Rend Hope (24 page)

             
"So what?  We're just going to fucking stand here and stare at it?  That'll accomplish something." He grumbled sarcastically, Janine shook her head.

             
"There are still some passages we haven't explored, we should check those first.  One of them has to be a way out." She told him.  He snorted, glaring at the door as he gathered his thoughts.  He noticed something then, the glyphs on the door, he had seen them before somehow, but where?  He couldn't quite place it.

             
"Hold up, let me check something." He told her.  Stepping closer to the doors, tentatively he placed a hand on them and the symbols etched onto the doors' surface began to glow with a dim orange light.  Janine's eyes immediately lit up at this discovery.

             
"Amazing! The door is reacting to you!" She exclaimed, but immediately put her hand to her chin as she thought about it more.  "But why is that?"

             
Before Benjamin could reply he heard something behind him, the click of a revolver.  Immediately he turned around and summoned up his guardian pillar from the ground in front of him.  The pillar rose up handle first, blocking a blast of blue magic energy before it could get to him and dispelling it.

             
"Step away from the door." The owner of the revolver said.  A tall man dressed in mostly blue with a cowboy hat.  The revolver itself was gold in color, the look on his face was dead serious.  Four other men in tanned fatigues were behind him, all wielding one-handed melee weapons of various sorts.  These men were eyeing him more warily.  Janine noticeably brightened when she caught sight of the cowboy, she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

             
"Kendal!  You actually got off your lazy ass and came for me!" She exclaimed happily.  The cowboy's serious face quickly took on a look of exasperation.

             
"Damn it Janine!  I'm trying to look cool in front of the kid here!  You're ruining it!" He told her in a not-so-quiet whisper.

             
"It’s what I do best!" She said, hugging him tighter.  Sheriff Kendal Wallace sighed in resignation, he wrapped his right arm around Janine's waist and with his left he kept the revolver trained on Benjamin.

             
"Anyways, I highly suggest you step away from the door kid.  You're trapped and outnumbered."  Kendal told the red-haired youth.  Benjamin growled in frustration, the cowboy was right.  He could try to force his way through Janine and the others, but even if he succeeded he'd probably be in a worse condition than he was already.  There was nowhere else to run to, they were standing near all the passageways that could lead to freedom.  Still, he had one option left, not ideal but better than nothing.

             
"Gonna have to pass asshole." Benjamin declared, and with that he turned his back on Kendal.  Swinging his guardian pillar as hard as he could, Benjamin struck the red door with it.  Instantly the lines and markings on the red door began to glow brightly, illuminating the entire passageway.  Kendal, Janine, Benjamin and the rest were forced to shield their eyes from the sudden brightness.  The sound of the red doors creaking open could be heard.

             
"He unlocked the doors?" Kendal asked in astonishment.

             
"Looks like it, it was reacting to him earlier." Janine replied, the sheriff frowned.

             
"This, might be a problem." He stated.

             
"Agreed." The vice-sheriff responded, while everyone was distracted from the sudden brightness from the red doors, Benjamin plunged forward into the newly opened passageway, hoping to get some distance between himself and Janine's buddies. 

             
As he continued to run down the corridor his eyes readjusted and he was finally able to see clearly.  But what he saw in front of him stopped his feet in their tracks.  The red-haired youth's jaw dropped and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

             
"Holy shit." Was all he could manage to say.

Chapter 21

              Markus paused for as long as he dared, trying to buy himself as much time as possible.  There was also the problem of Marie behind him, having trouble killing all of Ebrim's dead birds.  The necromancer wasn't about to let Markus just head over there and save the day, he was going to be an obstacle.  An idea suddenly popped into the blonde aeromancer's head, perhaps there was a way to turn this situation to his advantage.

             
He sprang towards Ebrim, using his sorcery to give his dash an extra boost.  Closing both hands into fists he prepared to punch the living hell out of the dark-haired bastard.  His sudden maneuver caught Ebrim off-guard, now was his chance.

             
Markus lashed out with his left fist, putting everything he had into it.  Incredibly, the tall necromancer was fast enough to duck under it.  Ebrim retaliated by slamming his right palm, glowing red with sorcery, into the blonde deputy's chest.  Markus felt like his entire torso was on fire, the impact tore a huge hole in the front of his shirt.  Ebrim's blow was strong enough to send him flying back.  Blood trailed from the aeromancer's mouth as he sailed through the air, he grunted in pain, but his grimace quickly turned into a grin.

             
This was just what he was waiting for.  Ebrim had indeed got the better of him, however, he had also unwittingly knocked him closer to Marie and the huge flock of undead birds.  He wouldn't be able to intercept him fast enough now.

