The Dark Path (21 page)

“We are you. We are us. We are the ones you have just faced, but now we are one. We are Legion, for we are many.”

With the last words, the mirror shattered outwards, and the assassin leapt back towards the entrance of the room. But where the doorway should have been he found only a seamless wall blocking his way.

Legion stepped confidently from the mirror frame and into the hall. “Don’t you want to play with us now Dark Man? Is it you who wants to run and hide? Well, we promise to show you the same sympathy you showed us.”

Vain crouched low and pounced high into the air, aiming a lightning thrust at Legion’s throat. The beast easily sidestepped the strike and hit Vain in the chest with a crushing blow that sent him flying through the air to land in a crumpled heap at the end of the hall.

The pain isn’t real, it’s only in your mind
, Vain thought to himself, climbing back to his feet.
Shit, if this isn’t real, why does it hurt so much?

“How can you fight us when we are you, Dark Man?” sneered Legion in its strangely many-voiced tone. “We know what you will do before you do. How can you fight yourself?”

Legion closed in on the assassin, and he quickly gathered his thoughts, releasing a mental surge similar to the one he’d used in the room before. This time the power passed through Legion like a soft gust of wind.

“No tricks this time, Dark Man,” said Legion standing over Vain. “How can your powers hurt us when they don’t hurt yourself?”

Vain grasped at the words and absorbed more than they said. The assassin faked a lunge at Legion and as the creature leapt back he sent a sudden surge of mental power straight into himself, unknowingly copying Sebastian’s momentary escape from his cell. The power flooded through his body, and he fought to keep the pain under control. Recovering his senses, he looked up and saw Legion grasping its head in agony. Throwing aside his own suffering, Vain leapt from the ground, and sliced his claws up, piercing the bottom of Legion’s jaw and continuing straight through the top of its skull. Vain briefly held the creature upright and stared into its lifeless eyes. 

“I am not like you,” he whispered, more to himself than the dead creature. “Not anymore.” He let the demon’s corpse fall to the floor where it began to sizzle and boil before melting away without a trace.

When the smoke cleared, Vain noticed the doorway now stood open a fraction, and a faint light shone from within the room beyond. The assassin looked at the doorway with dread, wondering what new horrors might lurk in the next room. Gritting his ebony teeth, he cautiously nudged the door open. He could make out nothing in the dim light and softly stepped inside.

His feet passed the threshold and everything changed. The faint light suddenly surged to a brightness that seared the assassin’s eyes, and he instinctively leapt back to the perceived safety of the hallway.

Instead of the hallway, however, Vain’s back hit something solid. Like before, the doorway had transformed into a solid wall blocking the assassin’s escape. Biting back a curse, Vain returned his gaze to the blindingly bright room.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” boomed a voice that seemed to come from everywhere. Vain ignored the question and instead began to feel his way around the wall in hopes of finding an escape.

“WHO ARE YOU?!!!” roared the voice again, this time knocking Vain from his feet with its power.

 “I’m Vain,” snarled the assassin. “Who are you?” Looking down at himself, Vain found his body had reverted to its naked human form, and try as he might, he couldn’t change himself back.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?!” bellowed the voice, ignoring the assassin’s question.

“I have come for the
Glimloche
,” said Vain simply.

“WHY?!”

“To save a boy,” answered Vain.

“IS HE THE AVUN-RIAH?!” asked the voice.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

A smothering silence filled the room, the voice pondering the assassin’s answer.

“WHY SHOULD YOU HAVE THE
GLIMLOCHE
?” thundered the voice finally.

Vain paused. “Because I can’t defeat the boy’s enemies without it.”

“That must have been difficult to say,” said a soft voice behind him as the light slowly dimmed.

Vain leapt at the sound and prepared himself for attack. Before him, however, stood a wizened old woman leaning heavily on a gnarled and twisted walking stick. Her eyes held the milky-whiteness of cataracts and she appeared completely harmless, but Vain had learnt by now that everything wasn’t what it seemed in this place.

“Calm down assassin,” croaked the old woman. “I mean you no harm.”

“Who are you?” asked Vain icily, not taking his eyes from the old woman for a second.

“I have many names,” she answered simply, “but you may call me Xamiel for now.”

“Well, Xamiel, are you here to help me or to try to stop me? I’ve killed all of your demons, what else can you bring against me?”

The old woman reflected, an insular glint in her eyes, before shaking her head slowly. “They weren’t my demons, Dark Man, they were yours. First your daughter, then your dead enemies, and finally yourself. I’m surprised you made it this far, but of course you did have help from the boy. He is very powerful to have even briefly escaped Empeth’s trap.”

“It seems you know more than you let on,” said Vain.

“I know more than you could possibly imagine Dark Man,” grinned the old woman, this time with a focused malice in her eyes so intense it made the hardened assassin withdraw slightly. The old woman noticed this and chuckled.

“I guess I’ve still got it,” she said, leaning heavily on her stick. “Anyway, back to business. You need the
Glimloche
to save the Avun-Riah. If Empeth succeeds in sacrificing the boy, Sordarrah will be free to conquer the Earth and gain power over Hell in the process. This does not suit me, and so I find myself obliged to assist you.”

