’re there! Thank fucking God! Did you get separated? I see you and Lily close by each other, but Abigail is moving away in another direction.”
Mort would need the story for his report. Quickly Silas told him about what had happened all the way to where he now lay on the ground staring at the ceiling.
“You can’t just give up. I can send for reinforcements. I have your location,” Mort said, but Silas knew he was grasping at straws.
“What reinforcements Mort? To get the resources to handl
e Webb would require days, even weeks unless you have another powerful supernatural agent of the Inquisition at your disposal. You don’t have the time, none of you humans do.”
Mort was quiet.
“You know what I’ll miss the most Mort? The music. I really think that is humanity’s greatest achievement. I mean sex, drugs, alcohol… those are all up there, but the music is what really..”
“Coward,” Mort said. He said it quietly, but it boomed in Silas’ ear.
“What?” Silas was not sure if he had heard him right.
“You, Silas, are a fucking coward. A little pussy.”
“Watch it Mort. I told you it was all over. Without my demonic side I can’t stop them, I’m just… just…”
“Mortal. Well boo-fucking-hoo. I live with that handicap every day; billions of us do, and we outnumber the demonic and angelic and every other supernatural creature. We rule the God-damn world. We created fucking rock and roll as you so aptly put it.”
“This is not the same Mort, I’m Silas Robb the…”
“The pussy. Yes, Silas I know,” Mort interrupted again. “You are demonstrating that perfectly. Curl up in a ball until Coth comes to make you his bitch.”
“Fuck you, Mort! What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m locked in a cell, fuck knows where, my powers gone, I just got the shit kicked out of me by an overgrown lizard gorilla thing.”
“I got news for you Silas. Brace yourself, this is going to come as a shock. You know why the Inquisition chose you? I read your file, I know exactly why. They had the names of several demons, they had their pick and you know why they picked you? It wasn’t because you are a bad ass; it wasn’t because you are one of the strong ones. It was because you have possessed more people than the entire demonic host put together. You have thousands of lifetimes of experience inside you. Yes Silas, believe it or not, they picked you for your brains. That is your greatest strength.”
Silas looked around the room. It looked natural, like it was carved out of the rock. The Undercity was honeycombed with natural caved and manmade tunnels. From the look of the natural walls they were pretty deep underground. He slowly and carefully got to his feet, his cracked rib shooting pain through his side at each movement.
The door and door frame were makeshift, but sturdy. He put his shoulder against the door and pushed. Even without his demonic fury he was a big guy, but the door didn’t budge. A small slit was cut in it about head height. He looked through and saw a torch lit hallway. Against the far wall stood a man, a guard Silas guessed. Although Silas could see the telltale glint of emerging scales on the man’s forearms, he was only at the beginning of the transformation.
I guess they don’t consider me much of a threat anymore. For some reason that pissed him off even more than Mort’s little speech.
“Silas? You still there?” Mort asked.
“Quiet, I’m thinking,” Silas said.
He examined the lock. He had once possessed a locksmith who had also happened to be a thief. One of the best lock picks in the business. Unfortunately, this wasn’t much of a lock. There was no key hole, at least on this side, and from the small crack between the door and the frame it looked like it was some simple bolt mechanism. He did, however, think he recognized the manufacturer.
He ran through the specifications he pulled from the locksmith’s memories. He was pretty sure he knew how the mechanism worked. Now if he only had a tool to get inside the box around it.
He went through his pockets; they had not searched him properly as evidenced by them missing the ear piece. His fingers found the leather bag of Molcaen dust. He would rather have had a pick or screwdriver even, but an idea started to form.
“Hold on Mort, we are getting out of here,” Silas said.
“What are you talking about? I’m up here in a van drinking a beer; you’re the one stuck in the sewers with a psychotic sorcerer,” Mort said.
Yep. Mort was definitely going to die after this one.
Silas pulled the bag out and carefully poured the powder on top of the lock case directly above where the latch mechanism would be under the eighth-inch of steel. He was careful not to drop any on the floor; he would need as much as he could get on top of the metal. He had purchased the Molcaen dust because of its unique property to burn very brightly. He had thought it would come in useful when fighting the lizard creatures, who seemed sensitive to light. It also burned at a very high temperature as he had learned when he had possessed an alchemist in the middle ages, quite by accident really when he had tried to corner the market on the stuff. Most alchemists were unaware of the property because you needed a large quantity to make it work and the stuff was very rare. He hoped the amount in the bag would be enough to do the job.
