Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (23 page)

Pridament found himself in a hallway. He hadn’t inspected the building while outside, but based on the length of the hall, he assumed it ran the entire length.

Pridament inched his way along. Apart from the door he had used to enter, one other door led off the hall. At the end, a set of stairs went up. When Pridament got to the door, he reached out to the knob. An electrical jolt bit his skin when he touched it. His gut seemed to react. He looked down the hall toward the stairs. After a minute of mental tug–o–war, he left the door alone and continued to the stairs.

From the bottom of the stairs came the soft whir of machinery.

He ascended, keeping his back toward the wall and his staff in a defensive position. The top of the stairs opened into a large room. His stomach tightened. He couldn’t see the tear, but he could feel it.

A single machine occupied the room. It consisted of a large pod connected to several monitors. Pridament hazarded a glance in the pod and gasped. He tore at the cords and cables and fumbled his hand along the edge searching for some kind of release mechanism. A moment later a click and swoosh rewarded his efforts and the pod lifted open.

“Gwynn.” Pridament called.

The boy lay inside the pod, his upper torso stripped bare. Wires from the pod ran to a number of sensors attached to him. Pridament took quick stock of the boy. He was breathing, his skin color appeared normal. He had the scar on his abdomen.

But he wasn’t wearing the St. Christopher medallion.

“Gwynn.” Pridament shook him.

The boy’s eyes fluttered for a moment, and then crept open.

“Who are you?” Gwynn croaked.

“It’s me. Pridament.”

“I don’t know you.”

“What?” Pridament searched the boy’s face. Had something happened to his memory? Or maybe… His heart pounded in his chest. Hope. He let his defense slide, revealing his true face.

“Dad?” Gwynn asked. “Oh my God, Dad?”

Gwynn sat up and threw his arms around Pridament’s neck.

“All these years.” There were tears in Gwynn’s voice. “I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid. I ran away, I never meant to go far. I never meant to be gone so long.”

Tears flowed down Pridament’s face. “It’s okay son, I forgive you. Everything’s going to be fine. We just need to get you out of here, close that tear, and find our way home. All right?”

Gwynn’s eyes filled with fear. “It’s too late Dad. We need to get out of here now.”

Gwynn stumbled out of the pod. He drew a breath and then tore the Veil.

“C’mon Dad, we can leave this way.” Gwynn held out his hand. “Just take my hand and we can be a family again.”

Gwynn
looked to Xanthe and then to the crumpled body of his father. He just had to fall on the sword. No more suffering, no more hurting the ones he cared for. Just an end.

“You know it’s the right thing to do.” His younger self said.

He felt a light touch on his left shoulder. No one was there.

A familiar scent of blended fruits carried on the wind. It tugged at his memory. Like an old VCR, the tape of his mind clicked and whirred in reverse. Sophia, smiling, telling him that when he had looked her way, she had looked back.

“I was too afraid of fate.” She said. She told him to take her hand. She said, “No matter what, always remember, what happened to you parents wasn’t your fault.”

The evidence lay in front of him. He had killed his father.

“No matter what.” The wind seemed to reply.

Gwynn gave his head a shake. The younger version of him stood stone–faced a few feet away.

“Somewhere, you and I are in love, untouched by all this madness.” He would never forget her smile. “You need to protect them, Gwynn. Only you can.”

Another soft touch on his right shoulder—different from the other. He turned, no longer alone.

“Adrastia.”

Her lips curled into a smile, but her eyes showed disappointment. “Yours is not to be defeated by phantoms.” She raised her arm and pointed.

They were further down the street. From this angle, Gwynn saw a tear in the Veil near the road. Something had come out. A Curse.

The car came around the corner, catching the Curse in its headlights. Tires squealed and the vehicle went spinning into the ditch.

A few minutes passed. This time, Gwynn didn’t come out of the ditch first, his father did.

The older man limped and blood streamed down the left side of his face. He gripped his abdomen.

The Curse hissed and charged.

The older Dormath tore into the Veil and drew a familiar staff. Was this why Pridament’s staff seemed familiar?

A fight ensued. But with his injuries, Gwynn’s father couldn’t prevail.

Gwynn turned away, unable to witness the creature’s killing blow. An agonized scream echoed along the pavement. He turned back to see his younger self watching from the side of the road.

“I…saw?”