Silence momentarily filled the air. “Through that way is the
Glimloche
,” the old woman finally croaked, pointing to a door which had not existed a moment beforehand.

“Thank you,” grated Vain through clenched teeth.

“Oh,” cackled the old woman heartily. “I
know
that one hurt you.”

Vain ignored the remark and turned, passing through the door. He found himself in a small, dimly lit room. The only item the assassin could see was a short pillar in its centre bearing something that glinted in darkness.

Approaching the podium, Vain suddenly sensed the tight grip of trepidation. A strange sensation, alien to the assassin, began to course through his veins, and it took a moment before he realized what it was.

Fear.

Not fear of death, nor even fear for his immortal soul. Simply fear, pure and undiluted from the depths of his very being. Every instinct in him screamed to flee from the room, to remove himself from the source of his fear, but he gritted his teeth and forced his feet in the direction of the pillar and the object it held.

By the time he reached the centre of the room and looked at the object of his quest, his knees were visibly shaking and his hand trembled uncontrollably as he reached towards his prize.

On the pillar sat a small, circular piece of flat metal, similar to a large coin, except that it bore irregular edges and the metal, if it were indeed metal, was pure black. How it had glinted in the near darkness eluded Vain, for the disc seemed to absorb what little light lingered. The assassin gazed back at the doorway and saw the old woman, Xamiel, still standing there, cackling to herself at his discomfort. The notion sparked Vain’s anger, and he quickly turned back to the pillar and snatched up the amulet in his right fist.

Pain exploded through Vain’s entire being and he cried out. Flames of torment flowed freely through his system and he felt himself being torn apart, cell by cell, atom by atom. The Dark Man fell to his knees and tried to drop the
Glimloche
, but it burrowed into the palm of his hand, like a crab digging into the sand.

Vain tore desperately with his left hand at the piece of metal, but soon it had tunneled too far under his skin, and he could feel it clawing its way beneath his flesh towards his shoulder. The skin of his hand closed over and instantly healed itself. 

When the
Glimloche
reached his shoulder, Vain experienced a new pain, much more intense than the original. Between screams, he noticed the skin of his upper chest swirling and puckering, the
Glimloche
twisting end over end towards his heart. He fell to the floor on his back and raked uselessly at his skin with his fingernails.

After an eternity of anguish, the amulet finally made its way to Vain’s heart. The pain burned so severely now that he wondered how he remained conscious, until he recalled that for all intents and purposes he was already dead, this torture being suffered only by his soul.

If he still had one.

Strangely, this thought seemed to bolster the assassin, and he clutched grimly to what little sanity remained in him. He tried to dull the pain through sheer willpower. If anything this appeared to increase his torture. Finally, Vain surrendered to the agony and let it run free through him. Instantly it dulled, replaced with a tremendous sensation of power so intense it felt almost painful in itself.

Vain glanced at the centre of his chest and found the
Glimloche
had disappeared. He moved his hand over the spot where he could sense the power most strongly and touched nothing, not even a blemish where the amulet had been. Confused, Vain looked at his hand and saw faint lines of energy beginning to appear beneath his fingernails, gradually starting to trace lines over the skin of his hands and on up his arms. Sitting up, he checked his other hand and saw that the same spider web network of thin black lines existed there also, crisscrossing up his arm and down across his shoulder, speeding up until his eyes refused to track their movement. Within moments, the same lines of power covered his entire body, all tracing to where the
Glimloche
had disappeared into his chest.

“And now you are at one with the
Glimloche
, Dark Man,” cackled a familiar voice behind him. Vain spun to his feet and confronted the old woman.

“What has happened here, old witch? Where has the amulet gone?”

Xamiel cackled again.

“Do you think this is funny, hag? We’ll see how much you laugh when I tear out your throat.”

“Oh I do like you, assassin,” crowed the old woman. “I can see why that man they called Priest chose you. Even in the midst of Hell you seek to confront that which you do not understand. You show no fear, even though a tool of great evil has just wrapped itself around your soul. You will serve me well when you arrive here permanently.”

“What do you mean?” asked Vain. “Who are you?”

“Let us just say everything is not always what it seems here. Now, back to your original question: in the first place, no amulet exists. The
Glimloche
is not a physical tool or weapon you can wield by hand; it is a creation of immense power, now entwined with your mortal soul. Your soul has absorbed powers beyond your wildest dreams... or your worst nightmares. Yes, Dark Man, even you have nightmares, and this will make them seem like fairytales in comparison.”

“How can I use this to save the boy?” asked Vain roughly.

“Good, good,” cackled the old woman. “You have no fear of that which you now carry. But don’t worry, the fear will come eventually, when you realize what you truly hold within you. As to how it can be used to help the boy, the answer is: ‘How can it not?’”

Confused and frustrated, Vain barked, “Stop talking in riddles, you ancient bitch. Tell me what I want to know or leave me alone.”

A flicker of anger glinted in Xamiel’s eyes and she sneered. “Fool! You know not what you carry or the power you now wield. It is everything and nothing, light and dark, power and weakness all at once. It will allow itself to be used until finally it is strong enough: then it will use you!”