Ehyeh-asher-ehyeh (I am that I am)
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Immortal at the height of his power. The question was where the hell had she gotten so many troops? So much cannon-fodder? The intersection had been nondescript, and Zarach had no idea why these Hunters had died to defend it. Perhaps it held some emotional significance, or maybe they'd just gotten lost. Either way, they'd had the bad luck to have Zarach in his full rage come upon them. One had actually managed to rake Zarach's face with his weapon, but Zarach had caught the man's arm mid-stroke and snapped it like kindling.
fired at him point blank and missed—Zarach was not about to let himself get shot. He dropped to one knee and punched straight forward with strength. There was a muffled crack and one Hunter screamed in pain as he folded in half, torn up. As the second man went down, Zarach came up with a sledgehammer blow that connected with the underside of his chin and nearly tore his heads from his shoulders. Two more Hunters came from behind. Would they never end? He wondered, turning and disarming them, and then catching their heads between his hands. As the Hunters scrabbled impotently at his two-colored eyes, Zarach turned their heads hard to the left and was rewarded with the sound of splintering vertebrae. He twisted to the right, got more of the same, and drooped the twitching corpses at his feet.
Zarach almost laughed as he saw his assailant, a middle-aged man, his face twisted by hatred into a monstrous mask. The Hunter sprang for the Son of the Endless Night, who ducked, turned, and caught the man's ankle as he went past. The momentum of the Hunter's leap was such that Zarach was able to take it and used it to his own purpose, swinging the man by his foot into the unforgiving ground. Without stopping, Zarach flipped out his opponent over by his ankle, and continued turning. The crunch that followed was not entirely dissimilar in tone from the one his friends' heads had made, but it did allow the victim to give a thin scream. Zarach roared in triumph and moved up to the man's knee. That snapped, too, and then everything had been lost in a red haze of remembrance... Zarach blinked. Aylón slapped him again, hard enough to shatter the jaw of a weaker man. "What are you doing?" Aylón growled. "Why the hell did you run off like that? Are you mad? Are you even aware of who you are, where you are?" Zarach recovered his senses. "Her essence, her soul, her influence... I can feel her! She's calling me to her!"
Zarach just recovered his senses in time to feel the Immortal's presence. Aylón looked around too. That was when Cartiphilus threw forth his spear slicing the air—though not, thankfully, through either Zarach or Aylón who moved aside. "Welcome, brothers," Cartiphilus' deep voice came. His hand flashed out as his spear caught the light in a menacing reflection. "It's nice to meet you both, at last." Four more Hunters poured into the area, each wielding a scimitar. Zarach and Aylón glanced at them. "My personal guard," Cartiphilus explained. Keeping his fiery-eyed gaze on Cartiphilus, Aylón addressed Zarach. "Take the mortals. This bastard is mine." Cartiphilus took a step forward, seeming to be glaring at Aylón with both hatred and respect. He bowed slightly. "I always wanted to fight against the best." Aylón smiled back, pleasantly. "You're going to die against the best, Centurion," he menaced, and swiftly withdrew his scimitar from under his black cloak. The response was immediate, as Cartiphilus and his four Hunters charged forward, swinging their swords, the blades viciously slicing the air. Aylón leapt forward, parrying Cartiphilus' blows, and those of the Hunter besides his master. As the blades clanged and echoed, Zarach took out his two sai and stepped forward confidently and parried the blows of the three scimitars, lunging, thrusting, and feinting. Quickly Aylón thrust forward with his scimitar and skewed the Hunter. The man fell to the ground. "Not bad," Cartiphilus said attacking again. "Not bad at all for an old man." At that moment, Zarach felt Lilitu's presence at last. His gaze scanned the area. "Lilitu is here!" he yelled at Aylón as he killed two men at the same time. "Where?" Aylón turned at this distraction, and Cartiphilus swung his spear and gashed the dark- garbed warrior across his left arm, sending him tumbling backwards. "Forget about Mother!" Cartiphilus snarled. "Worry about me!" It seemed the ground itself started to tremble. Aggressively, Aylón and Cartiphilus pursued a private duel in the midst of the pandemonium, the steel of their weapons singing and ringing. Zarach impaled his last enemy with both sai at the same time. At the carnage-cluttered clearing, the weapons of the Old Man of the Mountain and the former Centurion clanged and rang as the two skilled warriors battled away.
him, the scimitar flashing in his hands as he let his natural skills take over. He carried the sword high; hands tilted back to position the pointed edge down. At the last minute he stepped aside, avoiding the Centurion. Aylón whipped the scimitar around in a blinding arc, cutting at Cartiphilus' waist. "Now we're even," the Old Man of the Mountain said smiling. With a howl, Cartiphilus charged again. Lunge, slice, parry cut, high, low-entries sought, barely blocked. The Centurion had strength, and though he was quick, he was a fraction slower than the Old Man of the Mountain. He was too confident. He had shown in his eyes the extreme confidence he had in Lilitu's powers. That, most of all, Aylón could exploit. Aylón gave a calculated stumble and watched the arrogance, the certainty of success, flash across the Cartiphilus' face. With it came the opening Aylón had been waiting for. The Centurion's spear swung wide; the Old Man of the Mountain spun inwardly and drove his elbow into his enemy's face. With a half turn, the razor edge of his scimitar laid open Cartiphilus' arm and slid into his side. Cartiphilus grunted but did not stop fighting. His spear flashed again, biting deeply into Aylón's right thigh. The Old Man of the Mountain sent all the strength of his anger through his good leg, out into his foot, as he kicked out. The bones of the Centurion's knee shattered beneath his heel. The leg bent backward, and Cartiphilus screamed with agony as his leg went out under him. And with his momentum, Aylón spun like a tiger and his next blow crippled Cartiphilus' left side and crushed part of his chest, destroying the Roman's shoulder. Aylón whirled and sliced, carving a deep wound in his opponent's chest again.
sash.
a sinister smile upon his face. "You era is finished now!" he roared at Cartiphilus.
touched the ground, the shattered vessel that was Cartiphilus gave up its Quickening like wisps of smoke which curled into the air, intertwining with the dancing darkness. Behind them, The Old Man of the Mountain heard an explosion, sending flames and debris into the air, lighting the night bright orange and yellow colors. The atmosphere became a gale, a dancing frenzy, as the Quickening writhed in the whirlwind, and then sought shelter into Aylón. Even while he was receiving the very potent Quickening, Aylón remained as if nothing were happening. The yellow and blue rays of energy invaded his being, and yet he stood in alert position, awaiting any trick Lilitu could attempt.