             
"Marie! Save the girl!" He called out to the teenage magi-apprentice.  Not wasting another second, Marie leapt for the six-year-old girl about to be eviscerated by three undead birds.  Spreading her fingers wide, a glowing green glyph appeared on the palm of Marie's right hand.  A one-handed sword popped out of the glyph.  Deftly, she gripped the handle of the newly conjured sword in her right hand and in one smooth motion decapitated the trio of birds zeroing in on the little girl with it.  The girl screamed as the birds' blood sprayed all over her, but she was otherwise unharmed.

             
Seeing this, Markus channeled his magic energy through his hands, forming blades from highly pressurized air in each of them.  He then began spinning rapidly, like a top.  The blonde aeromancer proceeded to slice through the massive ranks of Ebrim's birds from the rear, easily felling dozens.  Markus landed on the same rooftop that Marie had occupied a few moments ago.  Scanning the area for the biggest threats.  The aeromancer winced as his chest continued to throb from Ebrim’s attack.

             
While the necromancer was still clearly the strongest enemy at the moment, he was almost a hundred meters away from Markus and the rest of the city.  The more immediate threat was the seemingly endless flock of undead birds that still ruled the skies.  Markus braced himself, holding both hands out in front of him, he channeled his magic energy once more into them.

             
He should've used this spell of hyper-erosion earlier with Ebrim, but the spell was highly destructive, using the wind to disintegrate everything within a large radius.  Even if it was enough to stop the necromancer, Markus would have still destroyed a good portion of the city.  All the more reason for Rosalind to try and banish him or worse, execute him.  He didn't doubt that she would still try do it, even if she was more tolerant of him recently.

             
However, these birds were in the sky, well above the highest buildings in Midas City.  While it was a sound strategy for them to stay high in the air, picking off civilians with little retaliation.  It left them open for his spell.

             
Markus finished gathering magic energy into his hands, releasing the spell of hyper-erosion.  The spell connected and the undead flock began to literally be torn to pieces by the powerful winds, their white feathers thrown about all over.  Flesh, feathers, and even other pieces of what was left of the ghoulish birds were blasted away into nothing.  By the time his spell had finished, the skies were clear of any undead creature.  Only Ebrim stood in front of him now, and he didn't look too pleased.

             
The dark-haired necromancer had a deep frown on his face.  Seeing Markus destroy all his undead birds while standing on top of a tall building, towering over him.  It touched a nerve, he recalled the last time someone was standing like that, a time when he was more naive.  When a damned bandit of a mayor in Stonehollow caused him to be left with nothing, no family and not even a place to call home.  Ebrim had been forced to wander into the Desert of Despair with little more than the clothes on his back and he had seen many things while in that damned sand-filled wasteland.  It was there where he saw the fallacy of the human body firsthand.  How quick a human's body surrendered to hunger and thirst, how easy their bones broke and how swiftly their blood spilled.

             
It all disgusted him greatly, humans were a relic of the past, part of a lost civilization that will never be regained.  The only thing they were good for now was materials, materials so that they could be remade into something stronger and better.  Something that was better suited for this new era.  Ebrim began walking towards Markus, closing the distance between them slowly.

             
"You really are becoming quite annoying aeromancer.  Or should I say Markus Logarr." Ebrim announced.  Markus' face blanched, the tall dark-haired necromancer noticed this and smiled.  "That's right I figured it out, Nobellus' prized apprentice.  So this is where you ended up."

             
"Yeah I was doing my best to stay discreet and now you had to go and ruin it." Markus responded, regaining some of his composure.

             
"Well I hate to say, but your last little stunt gave you away.  I can narrow down just a select few who would be capable of sorcery that powerful." Ebrim stated.

             
"How about we keep it on the down low?  Just the two of us?" The blonde deputy tried, Ebrim shook his head.

             
"No can do, someone like you would be a possible threat to my goal." The tall dark-haired man responded, Markus cocked an eyebrow.

             
"Your goal?  You mean the age of the dead thing you were rambling about?" The aeromancer asked.

             
"Yes, after all even you must admit watching humanity cling to life so desperately is quite pitiful." Ebrim stated.

             
"Every human being has a right to life Ebrim." Markus replied.

             
"And look what they've done with their 'Right'.  Nearly annihilating each other in The Great Purge and now they scavenge the land like rats, it's pathetic.  Humankind needs to be put out of their misery so the next step of evolution can begin." Ebrim explained, Markus grunted in response.

             
"Sorry the whole twisting the bodies of the dead into monstrous creatures isn't really the next step in evolution.  It's just you defiling cadavers with your necromancy." The blonde magi said.  Ebrim shook his head.

             
"But don't you get it Markus?” The dark-whiskered necromancer questioned.  “Ghouls are never hungry, never thirsty, they never tire.  It's only natural they inherit the Earth."

