Apocalypse Rising (17 page)

“What?” I ask. “What else could I possibly be missing?”

“When you passed out after Julius's possession, you spoke while you slept,” Gloriana says.

“What did I say?”

Gloriana finishes her tea and sets it aside. “You kept saying a name, over and over again: Lilly.”

“Lilly?” I roll the name around in my mind and come up blank. “I don’t know a Justine. Are you sure that is what I was saying?”

“Are you sure?” Gloriana asks. “You were quite animated.”

“Let me think,” I say before I force myself into a trance. I search through my memories and find nothing. There is not a single mention of a Justine, anywhere within my mind, but I discover blank spaces in my recent memory, as if entire thoughts were removed by force. I explore until I find a small corner blocked off by a wall that I did not build.

I probe the edges of the wall, looking for a psychic signature that might tell me who altered my mind. The barrier is crude, but strong. A spell triggered by my awakening created it before reality snapped back into place. Someone did not want me to remember the events leading up to today, and they hid their tracks very well. Whoever created the memory trap is skilled, but they forgot how strong I could be when I am not in mortal form. I have not flexed my mystical muscles since the inquisition, and I look forward to dismantling the assault upon my mind.

I push at the barrier, seeking out weakness until I find a crack in the wall. Almost all mystical barriers, whether physical or mental, have some flaw in them. Even the one I created for myself was flawed, but its defect was built in as a security measure. I could never break through the barrier, but someone strong enough to harm me could shatter it with little effort. Most weaknesses were unintentional, the result of poor procedure or some shortcoming in the creator. The flaw in the barrier I am breaking was the result of doubt. Whoever set the trap was not sure that it was the right choice. I plan to let them know exactly how poor a choice it was.

I attack the weak spot, chipping away at it with precise mental blows like an artist shaping granite. A fissure forms and I exert more force. A hole opens, exposing the interior; I reach in and destroy the barrier.

A quick stream of memories rushes into my mind, filling in gaps that I could not explain. The sensation is similar to the memory feed I get when I focus on my past, but there is less resistance and a greater rush. Lilly played a prominent role in my recent past, especially in regards to the events leading to my return.

"Lilly," I whisper.

"You remember?" Gloriana asks.

"Yes," I say. "Someone tried to hide her from me."

"The wizard?"

I think back to the battle before speaking. "I don't believe so. He was a weapon that someone pointed at me. He is skilled, but he did not know who or what I am, so I doubt he had something prepared when he walked in. More importantly, the barrier was created with the Power, not human magic."

"An agent of Heaven blocked your memories of this girl?" Gloriana asks.

"So it would seem," I say. I try to find her using the Power to locate her soul, but there is nothing in the city. I check further abroad, but come up empty. "I think someone is still shielding her."

Gloriana asks, "So you cannot find her?"

"Not from here," I say. "My awakening created too much static in the ether. Once I get to the surface, I'll be able to determine a general area to search in." I stand up, though I have to remain bent over to prevent my head from hitting the ceiling, and run my hands down my chest. I am grateful that my clothes have grown with my body. "Please thank Accantha for the use of the sword and armor. It served me well."

"Tell her yourself," she says. "I am sending her with you."

"Thank you, Elf Queen, but that is unnecessary," I say. "Today has been a long day for your people, and I think you will need women like her to watch over them in the coming days. The wizard was defeated, but he survived and either Vandal or his master may well come looking for me." I feel guilty for the death of so many elves. Their dwindling population cannot sustain the ravages of my presence. In the past, my enemies feared facing me directly, so they struck at my friends and allies. I am afraid that will happen again.

"I am sure they will, though they may be less direct now that you have awoken, but I do not think they will look here." Gloriana stands, picks up the armor and sword, and leads me toward the door. "You will leave here with Accantha, and everyone will notice you, even without your armor." She hands it to me and holds up a hand to halt my protests. "I am not saying you should wear it now, but I'm sure you will have need of this again someday. Your height marks you as something more than average, and your aura is returning. Your presence will be noticed and your pursuer will not return here."

"So I am a distraction," I say.

"You are much more than that, so stop being so sensitive," Gloriana says. "Consider Accantha my liaison to you. She'll be able to reach me wherever you are and I will offer what help I can." She stops in front of her door and offers me her hand.

I bow down and kiss it. "You do me honor, Your Majesty."

"I sense great things in you..." Her words trail off and she raises an eyebrow.

"Justin," I say, "you may still call me Justin."

"A rather mundane name for the Angel of Death, don't you think?" she asks.

"Perhaps, but it is as good as any I have had while wandering the earth." I say. "I have gone by many names throughout human history and I cannot imagine, Justin, ever invoking the terror that others have garnered."

"I imagine not," Gloriana says with a laugh. "Justin the Terrible invokes more laughter than terror, and I pray that it always remains so."

I laugh and nod to her. "From your lips to His ears," I say. I open the door, step into the light of the elf village, and rise to my full height of eight feet. "I will not forget that you helped me in my time of need. I will do what I can to return you and your people to glory."

“That would be a magnificent thing,” she says, “but you will forgive me if I am a little skeptical. We are the antithesis of your mission handed down by the Father.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a bit of a rebellious streak about me, and while your people do not have a place in heaven, they are still capable of dying and fall within my purview.” I smile and bow once more. “I may not be able to give you an afterlife, but I can name you as friend and exert the influence I have.” I turn to leave, but I stop with my back turned to the Elf Queen. “I think you are right.”

“About?” she asks.

“I was awoken in this place, at this time, for a reason. Change is coming.”