When he had the pile placed as accurately as possible, he pulled a small cigar case out of his jacket pocket. He opened the case, hoping it was as water proof as the manufactured claimed it was. This was his only chance since he couldn’t summon fire. Inside the case the cigars were dry; he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey buddy, can I get a light?” Silas called to the guard outside.
The guard looked at him coldly and didn’t move.
“Come on, give a condemned man one last smoke. I have another. You can have it if I can get a light. It’s Cuban.”
The guard looked at the torch and then back at Silas. He shrugged and pulled the torch from the wall sconce. He held the torch back while holding out his hand. Silas knew what he wanted and slipped the cigar through the slit. The guard took it and lit his with the torch while staring at Silas through the slit. Silas stuck the other cigar in his mouth and shoved the end through the slit.
For a moment Silas thought he was going to walk away and was preparing a list of ancient curses to spew at the son of a bitch when the guard lifted the torch to the window. Silas stuck the cigar in and coaxed a strong red glow from the tip. He stepped back and lifted the cigar.
“Thanks buddy, hope you enjoy,” Silas said.
The guard grunted and placed the torch back in the sconce. Silas stepped back from the door and took a few puffs on the cigar, getting the ember nice and hot. He set it down so the burning tip touched the pile of dust, then stepped back and turned away.
Similar to magnesium, it took a moment to light, but when it caught the light would be blinding. He saw the back of the room light up like a spot light had turned on behind him and heard the loud hiss of the dust igniting.
“What the hell is going on in there?” The guard called from outside.
“Ah, ah, ah, Coth said not to open the door, no matter what,” Silas said.
The guard had taken the words literally; he didn’t open the door. The dust burned out quickly and Silas reached into the hole created by it. The twisted metal on the outside was hot, but he ignored the burns with a few hisses and winces as his fingers sought the release latch. He found it and the door lock released.
With a violent kick he opened the door, counting on the guard being just on the other side. He wasn’t disappointed. The guard fell back into the hallway with a satisfying grunt. He recovered quickly and charged at Silas as he stepped through the door. If the guard had been one of the more advanced lizard creatures Silas, stripped of his power, would not have stood a chance, but he was a big guy and had possessed several martial arts masters over his lifetime, including an aikido master in the nineteen-thirties. Personally Silas had never been a fan of aikido because it usually did not involve enough pain, but it worked surprisingly well against big, charging idiots.
Silas stepped aside, grabbed the guard’s arm and redirected him into the wall. His head connected with stone, and he went down with a wet crunch. Pain flared from Silas’ cracked rib, but he managed to stay standing.
I guess aikido ain't half bad, Silas thought.
There was noise from down the tunnel and two lizard creatures appeared out of the dark. Now he was fucked. He had not counted on this in his grand jail break plan. The creatures growled and stalke
d toward him.
Behind them Silas caught movement followed by a bright flash and a thud. One of the creatures went down, and behind him stood the Indian, holding a glowing, ornate club. The other creature turned in surprise. The Indian chanted a few words then struck out again with the club. He hit the creature’s gaping mouth and it howled before falling to the ground dead.
As Silas watched, the Indian lowered the club, then fell against the wall, sliding down as though he too was hurt. Taking no chances, Silas approached him cautiously. The Indian was breathing hard, and Silas could see he was old. He could have been in his eighties, and it had taken all his strength to defeat those two creatures.
“Who are you?” Silas asked.
“The last of my kind,” he said.
“Last of the Lenape?”
“No,” the man shook his head. “The last of the Guardians. My name is Leonard. We don’t have much time.”
“What is your part in all this? What are you the last Guardian of?” Silas asked.
“It is a long story and we have no time, but I will tell you what I can. Many years ago, maybe a thousand, my people did battle with an ancient evil spirit that called itself the Wyrm. It almost killed off my people, but with the help of shamans from many tribes we created a weapon that would allow us to defeat it. This is that weapon.”
Leonard held up the club he had been carrying.
“The club is the traditional weapon of my people, the Lenape; you were right about that. With this weapon and the courage of many warriors they were able to trap the evil below the earth in a cave, but even with this weapon they could not kill it completely. They wounded it enough that it fell into a deep sleep.
“Knowing that it would still live and someday awake, the shamans got together and formed a secret group within my people called the Nataepu.”
“Silas is that you?” Lily said from behind the door next to his cell.
He had almost forgotten Lily. He opened the door to her cell and let her out.
“What the hell happened? I remember those things cutting our lines and us falling into the water; then something grabbed me, something in the water. Next thing I know I wake up lying on the ground in that room,” she said, then to Leonard, “And who the hell are you?”