Cursed Earth (Kat Drummond Book 12)

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  His red-eyed gaze fell on Themba. My cousin took a step back, his eyes wide.

  Brett tried to take aim at the vampire, just as a horde of undead charged us. He dropped, narrowly avoiding their swipes, as he opened fire at melee range. He wouldn’t be able to help with this fight.

  But that was only right.

  This was Izingane Zegazi. My enemy.

  “Little traitor,” the vamp taunted, speaking Zulu, looking at Themba as its mount munched on a Crusader, his legs still sticking out of the bony, rotting maw of the drake. “You ran so fast. I didn’t catch your name.”

  He licked his lips. “Your comrades tasted so good. I wonder if you will taste the same!”

  Themba stopped shivering. But, I saw in his eyes something worse.

  “Don’t, Themba!” I yelled. Too late.

  Themba charged, firing point-blank. With a crackle of energy, a dark whip appeared in the vampire’s hand. He swept it across the air and flung Themba to the side. My cousin didn’t move.

  I felt rage. A cold, hot, burning rage.

  But I knew that anger didn’t win fights.

  The vamp turned to me again, his red eyes filled with joy.

  “I remember your scent, Blood Hunter! It was all around Nkosi Igazi’s sanctum. Were you the one who killed my master?”

  “I didn’t have that honour,” I yelled. “But I will have the honour of slaying you, parasite!”

  The vampire grinned, relishing the fight.

  “No, little Blood Hunter. No, little Xhosa boy. You will die here. I will drain you of blood. And when the Necro Lord is done with your feeble Last Light, Hope City shall become a new fiefdom for the Izingane Zegazi!”

  He sniffed, like an animal. Somehow, his grin widened. His fangs extended, becoming more and more beastly.

  “But first, I shall drain your purifier mate of every drop…”

  Before I could think, I shot forward, a blur of black. The drake snapped towards me and I rolled, dodging the blow.

  I had spent so long running. Years. A decade.

  Brett fell back, drawing a machete as the undead kept coming. An unrelenting horde.

  The vampire charged an orb of black magic to launch towards me. I spun, letting it disintegrate a half consumed corpse behind me.

  But, I wasn’t running anymore. This was my home now.

  The drake swiped towards me, scraping my arm. I winced but ducked under its maw as it tried to chomp down on me. The crackle of dark magic continued to fill the air.

  I wasn’t going to abandon my post. I wasn’t going to run. Never again.

  I stood, allowing the drake to rush towards me, as I stepped to the side. Its rotting, scaly head was just before me. I reached for my dagger, dropping my empty off-hand pistol.

  Cindy was behind me. In this building. Before her, I wasn’t sure if I was really alive. If any of it had been worth it. If the sacrifice of my comrades, of Graham, had been worth it.

  I hoisted the dagger above the drake’s head. It shimmered in the firelight. Golden runes coated it. A gift…from Cindy.

  I was never going to run again. This was my home. It was where I’d met her. It was where I’d fight for her.

  It was where I would finally fulfil my destiny.

  I’m a Blood Hunter. And I kill vampires.

  I drove the blade into the drake’s skull. It let out a shrill cry, flailing about as the purification magic poured into it, ripping apart its necrotic flesh. Its body convulsed, sending the vampire reeling to the floor.

  The vampire lay up against a pile of corpses. I turned towards him. For a second, he feigned surrender, and then lashed out at me.

  His red eyes widened as I caught his wrist, just short of his claws raking their way across my face.

  I pictured another vampire, among the fires of my home. The one who had caught my knobkerrie, as I sought to avenge my mother.

  It was different now.

  I twisted the vamp’s arm, hearing cracks, as I brought my right-hand pistol under its chin, aiming right for the brain.

  There was no more gloating in the vamp’s eyes. Only fear. The fear he had wreaked on my people for decades. Now, it was my turn.

  “You…you won’t survive,” he stuttered, the menace in his voice a distant memory. “The Blood see you now. They are coming! Even if you survive this night, they will come for you. All of them!”

  I was counting on it.

  I fired.