I walk away from Gloriana’s home and return to the tunnel where the battle took place. The smell of death is overwhelming, but I find comfort in its familiarity. The elves drag the corpses of the fallen goblins into a pile as far from the still smoldering funeral pyre as they can. Only a couple of them stop their work when I enter the tunnel, the rest continue on, lost in their labor and thoughts.

“And I thought you stood out before,” Accantha says as she walks up to me.

“I am glad you survived,” I say.

“Survival was never a question,” she says, “the only concern I had was whether or not I would walk away with some new scars.

I smile and look at her. There is blood, both black and red, on her ragged clothing, but I see no tears in the fabric or wounds in her flesh. “And did you receive any?”

She laughs and says, “No, the goblins were not skilled enough to even be lucky.” She shrugs. “I suppose it’s a good thing, but I could have stood a new mark or two. It has been a long time since I’ve had any real change.”

"There are memories in scars," I say. The transformation removed centuries of my hard-earned scars in a matter of minutes. I wonder how long it will take for my memories to fade away. My desire for food still lingers, but it is fading. I no longer need to eat to sustain myself and the sweetest berries will taste bland to my converted pallet. Angels are creatures of efficiency. Why should we have taste buds when there is no need to eat? I will miss the pleasure of eating.

"Yes there are," Accantha says. "See this one here?" She points to a long, jagged scar that encircles her forearm. "I received this one the last time I fought one of the Fallen. It was a great battle before the coming of man. We won, but I nearly lost my arm in the process. A big-mouthed demon bit my arm off, so I removed his head and took it back. Fortunately, Julius was there to reattach it."

"You were friends?" I ask.

"More than friends," she says, "he was my brother." She smiles up at me. "He sensed something great in you, and I plan on making sure you don't waste whatever it is you have."

I am struck by her words, and I hope that I prove worthy of Julius's faith. "Do you need to do anything before we leave?" I ask.

"I need a few things from home and I'll dig up something for you to carry the armor in." She smiles and says, "I don't spend a lot of time amongst the humans, but even I know that a man running around in armor, carrying a sword, will gather the wrong kind of attention." She turns and runs down the tunnel, leaving me with the other elves.

I turn and look at the elves and the pile of dead goblins. I have little love for goblins. I am supposed to be impartial in the performance of my duties, but creatures warped by the darkness rarely deserve my respect or sympathy. Already I can smell the stink of their death and the stain it will leave. I decide to do one more favor for the elves before I leave.

I augment my voice with the Power and command, "leave this place."

The elves do not hesitate.

Gloriana advised me to conserve my energy, to save it for whatever was to come, but I choose to ignore her advice. There has been so much death in this space that it is easy for me to draw the residual essence left in its wake. I collect it into a visible sphere the size of van, a mottled globe of darkness and light that spins slowly in the center of the room. I reach out with my own power and pull the bodies of the dead goblins into the sphere. The pressure of so much death crushes each corpse, making room for the next until all are consumed and the sphere's light turns red.

I feed my will and power onto the surface, slowly pushing toward the center, condensing the energy and matter within, until it shrinks to the size of my fist. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I exert my will upon it, forcing it to become smaller still, until it forms a large, blood-colored gem. Muted light swirls and pulses within, drawing my eyes into its depths. I sense the power within, but I am unsure what it will be capable of. It was reckless of me to create the gem, but my instincts took hold and it felt right. I decide to give it to Gloriana. I owe her much and I trust her with the power of the gem.

I take the red sphere in my hand and turn back toward the village. The elves who had been working are in the tunnel entrance watching me. They stare at me, hardly daring to breath. They move aside as Accantha and Gloriana make their way through the crowd.

“I see you did not heed my advice,” Gloriana says, “but I suppose that is to be expected. You have kept yourself in check for so long; it must be tempting to throw your power around for a change.” She smiles at me like a teacher confronting a disobedient student. It annoys me, but I know she means nothing by it.

“It seems I can’t leave you alone for a second without you breaking a rule,” Accantha says. She steps forward and hands me an old, green military backpack. “You can keep your gear in here,” she says.

“Awful modern looking for an enchanted elven backpack,” I say. The elves laugh and titter with amusement. It is a joyous sound that makes me smile, even if the joke is at my expense.

Accantha regains control of herself long enough to say, “Not all equipment is enchanted. I found this pack decades ago, and it has never failed me. Sometimes mundane items are the best tools for the job.”

I blush and nod. “My apologies.”

“None needed,” Accantha says. “Now can we get out of here?”

“Yes, just one last thing.” I step over to Gloriana and hold out the gem. “I forged this by instinct, with the guidance of an inner voice. I pray that He guides my hands in all I do. Care for this gem and it will bring you, and your people, good fortune.”

She takes it from me and bows her head. “Be safe, Justin, and return to us whenever you like.”

“I will. Thank you again,” I say. “Accantha, would you be so kind as to lead us out of here?”

“It will be my pleasure,” she says before turning and leading me through the crowded tunnel.

She guides me back through the village to a cavern on the far side. It is dark and wet; an oppressive weight hangs in the air and chills my flesh to the bone. “What is this place?” I ask.

Accantha whispers, “It is a cursed place; tainted by dark magic long ago. When we first settled in the tunnels dark wizards and a host of lesser demons attacked us. They killed many of my people, but we carried the day. When the last of the demons fell, the remaining wizards sacrificed themselves and laid a curse on the battleground.” She walks on, her shoulders hunched over; as if she walks against a stiff wind only she can feel. “We have done what we could to contain it, but it is powerful and hard to hold back.”