The Village of Puppets,
Part One:
Arrival
Author: Darkness. Address: darknessdescending2000@yahoo.co.uk
Author's Note: Once again, I don't own the Malus Codicium, it was created by sci-fi author Dan Abnett (who rocks!), now that that's cleared up, don't sue me!
The Village of Sudeny, Czech Republic
Sudeny was a small village in the Sudetenland of the Czech Republic, roughly nineteen kilometres North of Leberec. Twenty-eight people, looking for a place that they could stay that didn't involve pushy landlords, had originally founded it in 1788. It consisted of three tiny housing estates, one Southwest of the town centre, one in the North and the third lying to the East. The "town" itself had amazingly little to offer to anybody, whether they were tourists, accidental passers by, or permanent residents. The centre consisted of small church, a post office, a town hall, a few shops including a newsagent, a terrible restaurant/carry-out and, for some reason, a Chinese laundry, complete with a very pleasant Chinese family who had moved here in the mid 1950s.
In truth, the kindest travel agent would have to be smoking something extremely illegal to just pass this dump off as "quaint."
Walking along the main road of the town was a man, followed by two adolescent males.
The man was of medium height and fat. He wore a light grey suit, white shirt, a dark green tie, a grey hat and black shoes a size too big for his feet. He looked to be in his early-fifties or late-forties, although the tired look in his sky-blue eyes suggested he was a lot older, his face had a gruff appearance, ridiculously thick black eyebrows that actually met in the middle, a small black beard sat on his chin, connected to a thick black moustache, he also had a short crop of black hair under his hat. He walked with a black walking stick that had a silver handle in the shape of a raven's head, despite the fact he walked without the slightest hint of a limp or a poor back.
His two followers were both roughly nineteen. One had short black hair, green eyes, a small nose and a pale complexion. The second had untidy ash- blonde hair, blue eyes and a severe case of acne. Both wore standard issue "goon" suits, black trousers, jackets, shoes, ties and white shirts. Both were thin, well built and walked side-by-side several feet behind their master.
"Jeremiah Rincewald," came a voice from behind the man and his aides.
The man, whose name, in case you haven't guessed, was Jeremiah Rincewald, spun around quickly, his companions standing in front of him protectively as a man appeared out of nowhere several meters behind them.
The man shoved his aides aside to get a better look at the man who had materialised out of thin air behind them. When he got a good look at him, his forehead creased into a frown while his features contorted into a mask of hate.
"Furcifer," said Rincewald venomously.
Before him stood a very handsome man who appeared to be in his late twenties. He had short neat black hair, a prominent forehead, a small moustache, a fine nose, a tiny beard that clung to his chin, pearly white teeth, and eyes that were such a dark shade of green that they almost appeared to be black. He was tall and thin and wore a pair of black leather pants, black shoes, a black long-sleeve shirt, and a black cotton greatcoat.
Rincewald looked Furcifer over several times.
"What the Hell are you doing here?"
Furcifer smiled at the older man, "Nice to see you too old friend." He motioned to the two goons. "Who are they?"
"They are my students," replied Rincewald.
"Students? What do you need students for you silly old fool?"
Rincewald counted to ten in his head before replying, "I am passing on to them all my knowledge."
Furcifer gave him an odd look.
"Why? Are you going somewhere?" he asked curiously.
"Well, no."
"Then what's the bloody point?"
"It gives me something to do," replied Rincewald angrily. "I have been stuck in this town. This miserable pile of shit in the middle of nowhere ever since that bloody rebellion! I have guarded the Black Sun for hundred of thousands of years! Do you have any idea how fucking boring that is? Do you?"
Furcifer remained silent during Rincewald's outburst, his face quite calm and controlled.
"Finished ranting?"
"I could say a lot more, but I'm not going to."
"Good. Now, walk with me."
He gestured for Rincewald to follow him. The old man did after a moment's hesitation; his students fell in behind him and Furcifer at a respectable distance.
"So, why has the Gallows Rogue come to Sudeny after all these years? " asked Rincewald after several moments of silence.
"Iieo has been sent back to the Pit," replied Furcifer.
Rincewald raised his bushy eyebrows curiously, "Why?"
"He attacked the Anointed."
"By the Prince!"
"Yes, I know. Usually I don't interfere directly in the process of the gathering of the weapons, but I have had no choice in the matter," said Furcifer, his voice low and dangerous, "I am here by orders of the Dark Throne to ensure that no one gets in the way of the Anointed while he gathers the weapons."
"But who could possibly." Rincewald paused, "It's them again isn't it?"
Furcifer nodded his head absentmindedly.
"Bloody interfering pricks," mumbled Rincewald, "How long have they known?"
"A few days, a week at the most," replied Furcifer.
They came to the end of the town centre, where the road led off onto the main highway, several miles South. In the distance, they could just make out a car with a black metallic paint job heading towards the town.
Rincewald looked at the car at the distance and smiled.
"Riana," he whispered. "So.this chap already has the Lack of Conscience."
"Yes," replied Furcifer, "And now he has come for the Black Sun."
"What's he like?"
"He's in it for the usual reasons," replied Furcifer, "You know, get revenge for wrongs he feels were done to him. Just your average head case."
"Then he'll be killed when he tries for the Sun," stated Rincewald.
"No. He won't."
"What do you mean?"
Furcifer smiled darkly, "He's immortal."
Rincewald turned his head to stare at the on coming car as it approached.
"Immortal?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that sort of breaking the rules?"
"There aren't any rules regarding this Rincewald. Just guidelines."
"I see," replied the old man, a little disappointed.
They stared at the car in silence as it approached until it was only a few feet away.
"Don't worry Rincewald," said Furcifer, as the black Mercedes-Benz pulled up on the other side of the road. Two figures got out, Riana, who saw the pair and waved at them. And a young man with long white hair and a big black leather coat. "He could always go mad."
About two miles away
Burke looked up at the clear sky and sighed happily. It was so beautiful around here.
He turned to Zhuge, who was sitting on the grass and leaning against one of the wheels of their truck. He was sniffing a daisy.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yes Edmund," replied his old friend, he looked up at him, "For the hundredth time," he added, smiling.
"Just making sure," said Edmund. He turned his attention to Paul.
The huge Italian had climbed a tree, and was sitting on a huge branch near the top and was watching the town several miles up the road through a pair of military-grade binoculars.
"Well Paul!" he yelled.
Paul turned in his seat and looked down at the Englishman.
"Yes?"
"Any activity?"
"Nope. From what I can see four people met them in town and led them into a restaurant," answered the Italian. "Do you think we should make our move Edmund?" he asked.
Burke thought for a minute before turning to look at Zhuge.
"What do you think old friend?"
"We should wait until dark," replied Inquisitor Liang. "That way we can out- gun them with the Kill-Team."
"Can't argue with logic like that," said Paul from his tree.
"Very well then," said Burke, heading to the truck. He swung the door open and climbed in. Zhuge and Paul watched him.
"Calling Faith?" asked Zhuge.
"Yep."
Zhuge and Paul exchanged worried looks.
"Um.do you really have to call her?" asked Paul, "I mean.she probably won't get here till tomorrow. So what's the point?"
"Can you imagine what she would do to us if we didn't tell her where this psycho was?" replied Burke.
"Good point. Call her."
