A Path of Oak and Ash (33 page)

50

What is taking so long?
Erik sneered to himself, pulling his blade from the belly of a twitching corpse. There was no end to the fell pouring out of that blasted concrete monstrosity. How Lorcan had managed to convert so many witless-

Erik ducked, feeling the wind from a spray of bullets that had narrowly missed his head.  Turning to his left he saw a freshly corrupted fell, pointing an assault rifle in his direction.  Snarling, Erik flicked his palm skyward, his aggressor flew backwards high into the air where Arcedes grabbed him by the gullet, raining droplets of black blood into the sand below.

Propelled by an unseen force, Conall flew by him tumbling into the sand. His daggers within reach the young druid struggled to stand, his left eye swollen shut. Five men clad in black suits began to circle him, the rot spreading from the hands of the eldest. 

The boy would be dead before he managed to stand.

It would deplete his strength immensely and likely leave himself vulnerable but by Awen, Erik refused to see yet another one of their young put to ground before him. With a small piece of flint and tinder from the inner pocket of his vest, "Ignis Mihi!"  Erik evoked a circlet of flame that incinerated the fell to naught but ash. In its wake the Fenrir dashed to the side of his Fang, allowing Conall to lean on him as he struggled to his feet.

"Thank you,” Conall said with a wince, "figured I was done for."  Further down the beach Aodhan was locked in a battle between two fell with scimitars and little training, the golems stemming the flow of fell from the harbor side entrance with long sweeps of their arms.

"We still may be."  Erik admitted.  "I do not know how much longer we can keep this up."  While he spoke a half dozen new foes encroached on their position. Erik raised his blade in preparation for their assault, the weight felt in every muscle in his arms.

"Till the last."  Conall spat out through labored breaths.  "It's been an honor to know you."  Twirling between the men who stabbed at him unsuccessfully. His Fenrir grabbed one by the leg just as Conall dipped his blades in tandem into flesh, catching the one before him in the abdomen, the other in the throat.

"Likewise, Nel would have been proud of the man you've become."

So taken aback by his complement that Conall took a bullet to the shoulder. A grazing wound, but one that left him swearing, one of his daggers swirling through the air into the eye of a fall fell with greasy black hair and far too many facial piercings.

Back to back they stood, surrounded, at least two dozen circled, sneering, waiting for something.

A lithe form stepped forward from the pack.

"Enough Erik."  A female voice. Thin hands pulled back her hood, freeing waves of thick red hair over her shoulders. 

Erik smirked, "Laira."

Such a waste. She had been beautiful once, long before the rot took the shine from her skin, before the corruption turned her emerald eyes a muddy amber.  It was hard to envision the creature before him as the same girl who once ran through the glen, giggling with Estella, while he climbed trees with Brannon.

She pulled a long black blade from the scabbard at her back, flicking a switch on the hilt a current of electricity ran down the metal. For a moment, a split second at best, sadness seemed to cross her face, nostalgia mayhap at a life once lived.  "Pity you have to die."

"Pity you already did."

Her red lips twisted into a snarl as she lunged forth, striking with ferocity she never showed in their youth. Erik became so preoccupied with his footwork in staying away from her thrusts that he had yet to go on the offensive.

Erik could not delay much longer, his strength was already depleted from the conjured flame. Drawing deep within himself he growled, sending forth a low thrust towards her abdomen at the opportune moment, the blade grazed her flesh, cutting a wide rift across her stomach that dripped black blood that sizzled in the sand beneath their feet. The circling crowd jeered, one throwing a knife into the fray in an attempt to strike Erik. Conall intercepted the throw, doing his best to fend off the crowd with his Fenrir.

"Bastard!"  She screamed, plunging the tip of her electrified sword into his left bicep.

Erik's teeth chattered as the contact electrocuted him, the scent of his own burning flesh filling his nose. With the sword of his forefather, he fought through the current in his own body and swiped wide, severing her vile weapon in twain. Spinning around he stabbed forward towards her throat. Liara bent backwards, his strike narrowly missing her face, severing strands of her blood red hair. With his arm outstretched, she grabbed his wrist, turning till he lost his grip loosened on the blade, then with a twirl she kicked him with her high heel just below the wrist.

His blade knocked from his hand, Erik fell backward into the sand as the Liara kicked him in the chest, the tip of her six inch heel puncturing his skin just below his sternum. Not a fatal strike, but enough to momentarily incapacitate. Through his blurred vision he saw her pull a .44 from a holster hidden beneath her long black coat.

Help you
, Arcedes pleaded, diving down towards him.

Too late, go, be free.
Erik thought as the dark hollow of the gun focused on his face.
  Please. I love you.

"Goodbye Erik."  She pulled back the hammer as he said his final prayer to Awen in his thoughts.

Then, as one, the fell tipped their heads to the sky and screamed.

51

Soaking the Leabhar Fìrinn in gasoline overnight had done wonders. It erupted in a ball of unnatural flame, the color shifting from purple to green to white as sacred pages were reduced to ash. 

An ear piercing inhuman shriek shattered the windows, spraying bits of broken glass all over the wide hall. At first Carrick believed it to be some sort of spirit freeing itself from the confines of the tome, until he saw Lorcan's open mouth. The sound erupting from his mouth echoed outside, hundreds of fell parroting their masters call. Much to his horror Maureen joined in their laments, black streaks running down her cheeks.

"What have you done?!"  Lorcan bellowed, a dark cloud gathering around him, his voice deepening. "I will rip the flesh from your bones and sew it into the dead earth."  The ground began to shake, the fractured glass collided in a macabre dance amplifying the acoustics.  "I will bind your soul to this plane and let you writhe, watching as the carrion eaters pluck the last ossein clean.  Every human, every pathetic advancement they herald as a technological marvel will be reduced to nothing besides the tormented memories of a wraith once named Carrick."