smell of burning wood and flesh around him. However, his eyes continued scanning the area. And then, suddenly, a great wall of blackness came down around him like a century's worth of midnights. ==================================== Lilitu had watched the brief debate between Zarach and Aylón and nearly laughed with joy. If this were no trick, she could not have asked for a better chance. All she had to do was wait for the right moment, and both would easily be hers. It was a matter of seconds until it would all be over. But suddenly, Cartiphilus and his personal guard had entered the scene. Almost without effort, Zarach took care of three men, while Aylón killed another Hunter and beheaded Cartiphilus. As the Quickening developed, Lilitu offered a silent curse at the persistence of the Ancient Gathering, and then unleashed the shadows. She could no longer afford to wait. A globe of blackness arose from the ground and enveloped Zarach and Aylón as the Quickening continued. They didn't even have time to shout before they were overwhelmed.
looked around. To his credit, he took the entire situation in at a glance. "Come and die, Lilitu!" he breathed, and took a step forward.
and reaching out for her prey. Aylón did the sensible thing. He charged. Lilitu faced him. For a moment, both Immortals raged inside the Darkness, their blades held in front of them. "Glad to see me?" the Old Man of the Mountain said, and before Lilitu could react, he charged. With a flying knick, he planted one foot in his opponent's stomach, the other on her shoulder, and sprang upward, using Lilitu as a springboard that allowed him to get out the darkness. With one clean motion, Aylón landed and rolled, then braced himself and looked around. He couldn't see anything yet. "Where are you, whore?"
sending him crashing onto the ground. Aylón rolled and came up fast as Lilitu charged. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," he mocked, crouched and waited. "Come and get what you deserve." The two Immortals faced each other, a strange respect mingling now with their mutual hatred. Simultaneously, they lunged toward each other, and a battle begun twelve-thousand years before was continued. Vicious, expert blows traded one for one, clangs of metal against metal, smacks of flesh against flesh, punches, kicks, elbows, backhands, no prowess lost over the passage of mere centuries.
warrior skills, thrusting, parrying, feinting, the staffs of the deadly weapons pressed against each other. At first one, then another of these powerful beings would toss the other aside, only to return to take, and deliver, more punishment. Relentlessly they fought, brilliantly, hating each other, admiring each other, each astounded by the proficiency of the other.
right for that deadly, vulnerable place—and nothing would have pleased the Old Man of the Mountain more than to spill this woman's blood for the last time.
the ground in a tumbling sprawl. Lilitu moved backwards. More darkness came to assist Lilitu. She needed it. Aylón was considerably stronger and taller than her. Mother had not survived all those millennia just to be killed by a minor mistake. As new blackness came upon Aylón, he turned everywhere, trying to locate Lilitu. She placed herself exactly behind him for just a second. It was more than she needed. She drew back her blade for the killing blow, but then felt something clamp on her wrist. Startled, Lilitu turned and saw a band of shadow wrapped around her forearm, tugging her backward toward... Zarach.
her position to land on her back on the ground.
After all, I'm the Son of the Endless Night. Remember? Some lessons are never forgotten!" Zarach made another motion, and the band of darkness on Lilitu's wrist tightened with bone-crushing strength. Lilitu did her best to ignore it. With her other hand, she reached down to her right ankle, where she kept a spare throwing knife. Crying out with pain, she launched the blade at Zarach. The throw was off-line, but Zarach took a split second, he wasn't paying attention to Lilitu herself, and that was all the time she needed. A shadow of her own tore Zarach's to shreds, and she rolled left even as Zarach unleashed another on her. Her hand caught a piece of debris and she flung it at him. The shadow tendril knocked it out of the air, but it bought her another precious second, as she came to her feet and prepared to counterattack. A half-dozen shadows reached out from the ground to wrap themselves around Zarach. He snarled and dissolved into a pool of darkness himself to escape. "Well done, my son!" she said smiling this time. "However, you have yet much to learn! I am that I am!"
Lilitu didn't try to parry. Instead, she summoned darkness, paying no heed to the growing anger that gnawed at her. A pair of tendrils arrowed toward Aylón, only to be batted aside by others that had to be controlled by Zarach.
sending him backwards. Something wrapped itself around her ankle and she fell, hard. Bloodied, she managed to flip herself over and see that a staggering Zarach had managed to snag her with a lone strand of darkness. Lilitu's face flushed with anger. Zarach was clearly spent; he had nothing left. She was tiring, but she still had enough to deal with him and Aylón. If nothing else, she could take them both with her bare hands. Closing her eyes, she stopped resisting. The tendril dragged her, foot-by-foot, closer to Zarach, wrapping up more and more of her leg as it did so. Zarach was deadly, she knew. Lilitu knew his skill, knew his determination. But now he was angry as well. He might be weary, even deeply wounded. But he was still the Son of the Endless Night. Lilitu clenched her fist. A shadow slithered out from the ground and came to her. She fed it strength, then told it to smite Zarach. In its own way, it understood and went to obey. Black as night as terrible, it reared back to strike.
dodging the shadow tendril as it arrowed toward his heart. Lilitu cursed as he flattened himself on the ground and the shadow passed overhead. There were more shots then, as more Hunters crashed to the ground a yard from where Zarach lay. Their faces were smashed into an unrecognizable ruin by the force of the shadow's impact.
fraction of a second too late as she hurled a huge stone at him with a simple movement of her hand. Its weight toppled over onto him, and he was forced to take a precious instant to hurl it aside. At that moment, Lilitu charged again. With animalistic savagery, Lilitu tore at him, eschewing anything more complicated that her fingers as she reached toward Zarach's throat. Zarach drooped his shoulder and plowed into Lilitu's back with bone-crushing force. She scrambled to her feet, but not before Zarach was on top of her again. He caught her face in his left hand and tore across, leaving a trail of bloody furrows before she wrenched out of his grip.
lashed out with a fist, which she parried, but the man's second blow caught her in the knee and nearly buckled it. Zarach smiled wolfishly and circled to the left, looking to exploit the weak knee. Hobbling, Lilitu turned to face him. With a grim countenance, Lilitu assessed the situation even as Zarach feinted a kick at her injured leg. She dodged, painfully, and then had to duck a vicious swing that would have taken her head off had it connected.
