19 Revenant Rebellion

THE CITY OF MAGOG seemed different when they exited the safe house. They froze on the edge of the street, sensing something off. The sun was setting and long shadows stretched across the paving stones.

‘I don’t like it,’ whispered Zane. Oracle had gone a little way ahead, leading them to where she said Nanel was going to be.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Threadfin. They’d paused on a street corner, remaining hidden in the growing shadows.

Zane glanced at him with a worried frown. ‘What, can’t you see it?’

The streets were empty but for a few human slaves scurrying about. At first, he assumed it might be some sort of animal, maybe wargs or some such making that strange yowling noise, but he wasn’t certain. ‘You know, I’ve never seen a Nephilim city before meeting you, so I’ve no idea.’

Although he had to admit it was too quiet apart from the distant yowling. ‘Isn’t it normally like this of an evening then?’

‘Do you trust her?’ Zane asked in a hoarse whisper, with a pointed nod towards the third member of their little group.

‘Why do you ask?

She said nothing, and when Oracle glanced back at them, the former Aidari just waved at her to keep moving. They crossed the main street keeping a wary eye out for trouble, but as it usually happened, instead of finding any, it found them.

At first it was just the smell of smoke catching Threadfin’s attention, but soon enough it became a stink. Not long afterwards they spotted it billowing from an alleyway. Then they came across the first corpse, an Emim female by the looks of it, naked and lying half in and half out of a doorway. Nearby in the street they spotted two more, these small enough to be Horim.

‘Okay,’ Threadfin conceded, ‘now I’m starting to see it.’

Zane threw him an exasperated look. ‘I told you something wasn’t right, didn’t I?’

‘You know, nobody likes to hear an, “I told you so.” Especially delivered in that tone.’

She mumbled something under her breath, but said no more. No doubt it had been something complimentary.

One of the massive buildings burst into flames nearby, an explosion sprinkling masonry and glass out into the street. Whether by magic or some obscure Nephilim weapon, Threadfin couldn’t tell. Then another building caught fire, screams cutting through the twilight.

I get the distinct feeling, he thought, we should’ve left a little sooner. Things certainly did seem to be heating up.

Shouts and cries began to echo along with growls and what Threadfin could only describe as war cries. He’d heard those once before, and they gave him the shivers.

Human slaves, servants, and traders along with ordinary Nephilim of various sizes soon filled the streets, where a moment before they had been empty. They appeared to be trying to escape the inferno. Oracle helped their little group navigate the chaos, since her magical senses were far keener than either of theirs.

Then the real killing began. Warrior giants in armour, the likes of which Threadfin hadn’t seen in years, hacked into a fleeing knot of hapless victims. They didn’t seem to care who they slaughtered, human or Nephilim. It wasn’t about species it seemed, and all about sides.

As they kept to the shadows trying to find a way clear of the insanity, Zane grabbed him by the arm, pointing and shouting in his ear, which he believed quite unnecessary. ‘Look at them!’

At first, he didn’t know what she meant but once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it. Memories of a vicious, otherworldly, and undoubtedly evil Gog in the city of Byrsa resurfaced. These armoured Nephilim in Magog were no ordinary giants, no ordinary warriors. Something terrible had transformed them. Most of them had missing eyes, a dark liquid web having replaced them. Veins beneath any visible skin were black and pulsing.

An armoured Avim confronted them, his long double-jointed back legs bent in a reptilian nature. Translucent skin completed what Threadfin saw as a rather macabre ensemble. The giant swung its harog, a long staff-like weapon with a blade at one end and a mace at the other. Oracle appeared to freeze, as the weapon swung for Zane’s head, but Threadfin wasted no time.

He grabbed the Aidari woman using his magic, which was far quicker than doing it himself, and pulled her aside in time. Zane then retaliated, lashing out with her own spectralic powers, something he had not seen her do in years.

The Avim’s weapon arm erupted in a welter of blood, as though it exploded from the inside out. The giant stared at the spot where its arm used to be, its eyes going wide in horror before it let rip a hideous roar.

It was when he saw a dark mockery of the arm growing back that he knew they were out of options. At least, magical ones. I mean, seriously, he thought and not for the last time, what fool would be a bloody mage these days?

Threadfin grabbed the former Aidari and a staring Oracle, and shoved them down another alley. ‘Get moving, damn it!’

Another giant appeared, but this time Threadfin was ready as he sent a spear of viralic power to puncture through its armour and chest. The Rephaim dropped like a stone. Then the giant got back up, the edges of the hole through its chest knitting together in a dark weave.

Zane shoved in the door of one of the smaller houses, and Threadfin realised it was a dwelling for humans built into the larger Nephilim buildings. He hadn’t noticed them earlier. Inside were glowing lamps but no people.