About half an hour till sunset: Sudeny's only restaurant (1 star)
Brooklyn chewed his German sausage, trying to be polite and not show the utter revulsion he felt at chewing something that he could have sworn twitched when he stabbed it with his fork.
"So," he said after swallowing and putting his knife and fork down with no intention of picking them up again. "You're a Necromancer?"
He was addressing Rincewald, who sat opposite him while Riana sat to Brooklyn's right and Furcifer sat to his left.
They were sitting around a circular wooden table with a red and white checker tablecloth over it. They all had ordered the "Special" of the house at Rincewald's insistence that it was a totally unique taste.
Brooklyn had to agree with him there. He had never tasted anything so uniquely awful in his life. Riana and Furcifer seemed to think likewise. Riana had actually run off to be sick while Furcifer had taken one look at the collection of oddly shaped sausages and pushed his plate away.
"Yes," replied Rincewald, between huge mouthfuls of sausages. His mouth was thoroughly covered in grease and there was even a tiny scrap of sausage stuck to his small beard.
-This guy has worse table manners than Broadway!-
"So.what's that like?" asked Brooklyn.
After being stuck in a car with Riana for two days. He medically needed a conversation with someone who didn't wear black leather underwear and cut themselves with a Kukri knife when they got bored.
He shuddered at the thought of being stuck with this woman any longer.
He had discovered her "habit" when she thought he had been sleeping in the back seat. He noticed her pull out the Kukri from her flak jacket and start cutting little slits along her arm that was still manipulating the driving wheel and humming "Bohemian Rhapsody" to herself.
She was an awful at conversations to boot. Her topics for conversation basically consisted of how she killed people over the ages and whom she was planning to kill in the near future. Some of it sounded a bit far-fetched. Especially that thing about Elvis.
On the other hand, he hoped she was serious when she mentioned "The Backstreet Boys" needing to take out life insurance.
"It involves messing around with dead things," said Furcifer impatiently. He looked at Rincewald in disgust. "Nice to know you haven't changed that much," he said sarcastically.
Rincewald looked offended. He grabbed a pint glass of cola and drained it rather noisily of half its contents, leaving a thick trail of grease on the glass as he put it down again.
"Would you hurry up you noisy bag of crap," hissed Riana, "This place is driving me crazy."
"Crazier," said Furcifer.
Riana gave him a dirty look, "Shut up."
They remained in silence for several minutes, the only audible sound being that of Rincewald's munching.
In desperation Brooklyn turned to Furcifer in the hopes of some form of conversation.
The oddly named man had barely said a word since they entered the restaurant and Brooklyn was curious about him.
"So," said Brooklyn cheerfully, "What exactly do you do?"
Furcifer looked up from his plate at the gargoyle turned human.
"I take the souls of the still-living in exchange for power unimagined."
"O-kay," said Brooklyn, "Like who?"
"Alexander the Great, Ghengis Khan."
"Hitler?"
Furcifer frowned at him.
"No. He just.happened by himself." He paused for a moment, "It's quite amazing that mankind can create people like that. One of the reasons it must be destroyed really."
Brooklyn never said anything at this; he just nodded his head in understanding. Ever since he had donned the "Lack of Conscience", he knew the truth about humanity. The truth about everything really.
It was scary.
Rincewald stood suddenly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He slapped his belly contently.
"Everybody ready?"
The quartet walked out of the awful restaurant, with Rincewald muttering something about having to pay for everybody was totally unfair.
"Where is the weapon?" asked Brooklyn as they headed to Riana's Mercedes.
"In a cave on that hill that overlooks the town," replied Rincewald, "First though we must go to my house."
Furcifer raised his eyebrows curiously, "Why?"
"I must summon my students, get Fuzzy and put on my uniform."
Now it was Brooklyn's turn to be curious, "Fuzzy?"
"His familiar," answered Riana as she fumbled with the keys, "It's a big black rat."
"I'll have you know he is a guinea pig," growled Rincewald, "Don't you think I see enough rats without having one act as my go-between?"
"Why didn't you take a raven, or a fucking cat like everybody else?" asked Furcifer. He was quickly losing patience with the Necromancer.
"Everybody takes ravens," said Rincewald defensively, "And as for cats. Oh don't get me started on cats. They're the worst damn familiars around."
"Why do you need a familiar?" asked Brooklyn, "I thought only weak witches or wizards had those?"
He never remembered seeing Jezebel use a familiar, or himself for that matter.
Rincewald turned to look at him impatiently.
"I thought you had the Malus Codicium?"
"I do."
"Haven't you ever looked at the section about Necromancy?"
Brooklyn shuddered in disgust, "You must be joking! That's stuff's fucking icky! Playing around with the dead? Always thought it was a little disrespectful myself."
"Rincewald only does it to make Necrophilia more interesting," snapped Riana as she got in her Mercedes.
Brooklyn looked at Riana in shock for a minute before returning his gaze to Rincewald. The necromancer looked very red in the face.
"That's a fucking lie!" he yelled after a few seconds of being stared at by Furcifer and Brooklyn.
"I thought you said you were going to quit?" asked Furcifer.
"I did! Honestly!" screamed Rincewald. He paused for a moment. "Well.actually-"
"Shut up!" said Brooklyn suddenly, slapping a hand over the necromancer's mouth, "I don't want to here it! Just get in the fucking car!"
Just outside Sudeny: Sunset
Edmund Burke emerged from the truck's cabin and jumped out onto the grass, ready for anything.
He was wearing a dark brown armoured body glove with a sleeveless black leather jacket that fell to his hips and contained extra ammunition and a handful of throwing knives. He was armed with four large bore revolvers in holsters attached to his body glove, two on hip holsters while the other two were just under his arms. A straight blade cavalry sabre, which had been in his family since the Napoleonic War, hung in a scabbard at his waist. He cradled an elephant gun in his hands.
He strode over to the rear of the truck to where Zhuge and Paul waited for him.
They were already prepared for the expected fight to come.
Zhuge wore a black armoured body glove similar to Burke's, with a black travelling cloak that fell to his knees covering his own arsenal. Burke had seen his equipment before on several occasions. Like his awful taste in music, Zhuge's preference in weapons never changed.
He would be equipped with a pair of small, compact Uzi's, a Tai-Chi sword, several daggers, a garrotte and a 9mm berretta.
Burke smiled at his old friend, who smiled back confidently.
Burke turned his attention to Paul Rossi.
The huge Italian had chose not to wear an armoured body glove, insisting they were too hot and ugly. Instead he was wearing a pair of midnight blue combat slacks, a similarly coloured shirt and armoured flak jacket and black combat boots.
He was equipped with a brace of six 9mm berretta pistols, which hung from various belts across his chest, while two 30cm long knives and a pair of tomahawks hung from the belt across his waist. He was holding a rather intimidating halberd in his arms.
"Ready chaps?" asked Burke cheerily.
"And willing," said Paul. Zhuge nodded an affirmative.
Burke looked west, to where the sun was slowly sinking into the horizon.
"Then lets get the Kill-Team ready," he said.
Zhuge and Paul nodded, going to the doors at the back of the truck and swinging them open as the last rays of the sun vanished and the darkness claimed the sky.
The three Inquisitors stood back and watched the dark interior of the storage area; their eyes could only see a few feet inside. But they could hear everything.
First there was a cracking noise, followed by several others, as if stone was slowly being broken.