The Curse scrambled along the road toward the young boy. Instinct kicked in and Gwynn moved to defend the child. Grips on both his shoulders restrained him.

“There’s nothing you can do. This is just an echo, a memory long forgotten.” Adrastia said.

The Curse readied to strike down Gwynn’s younger self when the same light he had seen in the other vision erupted.

In the flash, Gwynn just made out the Curse bursting into dust.

The Curse gone, his parents dead, the younger Gwynn lost consciousness and fell to the pavement.

“But I didn’t wake as an Anunnaki until just now. How did I do that?”

Adrastia moved in front of him. “You’re wrong. You awoke then. Because of the trauma of it, the pain, you subdued it. It lay inside you, waiting for the time when you would call on it again.”

“So what is this? Why am I dreaming this?”

“It’s not a dream.” Adrastia said. She nodded behind Gwynn. He turned to see the other version of his younger self, eyes ablaze with white light. “You’re being manipulated, your memories pulled and twisted.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you ask it?”

Gwynn called out to it. “What do you want? Why have you brought me here?”

With no emotion it said, “Do everyone a favor and finish yourself.”

“So it brought me here to drive me to suicide?”

“It’s an effective way of dealing with enemies. Use their own memories against them.”

Gwynn strode over to his younger self with the blazing eyes. “I’m done with this game.” He brought Xanthe down on the boy, shattering it into a million pieces like a smashing mirror.

Gwynn blinked and found himself in a new room. Pridament and Fuyuko were beside him. A cloaked figure stood at the opposite side of the room. Three threads extended from the hood and attached to Gwynn, Pridament and Fuyuko’s foreheads.

Gwynn slashed upward with Xanthe and severed the thread. Then he spun and cut the threads connected to Fuyuko and Pridament, who crumpled to the floor. The person in the cloak hissed. It bounded from floor to ceiling and crashed through a door at the other end of the room.

Gwynn rushed to Pridament and Fuyuko. Gwynn shook Pridament by the shoulders and called out to him.

Pridament came around and Fuyuko soon followed. Gwynn explained the cloaked man and the dreams that had meant to destroy them.

“So we should follow the wizard behind the curtain?” Pridament asked.

“I’m guessing that’s where the tear must be.” Gwynn replied.

“OK,” His eyes were a mix of anger and longing, “fair enough. Let’s go.”

The three inched along the office area toward the door the cloaked figure had used to escape.

Cubicles cluttered every inch of available floor space. With each step, Gwynn scanned the tops, waiting for an attack. When they made it to the door, Pridament eased it open with the end of his staff.

Three threads hit the door with a loud ‘Thock, thock, thock’ sound.

“Looks like our friend hasn’t gone too far.”

Pridament went to one of the desks and grabbed a chair. “When I count three, I’m going through the door. When I do, I want you two to dash out and take that bastard down, clear?”

Fuyuko and Gwynn nodded.

Pridament counted. “One, two… Three.”

The older man plunged through the door with the chair held in front like a shield. Pridament staggered as the threads hammered against the chair. Gwynn and Fuyuko charged through the door.

They were in the main warehouse area. Fuyuko leapt over Pridament and ran in a zigzagging manner toward the source of the threads. Gwynn followed on her heels. A second volley of threads cut through the air toward them. Gwynn slashed forward with Xanthe. The sword reached out, slicing the threads to harmless ribbons.

Fuyuko’s spear stabbed toward the figure and deflected with a metallic clang. The cloak slid down, revealing the man’s arm encased in steel that extended to a lethal point at the end. Gwynn attacked from the other side, but the man used his other arm to deflect Xanthe.

The three began a deadly dance. Every advance Fuyuko or Gwynn made, the man’s armored arms turned aside. In the heat of battle, the cloak fell back revealing a man from the nose up, but his mouth resembled a spider’s mandible. The man threw himself back against the wall and scurried into the ceilings.

“Damn.” Fuyuko huffed. “That guy is fast. Did you see his face?”

Gwynn tried to catch his own breath. “Trying to forget it, thanks.”

A staff slashed through the air above their heads, knocking several threads aside.

“Pay more attention you two.” Pridament yelled, “He’s above us.”

More threads came down. These ones smashed bits of concrete as they struck the floor.

“Not trying for subtlety anymore.” Pridament said. “One of those hits you; it’ll split your head like a melon.”

