Fallen Sepulchre

by J D Franx

  Seraphi knelt beside him. "Kael? Look at me," she said, lifting his chin and looking into his eyes. “I am giving you as straight an answer as I am able. I know not if they live, but if you want to find out, then you must listen to me. You are a very unique creature. A true Kai’Sar. If ever in all of time there is one who transcends death, it is you. But to do so, you must first defeat death. There are twelve dimensions in Talohna’s underworld, and you must master each one to walk away from death and back into the living world. Once there, you can find the truth of what happened to them."

  Thoroughly confused, he shook his head. "How do I master death? What does that even mean?"

  "Every underworld dimension has an overlord—nine demons and three angels—all of whom must surrender control of his or her dimension to you. Whether you make an agreement or alliance for control or whether you kill them or force them to surrender it in battle is up to you. Unlike in the mortal world, demons and angels can die here, they will surrender first. Once this happens, they will give you a token of their realm. You must have all twelve tokens for the Tree of Life to open the doorway back to Talohna. Only then can you return to the mortal world, we believe."

  “You don’t know?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No one has ever done it.”

  He rubbed his aching head. "There’s no way nine demons are gonna surrender their realms to me. How do I fight? How do I hurt something in the underworld? What the hell am I sup— "

  A thunderous crack of energy shook the ground under him and cut him off. Twenty feet away the air ripped open, and two sets of vicious claws shoved their way through, pulling the tear apart wider. Hooves followed as the massive creature stepped from between the underworld realities.

  “It is too late,” Seraphi whispered. “We are out of time.”

  Her words hit Kael’s ears as the demon passed through the torn veil. Kael got his first look at one of the rulers of Talohna's Nine Hells and recognized the demon lord. The towering abomination wasted no time announcing his presence.

  "He is mine, Seraphi," the demon stated, his voice heavy with malice.

  "You can't have him, Garz'x. Not yet, you know the rules. He will enter your realm when the Ladies of Fate decide."

  The Lord of the Nine Hells shook his head in disagreement. Chains hanging from his massive horns rattled and clicked against the spikes lining his chin.

  "You have been unchallenged too long, angel. I will take him. Now." Turning to Kael, the demon laughed. “Your days of controlling demons are over, little wizard. You belong to me in this world.”

  Kael's mouth went dry.

  "You may try, Garz’x,” Seraphi snapped, “but you will find out the why the gods made me far superior to you. You may have tricked Salotan into banishing himself from our realm, but I am not that stupid, and drawing power from all the souls in Hell cannot make you an Archdemon."

  “Perhaps not, angel. But you are weakened, and that makes me stronger than you,” he roared.

  Two long bolts of crackling white energy formed in Seraphi's hands. The demon lord roared a second time, lunging at the Arkangel while Kael stumbled backwards. Both celestial bolts slammed into Garz'x, hammering him deep into the dirt and grass of the forest floor. Dark smoke rose from the scorch marks creasing the demon’s hide as he struggled to rise.

  Seraphi spun to face Kael. "You need to run! I won't be able to hold him for long. He has all the power of Hell behind him, and I used most of my magic getting you here," she shouted. Long whips of white energy formed in her hands.

  "Where?" Kael cried, terrified. “What am I supposed to do?”

  She cracked the whip in her hand. "Run!" she screamed and leapt into the air to meet the charging demon once more. Kael watched in horror as Seraphi's wings unfolded from her back with a savage snap and thunder rolled through the forest. Her whips lashed out, but the laughing demon caught both. Even as they burned and blackened his flesh, he was not deterred. With no other choice, Kael turned, scrambled through the dirt, and ran.

  He glanced back for only a second and saw the demon lord drag the angel to the ground at his feet, using her own whips against her. With no other choice, he focused on where he was running and plunged headfirst into darkness.

  DWARVEN MOUNTAIN RANGE

  ARKUM ZUL.

  10 DAYS AFTER KAEL'S DEATH, 5025 PC

  “You broke our deal!” Voranna Talavyr barked when she entered Arkum Zul’s long forgotten throne room.