A deafening, inhuman roar from beyond the Inquisitors' vision inside the container quickly followed this. Other roars joined the first, as there was the sound of stone being smashed and bits of masonry suddenly flew out at the Inquisitors and landed at their feet.
Edmund Burke smiled as he approached the entrance.
Six pairs of glowing eyes stared back at him.
"Kill-Team Alpha," he said.
"Yes Inquisitor," answered a voice from the darkness.
"We have some evil ass that needs kicking," said Paul Rossi, "Are you with us?"
"All the way Inquisitor," replied the voice, "Just show us who to shoot."
Sudeny: Five minutes later
Brooklyn looked over Rincewald's caravan and frowned.
"You actually drive around in this thing?" he asked.
It was a wreck. An insult to respectable vehicle manufacturers worldwide.
In other words, it was Albanian.
It had a terrible white and brown paint job with dazzling silver hubcaps. It was large, ugly, and very, very dirty.
Brooklyn turned to Rincewald, who was staring at him venomously.
"Yes. I do."
Brooklyn was in his gargoyle form again. He had managed to get a quick shower and his long white hair was still a little wet. He had on his black chinos, a black shirt that fit and his burnt, battered and blood stained black leather coat, with the Malus Codicium in the inside pocket and "The Lack of Conscience" hanging from its chain around his neck. His sword hung at his waist while he held his staff in his hands. His two Desert Eagles were in their shoulder holsters.
Rincewald had changed into his "uniform" for such occasions when someone claiming to be the Anointed showed up and contested for the weapon. He was clad in black robes, with a long black cape and cowl hanging over his shoulders with the cowl pulled back, around his neck hung a gold chain with a Pentecostal star on the end. He wore a black leather skullcap on his head. A single edged long-sword hung on his belt while he carried a black wooden staff with a silver raven, its wings outstretched, sitting on the top and with a silver cap piece on the bottom.
His two "students" were dressed in a similar fashion, with one of them holding "Fuzzy" the familiar, in his arms.
Fuzzy was the fattest guinea pig Brooklyn had ever seen. It looked like it could weigh up to five, maybe even pounds. It had a huge pair of green eyes that stared at Brooklyn dumbly while it's mouth moved constantly, as if it was chewing something. It was jet black from head to clawed toe.
Brooklyn sighed as he stared at the cute, yet probably very stupid animal.
This was definitely not something he would have pegged as a Necromancer's familiar.
It was just too cute to be evil.
This was not a creature someone would scream at and run in terror from. It was something you might go "Aww" at and want to give a cuddle!
He looked at Fuzzy. Fuzzy stared back. Brooklyn then turned his attention back to Rincewald.
"You are a fucking joke," he said, before getting into the "living area" of the caravan.
Rincewald frowned and opened his mouth to say something.
"SQUEAK."
Rincewald turned to look at his familiar.
"Really?"
"SQUEAK."
"Oh" said the Necromancer, "In that case I'd better be polite."
Several minutes later they were driving up the road to the cave on the hill.
Demona's Big Armoured Van: En Route to Sudeny
"Are you smoking?" rumbled Goliath. The huge lavender gargoyle was addressing Malibu.
The light green clone took the lit cigarette out of his mouth and looked thoughtfully at it for several seconds before returning his gaze to Goliath.
"Well.yes. Yes I think I am," he said, returning the cigarette to his beaked mouth.
Goliath frowned at him in disapproval, "Those are extremely bad for you."
"Yes. I know."
Goliath's frown deepened while Lexington turned his head away to crack a smile.
Broadway, Goliath, Lexington, Malibu, Faith, Fang and Bronx were sitting in the back area of Demona's armoured van (although bus might be a better word for it) while Demona sat in the driver's seat with Jezebel beside her, arguing over the fastest way to Sudeny.
The vehicle was enormous; it was a sleek, heavily armoured double-decker bus, with a silver paint job and black, reflective glass windows.
There was a long couch along both walls on the bottom floor; each could hold five people in comfort although Broadway's rather large exterior was taking up the space it would take two humans to sit comfortably.
Faith, Mal and Fang sat opposite Lexington, Goliath and Broadway respectively, while Bronx lounged on the floor sleeping.
They hadn't gotten along terribly well while being stuck together for two days. There had been a lot of bickering about who's fault this really was, followed by a lot of yelling, threats and Faith going out of her way to put Fang down.
It had gotten so bad that Mal had to sit between the two of them to make sure Fang didn't get hurt.
"So Faith," said Lex, "Where'd you and Fang meet?"
Fang looked up from the book he was reading to try and beat Faith to the punch but she had been waiting for a chance to bash him some more.
"It was about twelve years ago," she began, "1987. It was the summer of love."
"No it wasn't," said Fang.
Faith looked at him coldly. "What?"
"We met in the fall!"
"No we didn't."
"Yes we did!"
"No we didn't!"
"Did!"
"Didn't!"
"Did!"
Mal stood up suddenly, his eyes almost flaring.
"For Christ's sake! Will you two please grow up! If I didn't know better I'd say you were frigging married!" He paced quickly to the small winding steps; " I'm going upstairs where it's a little quieter!"
Lex jumped out of his seat just a little too quickly, "I think I'll join you," he said, bounding after the clone.
"Um.I think I left something on in the oven," said Broadway, quickly following Lex.
Goliath rose to his feet. Fang and Faith stared at him.
"I don't like being near either of you," he said gruffly before heading upstairs.
Both Fang and Faith watched him go.
"What's his problem?" asked Faith.
"He's the second biggest asshole on Earth," replied Fang.
Faith looked at him, "And who's the first?"
"Your father."
The room echoed from the sound of a slap.
"Ow! What the fuck was that for?"
"Don't call my father an asshole!"
"But he was!"
There was another slap.
"Ow! Stop that!"
"Stop calling my dad an asshole!"
"Okay! Okay! He wasn't an asshole!"
"Thank you."
Faith and Fang sat in silence for several seconds before a smile crossed Fang's lips.
"He was a total bastard."
Jezebel rubbed her eyes tiredly as she handled the map while Demona drove.
There was a lot of yelling in the back, followed by a loud crash.
"If she breaks any of my equipment I'm holding you responsible," said Demona without taking her eyes off the road.
Jezebel looked at her, stunned, "Me?"
"Yes. You. Do you comprehend what I'm saying you senile old witch?"
Jezebel's mouth dropped open, "How dare you!" she yelled. "You're one to talk! You murderous hag!"
"HAG?!"
"Yes! Hag! You know? One of those hateful bitches that couldn't get a man if she tied him up first!"
Demona's eyes flared red, as she stared at the old lady menacingly, "I'll let that one go."
She paused for a moment, "But only that one. If you call me one more name you'll be meeting Macbeth very soon."
Jezebel stared at her icily before replying, "After this is all over Demona. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to hurt you very badly. And I am going to enjoy every second of it."
Demona snarled at her, "Do you really think that I fear death any longer you hateful old woman? Do you?" Her hands began shaking as she clutched the wheel a little too tightly. "I'm mortal again. I can die, but I'm not afraid of death any longer." She paused as she noticed the strange look Jezebel had on her face for just the briefest moment.
But she still saw it.
"What?" asked Demona, her voice suddenly filled with uncertainty, for what reason, she wasn't sure.
Jezebel said nothing; she only turned her head and stared straight ahead at the road.
"What?" repeated Demona. She was starting to feel very uncomfortable being near Macbeth's old servant.
