The Dark Path (31 page)

“I-I don’t know, I swear it.”

The man looked back at the black man who nodded slightly.
So
, thought Squirrel,
this guy knows when I’m telling the truth.

A sharp slap to his cheek made Squirrel realize he had been looking away from his interrogator and he quickly brought his attention back to the man before him. “I’m sorry,” he whined, deciding to try to push a wedge between the two. “I thought he was going to talk to me now, given that you had to look to him for permission and all.”

A faint hint of surprise quickly crossed the black man’s face, suddenly replaced by a flicker of anger. “He is trying to manipulate us against each other Empeth. He’s not stupid; he just looks it.”

Squirrel’s shock must have been evident, for the one named Empeth chuckled softly turning back to his face. “Do not be alarmed, little Squirrel,” he said coldly, “Sekiel can read your thoughts as clearly as if you were committing them onto paper.”

“Then why ask me questions?” Squirrel retorted, bitter anger at his dilemma fuelling a new-found courage.

“Some things are easier to see than others. For instance, we found you easily; like a hippo at a dog show. Yet we cannot seem to find the assassin, no matter how hard Sekiel tries.” A slight inflection of contempt coursed through the tone, sparking a raised sneer from the one named Sekiel.

“Alright,” whispered Squirrel, “since he knows when I’m telling the truth, I’ll tell you this. I don’t know
where
the Dark Man is, but I do know
what
he is. He is death, pure and simple. You think you are hunting him, but that’s an illusion. He will come for you and you will all die. That is what he does, and he does it very, very well.” The words were uttered with quiet confidence, and the others did not need Sekiel’s powers to know Squirrel spoke the truth.

“How does the Dark Man know we are here?”

“I don’t know,” said Squirrel, but suddenly the image of the beautiful man flashed through his mind. He tried to suppress it, but knew he was too late.

“Gabriel!” yelled Sekiel in alarm. “Gabriel is here! He is the one with the assassin!”

“Who is this ‘Gabriel’?” asked Empeth.

Sekiel looked at him with undisguised scorn. “He is what you humans have dubbed an Archangel.”

Empeth looked at Sekiel quizzically before laughing contemptuously. “You mean a guy with wings in a sheet who sits on a cloud playing a harp?”

“He is far more than that,
human
,” spat Sekiel. “He is a force of power not unlike ourselves. He could easily wipe you from this planet, continuing to play his harp while doing so.” The three others were alarmed, and Squirrel felt a small burst of triumph. He had made his enemies feel fear.

Empeth merely shrugged. “If he could have done this, he would have by now. Perhaps he is, like yourselves, impotent in this realm.”

Fury flashed across the faces of all four men, and Squirrel savored the thinnest streak of hope that they might attack the one called Empeth. Slowly, however, the men managed to conceal their emotions and once more stood unified.

Empeth returned his attention to Squirrel. “What else can you tell us of value, little Squirrel? Are there pixies traveling with him also? Or possibly he has an army of leprechauns following him, all carrying pots of gold with which to bribe us. Perhaps the assassin is riding upon the shoulders of a giant Cyclops. Maybe then these Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse can put on their Sunday dresses and run off into the hills as I know they want to.”

“You go too far human!” roared Sekiel. As one, The Four advanced on Empeth, emotion raging in their eyes. Forces exploded within the small room, and Squirrel squeezed his eyes shut until the light dimmed enough for him to look again.

Empeth briefly flickered within an ebony blaze, and suddenly an enormous burst of energy exploded from him, hurtling everything else forcibly away, Squirrel included. He caught a final glimpse of Empeth rising from where he had crouched in the flames. The room started to fade.

A small flicker of light grew in Squirrel’s vision until he felt certain he would be blinded, and yet he sensed no pain. A figure approached him slowly, gliding through the gloom, until he could make out the features of his father, who had died years before.

“I’m proud of you boy,” he said, and Gary O’Rourke felt himself filled with a sense of absolute contentment.

The prodigal son was home.

* * * *

Empeth rose from the ground and approached The Four where they lay crumpled in a heap against the wall of the room. Rage engulfed his being and he pondered destroying them; he could have easily smashed their essence if he wanted to. Unfortunately, he also knew that with the Dark Man still breathing he would most likely need all of them in corporeal form to assist him. He could not complete the ritual and fight at the same time, especially if Vain had acquired the
Glimloche
.

Seething, he bent down to the now conscious form of Sekiel and whispered, “That was merely a warning you fool. Did you think my abilities would remain static over the centuries? The blood of nations has fed my powers to the stage where I could now destroy the very heavens. If you try to come at me again, I will devour your soul and those of your brothers. Do you understand?”

Sekiel sat stunned on the floor, nodding silently and watching his brothers regain consciousness. He had not imagined Empeth’s powers had grown so strong, and wondered if his master knew. Fear filled him as he stared into Empeth’s eyes and saw how close he remained to oblivion. “I am sorry Lord Empeth. We are all sorry. It will not happen again.”

Empeth spat on the floor and looked to where Squirrel lay motionless in the corner. His legs still rested across the room where he had originally sat before the battle. Sliced cleanly through the abdomen, the little man’s torso had been thrown eight feet, whilst his legs had not moved an inch.