  “That is a matter of opinion, my dear, I assure you,” Sythrnax said. He remained calm but watched the Dead Sister closely as he sat on the marble throne. Even though she was bruised and weak, she was still extremely dangerous. “In fact, I imagine I’ll be having a very similar conversation with your Cardessa when she arrives.”

  “Did you kill Kael?”

  “No, I did not. King Bale’s assassin did.”

  “Did you organize it?” she shrieked.

  “Most assuredly, my dear.” Sythrnax smiled, and he quickly ducked as a bolt of green energy snapped past him and tore a chunk of granite from the wall the size of his head.

  His head tilted to the side. “This is the thanks I get for saving your life, and those of your fellow Sisters? For helping you when you were on the brink of death? Beyond death for some of you. Kael was quite thorough in that mountain glade.”

  “You killed our savior!” Another sizzling arc of energy forced Sythrnax from the throne, and it exploded behind him.

  “Merely a means to an end, witch,” he snarled while debris from the old throne pelted the back of his neck. “Nothing more than that.”

  “Nothing?”

  Sythrnax nodded to the two guards at the throne room’s entrance. Voranna frowned as they made a move to stop her. Muttered words tumbled from her lips, and both guards fell dead with putrid green froth foaming from their mouths.

  Sythrnax grunted but knew he could not help his men. The corruption of the witch’s demonic magic was too effective for even an Ancient of his power to counter. The effort would have exhausted him, or even overwhelmed him.

  “If the Cardessa is only minutes behind me, Sythrnax, she will kill you.”

  “And why are you here?” he demanded. “To what end? To show me how easily you can kill two mortal guards? You waste my time, witch. Leave now, and your life may go with you. Stay, and you will die along with your Cardessa. I do not give second warnings.”

  “You betrayed us!” Voranna snapped.

  Sythrnax rolled through more blasts of energy. The third bolt scoured his side.

  “You insignificant little pest!” he roared and dropped to a knee as she approached.

  “You will pay severely,” she hissed. “Even if I have to drag you through the gates of the 9th Hell myself.”

  Rising from the stone floor, his eyes blazed a violent purple. “The audacity of you, mortal dosa, is staggering in its arrogance. The Ancients will walk Talohna again, regardless of the cost. One dead Kai’Sar is a small price to pay for my people to be free. If you disagree, then continue your attack. You will quickly come to understand what my people are capable of. Ella the White learned the hard way. So will you.”

  Voranna snorted and laughed. “Ella didn’t have all the power of Hell behind her when she faced your Vikress. It cost me everything I held dear and every last shred of my humanity, but I have the favor of all nine demon lords. Your magic wasn’t the only thing that helped to bring me back from death’s door. Even you cannot stand against the power I have access to, and your pathetic pendants do not work against demonic magic.”

  “Enough talk, dosa!” Sythrnax hissed. His staff appeared in his hand, freezing vapor rose steadily from the blades at each end. He spun the staff, forcing Voranna to step back. The blades missed her throat by a hair.

  She spat out the words to the black web hex. The caustic webbing leapt from her left hand and wrapped itself around Sythrnax’s fingers and staff.

  “Witch,” he growled as the staff vanis
hed, taking the webbing with it. “Hex magic? You had better be able to do more than that.” Sythrnax’s left hand shot out, the black stone in his glove pulsating with dark energy. It cut through Voranna, and she evaporated into mist. Only when it was too late did he realize his mistake.

  “Much more power,” Voranna whispered from behind him. Sythrnax felt a sharp jab in his neck as the witch’s words washed over him. “I did say all nine demon lords. Did I not?” Voranna breathed out, appearing behind him. “Everyone forgets about the queen of suffering and her unique magic.”

  Sythrnax stumbled as the demon queen’s venom surged through his body. Colours flashed before his eyes, and he tripped. The torches inside the chamber blurred, and his hold on reality weakened. The image of his long-dead daughter wavered in front of him. He shook his head, trying to dispel the image and knowing in mere moments reality would be a forgotten concept. He had mere seconds to save his life.