-She knows something,- concluded Demona, -But what?-
"Jezebel? You haven't told me everything have you?"
Jezebel continued to stare at the road ahead.
"Have you?!"
Jezebel closed her eyes slowly, she appeared to be wrestling with her conscience for a brief period of time before she finally opened her eyes and looked into Demona's emerald green ones.
"No Demona. I have told you everything." She said with an air of finality that bluntly told Demona that she wasn't going to get anything more from her. With that said, Jezebel turned her head back to the road and continued staring straight ahead.
Demona frowned at her.
The old woman was lying.
But about what?
What the Hell wasn't she telling her?
Demona turned her attention back to the road, her frown never leaving her face.
She'd find out. Whatever it was, she'd find out what the old woman hadn't told her.
If not from her, then from one of those two fools in the back.
The big hill that overlooks Sudeny: 10 minutes later
Brooklyn looked over the small sea of lights that was Rincewald's hometown. He smiled slightly.
"It's beautiful," he muttered to himself before turning towards the group.
They were standing on a picnic area built onto a flat part of the enormous hill, which rose up in a ragged wall of sedimentary rock. It had started raining very heavily a few minutes ago, and the lot of them were thoroughly drenched.
Rincewald was standing by it, his "students" were several feet away, chatting excitedly between themselves, one of them still cradling Fuzzy in his arms. Riana was sitting at one of the picnic tables, away from them all, idly playing with her whip and kukri knife.
Furcifer was yelling very loudly at the Rincewald. Both of them were standing beside the wall of sediment.
"What the fuck do you mean you've forgotten?" screamed Furcifer, he was shaking all over and giving Rincewald very dangerous looks, "Those Inquisition bastards are heading into town right now!" He shook his fist at Rincewald in frustration.
Rincewald backed away slightly from Furcifer, trying not to flinch.
"Don't speak to me like that you.you.you." he suddenly gave up on whatever he was planning to say as his eyes lit up.
"Now I remember!" he yelled triumphantly.
Furcifer rolled his eyes as the Necromancer paced past him and placed his right hand against the wall.
"Open Sesame!" he yelled, his eyes and palm suddenly a disturbing shade of light green.
The rock suddenly began to shake violently as a huge vertical crack opened up in the wall, widening until a person could comfortably pass through it. Brooklyn could just make out a passageway in the darkness.
Then something hit him.
"Wait a second!" he said, turning to Riana, "Isn't that the exact same thing you made me say in Graz?"
The irritating woman was wearing the same outfit that Brooklyn had first met her in. Her black leather body glove and flak jacket, with the same assortment of weapons she carried before. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail.
She nodded without even turning to look at him.
Brooklyn heard Furcifer swear under his breath.
"You two are fucking ridiculous."
Brooklyn turned to look at Furcifer. The man or daemon or whatever the Hell he was appeared to be in an extremely bad mood. He was eyeing him in a way that made the gargoyle feel very uncomfortable. He pointed to the passageway into the rock.
"This week Brooklyn. If you please?"
Brooklyn frowned back at Furcifer before walking over to the entrance. He looked to Rincewald.
"What exactly is in there?" he asked.
"The Black Sun Staff," replied the Necromancer, "It can amplify a person's magical prowess a thousand fold."
"Really? What do I have to do to get my hands on it?"
"You must learn the true name of the daemon that resides inside," said Riana suddenly. "By learning the true name of a daemon, you gain dominion over it until it gets the upper hand."
"Then how come Iieo attacked me?" asked Brooklyn.
"The device which he had been bound to was destroyed. The reason that Inquisitor couldn't control Iieo was that he had not performed the summoning or the binding to a host body, nor did he know Iieo's true name," Riana answered patiently.
"Oh," replied Brooklyn. He turned his attention to the entranceway. "Sounds simple enough."
He heard Rincewald giggle behind him.
"The Conscience is the key Brooklyn," said Furcifer, pointing to the amber gemstone hanging around the gargoyle's neck, "Without that, you cannot enter, nor can you ever hope to succeed in getting the Staff."
He smiled at him, "Good luck."
Brooklyn nodded thanks and entered the passageway. It was pitch black after he got a few feet in, he fumbled in his pocket and produced a flashlight and clicked it on.
He was in a long passageway, perhaps fifteen meters in length; the walls were dusty, with disused fire lamps going down one wall. It was fairly narrow, just enough room for one person to walk down comfortably.
At the very end of the passageway, was a black door with a brass doorknob on it. Brooklyn pocketed the flashlight and approached it cautiously, drawing one of his Desert Eagle pistols in his right hand while keeping a firm grip on his staff in his left. When he reached it, he raised his foot to kick it in but stopped himself suddenly.
He slung his pistol back in its holster and tried the knob.
It turned, and the door slid open.
"Good thing I checked," he muttered to himself nervously, "It looked expensive."
He strode into the room, the door slamming behind him of its own accord, causing Brooklyn to jump and twirl around, pistol drawn and staff glowing pale blue, illuminating the room. Seeing that is was just the door, he sighed to himself and turned and regarded the interior.
He whistled in awe.
He stood in a five-sided room, in the centre of which, lay an altar of obsidian. The room was gigantic. He could barely see the two connecting walls opposite him. The walls and floor were made of black marble. A huge Pentecostal star, of gold, decorated the floor; the altar lay in the centre of this star. Brooklyn looked up to the ceiling, his jaw dropping open in the process.
He could see the sky. A clear night sky, light up by thousands of stars burning like beacons in the darkness.
He smiled slightly, "Cool."
~It is. Isn't it?~
Brooklyn reacted immediately, backing against the door and covering the entire room with his staff and pistol.
There was nothing.
~No need to be alarmed.~ said the voice.
Brooklyn frowned. The voice wasn't coming from any mouth. It was in his head.
"I take it you're the daemon that dwells in the Black Sun?"
~That is correct.~
Brooklyn strode up to the altar and examined what lay there.
Upon the altar was a staff. Two meters long, the shaft appeared to be made of obsidian. A human skull sat upon one end, jet black, with a black corona surrounding it. Upon the other end was a serrated spear tip. It was completely covered in daemonic runes, the shaft, the spear end, even the skull and its corona.
"Very nice. Very gothic."
~Why are you here?~
"I am here to learn your name."
~Why so?~
"So I can wield your power."
Brooklyn could have sworn he heard the staff chuckle.
~Many have tried before you gargoyle. All have failed.~
"I won't."
~So confident? Very well then.pick me up.~
Brooklyn set his own staff down upon the altar and holstered his pistol. Taking a deep breath, he reached out his hands and gripped the staff.
Gently he lifted it off the altar.
~The game is simple.~ said the staff, ~All you have to do is use the conscience around your neck and the Codicium, to guess my name, while holding onto me.~
Brooklyn frowned.
This sounded just a little too easy.
"And what exactly will you be doing while I guess your name?"
He a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach while he suddenly shivered.
He could feel the Daemon smile at him.
~This.~
Before Brooklyn could utter another word, he burst into flames.
To be continued.
Yay! Yet another part of the saga done! This one is actually half of one whole big fic, but it isn't totally finished just yet and I was afraid it might get a little too long if posted together. Once again huge thanks to Storyseeker for beta-reading and offering ideas! You rock! Also thanks to everyone who seems to like my crap. You guys rock too! The second half, "Battle," should be finished soon.