Zarach. Her former son, the Son of the Endless Night, the greatest hunter ever to walk the face of the earth, was about to earn his reputation all over again. Maybe it was time to go.
used the seconds to force healing her knee. Zarach lashed out with another combination of blows, but she weaved out the way of each and then turned her last dodge into a full-fledged sprint. Zarach gave a bellow of inchoate rage and ran after her. Lilitu's cave was not so far away. In there, her power was stronger. There she'd be safe. Behind her, Zarach came charging after, his weakness masked by anger. Aylón joined Zarach. Both Immortals ran like madmen behind her. Making a last effort, Lilitu made rocks, sand, everything behind her to slow them down fly against them with her inner power. But both men waded through the obstacles as if they were nothing.
She risked a last glance at her pursuers. Aylón and Zarach's visage, clearly visible just a few meters behind her, were the essence of implacable hatred. That was exactly what she desired.
her passage vanished. She was gone. ==================================== "You know this is a trap," Aylón said to Zarach. "We have no choice. We're going to have to play by her rules now." Zarach said handing his companion one of the branches he had collected at the cave's mouth. Instantly, the brushwood burned as Zarach placed his gaze over them.
Zarach. He led him around and to right, pulled himself up and over a sizable boulder, and looked down into the passage which had the width of a city sidewalk and the height of two men. A wall of rock had long ago split in two. The forces that had driven it had forced the pieces closer together at the top, wider apart at the bottom, forming an irregular tunnel sloping down into the earth. The floor was formed by dirt and rubble washed in by water. The walls sported moss and small plants only so far as light entered the crack.
into the cavern. At the end of the descent, the tunnel opened out into a large, ungainly chamber. The two torches— very small and dim in comparison to the dark expanse they had to contend with—played over the billowing curves of the cave. Aylón recognized the smooth, weird shapes of water-cut and water- built limestone. He fanned his torch out as far as it would go, and turned it on the ceiling, which soared to the right past the limit of the light. To his left, it swooped down to within four feet of the floor. Maybe another would suffer a bizarre combination of claustrophobia, agoraphobia and vertigo, but not him. He looked to his footing, sharpened the focus again, and tried to keep the light on the same level as his eyes. Zarach stepped out, taking a slightly different route to avoid the stalagmites and columns jutting up from the floor. Aylón picked his way to a narrow, nearly invisible opening and Zarach followed— though it was a tight and difficult squeeze for him.
felt as though he had walked into a natural chapel, the cave's roof was vaulted like a cathedral's. More stalactites, stalagmites and columns had formed here than in the first room, and the largest of them formed two uneven lines... like rows of pillars in a ruin. The few formations down the center of the room lay low; skulls dotted the gently rolling floor, and the corpses suspended from the ceiling hung no lower than the tops of the pillars on either side. "I cannot feel her," said Aylón. His voice echoed. He lowered it and went on. "Where is she?" he asked, glancing toward Zarach. "She is down here, trust me," Zarach whispered. "She will be always here, waiting for us in the dark."
now in the midst of the moving shadows, Aylón realized that what he had taken for the black wall of the cave must be a freestanding column of enormous size. He squinted to see better. Zarach reached the side passage he had chosen and turned back to look at the giant pillar himself. His torch caught the thing in a sharp profile, and his gaze narrowed. For an instant, the sidelight formation had seemed to move; an optical illusion gave it a hundred monstrous faces and distorted limbs. Zarach moved on and darkness settled on the far end of the cavern once more. The flame flooded the huge hall with light. It stripped the shadows away from the pillar and threw them into the corners of the room. It picked out dirt and rust imprisoned under the translucent calcite film. But the faces were gone. Zarach studied the surface of the hundred-headed demons of the natural, two-story, stone pillar that must have grown for eons and stood for millennia—and tried to find and angle from which he might see the faces again. The light refused to bring out the contours that could have fooled his eyes. The faces never reappeared in the stone. Aylón came back, curious and slightly worried. "What was it?" "I thought I saw something." "Moving?" Aylón jumped in. "No. Just... there," Zarach said nothing more. "You've got a feeling about something?" Zarach grimaced. "No. Its just... the echoes... sounded as though there were more than just us in here."
Then Aylón followed the trail of the tunnel easily—almost smugly.
moisture that seemed to coat Aylón and Zarach, the stonewalls, the floor, the air itself. The darkness weighed them down, clinging to their bodies, seeping into their spirit, leaching away their strength of will. With each step, the darkness grew deeper ahead and behind. They could see just enough to keep moving forward. There were no more side tunnels, no alternative paths.
going instantly mad. Even the Old Man of the Mountain, not completely averse to dour solitude, felt the weight of the earth pressing down upon him, crushing him. What did it say about Lilitu, that she would choose places like this black labyrinth in which to spend eternity? The darkness was a crèche of doubts, and as Aylón continued along the passageway, uncertainties assailed him and gained force. He questioned the veracity of Zarach's words. Who could read the mind of the Son of the Endless Night? Perhaps it was not Lilitu and the Headless Children who manipulated the Game but the other way around. Maybe Lilitu had been warned, and had sent Vlad and the others as a sacrifice, a decoy, to lure them to this place devoid of hope.
Goddess. With every mission, of course, there was the risk of failure, of final death. Tonight was no different in that sense. But Aylón would destroy Lilitu, or he would not. He would survive, of he would not. Only once before, however, had he felt that perhaps failure was the best outcome for a mission and that defeat and death were what he deserved. That time, millennia before, risking disloyalty, he had made sure that word of his target's identity preceded him, and Zarach, completely prepared, had defeated him.
fornication, ever dutiful, ever uncompromising, were being drawn toward a narrow path indeed. The Endgame.