  Falling to his knees while the dizziness overwhelmed him, Sythrnax giggled with madness. “You forget how long the Ancients have been around, dosa. Asravan hasek oulai,” he hissed. In seconds, the spell cleared the ichor, and he regained his footing. “The Fae studied Reetha’s ichor for centuries, looking for a cure back in the days when demons walked this world. Where they failed, we succeeded.” He turned as the witch’s curved daggers sought out his heart. His tresa snaked out from under his hood and coiled around her blades and hands.

  “You came closer than most, Dead Sister,” he complemented while the witch pushed hard against her blades to no avail. “Perhaps with another thousand years of experience, you’d have succeeded in killing an Ancient.” Voranna tried to pull away, but his silver-scaled appendages tightened, holding her fast as he called his staff back to hand.

  He saw no fear in her eyes while she grinned. “Someday, Ancient, one of my kind will kill you, and on that day, I’ll be waiting for you in the 9th Hell.”

  Laughing, Sythrnax placed the blade of his staff over her stomach. “You’ll be waiting forever. My soul will never grace your afterlife—” Agony tore into his back, cutting his words short. His arm jerked with the pain, and his staff slid into Voranna. His tresa retreated, slithering down his back to protect against a second attack.

  “Release my Sister, traitor,” the Cardessa demanded. Her rational, emotionless tone reminded him of the Vikress Illara.

  Spinning, Sythrnax pulled his bladed staff from Voranna, and she fell to the floor. “She has been released, my dear Cardessa. You attack without provocation. Does this mean we are in a state of disagreement?”

  “Only until your death, liar.”

  “Come now, Mydea. You don’t really want to do this. We don’t have to do this. There is another way.”

  “Dead Sisters don’t negotiate with traitors.” Sythrnax smiled, but for the first time in longer than he could remember, real fear crept into his stomach. He was already injured and quite severely by the way his tresa refused to leave his back. The pain tugged at his attention, making it a struggle to focus. “Very well. After you, my dear,” he said.

  The Cardessa wasted no time. Round sparks of green energy jumped from her hand one after another as the old woman moved slowly and chanted. The stone inside Sythrnax’s glove pulsed in tandem with his staff, powering his shield as spark after spark ricocheted around him. Chunks of stone exploded from the granite walls. With his focus split between his pain and the attack, he nearly missed the fan of spines unfolding on her forearm and rushing from her right hand. The demon spines stitched the floor and arched away from his body while he pulled more magic from the stone in his glove. More spines snapped his way as the Cardessa chanted faster, alternating between the two demonic spells.

  Sythrnax noted the Cardessa’s cadence shift. It slowed for a mere second before picking back up. She was timing her chants for a third spell, and he was running out of time. Intense pressure assaulted his senses then pulled away, dragging something from his body. Falling to one knee, he realized the witch was grasping at his soul with her magic. His heart hammered with fear, and his anger flared at the audacity. The Dead Sisters’ leader was far more powerful than he had guessed, but he grinned anyway. Using three offensive spells at once left her with little or no defense as she tried to overpower him.

  “You lose, witch,” he mumbled between clenched teeth as he reached for more power. His staff pulled deep from the stone in his right glove. “Kin Atoll Frosai,” he barked. The savage spell rolled out from his staff while he slammed the bottom blade into the granite floor. A wall of frost rolled from his staff and blanketed everything, freezing anything in its path. The Cardessa froze as well. As the mist subsided, her body remained still, a demented statue of iced flesh.

  “Foolish old woman.” He approached the Cardessa and frowned. “Well, you are stubborn,” he whispered and leaned in for a closer look.

  Power poured into the old woman from several demonic hellscapes, keeping her alive. It would do so until her body thawed.

  “That is impressive,” he added. “But statues break when they are knocked over.” He slowly pressed a single finger to her chest. He smiled and shoved. Her frozen body tilted backwards as the frost and ice cracked, freeing the Cardessa’s right hand. The old woman reached out and clawed his left arm above his glove.