Until then.
Darkness
Author: Darkness. Address: darknessdescending2000@yahoo.co.uk
Author's Note: Once again, I don't own the Malus Codicium, it was created by sci-fi author Dan Abnett (who rocks!), now that that's cleared up, don't sue me!
The Village of Sudeny, Czech Republic
Sudeny was a small village in the Sudetenland of the Czech Republic, roughly nineteen kilometres North of Leberec. Twenty-eight people, looking for a place that they could stay that didn't involve pushy landlords, had originally founded it in 1788. It consisted of three tiny housing estates, one Southwest of the town centre, one in the North and the third lying to the East. The "town" itself had amazingly little to offer to anybody, whether they were tourists, accidental passers by, or permanent residents. The centre consisted of small church, a post office, a town hall, a few shops including a newsagent, a terrible restaurant/carry-out and, for some reason, a Chinese laundry, complete with a very pleasant Chinese family who had moved here in the mid 1950s.
In truth, the kindest travel agent would have to be smoking something extremely illegal to just pass this dump off as "quaint."
Walking along the main road of the town was a man, followed by two adolescent males.
The man was of medium height and fat. He wore a light grey suit, white shirt, a dark green tie, a grey hat and black shoes a size too big for his feet. He looked to be in his early-fifties or late-forties, although the tired look in his sky-blue eyes suggested he was a lot older, his face had a gruff appearance, ridiculously thick black eyebrows that actually met in the middle, a small black beard sat on his chin, connected to a thick black moustache, he also had a short crop of black hair under his hat. He walked with a black walking stick that had a silver handle in the shape of a raven's head, despite the fact he walked without the slightest hint of a limp or a poor back.
His two followers were both roughly nineteen. One had short black hair, green eyes, a small nose and a pale complexion. The second had untidy ash- blonde hair, blue eyes and a severe case of acne. Both wore standard issue "goon" suits, black trousers, jackets, shoes, ties and white shirts. Both were thin, well built and walked side-by-side several feet behind their master.
"Jeremiah Rincewald," came a voice from behind the man and his aides.
The man, whose name, in case you haven't guessed, was Jeremiah Rincewald, spun around quickly, his companions standing in front of him protectively as a man appeared out of nowhere several meters behind them.
The man shoved his aides aside to get a better look at the man who had materialised out of thin air behind them. When he got a good look at him, his forehead creased into a frown while his features contorted into a mask of hate.
"Furcifer," said Rincewald venomously.
Before him stood a very handsome man who appeared to be in his late twenties. He had short neat black hair, a prominent forehead, a small moustache, a fine nose, a tiny beard that clung to his chin, pearly white teeth, and eyes that were such a dark shade of green that they almost appeared to be black. He was tall and thin and wore a pair of black leather pants, black shoes, a black long-sleeve shirt, and a black cotton greatcoat.
Rincewald looked Furcifer over several times.
"What the Hell are you doing here?"
Furcifer smiled at the older man, "Nice to see you too old friend." He motioned to the two goons. "Who are they?"
"They are my students," replied Rincewald.
"Students? What do you need students for you silly old fool?"
Rincewald counted to ten in his head before replying, "I am passing on to them all my knowledge."
Furcifer gave him an odd look.
"Why? Are you going somewhere?" he asked curiously.
"Well, no."
"Then what's the bloody point?"
"It gives me something to do," replied Rincewald angrily. "I have been stuck in this town. This miserable pile of shit in the middle of nowhere ever since that bloody rebellion! I have guarded the Black Sun for hundred of thousands of years! Do you have any idea how fucking boring that is? Do you?"
Furcifer remained silent during Rincewald's outburst, his face quite calm and controlled.
"Finished ranting?"
"I could say a lot more, but I'm not going to."
"Good. Now, walk with me."
He gestured for Rincewald to follow him. The old man did after a moment's hesitation; his students fell in behind him and Furcifer at a respectable distance.
"So, why has the Gallows Rogue come to Sudeny after all these years? " asked Rincewald after several moments of silence.
"Iieo has been sent back to the Pit," replied Furcifer.
Rincewald raised his bushy eyebrows curiously, "Why?"
"He attacked the Anointed."
"By the Prince!"
"Yes, I know. Usually I don't interfere directly in the process of the gathering of the weapons, but I have had no choice in the matter," said Furcifer, his voice low and dangerous, "I am here by orders of the Dark Throne to ensure that no one gets in the way of the Anointed while he gathers the weapons."
"But who could possibly." Rincewald paused, "It's them again isn't it?"
Furcifer nodded his head absentmindedly.
"Bloody interfering pricks," mumbled Rincewald, "How long have they known?"
"A few days, a week at the most," replied Furcifer.
They came to the end of the town centre, where the road led off onto the main highway, several miles South. In the distance, they could just make out a car with a black metallic paint job heading towards the town.
Rincewald looked at the car at the distance and smiled.
"Riana," he whispered. "So.this chap already has the Lack of Conscience."
"Yes," replied Furcifer, "And now he has come for the Black Sun."
"What's he like?"
"He's in it for the usual reasons," replied Furcifer, "You know, get revenge for wrongs he feels were done to him. Just your average head case."
"Then he'll be killed when he tries for the Sun," stated Rincewald.
"No. He won't."
"What do you mean?"
Furcifer smiled darkly, "He's immortal."
Rincewald turned his head to stare at the on coming car as it approached.
"Immortal?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that sort of breaking the rules?"
"There aren't any rules regarding this Rincewald. Just guidelines."
"I see," replied the old man, a little disappointed.
They stared at the car in silence as it approached until it was only a few feet away.
"Don't worry Rincewald," said Furcifer, as the black Mercedes-Benz pulled up on the other side of the road. Two figures got out, Riana, who saw the pair and waved at them. And a young man with long white hair and a big black leather coat. "He could always go mad."
About two miles away
Burke looked up at the clear sky and sighed happily. It was so beautiful around here.
He turned to Zhuge, who was sitting on the grass and leaning against one of the wheels of their truck. He was sniffing a daisy.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yes Edmund," replied his old friend, he looked up at him, "For the hundredth time," he added, smiling.
"Just making sure," said Edmund. He turned his attention to Paul.
The huge Italian had climbed a tree, and was sitting on a huge branch near the top and was watching the town several miles up the road through a pair of military-grade binoculars.
"Well Paul!" he yelled.
Paul turned in his seat and looked down at the Englishman.
"Yes?"
"Any activity?"
"Nope. From what I can see four people met them in town and led them into a restaurant," answered the Italian. "Do you think we should make our move Edmund?" he asked.
Burke thought for a minute before turning to look at Zhuge.
"What do you think old friend?"
"We should wait until dark," replied Inquisitor Liang. "That way we can out- gun them with the Kill-Team."
"Can't argue with logic like that," said Paul from his tree.
"Very well then," said Burke, heading to the truck. He swung the door open and climbed in. Zhuge and Paul watched him.
"Calling Faith?" asked Zhuge.
"Yep."
Zhuge and Paul exchanged worried looks.
"Um.do you really have to call her?" asked Paul, "I mean.she probably won't get here till tomorrow. So what's the point?"
"Can you imagine what she would do to us if we didn't tell her where this psycho was?" replied Burke.
"Good point. Call her."
About half an hour till sunset: Sudeny's only restaurant (1 star)
Brooklyn chewed his German sausage, trying to be polite and not show the utter revulsion he felt at chewing something that he could have sworn twitched when he stabbed it with his fork.