If that were what worthiness entailed, Aylón thought he might be able to do it. He might be able to cut off his own head, if that were required to avoid Lilitu's Dark Quickening.
would come eventually. Still the herald would call him to fulfill this great and terrible task for his faith—for that he could not and would not discard. There was wrongness here, a wrongness as palpable as the darkness that surrounded him. And what about Zarach? If Zarach became just as Lilitu after taking her Quickening, could Aylón destroy him, sacrifice the bond between them? They were the only two original members of the Ancient Gathering left in the world. The blood was their blood. If Aylón reclaimed it for whatever reason, just or unjust, could he live with that? Could he live with, or even survive, both Lilitu and Zarach's Quickenings?
change one fact—that the bond between them was a blight upon the earth. Of this he was certain, even amidst the stifling darkness. Even more so amidst the stifling darkness, where Lilitu's foul corruption was given release. Ahead through the gloom, Aylón's eyes could make out an exit across the tunnel, a different shade of black upon black, and he felt the wind from a different passageway. It was not a wind of air currents, but a shadow. And the shadow, which was everywhere, enveloped him, took hold of him. It was a solid, one hundredfold, as the blackness which he had already waded through. Aylón's arms were pinned at his sides, his hands unable to reach a single weapon, as he was drawn into the maw of Lilitu. ==================================== Zarach followed Aylón through the narrow tunnel. He had been expecting an ambush, but nothing had happened, yet. They reached another chamber.
one of the streaks of the shadow. From the corner of his eye, he saw the flash that was Aylón's scimitar; saw the silent flare of the blade and the patch of darkness ripped apart like shredded paper.
darkness jerked away from him momentarily. Zarach followed his brother's example and set himself in motion. The rocks were not a great obstacle. Zarach danced over and around them without losing even half a step. The shadows could not surround what they could not catch. But the darkness was everywhere. The shooting in the United Nations had gone so easily, even though the resistance had been swift and intense. However, Zarach had felt some small relief after he and the others had quickly dispatched the score of Hunters and the rest of the crowd had dispersed in a panic.
was different. Now Zarach was weaker, and Lilitu herself was near, she was no longer in a far away place sending her powers toward them. Down here, she reigned supreme. The battle now was one of survival. And he knew it: he and Aylón would attempt to draw Lilitu out into the open, but the shadows were everywhere.
The island above had been swarming with legionnaires, Hunters—Zarach would have sworn it was a hundred.
weapons, and attempted to smother him from all sides. Ever so often, a solid figure appeared, only long enough to attack, and then was gone when Zarach's blades sang in the night.
they had entered. There was no turning back. "Lilitu is near!" Zarach yelled in frustration as he fought against the darkness. They had run out of time. Aylón was barely holding back the shadows. He was fighting as a man possessed against the darkness. His scimitar, denied sound, still possessed its sting. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??? GO!!! KILL HER!!!" Aylón roared, wading into the darkness, striking fiercely. "GO AND KILL HER!!!" Zarach could not stop him. The Old Man of the Mountain was soon overwhelmed by the potent darkness—willing to die in order to defeat Lilitu, as he had sworn to do millennia before. For a moment, Aylón's body shone with an unnatural light.
entered the chamber, Zarach fled into the hole Aylón had just created. He pressed onward. At each turn and in every corridor, statues of forgotten Gods confronted him. He could feel the faith, corrupted by shadow, which permeated Lilitu's lair. But Zarach wasn't a creature of faith. He feared neither Heaven nor hell.
shadows blocked him. Though the fight was not yet lost, neither was it won. Time and powers would eventually tell the tale. ==================================== Vague illumination shone from inside the tunnel, bright enough so that Zarach could make out the stonewalls as he passed them, seeing various pictographs and cuneiform alphabets chiseled in the walls. All of the walls showed signs of recent sandblasting.
catacombs webbed off the galley in all directions. Zarach recognized the architecture: Sumerian. Staring out at it, seeing the immensity of it, he remembered those days alone. The whole chamber seemed like it had been hammered out of stone and darkest night. Zarach watched the shadows move on the other side of the gallery, almost getting the feeling they were alive and angry. "The Temple of the Everlasting Night," he murmured. He stared into the mass of shadows that filled the chamber, knowing Lilitu was near. The lichen-encrusted stonewalls had been worn smooth over time. Too smooth. For a moment, he was disoriented in the shadows. Loose debris rattled around him, felt like it was filled with angles and edges. Zarach recognized the shapes as dry and brittle bones. Zarach had to move cautiously in the chamber. Bones slid out beneath him, causing treacherous footing. Even when his eyes adjusted, vision remained a problem. All he could really see clearly were the bones—skulls, ribs, femurs, and tibiae, all of them picked clean of flesh. The bones seemed to glow like neon in the blackness, and as he examined them he noticed some of them had what looked like human teeth marks on them. "Bon appetite," Zarach said sarcastically.
in him once more, claiming his body, staking out each new gained piece of territory from him. "It has been a long road, has it not, my child?" Lilitu's voice asked from the shadows. "When I think of what we had, of what you have become, what you should have become... I guess I don't blame you after all, though. I want you to know that. Even after all you have done. It was your human side that made you weak. You should have listened to me eons ago." With difficulty, Zarach focused himself, glorying in that small success. "Say what you want, Mother," he growled. "You are going to die." "Oh, Zarach," came the reply. "You're just so naïve. You have turned your back to me. You're a traitor to your own race." Despite the fever and nausea filling him, Zarach moved closer. "Come, Mother. Come and die with me."
nothing. At that he broke into a sprint, as fast as he could move.
and then turned back, but Lilitu was gone. Then the shadows moved forward. "Ah, crap." He was certain he knew what was going to happen next. And he was right. A foot slammed into his face, sending him crashing over backward. He came up ready to fight, both his sai in front of him, using all his heightened senses to figure out where his opponent might be lurking. The blackness was totally black. A whisper of movement caused him to turn, just in time to roll with another blow to the head. This time the impact sent him crashing into the bones. This time, his wounds did not immediately heal. He rolled again and came up, moving toward the far wall. Lilitu was nowhere to be seen. Yet he still could sense her presence. He moved slowly, with animal grace, turning, employing every sense. She had to breathe, so he listened. She had a faint smell, so he let his nose guide him.
just like me. Stand by my side, my son, my lover, and my beloved. We could share eternity. We could rule this world. You know very well that there can be more than one!"
shadows. "What about your eternal hate?" "My hate has a reason, my beloved. The pain of Christ nailed at the cross was nothing compared with my suffering on being cast out of Paradise—you know that." "Perhaps... why don't you—" Shapes hung heavy in the air over the chamber. Zarach sensed them, but he sensed them differently that ever before. It was as if someone had plugged new senses into his head. Then he realized he was standing with his back to himself so he could see his own head.