             
"Ghouls run on the caster's magic energy.” Markus answered, raising a skeptic eyebrow.  “You telling me you're going to maintain them twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?"

             
"No, not me, but I'm close to finding a spell that will do it." Markus' eyes widened at that.

             
"What!?" He exclaimed in surprised, Ebrim smiled wickedly.

             
"There are powerful items of sorcery out there Markus.  All I need to do is find the right one." The blonde man's eyes narrowed.

             
"I won't let you." Markus hissed.

             
"Of course you won't.  You’re just like all the other idiotic magi in the world who believe in trying to help Humanity survive."  Ebrim glared at him then and Markus could see the clear killing intent in his eyes.  "Let me show you how foolish your beliefs are."

**********

2220 A.D.

Location Unknown.

              "This is the only way Sahiron, we have no more food." A man's voice, his father's voice said.

             
"No! We can go out hunting!  Surely there's a small rabbit or squirrel we could find!" Sahiron heard his own voice speak in protest.

             
"We are both too weak and feeble to hunt effectively now.  Very soon we will perish and I don't want that for you son." His father replied sadly.

             
"I won't do this!  You can't ask me to do this!  You just can't!" He heard himself shout.

             
"I know what I ask isn't fair Sahiron, but I want you to live.  It's what every good father wants of their children."

             
"It's wrong! This is just wrong!  Eat another human being?  It's insane!"

             
"It's the only we choice we have son." His father said, handing him a knife.  "We have to make do with what we got."  Without another word, his father began carving up the dead human body.

**********

2235 A.D. Present Day,

Mid
as City, Southwestern district.

Consciousness returned to Sahiron with much difficulty, he found himself lying prone on some rubble that used to be a house.  The formerly imprisoned necromancer tried to move, but his muscles refused to obey his commands.  Everything hurt and he couldn’t even open his eyes, yet despite the pain, what bothered him the most was the memory that just flashed in his mind.  Why was he remembering that now of a
ll times?  Some lorekeepers say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, was that what was happening to him?  Was he dying?

             
Voices reached his ears, familiar ones, he recognized them as David and Rosalind.  Fury and frustration began to rage within him.  Yet again he had been beaten by that damned angel, the angel he wanted to devour.  This time they would probably finish him off for good.

             
Sahiron tensed, while his physical body was wrecked, he could still use his magic energy, a thrill surged through his veins at this discovery.  If he was going to die here, he was going to go out on his own terms.

**********

              "Rosalind!  Rosalind!" She heard someone calling her name, reluctantly she opened her eyes seeing the blurry outline of someone standing over her.

             
"David?" She croaked out, recognizing the voice.  The blurry outline gradually sharpened and Rosalind indeed saw that it was indeed David Watkins, her fellow founder of Midas City and friend.  He smiled in relief as she came to.

             
"Any severe injuries?" The middle-aged man asked, the blonde-haired woman sat up and rested her weight on her elbows wincing slightly.

             
"Can't be too sure until I've actually sat down and had a chance to examine myself, but I can move around still, so that's always a good sign." She reported, her eyes suddenly widened as she remembered what caused her to be in that situation in the first place.  "Is Sahiron dead?"

             
"Well..." David started his gaze shifting to his right, straight ahead of her.  Rosalind followed his gaze.

             
Sahiron lay face down on top of a pile of rubble.  His straitjacket completely blown off from Rosalind's spell.  His now freed arms stretched out on each side of his head.  For the first time she was seeing the cannibalistic necromancer without the jacket and what she saw caused her to grimace.

             
His entire torso and arms was covered in scars, no, Rosalind realized upon closer inspection that it looked like the gashes were fresh.  They weren't bleeding or scabbed over though which was unnatural.  Most likely it was the work of necromancy.

             
"That lance of yours packs a wallop." Sahiron said suddenly.  It was all Rosalind could do to keep her jaw from dropping in amazement.  He was still alive after that?  Her Sorcery-made lance had never failed to kill its target when it scored a direct hit.  "I can see now why many necromancers before me fell at your hand."  Slowly, Sahiron rose to his feet, blood began to flow from the many scars on his body.  The blood coalesced into a small pool underneath his feet.

             
"What have you done to yourself?" Rosalind stated in almost a whisper, her voice filled with disgust.

             
"Only what is needed to survive." He replied, the blood continued to flow, making the pool underneath him increase in size.  Sahiron’s body had used up a lot of magic energy to survive Rosalind's attack.  His reserves were dangerously low, he needed some flesh to consume.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I got a lot of mouths to feed."

             
Rosalind was about to make a remark when she sensed some powerful necromancy emitting from Sahiron.  To her surprise and horror, the scars on Sahiron's body actually opened up, revealing teeth and tongues within each of them.  The cold-eyed magi couldn't believe it, those weren't scars that Sahiron was sporting, they were actual mouths.