Chapter 16
Hades…
Nathaniel Essex stalked the corridor leading to Nur's private chambers. Always silent, always thinking more than he was willing to let on, he was a living enigma. A vampire nearly three thousand years old, he had long ago cast aside anything resembling human emotion and had much practice in the arts of deception. He had much distaste for the latest development of Nur's yet was unable to devise a way around it. He pounded on the looming door in front of him and the door opened without a verbal warning from the other side.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Examining the room in it's meticulously kept gothic state; he noticed the shape of Nur through the black lace curtains on the balcony. His feet tread the stone floor silently and as he passed the iron framed bed, he noticed the portrait of Ororo above the hearth nearby. It disturbed him the obsession Nur had taken with her, though he could understand why. Nur's lust was driven by power through land, but Essex's interest was power through magik. "My Lord?"
"I trust the Shadow King is in place?" Nur said to the man behind him, his gaze not wavering from the north horizon.
Essex bowed slightly before replying. "Yes. The sisters were somewhat difficult to deal with, their loyalty unwavering towards the… wretch…"
"What did you do?"
Nathaniel couldn't help but sense that Nur wanted to know not from curiosity, but perversion. "The Blessed Mother is the only one left. It took the cries and wails of the dying to convince her that my way was best. That and I wasn't going to let her live to release their souls after all was done. It is intriguing the pity the living have on the spirits of the dead when it's all they've known for so long."
"Why didn't you remain?" his voice became gravelly, almost irritated. Even though a man of few words, Nur was adept at putting his distaste in his tone of voice.
"We can sense our own kind, my lord. It would not have been wise for me to stay. That and the Shadow King will return after all is said and done."
Accepting this answer, the dark lord move on. "Xavier has been dealt with?"
"He has been disposed of. After the King of Shadows had his way with his mind, I saw no more use out of him. We garnered all the information to put Ororo's friend out of commission; sadly, Dayspring eluded the same fate as the red haired witch."
"And now, Shadow King is where he belongs- the dungeon below Muir, awaiting our noble little friend." He almost became smug.
"Correct. And surprisingly quite pleased with the power inside the creature he inhabits in that forsaken pit." The detachment in Nathaniel's voice belied the irritation he felt. Nur's vendetta was a thorn in his side and a threat to the future he had mapped out. Vampires like Lebeau were nonexistent and Essex never had a chance to find out why or how the tortured man was able to remain just that- still a man. An immortal with mortal passions, feelings, and morals. What had he done wrong…?
"Nathaniel?"
"Yes my lord?"
"Dispose of his corpse tomorrow and that of the so called 'Blessed' Mother. I'd rather not wait for the King of Shadows to not show up on my door to know that something went awry. In the meantime, I'll make the last preparations for tomorrow's march to the Barbarian city of Travent."
"As you wish, sire."
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The creature before Remy was panting heavily, obviously under strain. Previously mindless as a wild dog, it now was at the mercy of the Shadow King though the beast was not taking it well inside its own head. He was more than delighted when Essex had revealed his host- such a powerful being was more than suitable for he, especially since creatures like this were so difficult to come by anymore: a Hell Hound.
Its form, just over 7 meters, was quite intimidating. Metal spikes ran down its spine having been embedded ages ago and not natural to its form. It walked the ground on four legs, each foot adorned with claws that curved down in points. 6 eyes dotted its face, glowing orange, and blinking in separate intervals, ensuring it could see at all times. The most terrifying feature was its jagged, 6- inch long teeth that filled its mouth.
Long ago, the Shadow King had a name. Over time, it became lost among the texts of the history of man, the few whose lips it had passed never spoke it again. Once a dark sorcerer, he bonded with darkness itself, his body becoming intangible and elusive as the shadows he dwelled among. Though no longer physical, he became more deadly, able to invade the minds of the unwary, and after using them for his own whims, discarding their bodies, leaving them mindless husks.
It had been a long time since he had haunted the halls of this Cathedral and it disgusted him to see the Sisters crusading to bring light to its dark passages. This was the only reason he agreed to assist Nur. He could care less about the small vampire in front of him but at the promise of restoring his stronghold to him, he would enjoy tearing this small man in half. Even though he would prefer to rip apart the man's mind, attacking the spirit was much more delicious. That and vampires' minds were fickle and impossible to control, considering the dual personalities of the human and the demon in one body.
"Remy… I have been wai…ting." He strained to form words out of a mouth that had never known language.
"Neh?" The vampire stepped back in defense, caught off guard by the creature's voice. The demon within him was thinking of nothing more than feasting but relented enough to gauge the situation.
"Forgive me. It is not easy forming words with this mouth. My host isn't being cooperative either." More puffs of air heaved from the animal.
"Who are you?"