you to exist simultaneously in two places at the same time. Just think of all I might give to you." Zarach struggled to keep up without falling over the scattered remains and other nameless debris that littered the cave. The darkness clung inside the cavern, a petty, vindictive blackness that had lain undisturbed for many centuries. It jealously guarded its secrets. It snatched at his ankles. It battered at his hands and arms with unseen turnings. He could not see Lilitu, but he could make out snatches of her voice, muffled, battering against the pervasive dark.
admire your bravery," Lilitu said with low voice, almost chanting. Zarach did not like the implications of that last phrase. He felt he was being drawn inevitably down an ever-narrowing spiral. There was a presence at the bottom of that gyre. A force gathering, rolling storm-like in its depths.
insane, Mother..." "Again, the merely pragmatic escapes you. I am Naamah-Zmargad-Aisling-Lillake. I am that I am." Zarach looked at the green points of light ahead. He had to move closer. Then he could kill her. There was power in him still, but it no longer flowed along his soul in the traditional way that nature had given him twelve millennia before. He was tired. He was a false image. He could not keep the note of bitterness from his voice. "You started all, Mother. You forced Methos to start the Game... you forced him to create the Watchers!"
to be witness of humankind." Lilitu replied in a hushed tone. "You are wrong, my beloved. We are Gods, and the Watchers failed to note anything out of the ordinary." Zarach was acutely aware that he had come to the still point, the very center of the downward spiral. He could feel the weight of mountains looming above him. "You caught me unaware once, Mother. I am not about to be so outmaneuvered again." He forced down the unsettling thought of tons of rock poised above him and defiantly plunged forward striking into the cavern, moving directly toward the source of the sin. The darkness seemed to resist his every step.
think you are on the mark, my beloved." The darkness Zarach in which struggled was thicker than mere air. Seconds passed as the syllables fought their way across the intervening distance. He could not let that monstrous being go unchallenged. He knew he must kill her, else all was lost. In the final reckoning, it was not, however, the need to fight against the injustice of so many deaths that drove him, nor any compulsion to condemn the brutality of them. Nor was it the reflex to defend himself, to rationalize his own failures. No, the need that drove Zarach to fight was something more humble and less noble. His fight was his only means of clinging to that tenuous lifeline of eons that connected the two antagonists. That bond was all that kept each of them from being isolated, swept away, lost amidst the rising dark of time.
We are Immortals! Nothing more! We are not supposed to eat our young! That was one of the few points on which the laws of God, man and the Ancient Gathering all agreed. Now I see each of them reserved a special dark hole for monsters like you!" Lilitu's voice was unruffled. "Quite the contrary, my beloved. It was I who taught men to live," her tone became contemplative. "It is perhaps ironic, because now I am going to destroy them, do you not agree?"
eyes, listening to her words against the callous litany of crimes. He plodded steadily forward, counting off the precise number of paces between him and retribution.
promise, such wasted potential. I am talking about the way so few Immortals nowadays have the necessary prudence to ensure that their gifts have the opportunity to mature and develop. It is one of the signs of the decline of our race." Zarach had more than a passing familiarity with death. The mere mention of that word conjured up a wave of unwelcome thoughts. He felt rather than heard Lilitu's words. A vibration transmitted along the ghost-vein, the trailing strand of life that bound them.
you lose heart after twelve millennia?" Lilitu asked distractedly. Zarach spoke slowly and deliberately. "All the words that have passed between you and me to this point are nothing. The empty exhalations of the grave. The muttering of the wind through two exhumed skulls. It is time to loose what has been bound. It is time for this nightmare to end."
periphery. Ancient verses and snatches of song hopelessly intermingled into a uniform muttering, pitched just below the range of his hearing. It was as if two competing words vied for his attention.
vast rising up behind him. He spun. Something dark brooded over the cave—an ancient and unappeasable anger than refused to be contained within the cramped confines of the cavern. It rose head and shoulders above the crypts, ignoring the protest of intervening walls and ceilings. Zarach caught a momentary glimpse of an immense rough-hewn idol, the cool black stone of its feet worn to a perfect smoothness by the passage of centuries of blood. "I had hoped you would come freely to me, my beloved. But you were taking such an awful time I feared I would have to fall back upon the contingency plan. No matter, I have completed all of the preparations. All that remains is for you to speak the words," Lilitu said.
his eyes. "This is what it all comes down to, then, isn't it? All the lies, the betrayals, the murders. It was never about revenge!"
the words." "I am your accuser, Mother, not your redeemer. Can you not hear my voice? I clamor for your head," Zarach's voice rumbled through the cavern. The ancient walls rang with his authority. "I am here to kill the kin-slaying. May God have mercy upon the quick and the dead. Come, Mother, it is time to go home. The nightmare is over for you now." Lilitu laughed like a dark angel. For a brief moment, she appeared in the darkness. Zarach watched the unthinkable, trying to avoid the piercing truth. He felt the icy weight of a feeling of dread clutching at him. "Look at me, my beloved! Behold the miracle of Lilitu, the new Goddess, giver and taker of life!" The moaning grew stronger, echoed, and redoubled in Zarach's mind. She was blasphemous. He tried to shrink back from the clamor of the truth, to draw himself inward. The wall of reality ruptured his defenses. It broke in upon his sanctuary and dragged him back out. By all that was holy, Lilitu was pregnant! Somehow, she was with a child! And whose child—? "Can you feel him, my beloved? Your child is growing inside me," she answered his unasked question. "The first Immortal born from Immortals. It took me thirteen millennia, but just like a Goddess, now I can grow life inside me! You cannot undo this atrocity, this miracle. You cannot end my reign!" "Stop it! You're lying!" "You know I am not, my beloved." Lilitu said, then her voice took on a more ominous tone. "This is your child. Would you kill him too?" A sound invaded the cave. It was not Zarach's cry moving out over the darkness, but that of a child. A small, frightened child. "No!" Zarach yelled, recovering his senses. No matter what else happened, Lilitu was not going to get away. There was going to be a reckoning. He ran. His reflexes, his speed, everything was greater that he'd ever remembered. "Mother!" he challenged.
swung at once; bringing her sword around in a blinding arc that would have taken the Son of the Endless Night's head off.
by less than an inch. He came down on his hands, pushed and tried to regain his feet, only to have two shadows attempt to waylay him.