Cursing, Empeth moved to the little man’s body and looked at his face. Curiously, despite the obvious horror of his demise, Squirrel had a look of absolute harmony, tinged with a slight touch of what looked to Empeth like victory. The little man had proven more trouble than he had been worth, despite the information about the so-called archangel. They would have found this out sooner or later anyway.

Empeth knew they had nothing to fear from the Dark Man and his ethereal ally. His own power had grown so mighty that he could easily defeat both of them without even breaking a sweat.

Originally, his strength had come from the
Glimloche
, which he had been gifted with by a strange figure, promising him absolute power to protect his Avun-Riah so long ago. After that fiasco–how could he have cared about that bearded fool?–the potency had grown within him, casting aside the foolish beliefs he had once held. The only thing that mattered was more power. The
Glimloche
had eventually become difficult to control and extremely constricting within him, thus he had sought out other sources of strength. Finally he had come across the original scriptures relating to Sordarrah. Within these he’d discovered the ability to absorb the souls of mortals into his own, thereby increasing his strength exponentially.

Eventually, the energy coursing within him had grown so immense that he found himself able to cast the
Glimloche
from his soul, and it had disappeared without a trace. Power intoxicated Empeth, and Sordarrah had promised him entire worlds if only he aided the Lord. Sordarrah needed a mortal, his own underlings not as potent as Empeth in this realm.

An easy decision.

Now the assassin was coming with an angel to thwart his dreams. He did not fear them; he would crush them easily. No, what Empeth feared was perhaps the two would somehow find a way into the mansion and manage to disturb the sacrifice of the boy before the ritual to resurrect Sordarrah completed.

This would be unacceptable to his Lord, and Empeth knew failure this time would result in his destruction. He had only narrowly missed being consumed by Sordarrah the last time, and his punishment had been severe indeed. Even now, so many years later, he winced at the memories that flooded back from that time of suffering. Regrettably, the same bonds that allowed him to absorb the powers and strengths of others also bound him tightly within Sordarrah’s grip. He could not–as yet–get free.

He would not fail this time. Already he had recalled all of the Souls of Sordarrah to within the mansion grounds. Almost a thousand followers were crowded into the rooms and lower levels of the building, ready to be fodder for either Empeth’s spells or to sacrifice their lives fighting the Dark Man–draining the strength of the
Glimloche
. Outside the grounds, Empeth had conjured an incredibly powerful spirit spell. Any being of power crossing into the grounds would be instantly destroyed. Unfortunately, the spell itself would probably also be destroyed, but with the assassin and angel gone, Empeth felt confident nothing else would be able to interfere.

There is nothing to fear
, he told himself, but still he sensed a gnawing in his chest and a tightness in his throat that prefaced panic. The little informant had been so sure in what he said, probably the only thing he had ever been sure of in his entire life. The image of victory upon his scorched features as he lay in death still taunted Empeth. He wondered again:
Who is the Dark Man?
Squirrel had said he was death, but had he meant it figuratively or did he mean that the man was actually Death?

Empeth pushed away the problem, but the words kept echoing in his mind.

He is death. He will come for you and you will die.

Whatever. Empeth had cheated death for centuries; perhaps it was finally time for a more formal meeting.

* * * *

Vain roused slowly from a deep slumber, roughly shaken awake. Opening his eyes, the vestiges of his meeting with Lucifer still clung heavily to his mind. Gabriel shook him again and he gazed darkly at the archangel.

“Something terrible has happened, Dark Man,” gasped Gabriel hurriedly. Vain sat up and glared at him, a feeling of unease stirring at the memory of Lucifer’s warning.

Forcing it aside, Vain enquired calmly, “What is it?”

“Squirrel is dead. Empeth and The Four captured and killed him.”

Vain silently absorbed the information and felt a cold fury building within. Squirrel had never been what Vain would call a friend–the assassin had no friends–but the little man had been a single constant in his life of irregularities. He had always known the information he got from Squirrel could be trusted, and that the informant would never lead him into a trap.

For all appearances, the assassin was the closest thing to family the little man had, and now he had been killed trying to gather information for the Dark Man. A strange feeling welled up within Vain and it took him a moment before he recognized it as guilt. If he hadn’t asked Squirrel to gather information about the house, the little man would likely still be alive. It did not matter that he had been doing it for money; all that mattered was that he had been doing it for him.

Vain could never remember being unhappy about the death of anyone, but he felt regret now–regret, and rage. If he hadn’t had enough reasons before to destroy Empeth, he now had one more.

“How do you know?” queried Vain.

“I linked with him when we met the other day and have been following him mentally ever since, in case he betrayed us,” said Gabriel quietly. “He did not.”

“Why didn’t you wake me when they captured him?”

“I tried,” said Gabriel, “but you’ve been asleep for three days, and I have been unable to rouse you.”

“Three days! That means....”

“Yes.” Gabriel nodded sadly. “Tonight will be the ceremony to raise Sordarrah. Tonight is where our combined paths will end.”

“We have no choice then. We’ll have to try to attack the place head-on and hope we can get through before they kill the boy.”