"Who I am does not concern you." He began closing the distance between them, though his motions were slow and deliberate, the size of the stride more than made up for it. "I have a message for you. From Nur." He giggled slightly, crazed.
"Merde." Remy muttered under his breath. That bastard had finally found him.
The Shadow King grinned and Remy could make out the sharp teeth glinting in the glow of its eyes. "Unfortunately, it does not involve words." With that, he lunged at Remy, his teeth grazing the man's shoulder.
Remy rolled away, a sharp burn in his right shoulder. He put a hand to it and pulled away, feeling a familiar sticky wetness. Blood. Cursing inwardly, he dodged yet another attempted blow at his body. He had to think fast. This creature was four times his height, four times as fast, and obviously had more sharp teeth. The one advantage he did have was that whomever it was that was inside the creature was not used to the body of this hound and the size of it were inhibiting him in these close quarters.
Withdrawing his sword, he decided to find out if this creature could bleed anywhere other than it's neck.
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Mist enveloped Jean as she lay stretched out on a stone altar. She struggled to gain control of her body. She screamed in frustration, no sound coming from her lungs. Where am I?
She knew where she was, her mind. Where in it was another matter. She seemed to be floating in nothingness. A cloudy memory, with no tangible features. She heard nothing, felt nothing, and yet could not will anything to happen.
She relaxed and began to focus her mental energies. Something was very wrong. Somehow, Nathan's magik reacted with her own, some kind of feedback making her a prisoner of her own mind. I may be a prisoner of my own mind, but I am also the warden. she declared.
A burning sensation washed over her body as she centered her mind on freeing herself. Though intense, it felt healing. A bright orange flame washed over her body and she burst from the shell containing her.
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Just as the Shadow King pounced at him again, Remy slid underneath and stabbed the beast from underneath. The blasted thing had moved too quickly and his aim was off and all he ended up doing was injuring its back left leg, rather than its stomach like he intended. The animal landed less than gracefully and slid into the wall on the far side of the room. It rested there as the Shadow King reassessed his situation and regained control of his mental faculties. He was obviously struggling with his control over the animal and Remy gained a glimmer of hope in this.
Remy approached cautiously, wondering if it were possible such a small wound could have incapacitated the thing. His eyes remained focused on the glowing orange ones that stared unblinkingly on him. Out of the darkness, a clawed hand swatted at him and flung him into a wall of broken cell bars, his sword clattering across the room. One rusty bar stabbed right through his left shoulder and another through where a kidney used to be. An unearthly roar ripped itself from his body as the pain invaded him. His animalistic nature took over and he reached behind him, grasping the other bars and pushed himself off of the skewers.
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Jean rose from the altar in surprise and brought her hands up to her face. They were glowing intensely, ornamented with fire. Not uncommon for the astral body to take on attributes that do not exist in the physical realm, Jean was haunted by the intensity of the power that radiated from her. This was no mental creation. This was her.
She slid her legs off of the altar and with a wave of her hand, gave form to the air below her. She stepped forward and came in contact with an invisible wall and smiled. Her hands thrust forward, permeating the wall, and parted it. The result was a hole ripped through the magik fabric of it that allowed her to step through.
Stepping out of her prison was more than a breath of fresh air. It allowed her to know everything that happened up until her imprisonment. And she knew who was in her mind. She had heard about him before, warned you might say. Over the centuries, it was believed him dead. His timing couldn't have been worse or more obvious who he was working for. He picked the wrong mind to invade.
This was her mind and whoever dared trespass was going to pay dearly. Angry, she lashed out at her attacker with fiery talons.
"Amoul Farouk!" she hissed, "You die today!"
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The pain was agonizing and Remy coughed, blood coming up. Why could he never convince himself he didn't need air anymore? The remnant blood in his body left over from his last kill was seeping out, leaving him dizzy and unfocused. It was becoming harder to restrain himself. Would his humanity finally die here? Half of him wanted to die and give up, embrace the inevitable. The other half still clung to the memories of Ororo. Before he succumbed to his darker half, a vision appeared to him. An intense light illuminating the shape of a woman whose face was hidden by shadow. She called to him with no voice and extended a hand, beckoning him to join her. Then everything went black.
When Remy re-awoke seconds later, it was not him in his body, but rather the suppressed demon within him. It had been denied real blood too long and this wrestling match enraged it. Centuries it had fought with its host's soul, not allowed to partake in its carnal desires. Never in its damned existence had it believed it would receive such resistance from such a feeble animal as this man, Remy Lebeau.
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The Shadow King was wary. His hold on the red haired woman had been damaged and any attempts at regaining control were futile. In the millennia he had roamed the Earth, he had not encountered a mind as strong as hers. It was tricky ensnaring her in the first place, and he seized the perfect opportunity when she was bonded with the King of Ayden. Somehow, when he went to capture the King as well, a psychic weapon from the man had interrupted and almost purged him from Jean's mental psyche as well. Through sheer mental will he had dug his claws into her mind and remained, imprisoning her in her precious weak seconds in the aftermath.