face Lilitu, bringing his weapons into the en garde position. He blocked the next sword swing, sparks crashing as steel ran on bronze, her magical sword. Then he reposted, ripping his weapons through the air only inches in front of Lilitu's face. "You're good, my beloved," Lilitu said, turning both sai aside. "Wait till I get warmed up," Zarach said, pulling back as Lilitu swung her sword. There were more attacks. No matter how fast Zarach pushed himself, Lilitu seemed to be faster. It was like Mother was plugged into an unending source of energy. Zarach started taking more chances, trying to slip his weapons inside her guard. Lilitu brought her sword down on his shoulders, cutting deep into the muscle and bone. A smile twisted Lilitu's lips. "Come on, my beloved. Get it up. You're not fighting a common Immortal." Controlling the pain, knowing that the wound was part of the risk he had chosen to take, Zarach rose to the challenge. He didn't think about his weapon's movements anymore—he became the movement, became the tridents themselves.
unforgiving net of steel he move around himself. Sparks jumped along the lengths of both sai, grating hisses of razored edges echoed around them.
a perfect rhythm to everything Zarach had to offer. His lungs ached, burned from their need for oxygen. Salt from his own perspiration stung his eyes.
could ever be. Then, in a flash, he saw his opening as Lilitu pulled her sword back. Zarach stepped in, slashing at Lilitu's exposed arm.
triumph touch him yet. The sword fell from Lilitu's grip as she dropped to her knees, but the severed hand spun through the air. Zarach took a fresh grip on his weapons and stepped in to deliver the coup de grace that would literally part Lilitu from her existence.
of the Endless Night had expected the sai to grate on bone, to hand on sinew, and to saw through muscle as it cut off her head. But the sai passed cleanly through Lilitu, slicing her neatly in half. In the last second, Lilitu had stood. Lilitu's upper body separated from her lower, toppling backward. Startled at first, a sudden confident smile lit her features. Power strings leaped from Mother's two halves, taking the place of the intestines and internal organs that Zarach had expected to see come spilling out. The power strings pulled Lilitu together again like rubber hands, and the two haves of her body joined into one once again.
Goddess!" Lilitu roared. More of the power strings jumped from her severed arm and quickly knitted her a new hand. The skeletal foundation was laid, and then filled out with sinew, blood and flesh. When it finished, not even a scar remained to show the miraculous healing. Lilitu stamped her foot on the sword on the ground. The sword spun through the air, the hilt thudding into her waiting new hand. Zarach backed away, giving ground as Lilitu lifted the sword into a challenge position. How the hell was he supposed to kill her if he couldn't touch her? Sword in hand, Lilitu launched a snarling attack at once. Zarach concentrated on the gleaming razor's edge of Mother's sword. Maybe he couldn't touch Lilitu, but the sword was definitely tangible. However, seeming invulnerability hadn't been the only transformation Lilitu had received. Her strength was incredible, way beyond anything the Son of the Endless Night had encountered before. Lilitu was faster than anything Zarach had ever seen.
sound of Zarach's heart beating frantically in his ears as it tried to supply his oxygen needs. Black comets threaded through his vision, blotting out his peripheral vision and reducing the combat to a narrow tunnel that balanced on a turn of the wrist, a quick shift of a foot. Without warning, Lilitu trapped Zarach's both sai, holding them clear of their bodies. She drew her hand back and slammed it into Zarach's face, knocking him backward as if he'd been caught in a bomb blast.
balance, but driven so hard by the blow that recovery proved impossible. He smacked into the cavern wall behind him, hanging for just a moment while the centrifugal force created by the blow finally gave into gravity. Then he fell. Lilitu leaped high into the air, propelling herself at Zarach, flipping in the air with the uncanny grace of a trained acrobat. She landed on her feet in front of Zarach, her sword shifting to the en garde position in front of her.
him. He let the hate take over, focusing on it, remembering how Lilitu had destroyed their ancient way of life; how she had created the Game. His arms came up, and his moves felt surer. Lilitu moved into the attack, and Zarach met her weapon-blow to weapon-blow. Steel rang out, filling the cave again, echoing long and hard in the shadows that twisted around them.
things he'd learn on his own. Even wounded, he was more than human, more than anything he'd ever been in his life.
failing peripheral vision. He pulled his body into motion, making the defensive step and mirror thrust to block the sword. When it hit, the blow felt like it tore something loose in his elbow and shoulder. Before he could recover from the agony that burned through his arm, Lilitu seized his wrist in a visible grip that felt like it was going to shatter the bones. So strong! How could she be so damned strong!? He despaired. "I don't think so," Lilitu snarled in savage triumph. She released Zarach's wrist, moving so quickly he couldn't block the slap that nearly took his head from his shoulders. Zarach flew backward, turning a cartwheel in the air, and landed on his side. His lungs worked in vain to suck in oxygen. "You lose, my beloved," Lilitu announced, coming closer, sword dropping into position. Even then, the hate inside Zarach wouldn't allow him to give up. He'd fought all his life, and his hardest opponent had always been that dark nature that lurked within himself, his own evil. But he was tired; as tired as never before in his entire life. Worse, Lilitu knew it. She could see it in his eyes. It was just a matter of time, and she would win this battle. Zarach concentrated for one last time. Suddenly his two-colored eyes changed their color. Black pits took form where once eyeballs had existed. Using the last of his energy, his last bit of power, he released himself from his prison mentally. The energy sank into Lilitu. Grabbing his two sai, on in each hand, adopting a fighting position and ignoring the pain in his legs, Zarach waited. His energy surge crackled through Lilitu, and her white-skinned, beautiful body was seized by a spasm—she was held there, a prisoner of the pulsing power, helpless. Zarach watched as Lilitu howled in rage, crackling blue bolts of energy veiling her. Then, the surge ceased, and she staggered forward. She was breathing hard, hunkered over. Swallowing, trying to regain her dignity, and her balance, she straightened. She looked at Zarach and raised her arms, summoning her telekinetic power to attack him once more. But Zarach did not rise as she had expected. Lilitu began to laugh—a raspy, almost maniacal cackle that echoed in the chamber. "Very well, my beloved. Well done. But you are completely empty. You have no more surprises now!" Zarach frowned. She was right. His face was tired, his gaze sad. "Now we are the same," he whispered. Then he attacked, one last time. Lilitu swung her sword quickly up, blocking the blow. Zarach's sai cleaved into the blade, its big steel tooth sinking into it, catching there, holding. Both Immortals gritted their teeth, jaw muscles clenched, as they struggled with their interlocked weapons. Inadvertently, they simultaneously put their muscle into a sideways motion that sent the weapons sailing out of both their grasps, sliding across the rocky ground.