"So," he said after swallowing and putting his knife and fork down with no intention of picking them up again. "You're a Necromancer?"
He was addressing Rincewald, who sat opposite him while Riana sat to Brooklyn's right and Furcifer sat to his left.
They were sitting around a circular wooden table with a red and white checker tablecloth over it. They all had ordered the "Special" of the house at Rincewald's insistence that it was a totally unique taste.
Brooklyn had to agree with him there. He had never tasted anything so uniquely awful in his life. Riana and Furcifer seemed to think likewise. Riana had actually run off to be sick while Furcifer had taken one look at the collection of oddly shaped sausages and pushed his plate away.
"Yes," replied Rincewald, between huge mouthfuls of sausages. His mouth was thoroughly covered in grease and there was even a tiny scrap of sausage stuck to his small beard.
-This guy has worse table manners than Broadway!-
"So.what's that like?" asked Brooklyn.
After being stuck in a car with Riana for two days. He medically needed a conversation with someone who didn't wear black leather underwear and cut themselves with a Kukri knife when they got bored.
He shuddered at the thought of being stuck with this woman any longer.
He had discovered her "habit" when she thought he had been sleeping in the back seat. He noticed her pull out the Kukri from her flak jacket and start cutting little slits along her arm that was still manipulating the driving wheel and humming "Bohemian Rhapsody" to herself.
She was an awful at conversations to boot. Her topics for conversation basically consisted of how she killed people over the ages and whom she was planning to kill in the near future. Some of it sounded a bit far-fetched. Especially that thing about Elvis.
On the other hand, he hoped she was serious when she mentioned "The Backstreet Boys" needing to take out life insurance.
"It involves messing around with dead things," said Furcifer impatiently. He looked at Rincewald in disgust. "Nice to know you haven't changed that much," he said sarcastically.
Rincewald looked offended. He grabbed a pint glass of cola and drained it rather noisily of half its contents, leaving a thick trail of grease on the glass as he put it down again.
"Would you hurry up you noisy bag of crap," hissed Riana, "This place is driving me crazy."
"Crazier," said Furcifer.
Riana gave him a dirty look, "Shut up."
They remained in silence for several minutes, the only audible sound being that of Rincewald's munching.
In desperation Brooklyn turned to Furcifer in the hopes of some form of conversation.
The oddly named man had barely said a word since they entered the restaurant and Brooklyn was curious about him.
"So," said Brooklyn cheerfully, "What exactly do you do?"
Furcifer looked up from his plate at the gargoyle turned human.
"I take the souls of the still-living in exchange for power unimagined."
"O-kay," said Brooklyn, "Like who?"
"Alexander the Great, Ghengis Khan."
"Hitler?"
Furcifer frowned at him.
"No. He just.happened by himself." He paused for a moment, "It's quite amazing that mankind can create people like that. One of the reasons it must be destroyed really."
Brooklyn never said anything at this; he just nodded his head in understanding. Ever since he had donned the "Lack of Conscience", he knew the truth about humanity. The truth about everything really.
It was scary.
Rincewald stood suddenly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He slapped his belly contently.
"Everybody ready?"
The quartet walked out of the awful restaurant, with Rincewald muttering something about having to pay for everybody was totally unfair.
"Where is the weapon?" asked Brooklyn as they headed to Riana's Mercedes.
"In a cave on that hill that overlooks the town," replied Rincewald, "First though we must go to my house."
Furcifer raised his eyebrows curiously, "Why?"
"I must summon my students, get Fuzzy and put on my uniform."
Now it was Brooklyn's turn to be curious, "Fuzzy?"
"His familiar," answered Riana as she fumbled with the keys, "It's a big black rat."
"I'll have you know he is a guinea pig," growled Rincewald, "Don't you think I see enough rats without having one act as my go-between?"
"Why didn't you take a raven, or a fucking cat like everybody else?" asked Furcifer. He was quickly losing patience with the Necromancer.
"Everybody takes ravens," said Rincewald defensively, "And as for cats. Oh don't get me started on cats. They're the worst damn familiars around."
"Why do you need a familiar?" asked Brooklyn, "I thought only weak witches or wizards had those?"
He never remembered seeing Jezebel use a familiar, or himself for that matter.
Rincewald turned to look at him impatiently.
"I thought you had the Malus Codicium?"
"I do."
"Haven't you ever looked at the section about Necromancy?"
Brooklyn shuddered in disgust, "You must be joking! That's stuff's fucking icky! Playing around with the dead? Always thought it was a little disrespectful myself."
"Rincewald only does it to make Necrophilia more interesting," snapped Riana as she got in her Mercedes.
Brooklyn looked at Riana in shock for a minute before returning his gaze to Rincewald. The necromancer looked very red in the face.
"That's a fucking lie!" he yelled after a few seconds of being stared at by Furcifer and Brooklyn.
"I thought you said you were going to quit?" asked Furcifer.
"I did! Honestly!" screamed Rincewald. He paused for a moment. "Well.actually-"
"Shut up!" said Brooklyn suddenly, slapping a hand over the necromancer's mouth, "I don't want to here it! Just get in the fucking car!"
Just outside Sudeny: Sunset
Edmund Burke emerged from the truck's cabin and jumped out onto the grass, ready for anything.
He was wearing a dark brown armoured body glove with a sleeveless black leather jacket that fell to his hips and contained extra ammunition and a handful of throwing knives. He was armed with four large bore revolvers in holsters attached to his body glove, two on hip holsters while the other two were just under his arms. A straight blade cavalry sabre, which had been in his family since the Napoleonic War, hung in a scabbard at his waist. He cradled an elephant gun in his hands.
He strode over to the rear of the truck to where Zhuge and Paul waited for him.
They were already prepared for the expected fight to come.
Zhuge wore a black armoured body glove similar to Burke's, with a black travelling cloak that fell to his knees covering his own arsenal. Burke had seen his equipment before on several occasions. Like his awful taste in music, Zhuge's preference in weapons never changed.
He would be equipped with a pair of small, compact Uzi's, a Tai-Chi sword, several daggers, a garrotte and a 9mm berretta.
Burke smiled at his old friend, who smiled back confidently.
Burke turned his attention to Paul Rossi.
The huge Italian had chose not to wear an armoured body glove, insisting they were too hot and ugly. Instead he was wearing a pair of midnight blue combat slacks, a similarly coloured shirt and armoured flak jacket and black combat boots.
He was equipped with a brace of six 9mm berretta pistols, which hung from various belts across his chest, while two 30cm long knives and a pair of tomahawks hung from the belt across his waist. He was holding a rather intimidating halberd in his arms.
"Ready chaps?" asked Burke cheerily.
"And willing," said Paul. Zhuge nodded an affirmative.
Burke looked west, to where the sun was slowly sinking into the horizon.
"Then lets get the Kill-Team ready," he said.
Zhuge and Paul nodded, going to the doors at the back of the truck and swinging them open as the last rays of the sun vanished and the darkness claimed the sky.
The three Inquisitors stood back and watched the dark interior of the storage area; their eyes could only see a few feet inside. But they could hear everything.
First there was a cracking noise, followed by several others, as if stone was slowly being broken.