Unlike Remy, he could see in the dark just fine. Now, he noticed a change in the wretch 6 yards to his left. Just minutes before he had swatted the pest away while trying to regain control of Jean and by the dark lady of luck, the vampire had become impaled on the bars of a damaged cell.
A psychic wave washed over his mind, attempting to purge him from the Hell Hound. The red-haired witch was loose and had gone on the offensive and… did she know his name? The burning… how could one so inexperienced overwhelm him in his own domain? The power was eating away at him!
As the demon hound writhed with Farouk's pain, the Shadow King initially took no notice of the vampire removing himself from the iron stakes. The change in his human victim's mental faculties caught his attention. The fear and self loathing completely left the man and were replaced with intense hatred, exhilaration, and hunger. Not for blood, but for death. The vampire's body stiffened and he picked himself off the floor, taking little notice to his gaping wounds. A drunken grin formed on his face and his eyes burned like hot coals.
With little effort, he reached behind himself and wrenched one of the broken cell bars free. Remy looked at the bar, and then at the Shadow King and then charged, the Shadow King helpless to stop him.
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As Jean ripped through Farouk's mind, she was disappointed at the caliber of her foe. Only through tricks did he manage to get a hold of her, yet she was not surprised considering it came from a man famed to lurk in shadow. She enjoyed his pain too much as she burned out his mind. It was in his last moments that she realized that the Shadow King's pain was not only mental. Something was physically attacking him which was impossible unless he inhabited a host as well. Was he really so foolish? she wondered, almost insulted at his underestimation. Cautiously, she extended herself to find who was finishing her work.
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The vampire demon brutally attacked the hound, releasing centuries of pent up rage, it was nothing short of savage. The hound wailed in equal anger and pain, still fixed in place by the dying Shadow King. The demon bludgeoned the creature savagely, breaking bones with every blow of the cold steel, enjoying its suffering. He had suffered long enough and it was time others experienced his same torment. With a final blow to its front legs, the demon creature collapsed with ragged breath.
Standing upon the back of the half dead animal, he dropped the rusty metal in satisfaction and screamed with joy for the first time in centuries. Never again would he be pent up like a common demon. Damn Remy and his soul, never again! With a sneer, he lunged at the creatures' neck and drained it.
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Jean watched in silence as Remy fed off of the Hell Hound. Strangely, she was not horrified but rather felt pity for the poor man. She knew not only from exploring his mind but from Ororo's memories that it was not him that had brutally savaged the animal but that he was shut off, overwhelmed by his dark side. Her ghostly form floated over to him and he looked up in surprise, eyes burning with rage through brown strands of hair, and hissed at her.
"Remy." She beckoned.
Remy smiled, black blood dripping down his chin. "Remy's gone," he said, turning back to continue feeding.
"You are lying." This vile thing in him disgusted her with its lies.
The vampire's eyes narrowed and it leered menacingly at her. "Who the hell are you?"
"I am Phoenix. And you are going back where you belong." With a wave of her hands, a fiery bird flew from her fingertips and dove into Remy's body, the flames freeing him from underneath the crushing hatred of the demon that had overtaken his senses. She ignored the blasphemies coming from the scorned evil's mind as it lost control to Remy and once more became the slave.
A smile touched Jean's lips as peace rested over Remy for the time being. She was becoming exhausted from her new awakening but had one more task before she returned to her rightful place.
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"Moira." A woman's voice echoed in the dark dungeon chamber to the Blessed Mother's ears.
"Bright Lady?" Moira looked up, eyes red and tears streaming down her face. Her brown hair was disheveled. She shielded her eyes as she bowed at the site of the golden shadow before her. The light almost washed out all details of the Great Faerie. "Have you come to release me?"
"No, my child. You have much to do, but your time is short if you do not act now."
"You must abandon this temple until peace settles on the land again. I have spared the man beyond this door as he is sacred to me. You will deliver him to Nymon and inform the King there that I wish for him to accompany the Queen of Elden and King of Ayden on their journey."
"My lady, what of the spirits of your children slain here?"
"They can wait, my child. If you spend too much time on the dead, there will be no more time for the living."
"As you wish my lady." Moira bowed lower, a lump in her throat, her heart aching.
"I sense heaviness in your heart, Blessed Mother. Know that there was nothing you could do and all will be forgiven if you complete this task for me. Go now, and know that my light shines upon you, child." The Great Faerie faded from sight, leaving Moira with renewed purpose.
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As she returned to her body across the forest, Jean prayed for forgiveness from Tania for her blasphemous charade. Immediately, peace settled over her. She wondered if she felt peace after her prayer out of habit or if perhaps, she had actually done the will of the Great Faerie.