"And so the eternal warriors meet again. Now, we shall see what the Gods have in mind for us." "Let's find out," Zarach answered. They advanced toward each other, Zarach with fists raised, Lilitu with hands poised as if to strangle him; but her hands closed into fists as the two Immortals did hand-to-hand battle across the cavern ground, skirting the crevice that might claim either or both. Viciously, relentlessly, they exchanged punches, kicks, elbows and backhands, drawing blood, and though the eyes of both glittered with fury, burned with hatred, they seemed to share a peculiar respect, of a sort known only between worthy foes. Suddenly an earthquake-like tremor interrupted them, freezing them both in midpunch. The tremor continued, the cavern trembling around them. "The Dream, Mother!" Zarach announced. "The Dream is going to destroy this place!" "I know," Lilitu said, slamming a right hook into Zarach's jaw, sending him reeling into the wall. Wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with one hand, Zarach with the other grabbed his two weapons. But he did not move forward, not yet; his expression... again, that peculiar respect was at play... told his opponent that the time had come to up the ante of their deadly Game. Lilitu nodded, and stepped over, grabbing her sword. Then the two Immortals began to circle, like gladiators in the Coliseum, looking for the right moment, seeking an opening. When they went at each other, each blow, and every clang of bronze against steel, was lighting quick, expertly placed, two warriors perfectly matched, while around them the cavern shook, rumbled, with the approach of the Dream. Zarach, frustrated by how even this match was, stoked the fires of his fury, remembering that Lilitu was the creature responsible for the death of hundred of Immortals. He screamed and leapt forward and hammered at Lilitu, startling her, staggering him, Lilitu meeting his blows but getting battered back as all around them the cavernous walls shook with their own fury. Lilitu forced herself forward, and blade was pressed against tridents, scythe-kissing scythe, as the two fighters stood locked in a warrior's embrace, locking metal. Respect and affection forgotten, nothing but hatred burned in the gaze of both Immortals, each staring into the other's eyes.
her strategy, and logic be damned—she ran right up the face of the walls, like an oversize spider. At once repulsive and regal, Lilitu held her head high even as its insect-like movement dragged her scratchily like fingernails on the blackboard of the cavern walls. Lilitu lashed down at Zarach with her sword. He dove out of the way, and the blade swung through one ancient limestone pillar, shearing it, turning it to dust. She moved forward, and as Zarach turned, a huge hit swung around and sent him flying toward the chamber again.
sharp rocks, merely jolted every bone and muscle in his body. Getting painfully to his feet, catching his wind, pulling himself together, he grabbed his weapons more strongly.
inspiring him to leap out of the way in a dive that became a roll, and when he popped to his feet he was standing before the wall he'd been slammed into moments before. But Lilitu's blade whipped around him from the ceiling, and once again Zarach dove out of the way. This time, however Zarach counterattacked. Striking upwards, one of his sai sank deeply into Lilitu's chest, though her demigoddess-half's heart, sending her skittering back, screaming in surprise and pain and fury, a cry at once animal and, eerily, human. Lilitu, weaving drunkenly, gazed down at Zarach in anger and agony, dripping blood on his face, bellowing what would have been a battle cry if the Goddess had not been dying.
you in hell!" Lilitu's eyes widened as the final blow came to her. As the second sai entered and raped her neck, it exploded into black vapor. Zarach covered his face with an arm, but hurtful fragments of skull went flying, sailing chunks of his flesh. Instantly, Lilitu's corpse hit the ground, barely missing her killer.
and a crackling electrical charge hummed and passed across the entire chamber in a flickering blue wave.
somehow cleaned the stoned-walls of their mold and fungus—the chamber was a gleaming cave for the first time in countless centuries. He reared back as the electrical storm clinging to the walls came rushing by him, wiping the walls clean in its wake.
was alive, was crawling over him, through him, inside him. For a moment he thought the worst was yet to come. Then the shadows returned. Again the grumbling darkness was hit by a lightning. Blinking, disconcerted by the supernatural transformation taking place in the cave, Zarach steeled himself. A shriek of agony both physical and emotional rang through the limestone temple of the Island of Nod. As if in reply—negative reply at that—a terrible sound, a sort of rumble-edged groaning, made its way into the chamber from the outer tunnels. A spasm, as expected electric-lightning, shook Zarach's body. Pain sent him to his knees, and he howled in impotent rage as his very spirit was sucked from him, withering him. Zarach began shaking violently, straining against the wall. Somehow he remained conscious through whatever agony he was feeling, but his teeth ground through his lips. Veins stood out his neck. He heard himself scream at the pain as the ground sped by under him.
him away from the cave. A whole new world was built around him, and all five of his senses were plugged into it. For the moment the only real thing to him was the underground chamber of his mind. Across from him was a deep, dark throat of a tunnel that belched forth-gurgling noises. Everything in Zarach screamed at him to run, but he was mesmerized by the sound of the gurgling growing quickly and steadily louder. Dark liquid exploded out from the tunnel in a scarlet-tinted rush, revealing itself to be a roiling wall of blood racing for him. The blood of the Immortals dead in Lilitu's Game. His mind filled with pain and dying, fueling itself with only the thought of drinking the energy till he could hold no more. The taste of the Quickening was sweet hell, because, in some distant corner of his mind, he knew where it came from, knew the cost it came with. Zarach didn't think about his life. He heard his own heart beating, louder even than the thunder thumping that filled the cave. And he was willing to take it all to stop that burning craving in his soul.
happening. But the pain overwhelmed the rest of him. Then the blackness arrived. Creeping, thick blackness, like none he had experienced before, slowly filling his awareness. He wanted to get away from it, but it was inside his head. The touch of the blackness then became the touch of liquid fire that seeped through his pores and overwhelmed his soul, stripping away all that he was, all that he would be, and leaving in their places an acute, never-ending loneliness that filled him up until he could hold no more as he dropped on the ground. Suddenly he felt himself being lifted through the air, so he let go. It was like floating on a fast whirlwind. He spread his arms and legs. Above him, the Dark Quickening was coming fast. The dark cloud of energy had extended halfway into the cave.