A deafening, inhuman roar from beyond the Inquisitors' vision inside the container quickly followed this. Other roars joined the first, as there was the sound of stone being smashed and bits of masonry suddenly flew out at the Inquisitors and landed at their feet.
Edmund Burke smiled as he approached the entrance.
Six pairs of glowing eyes stared back at him.
"Kill-Team Alpha," he said.
"Yes Inquisitor," answered a voice from the darkness.
"We have some evil ass that needs kicking," said Paul Rossi, "Are you with us?"
"All the way Inquisitor," replied the voice, "Just show us who to shoot."
Sudeny: Five minutes later
Brooklyn looked over Rincewald's caravan and frowned.
"You actually drive around in this thing?" he asked.
It was a wreck. An insult to respectable vehicle manufacturers worldwide.
In other words, it was Albanian.
It had a terrible white and brown paint job with dazzling silver hubcaps. It was large, ugly, and very, very dirty.
Brooklyn turned to Rincewald, who was staring at him venomously.
"Yes. I do."
Brooklyn was in his gargoyle form again. He had managed to get a quick shower and his long white hair was still a little wet. He had on his black chinos, a black shirt that fit and his burnt, battered and blood stained black leather coat, with the Malus Codicium in the inside pocket and "The Lack of Conscience" hanging from its chain around his neck. His sword hung at his waist while he held his staff in his hands. His two Desert Eagles were in their shoulder holsters.
Rincewald had changed into his "uniform" for such occasions when someone claiming to be the Anointed showed up and contested for the weapon. He was clad in black robes, with a long black cape and cowl hanging over his shoulders with the cowl pulled back, around his neck hung a gold chain with a Pentecostal star on the end. He wore a black leather skullcap on his head. A single edged long-sword hung on his belt while he carried a black wooden staff with a silver raven, its wings outstretched, sitting on the top and with a silver cap piece on the bottom.
His two "students" were dressed in a similar fashion, with one of them holding "Fuzzy" the familiar, in his arms.
Fuzzy was the fattest guinea pig Brooklyn had ever seen. It looked like it could weigh up to five, maybe even pounds. It had a huge pair of green eyes that stared at Brooklyn dumbly while it's mouth moved constantly, as if it was chewing something. It was jet black from head to clawed toe.
Brooklyn sighed as he stared at the cute, yet probably very stupid animal.
This was definitely not something he would have pegged as a Necromancer's familiar.
It was just too cute to be evil.
This was not a creature someone would scream at and run in terror from. It was something you might go "Aww" at and want to give a cuddle!
He looked at Fuzzy. Fuzzy stared back. Brooklyn then turned his attention back to Rincewald.
"You are a fucking joke," he said, before getting into the "living area" of the caravan.
Rincewald frowned and opened his mouth to say something.
"SQUEAK."
Rincewald turned to look at his familiar.
"Really?"
"SQUEAK."
"Oh" said the Necromancer, "In that case I'd better be polite."
Several minutes later they were driving up the road to the cave on the hill.
Demona's Big Armoured Van: En Route to Sudeny
"Are you smoking?" rumbled Goliath. The huge lavender gargoyle was addressing Malibu.
The light green clone took the lit cigarette out of his mouth and looked thoughtfully at it for several seconds before returning his gaze to Goliath.
"Well.yes. Yes I think I am," he said, returning the cigarette to his beaked mouth.
Goliath frowned at him in disapproval, "Those are extremely bad for you."
"Yes. I know."
Goliath's frown deepened while Lexington turned his head away to crack a smile.
Broadway, Goliath, Lexington, Malibu, Faith, Fang and Bronx were sitting in the back area of Demona's armoured van (although bus might be a better word for it) while Demona sat in the driver's seat with Jezebel beside her, arguing over the fastest way to Sudeny.
The vehicle was enormous; it was a sleek, heavily armoured double-decker bus, with a silver paint job and black, reflective glass windows.
There was a long couch along both walls on the bottom floor; each could hold five people in comfort although Broadway's rather large exterior was taking up the space it would take two humans to sit comfortably.
Faith, Mal and Fang sat opposite Lexington, Goliath and Broadway respectively, while Bronx lounged on the floor sleeping.
They hadn't gotten along terribly well while being stuck together for two days. There had been a lot of bickering about who's fault this really was, followed by a lot of yelling, threats and Faith going out of her way to put Fang down.
It had gotten so bad that Mal had to sit between the two of them to make sure Fang didn't get hurt.
"So Faith," said Lex, "Where'd you and Fang meet?"
Fang looked up from the book he was reading to try and beat Faith to the punch but she had been waiting for a chance to bash him some more.
"It was about twelve years ago," she began, "1987. It was the summer of love."
"No it wasn't," said Fang.
Faith looked at him coldly. "What?"
"We met in the fall!"
"No we didn't."
"Yes we did!"
"No we didn't!"
"Did!"
"Didn't!"
"Did!"
Mal stood up suddenly, his eyes almost flaring.
"For Christ's sake! Will you two please grow up! If I didn't know better I'd say you were frigging married!" He paced quickly to the small winding steps; " I'm going upstairs where it's a little quieter!"
Lex jumped out of his seat just a little too quickly, "I think I'll join you," he said, bounding after the clone.
"Um.I think I left something on in the oven," said Broadway, quickly following Lex.
Goliath rose to his feet. Fang and Faith stared at him.
"I don't like being near either of you," he said gruffly before heading upstairs.
Both Fang and Faith watched him go.
"What's his problem?" asked Faith.
"He's the second biggest asshole on Earth," replied Fang.
Faith looked at him, "And who's the first?"
"Your father."
The room echoed from the sound of a slap.
"Ow! What the fuck was that for?"
"Don't call my father an asshole!"
"But he was!"
There was another slap.
"Ow! Stop that!"
"Stop calling my dad an asshole!"
"Okay! Okay! He wasn't an asshole!"
"Thank you."
Faith and Fang sat in silence for several seconds before a smile crossed Fang's lips.
"He was a total bastard."
Jezebel rubbed her eyes tiredly as she handled the map while Demona drove.
There was a lot of yelling in the back, followed by a loud crash.
"If she breaks any of my equipment I'm holding you responsible," said Demona without taking her eyes off the road.
Jezebel looked at her, stunned, "Me?"
"Yes. You. Do you comprehend what I'm saying you senile old witch?"
Jezebel's mouth dropped open, "How dare you!" she yelled. "You're one to talk! You murderous hag!"
"HAG?!"
"Yes! Hag! You know? One of those hateful bitches that couldn't get a man if she tied him up first!"
Demona's eyes flared red, as she stared at the old lady menacingly, "I'll let that one go."
She paused for a moment, "But only that one. If you call me one more name you'll be meeting Macbeth very soon."
Jezebel stared at her icily before replying, "After this is all over Demona. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to hurt you very badly. And I am going to enjoy every second of it."
Demona snarled at her, "Do you really think that I fear death any longer you hateful old woman? Do you?" Her hands began shaking as she clutched the wheel a little too tightly. "I'm mortal again. I can die, but I'm not afraid of death any longer." She paused as she noticed the strange look Jezebel had on her face for just the briefest moment.
But she still saw it.
"What?" asked Demona, her voice suddenly filled with uncertainty, for what reason, she wasn't sure.
Jezebel said nothing; she only turned her head and stared straight ahead at the road.
"What?" repeated Demona. She was starting to feel very uncomfortable being near Macbeth's old servant.