  “Dosa witch,” he snarled while the Cardessa toppled, and her body shattered on the floor. Sythrnax released a deep breath, but it was cut short by a surge of pain where she scratched him. Glancing down, he gasped as a black corruption spread along his skin from the three scratches. “Vile wench. Asravan hasek oulai,” he muttered but stumbled as dizziness swarmed his mind.

  The spell did nothing to clear the filth from his blood, and for a moment, he panicked. It distracted him. He realized it too late as a blade punctured his throat, and a kick to the back of his leg brought him to his knees.

  “That is not poison, fool,” Voranna whispered. “It is the physical essence of demonic magic drawn from the dead body of a blasphemer. You will need to know from which hell it came and what race the dead was if you want to purge it from your blood. Never assume a Cardessa is harmless, and certainly do not turn your back on a Dead Sister unless you are sure she is dead.”

  “Surely, we can,” he began and tried to stand. The blade in his neck sank deeper, and blood ran down his neck to his shoulder.

  “Do not move, snake,” Voranna hissed. “This blade is a breath away from ending your miserable existence.”

  “There is another way!” He gasped.

  The knife slid deeper and hit a nerve. Sparks raced down his arm. As if sensing the pain, the Dead Sister twisted the blade and caused the sensation to triple with intensity. “You killed my Cardessa.” She spat. “The only way forward starts with your death. Good bye, traitor.”

  The blade moved in his neck as he tried one more time. “There’s another DeathWizard!” he said quickly. The blade faltered.

  “You lie to save your life?” she asked. Disbelief rode every word. “I thought you were a warrior? Not a lying coward.”

  “It’s true, or at least it will be,” he said calmly. “Let me explain.”

  “For sparing your life? Our Cardessa is dead. Your life is forfeit for that.”

  “Someone has to pay for it,” Sythrnax offered. “It does not have to be me. You and I are the only two here, Voranna. Tell your coven the guards attacked her from behind the moment she entered. Naturally, you killed them. Then, you can go wait for your new savior.”

  “Two mortals cannot kill a Cardessa, fool.”

  “Then make it six guards and four wizards! I do not care. But kill me, and the information I have dies with me.”

  “If you are lying—”

  “Why would I lie? Do you believe I have not thought that far ahead? Sacrificing Kael was no loss because I knew there would be another of his kind—one young enough for the Dead Sisters to teach your beliefs to this time. Or it will be when it’s born. My people have access to knowledge you cannot beg
in to understand. Some of our Syddic priests can touch the strings of time… prophecy, I believe you call it. Only their minds do not melt under the touch of the godly power because it does not come from your pathetic gods. What do you say, Voranna?”

  The blade slid somewhat from his throat. “If you speak the truth, then we have a deal,” she said.

  “I do.”

  The blade left his flesh. “Speak, and do not make me regret it.”

  Sythrnax turned and smiled as the throne room door opened behind him. “You won’t... Cardessa. Kael’s death at my hand will be nothing but an insignificant memory within a year.”

  “Tyr's bloody blades!” Dominique Havarrow barked. “You better not have said what I think you did, Ancient.”

  “Captain? What matter is it to you?”

  “You killed Kael?” the Northman asked.

  “I did. I hope I didn’t rob you of a revenge oath, did I?”

  Havarrow’s hand dropped to his newly forged obsidian scimitar, and he grabbed the haft of a Reaver axe at his waist. “No. I owe my daughter’s life to Kael. He is a brother to my clan.”

  “Of course, he is.” Sythrnax sighed, slowly sitting on the ruined throne. “You do have a dilemma then, don’t you? Your honor will demand my death, yet you gave me your word, you would return my people to their homeland and never turn those floating fortresses against my people. I did help you build them after all. Northman honor is a tricky entity, is it not?”

  Sythrnax watched the pirate struggle with the desire to kill him. If Havarrow decided to attack, he would be hard pressed to defend himself. The stone in his glove was spent after killing the Cardessa.

  “Captain, for bringing my people to their homeland, you may stay there with us and enjoy the benefits of the Ancients second rise to power. Or, you can stand by your honor, fulfill our deal, and then gather your pirates to leave my people’s kingdom—if you do that, you’ll never be able to return to the far side of the Kasym or to our kingdom, again.”