as dry as the desert. He tasted the dust in the wind swirling around him, rubbing his skin. He felt the lightning. The rays spoke to him as they burned his soul. Mother was there with him. Now She Who Belonged to the Night was part of the Son of the Endless Night. Maybe she would control him—no, anything but that! Zarach felt his skin was fire and smoking.
from his hand and into his eyes, and his vision was filled with the killings of Lilitu. He saw the illumination, attaching him to the dead Goddess. The heat expanded. He leaned back his head and felt the saliva in his mouth spark with lightning. He felt Lilitu's true power. The blackness seemed to swim, and then it began taking on form, taking on shapes. Zarach heard a baby-cry. His unborn son cursed him from the other world. He jerked as one more massive jolt of pain shot through his mind. Like a distant object, he could see the light coming in the now-open door of his soul. But the light wasn't enough to hold back the darkness. The shakes hit him again, making his blood boil like a volcano blossoming with lava-heat. Then the agony left Zarach's body. Extreme bright and pain, and then nothing. He fell forward on the ground. Exhaustion etched every line of his body. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then stopped as his mind flew into oblivion. The Dark Quickening had completely taken him before he hit the ground.
Inside the cave, the aftermath was unavoidable. Lilitu's cavern shook with earthquake-level vibrations. The tremors rocking the cave overruled any intention. Aylón rushed into the chamber. The first things he saw in the middle of the pandemonium were the halves of Lilitu's corpse and her blood and guts littering through the cavern's ground, a dire display of Zarach's capabilities. Even in the chaos, Aylón smiled. He had fulfilled his word. He had seen Lilitu's death. Then his gaze scanned the area. Beneath the dust, he discovered Zarach. A lethal rain of stalactites invaded the surroundings. The whole place was collapsing. Aylón ran across the field of deadly falling stalactites, running like a madman for his brother. He reached Zarach's inert body, threw him onto his back, and left the place, out the same way back through the gateway, up the sandy staircase and into the dark tunnels of the cave itself. Around him, everything was chaos. The rumbling increased in intensity. In the entranceway, he found his way up through a hole in the floor, only to discover himself in a virtual hurricane-black vapor. Massive amounts of water were being drawn through every archway and down into a huge sucking hole in the middle of the chamber, a whirlpool of wind and water. Plastering himself behind a rocky archway, which blocked him from getting pelted by flying debris, Aylón watched the howling wind, his clothing whipping in the storm. It seemed the gates of hell were opened in front him. Maybe there was no way out of there. No, he corrected himself, there was always a way, although it might not be good, or easy. He looked around desperately, spotting something. He went up through the stairway inside the arch.
to the top, a narrow fissure in the stonewall seemed oblivious to the siphoning effect, and allowed Aylón to peer out at what the destruction of Lilitu had wrought.
the Hunters' corpses. It was as if the materials of the island were squirming, protesting, hissing, swimming through the flying dirt and debris. The cave, already alive with tremors, began to shake violently. Remembering that hungry whirlpool-like hole inside, Aylón realized that he had to move, and move fast.
the mountain, but a press of jungle foliage, sucked up against the side of the heap, blocking his way, kept him from knowing how high up he might still be, and prevented him from leaping to safety. The rocks and fronds slapped at him, insultingly, as the wind drew the jungle itself into the ravenous waterless vortex.
after braving so much... enduring so much... triumphing over so much... There was always a way, he remembered. But he didn't have to think of one, because the noise of the turbines came out from above. He whirled to see Heru-sa-aset's YF-25 Serpentarius-VI rising over the peak, just behind him.
This whole island wants to suck us down!" Aylón hoisted Zarach over the side of the access ramp. Then he jumped too. Instants later, as the aircraft took height, the island sank into the ocean, never to return. Aboard the YF-25 Serpentarius-VI cockpit, Heru-sa-aset saw the moment when the island disappeared. He glanced a quick eye over his shoulders, and saw the care Methos manifested when he placed Zarach in his seat. The Egyptian Prince could not hear the words Aylón said to Methos; but he knew—and shared—the sentiment. Zarach was obviously badly wounded. It was the Son of the Endless Night himself, then, who had killed Lilitu. May the Gods help him. ==================================== Cabin in the Pampa on the Duran Estancia, near Las Flores, Argentina March 30, 2013 The blackness seemed to swim, then it began taking on form, taking on shapes. Corazón Negro organized the shapes, pushed the blackness into patterns, then searched for the light. "Can you hear me, my love?" a familiar voice said. So he moved that way, organizing, shaping as he went. "My love?" the voice said again. He followed. And after what seemed like a short time, in a place where time didn't seem relevant at all, Corazón Negro saw a dot of light in the far distance. "Hear me," the voice said. "Come back with me." The light grew as Corazón Negro focused on it, until finally it surrounded him, flooding into his mind, his conscious thoughts. So he opened his eyes. "Welcome back," Elena said, smiling down at him. Corazón Negro let himself a smile. He felt surprisingly refreshed, almost as if waking from a long nap.
"Never more, my love. Never more," he answered, taking her hand and squeezing it. Then he remembered what had been going after their battle against Lilitu inside the Dream. "Is she ...?" "Dead," Elena finished, smiling. "The Ancient Gathering is here. But … the price was high." She stepped aside and looked over her shoulder. Corazón Negro looked around. They were inside the little cabin, and he could see Zarach on the sofa across the living room, totally inert. The others were all around him, their faces sad. Methos, sitting next to Zarach, holding his father's hand, explained in four short words: "He is not healing." Corazón Negro nodded, and then took a deep breath. "I think I have some catching up to do." "And resting," Elena said. "That, I've been doing," Corazón Negro whispered. "I think I have enough energy for a story before my next nap." Elena laughed softly, wistfully, and pulled up a chair. But it wasn't her who told him the tale; that came from Methos, Heru-sa-aset and Myrddin at first, and finally from Aylón, who had been in the cave with Zarach, in the maw of the monster. "After that, I don't know what Zarach did," Aylón finished. "Except that he killed her—he defeated her. And now …" Corazón Negro knew it all, and he was prouder of being part of the Ancient Gathering than he ever could have imagined being. But as he looked at Zarach, he thought, oh yes, the price was very high. Extremely high, indeed. ==================================== Yüklə 2,56 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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