-She knows something,- concluded Demona, -But what?-
"Jezebel? You haven't told me everything have you?"
Jezebel continued to stare at the road ahead.
"Have you?!"
Jezebel closed her eyes slowly, she appeared to be wrestling with her conscience for a brief period of time before she finally opened her eyes and looked into Demona's emerald green ones.
"No Demona. I have told you everything." She said with an air of finality that bluntly told Demona that she wasn't going to get anything more from her. With that said, Jezebel turned her head back to the road and continued staring straight ahead.
Demona frowned at her.
The old woman was lying.
But about what?
What the Hell wasn't she telling her?
Demona turned her attention back to the road, her frown never leaving her face.
She'd find out. Whatever it was, she'd find out what the old woman hadn't told her.
If not from her, then from one of those two fools in the back.
The big hill that overlooks Sudeny: 10 minutes later
Brooklyn looked over the small sea of lights that was Rincewald's hometown. He smiled slightly.
"It's beautiful," he muttered to himself before turning towards the group.
They were standing on a picnic area built onto a flat part of the enormous hill, which rose up in a ragged wall of sedimentary rock. It had started raining very heavily a few minutes ago, and the lot of them were thoroughly drenched.
Rincewald was standing by it, his "students" were several feet away, chatting excitedly between themselves, one of them still cradling Fuzzy in his arms. Riana was sitting at one of the picnic tables, away from them all, idly playing with her whip and kukri knife.
Furcifer was yelling very loudly at the Rincewald. Both of them were standing beside the wall of sediment.
"What the fuck do you mean you've forgotten?" screamed Furcifer, he was shaking all over and giving Rincewald very dangerous looks, "Those Inquisition bastards are heading into town right now!" He shook his fist at Rincewald in frustration.
Rincewald backed away slightly from Furcifer, trying not to flinch.
"Don't speak to me like that you.you.you." he suddenly gave up on whatever he was planning to say as his eyes lit up.
"Now I remember!" he yelled triumphantly.
Furcifer rolled his eyes as the Necromancer paced past him and placed his right hand against the wall.
"Open Sesame!" he yelled, his eyes and palm suddenly a disturbing shade of light green.
The rock suddenly began to shake violently as a huge vertical crack opened up in the wall, widening until a person could comfortably pass through it. Brooklyn could just make out a passageway in the darkness.
Then something hit him.
"Wait a second!" he said, turning to Riana, "Isn't that the exact same thing you made me say in Graz?"
The irritating woman was wearing the same outfit that Brooklyn had first met her in. Her black leather body glove and flak jacket, with the same assortment of weapons she carried before. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail.
She nodded without even turning to look at him.
Brooklyn heard Furcifer swear under his breath.
"You two are fucking ridiculous."
Brooklyn turned to look at Furcifer. The man or daemon or whatever the Hell he was appeared to be in an extremely bad mood. He was eyeing him in a way that made the gargoyle feel very uncomfortable. He pointed to the passageway into the rock.
"This week Brooklyn. If you please?"
Brooklyn frowned back at Furcifer before walking over to the entrance. He looked to Rincewald.
"What exactly is in there?" he asked.
"The Black Sun Staff," replied the Necromancer, "It can amplify a person's magical prowess a thousand fold."
"Really? What do I have to do to get my hands on it?"
"You must learn the true name of the daemon that resides inside," said Riana suddenly. "By learning the true name of a daemon, you gain dominion over it until it gets the upper hand."
"Then how come Iieo attacked me?" asked Brooklyn.
"The device which he had been bound to was destroyed. The reason that Inquisitor couldn't control Iieo was that he had not performed the summoning or the binding to a host body, nor did he know Iieo's true name," Riana answered patiently.
"Oh," replied Brooklyn. He turned his attention to the entranceway. "Sounds simple enough."
He heard Rincewald giggle behind him.
"The Conscience is the key Brooklyn," said Furcifer, pointing to the amber gemstone hanging around the gargoyle's neck, "Without that, you cannot enter, nor can you ever hope to succeed in getting the Staff."
He smiled at him, "Good luck."
Brooklyn nodded thanks and entered the passageway. It was pitch black after he got a few feet in, he fumbled in his pocket and produced a flashlight and clicked it on.
He was in a long passageway, perhaps fifteen meters in length; the walls were dusty, with disused fire lamps going down one wall. It was fairly narrow, just enough room for one person to walk down comfortably.
At the very end of the passageway, was a black door with a brass doorknob on it. Brooklyn pocketed the flashlight and approached it cautiously, drawing one of his Desert Eagle pistols in his right hand while keeping a firm grip on his staff in his left. When he reached it, he raised his foot to kick it in but stopped himself suddenly.
He slung his pistol back in its holster and tried the knob.
It turned, and the door slid open.
"Good thing I checked," he muttered to himself nervously, "It looked expensive."
He strode into the room, the door slamming behind him of its own accord, causing Brooklyn to jump and twirl around, pistol drawn and staff glowing pale blue, illuminating the room. Seeing that is was just the door, he sighed to himself and turned and regarded the interior.
He whistled in awe.
He stood in a five-sided room, in the centre of which, lay an altar of obsidian. The room was gigantic. He could barely see the two connecting walls opposite him. The walls and floor were made of black marble. A huge Pentecostal star, of gold, decorated the floor; the altar lay in the centre of this star. Brooklyn looked up to the ceiling, his jaw dropping open in the process.
He could see the sky. A clear night sky, light up by thousands of stars burning like beacons in the darkness.
He smiled slightly, "Cool."
~It is. Isn't it?~
Brooklyn reacted immediately, backing against the door and covering the entire room with his staff and pistol.
There was nothing.
~No need to be alarmed.~ said the voice.
Brooklyn frowned. The voice wasn't coming from any mouth. It was in his head.
"I take it you're the daemon that dwells in the Black Sun?"
~That is correct.~
Brooklyn strode up to the altar and examined what lay there.
Upon the altar was a staff. Two meters long, the shaft appeared to be made of obsidian. A human skull sat upon one end, jet black, with a black corona surrounding it. Upon the other end was a serrated spear tip. It was completely covered in daemonic runes, the shaft, the spear end, even the skull and its corona.
"Very nice. Very gothic."
~Why are you here?~
"I am here to learn your name."
~Why so?~
"So I can wield your power."
Brooklyn could have sworn he heard the staff chuckle.
~Many have tried before you gargoyle. All have failed.~
"I won't."
~So confident? Very well then.pick me up.~
Brooklyn set his own staff down upon the altar and holstered his pistol. Taking a deep breath, he reached out his hands and gripped the staff.
Gently he lifted it off the altar.
~The game is simple.~ said the staff, ~All you have to do is use the conscience around your neck and the Codicium, to guess my name, while holding onto me.~
Brooklyn frowned.
This sounded just a little too easy.
"And what exactly will you be doing while I guess your name?"
He a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach while he suddenly shivered.
He could feel the Daemon smile at him.
~This.~
Before Brooklyn could utter another word, he burst into flames.
To be continued.
Yay! Yet another part of the saga done! This one is actually half of one whole big fic, but it isn't totally finished just yet and I was afraid it might get a little too long if posted together. Once again huge thanks to Storyseeker for beta-reading and offering ideas! You rock! Also thanks to everyone who seems to like my crap. You guys rock too! The second half, "Battle," should be finished soon.
Until then.
Darkness