  ***KAT***

  The blissful buzz of the CAHSL lasted only seconds. Its automatic grapeshot formed a black mist over the street as ranks and ranks of undead fell.

  Yet, it wasn’t enough. More came, pouring out of buildings and from the rooftops.

  A smoking metal canister popped out of the side of the monster of a gun. The CDF gunner reached for another. Found none. He sighed.

  “Well, at least I won’t survive long enough to get court martialled.”

  Mages groaned as they strained under the weight of the golem. No weapon or magic could harm it, but they’d managed to chain it down with magical restraints. It struggled against these ethereal chains. Already, some mages had died from the effort, bile foaming from their mouths.

  My voice was hoarse from yelling. And it didn’t make much of a difference anymore. The battle was on autopilot. No room for strategy when you moved where you had to. We could not manoeuvre, as the tide of rotting flesh pinned us into small holdouts.

  We received some reinforcements in the hours that followed the appearance and restraining of the golem. They brought worse news. Our flank had done comparatively better. From what I could tell, the entire north had fallen. I didn’t even worry about my apartment anymore. I only worried that we’d survive the night.

  I heard a snap and scream, as mages clutched their heads and fell. With the scraping of concrete and metal, the golem roared.

  Oh, Athena, no!

  A fireball collided into it, and it flinched. The fire had come from the church tower of Trudie’s compound. Pranish. I thanked my friend, while fearing for his life. A pile of undead was forming, scaling his tower, using each other as a ladder. But there was nothing I could do now. I had to trust him.

  “Run. Regroup, Kat,” I heard a soft, soothing voice in my head. Allandrea. “This isn’t over.”

  “Run, Kat!” Kyong yelled, much less soothing. “I’ll delay it!”

  Kyong was powerful. But he couldn’t harm this thing. But I had to trust him.

  “Fall back!” I managed to choke out. Others joined the chorus. I leant down to pick up a fallen mage, using my free hand to cut into an opportunistic undead.

  “This way!” Ari yelled. She was coated in blood. Red and black.

  I pulled the mage with me. The elf jumped behind me, slashing at more undead as we fled through the alley formed of vehicles and rubble. I heard gunshots coming from that direction. That was good. It meant allies.

  I passed the debris and was liberated of the mage by a white-clad purifier stained in red, who pulled her towards the HQ.

  Before me, Puretide troops fought back-to-back with orcs and Crusaders, as undead poured towards the front of the HQ. Edward fired at undead with an Uzi, while Girin incanted goblinoid magic, sending bones flying towards the enemy. And there were plenty of bones to stock his magic.

  “More are coming!” a voice yelled.

  I turned to see fleeing Crusaders. Behind them were more zombies and abhorrent. Many wore uniforms. I recognised faces. I remembered names.

  I stood steady against the tide and my fire shot up into the air like a pyre. I slashed out, turning the undead before me into mincemeat and mist.

  But there were too many! I took involuntary steps back, until I backed up into Edward, as he chopped at the head of an undead, splitting its skull open.

  No more formation. No more circle. Undead bit into Girin’s tiny frame, as he stabbed at them with his bone dagger. My comrades fell all around me.

  I kept up my onslaught, turning and swappin
g places with Edward in our dance of death. Despite his age, he was still fit. Still competent. Perhaps, I should have joined Puretide after all…

  A black clad figure, with shining white fangs and red eyes dropped before me. The vamp lashed out with two curved swords. He grinned, showing his fangs. I ducked low, drawing Voidshot and quick firing silver-rounds into the vamp’s belly.

  It doubled over, as I pulled back Ithalen to behead it. Just as a shadow loomed over us.

  I felt hands push me to the ground, out of the shadow. Treth manifested above me, slashing out at the throng of undead trying to devour me.

  I looked towards the vampire. Edward stood, staring at me. Accepting. For a split second, as the golem’s foot collided with the Earth.

  He saved me, was all I could think before the golem reared up and let out a humongous, grating roar. More roars joined it. How many golems were there?!

  I stood up, blocked an abhorrent’s blade with my own before pushing its own blade into its face.