Instinct hit Gwynn and he threw Xanthe above his head. The sword deflected the threads, but the reverberations on the steel sent painful shock waves through Gwynn’s arms. “We need to get him down from there.”

Pridament shook his head. “No. We’ll never win that way. Gwynn, guide us to the tear. Hopefully he’ll have to come down to try and stop us.”

Gwynn scanned the warehouse floor. There were no boxes or shelves, just wide–open space. Yet he couldn’t see anything.

“It’s not here. I mean, not that I can see.”

“Just feel your way to it. My gut’s saying up.” Pridament said.

“Me too.” Fuyuko chimed in. “Is there another level?”

Gwynn tried to focus. Thwack. Pridament’s staff deflected another thread. Up. Try looking up.

Let my gut guide me?

He tried to remember the night at the Cameron house with Sophia. He’d felt something then, hadn’t he? Some sensation had drawn him up to the attic. He tried to ignore the mental image of his head splitting like a melon and focused on the feelings in his body. A moment passed. Queasiness started. Then, the tugging. Yes, the tugging sensation in the center of his body, drawing him forward. He searched in the direction where it pulled him.

“I’ve got a ladder.” Gwynn said.

Pridament batted another thread aside. “Go.”

Gwynn dashed for the ladder. He trusted Fuyuko and Pridament were not far behind. Thwack, thwack. The threads grazed his shoulder. Warm wet travelled down his back. Gwynn reached the ladder. He turned just in time to smack several threads aside with Xanthe. Fuyuko and Pridament joined him.

“We’ll never get up this ladder without him getting us.” Fuyuko said.

The first night he’d held Xanthe, it had been born from the darkness and regret in his soul. How deep did the pain go? How far could his misery reach? How much more had just the past two days added to it? Gwynn tore into the Veil and drew more energy. “Start up the ladder. I’ll cover you.”

Fuyuko seemed ready to argue. She had no reason to have faith in him. Those she worked with had training and understood their powers. Maybe he didn’t understand it. Maybe he hadn’t received her training, but he knew his pain, sorrow and the dark places inside of him. It would reach. Gwynn channeled his energy into Xanthe. With a howl, he lashed out at the direction of the threads. Xanthe screamed through the air, its blade elongating and slithering like a serpent. It hammered into the ceiling and dust and debris filled the air.

“Go.” Gwynn bellowed.

Fuyuko and Pridament let their weapons fade back into the Veil and started up the ladder. Gwynn watched for threads. No, he wasn’t watching, he sensed them. Slash, debris. Slash, threads cut down from the air. The minutes passed like hours. He kept drawing on the Veil to power Xanthe. His arm throbbed. Gwynn hazarded a quick glance—his skin had started to scale. Too much. The Veil was starting to invade him.

“Gwynn.” Pridament called down. “Come on.”

They were up and through a hatch in the roof. One last push. Gwynn drew from the Veil and sent Xanthe skidding across the ceiling. As the debris fell, he let Xanthe fall back into the Veil and threw himself up the ladder. No hesitation, no second–guessing, he skipped several rungs at a time. A thread grazed his leg as he gulped the fresh air of the roof. The pain shocked his foot loose and he slipped.

Strong hands grabbed him under the arms and yanked him through the hatch on to the roof.

Gwynn grasped his bleeding leg. He drew on the Veil again, focused the energy to his wounded leg and shoulder. The pulsating of his blood escaping lessened and stopped. The throbbing in his arm increased. He didn’t bother looking at it. Just press on and finish the job.

Gwynn searched the area. “There.” He pointed to the center of the roof. The tear was there, though it looked larger than any he had seen before. Black, wispy tendrils stretched out from it and reached into the sky. Gwynn followed them up to where they joined with the vortex that spun with a dark hatred above.

The hatch exploded, sending Gwynn spiraling across the roof. He scrambled, reached out for Xanthe. Too late. Threads, dozens perhaps, flew toward him. Then splayed outward. Gwynn looked behind to see Pridament with his staff in the ground, intensity in his face.

“Shield.” Pridament said. “I’ve got this, close that tear.”

Fuyuko grabbed Gwynn by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet. “Hurry.”

The two ran for the tear. Metal striking metal from behind them signaled Pridament engaging the Anunnakis.