"Good luck with that."  Reaching into his pocket, Carrick pressed the small button on the remote detonator.

The result was instantaneous.  Beyond the broken glass windows massive clouds of smoke and flame erupted from the windows the facility below.  Likewise the first half erected rig crumbled into the rising cloud of ash.  Carrick only had a moment to enjoy it before the blast wave threw him back out of the posh office into the long hallway, the sound of the explosion deafening his ears as his body bounced across the laminated flooring.

Ouch.
  The ringing in his ears decimated his orientation, delaying his attempts to escape.  After two attempts to get on his feet his steps were haphazard and clumsy down the executive hallway towards the elevator.

Carrick smashed the call button before realizing the power was out.  The glow in the hallway was coming from the ball of flame being conjured within Lorcan's hands behi-

He fell to his knees, narrowly missing the ball of blue flame above his head that warped and melted the elevator doors behind him into a gaping maw.  Lunging right, Carrick threw himself into the stairwell, flames from another burst singing his cloak as the door swung shut.  The explosion had ripped holes into the far end of the stairwell, illuminating what would have otherwise been a pitch black column of concrete.

Four stories, I'll never make it.

With a deep breath, Carrick swung himself over the ledge of the railing.

In his free fall, he saw the dim light above him disappear, tendrils of darkness lurching downward towards him.  The metal railings enveloped by the void rusted, twisting into a distorted mass of tangled metal.

Ground!

His palms extended toward the cement beneath him, generating a burst of air to soften his decent.  Carrick hit the ground running, through the vast warehouse out into the cool island air.

Then stopped suddenly, as a figure leapt from high in the air, landing before him with such a force the ground shook.

Before him stood Lorcan, suit ripped, hair tousled, his face twisted in a wicked sneer.   In his right hand he held a long sword made of black metal. 

Heart pounding in his chest, Carrick drew his own blade.

"Elfine's Seax?"  Lorcan laughed.  "Pathetic.  My father outgrew that weapon when he was eight."

Swinging wide over his head, Lorcan struck at Carrick.  The impact of their crossed steel sending blue sparks into the sand below.  Carrick stumbled back, raising his blade to attempt to block the next onslaught. Lorcan was too strong, his blow cut through Carrick's block, slicing his bicep open to the bone.

Carrick cried out in pain as Lorcan brought his weapon around again, laughing.  With his good hand, Carrick sent a gust of wind up from the beach below, hammering Lorcan's face with sand.

While Lorcan cursed, rubbing at his eyes, Carrick scrambled to his feet and ran away from the building, down the beach towards the cliffs.

He made it six steps before something struck him from behind, throwing him high into the air into one of the large rocks jutting out from the shore below the cliff.  He slid off into the sand, disoriented, excruciating pain coming from his left side as he tried to breathe.  Blood ran into his eyes as he struggled to his feet, unable to locate his weapon.  Through his blurred vision he saw Lorcan approaching slow a satisfied smile on his face.  Behind him the battle was still in full swing, he saw Arcedes overhead, an arm in her talons, Aodhan far in the distance fighting besides a pair of golem.  One of which picked up a boat out of the harbor, swinging it like a club.

Lorcan blocked out his view.  "I was going to give you everything, Carrick.  Everything."

Something threw him again, further into the side of the cliff face.  Desperately, he pulled himself to his feet, turning toward the ocean he stumbled.

"Where are you going?  We were having a conversation."

An unseen force tossed him like a rag doll, till he was on his back looking up at the stars, a large object above him, coming towards him at an alarming spee-

Carrick screamed as a boulder crushed his right leg.  It lifted off of him, raising again and-he rolled left just as the rock crushed into the sand beside his head.

"Narine always wanted a child, you were perfect, blood of my blood, of her blood, in a way.  Untainted by the past like my Quin.  Now, the book destroyed, you lost to her, I have to start all over.  As much as that discourages me, her disappointment I cannot abide."

Carrick coughed up blood between haggard breaths, "I memorized...the...spells..." subtly with his left hand at his side, he grabbed a small rune stone he had carved from his pocket

Lorcan paused, "did you now... or are you just avoiding the inevitable."

Carrick smiled, propping himself up on his elbows.  "Both, actually."

"Sonofa-" 

"Acere in faciem suam!"  Carrick shouted, contorting his fingers as he threw the rune stone.  The ancient forbidden spell took hold, draining the rest of Carrick's strength, transforming the rock midflight into a stream of acid, striking Lorcan’s face.   

Lorcan shrieked, covering his wound with his right hand, his left unleashed a concentrated flame that struck Carrick’s own extended palm, burning it beyond recognition.  Disfigured, what remained of his hand was skeletal, muscle and skin blackened and flaking off his now-useless limb. As the stench of seared human flesh lingered in his nose, Carrick realized the pain became so intense it ceased to hurt, as though he was disoriented from his own body. Instead he was overwhelmingly cold, dizzy.

"Enough!"  Lorcan shouted, muscle showing through beneath the melting flesh of his cheek, his mouth distorted as his jaw became visible, rows of white teeth and distorted gum.  Black tendrils spread from his hands, snapping and clawing towards Carrick.  The heavy scent of sulfur causing his body to dry heave.  He knew as soon as that black mist touched his skin it would rot and that would be the end. Desperately he tried to move away, clawing at the sand beneath him with his one working hand. 
It’s no use, you're going to die now Carrick
.  Closing his eyes, he thought of his uncle, of Bethany and his friends as he braced for the end.