  Within a mass of undead bodies, orcs and werewolves stood back to back. Once enemies, now allies. Gareth howled as he slashed, beheading and crushing undead. Darren bit down on a wounded abomination. His teeth got caught, as undead began to overwhelm him and pull him away. Gareth let out an enraged, mournful roar, as orcs charged to the werewolf, hacking at the undead to free him.

  The undead had reached the top of Pranish’s tower. I saw sparks of blue energy, as my wizard friend was desperate enough to use his pathetic ice powers. The weyline had darkened to the point that he could no longer use it.

  We couldn’t survive, I realised. Not like this. Not with mortals alone.

  I had to do it. I had to risk a realm-breach. It was the only way.

  I closed my eyes, letting my coat and Treth guard me as I became surrounded by enemies.

  I felt at the golden light within myself. I grasped towards that light. Towards the Vessel.

  “Arden,” I whispered. “I need you. I need the Army of the Vessel.”

  “We come, Vessel,” he replied.

  “In your hour of need,” Gorgo added.

  I heard a bark adding to its assent, and the cries of hundreds of spirits.

  I opened my eyes, as a burst of golden light erupted around me. Golden, spectral warriors appeared from thin air, cutting into the undead and pouring towards the golem, who tried to swat at them like gnats.

  Warriors from Ithalen, Knights of the Order of Albin, the dog that had died for me on Avathor. And more. They came, as they had done against Loviatar.

  I stood up straight, filled with new courage. Just as I felt a cold, sharp pain pierce my gut.

  The golden army disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. I no longer heard their voices.

  Treth let out a gut-wrenching scream, as he charged towards the dark mage who had attacked me, ripping him to shreds. Blood sprayed into mist.

  My companion did not stop screaming. He had felt it too. The ripping. The tearing. As Gorgo and all the others disappeared from the Vessel.

  We were alone.

  More undead came. I cut out towards them. My arms felt heavy. My allies…friends fell around me. And there were too many undead.

  The blonde Gibson twins in wolf-form tore into some abhorrent before me, letting black blood hiss on my coat. I couldn’t lift my arm as zombies dogpiled on top of them. They let out shrill howls. Trudie tried to claw her way into the pile. She couldn’t get to them. Even as they went silent. Even their defeated whines had ceased.

  I fell to my knees.

  The Battle of Ithalen had been different. Because I had planned to die. I had expected to die.

  But this…I had wanted to live.

  All was lost.

  The dark, malformed figure of the golem loomed over me, raising its writhing, flesh and clay arm. Ready to crush me. I could do no more. I closed my eyes.

  It burst. Not into rubble. Not into bloody bits. But into golden fire.

  Above the bloodbath, glowing gold and silver, hovered two angels. Ariel, with her silver hair and spear. And a darker skinned, black haired angel that could have only been Ismail.

  For all my anger at her, for all my distaste for her apathy about my kind, Ariel’s visage rejuvenated me. It was beauty incarnate. And it fuelled me.

  I stood, my coat bursting to life as if it had just woken up, and I became a whirlwind of fire.

  The angels dropped to the floor, disintegrating swathes of undead. Trudie dug through the pile of undead, pulling out the whimpering Gibson twins, shivering naked in human form, holding onto one another. The orcs pulled the last undead off Darren, as Gareth saved them from a charge of abhorrent.

  Pranish let loose a fireball, turning a chunk of undead to ash.

  The streets were actually clearing. By the Cataclysm, they were actually clearing!

  We could win this!

  I cut into another abhorrent. No more followed. I heard fighting in the distance. That was good. It meant more of us survived.

  Ariel landed, untouched by wound or even black blood splatter. She looked…sad. Guilty. But, also certain.

  “I am sorry, Kat Drummond,” she said, her voice like quicksilver. “I wish I could have come sooner.”

  She looked down.

  “I wish I’d seen the truth sooner. That I’d lost sight of my real goals.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “Thank you for coming.”

  She looked up, surprised, before hoisting her bident and driving it into a zombie that tried to charge her.

  I looked up towards the balcony of the HQ. Brett waved at me. Cindy was healing his arm. Guy kept watch. As always.

  Then, the ground rumbled.

  The werewolves growled, forming a circle around us.

  “What is this?!” Ariel asked, sounding angry.

  Ismail paled, even in his angel form.

  “Did you really think this was all I had at my disposal, Drummond?!” a voice boomed from all around us. The Necro Lord.

  We looked around but couldn’t see him.

  “An empire is nothing without its ruler, and I am the greatest of all rulers! And, like Persia, I rise from the ashes!”

  The corpses and rubble began to move. All of them, snaking their way towards the pile of bodies by Pranish’s tower. I saw my friend leap from it, caught in mid-air by a black wolf.

  The gunfire and fighting ceased, as every bit of flesh, blood and even debris and weapons were pulled towards the pile of bodies. Gareth grabbed at a corpse, but it ripped itself away from him.

  Ariel snarled.

  “I hear a foul voice on the air. A holy tongue corrupted by necrotic energy.”

  She looked at me, her eyes piercing.

  “The shem. The original. It is being spoken.”

  Well, fuck.

  The bodies and debris piled up, higher and higher, forming the shape of a humanoid, towering above all the buildings. Its flesh writhed with countless grasping arms, as it dripped red and black blood in rivulets. At the centre of its colossal chest cavity was a winged skeleton, crucified and splayed like an ornament.

  “Bez…” Ismail whimpered.

  Ariel’s grip tightened on her bident.

  “Behold, Dying Light of Hope City, the reckoning of the world!”

  A purple fire burst to life behind the skeleton of the angel. It lit up a black-clad figure atop the titanic walking corpse. The Necro Lord. It seemed he did have some honour of sorts.

  “It is protected from our power,” Ariel spat. “Bez, at its heart, makes it immune to purification.”

  She turned to me. “The only option is to kill its necromancer.”

  “Can you get me up there?” I asked.

  Ariel nodded. Her bident flickered out of existence, as she offered her hands to me.

  “Ishmael,” she addressed Ismail. “See if you can find any other vulnerabilities. We shall target the necromancer.”

  Her hands were warm, even through my coat. Around her, I couldn’t
even smell the rot. With a rush of air, she pulled me into the sky, letting my legs dangle underneath me.

  The titanic golem took a step forward, crushing cars and people as it raked its arm towards us. Ariel dodged and weaved. We were an arm’s length away from hundreds of angry faces, merged into the creature’s flesh.

  I peered at the battle underneath me. More undead poured from the breaches. The fight below was still raging. I had to end this. Quickly.

  “I asked my superiors permission to intervene,” Ariel said, as we shot towards the Necro Lord.

  I continued to gaze at the battlefield below me. Smoke rose everywhere. Corpses covered the streets and rooftops. I saw my allies, cornered and still fighting.

  “They denied it,” she continued.

  But Ariel came anyway.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Doing the right thing isn’t about orders,” she said. And I felt her smile, just as a black javelin pierced her heart.

  She dropped me as she plummeted. I barely managed to strike out towards the golem. Ithalen pierced its fleshy hide, allowing me to cling to the roiling surface.

  Ariel hit the ground, denting the tarmac. The black shaft still protruded from her stomach. She coughed. Red blood.

  The golem took a step forward. She gazed up and manifested her splendid bident. She held it steady, aimed at the titan before her. Defiant. Till the end.

  She disappeared under the golem’s foot.

  I felt something tear within me. Like something beautiful had just been snuffed out.

  In the end, she had been good.

  I turned to face the angry, undead eyes peering at me, and drove my dagger into the flesh. With my sword and dagger, I scaled the golem, as it crushed my allies and my city beneath its feet.

  Lights were snuffing out. It was getting dimmer. Darker. As if an unrelenting, unnatural darkness had permeated the land.

  Arms slashed at me and teeth bit into me. Some broke skin, but I kept climbing. Time to put my immunity to use.

  I kept climbing, even as I felt my arms want to fall off. Until my heart threatened to burn out. I reached the top.

  Standing on a platform of steel, beside a throne made of bones, was the Necro Lord, his…my… sword drawn.

  He let me scale to the top, before slashing towards me. I managed to parry the blow with Ithalen, but my arm wavered. It was too much!