‘They must’ve fled,’ he muttered casting about for another way out. ‘Can’t say I blame them. You know Raddhon is a bit overrated if you ask me. I won’t be recommending it at the next viral mage’s holiday meet.’

Behind him, Zane slammed the door shut and dropped an iron crossbar into its brackets. A tremendous wallop at the door followed, and the crossbar cracked.

‘Quickly,’ shouted Zane as she rejoined them, stabbing a finger at a set of stone stairs. ‘Climb!’

Threadfin and Oracle rushed after her, clambering upwards as fast as they could. The building was tall, but it wasn’t long before they were several stories high. Oracle and Threadfin had no issue with getting tired, at least not from running up a set of stairs, but Zane was soon puffing hard and starting to slow. There were several doors to other levels, but Zane chose none of them. She was headed for the rooftop.

They heard the door below splintering from a sharp blow, and a growling bellow followed them up.

They reached the roof, Zane stumbling out onto the flat surface, with Threadfin on her heels. He turned and grabbed Oracle’s arm, hauling her up.

Zane had fallen to her knees and rolled onto her back, breathing hard, dark brown face glistening with sweat. ‘What ... now?’ she managed between gulps of air.

Threadfin grinned at Oracle, before he said, ‘Oh, nothing much.’ He turned to the opening through which they’d just come, adding, ‘Just a little gift for our friends below.’ The sounds of pursuit were growing louder, and Threadfin paused another few seconds, letting them get higher. Then he raised both hands over the opening and touched his magic. Twins spiralling funnels of black power, twisted like cords of rope, sent shockwaves through the building beneath their feet.

Pieces of stone erupted onto the roof which had developed a nasty crack, and the viral mage staggered backwards, hands flapping at the dust.

Then he stepped forward to listen, head cocked. Nothing but silence greeted him. ‘Well, now, that didn’t turn out so bad.’

Zane was sitting up by this stage, glaring at him. ‘You must be kidding,’ she snapped. ‘We’re trapped on a rooftop, with hundreds of murderous giants beneath us.’

‘They’re called revenants; they used to be murderous giants when they were alive.’

‘Does it bloody matter what they’re called?’

Threadfin grimaced, realising she was right, but he was never one to give in. ‘Always look on the bright side of things, no matter how dark it might seem.’ Another mage law he should ... but no. He didn’t believe he’d see Nipper again, let alone get the poor blighter to write out another imperial law.

‘It’s not his fault,’ said Oracle, and Threadfin felt a warm fuzzy feeling, which he wasn’t accustomed to. Not every day someone bothered to defend him. It didn’t last though, as Oracle turned to him and said, ‘But she is right. We are in a difficult situation and there seems to be no way out.’

‘Huh,’ he said, leaving it at that. He’d always thought a person could get a lot of meaning into a ‘huh,’ when they needed to. Why was it always either his fault, or his job to get them out of fixes, anyway? Had Podral Pole been there, he was certain the man would’ve had an answer to that.

Damn it Pod, I wish you were here, blaming me for getting you into another sticky situation. It had always motivated him to get them out, saving his friend. He’d only realised that since Pole’s death. Looking at Zane, he realised he still had a reason.

‘There is but one way out of this,’ he said after a moment, listening to the echoing cries, growls, and clash of weapons far below in the streets. ‘Give me the Shathra Stone.’

Zane looked at him long and hard, before uttering a sigh. She dug into her cloak, and handed it to him.

He took it reverently in both hands and watched it grow, amazed as he always was when he looked at it. He felt Oracle staring at him.

Here he held the Spectrum of Existence, an impossibility made possible. Now that he was touching it, he didn’t think he could use it. The Shathra Stone was a piece of existence, and its use came at great cost. Too great, if he remembered correctly. Gog had found that out, and so had Liviana Avitus. To use it for mere revenants seemed a little foolhardy. If he was going to utilize its power, it had to be to stop Astra Dar, and ultimately Lucifer.

As it often happened, the decision was made for him in the end. Two revenants, both Avim, leapt onto their roof. Whether they had climbed up the sides or had taken a massive leap from the ground, he couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. Zane and Oracle both attacked with their respective magics, Oracle clutching her head as she attempted to blow one of them up. Unfortunately, whatever damage she did, they repaired themselves too quickly. You know, he considered, she doesn’t seem to be trying nearly hard enough these days.

Screams filled the streets of the city all around them, those of giants and humans as they succumbed to the dark forces of Tartaros. It seemed the rebellion was in full swing.

Another crack appeared at his feet as he watched the Avim advance. It widened and lengthened, and then the building shuddered with a life-like groan.

Before he could tuck the Shathra Stone safely inside his cloak, the building collapsed. Amid a roaring noise, the air filled with dust and rubble, he fell.

‡

In purgatory, the storm was upon them, wind whipping at Lorn with a stinging frenzy. The shraeds had vanished, no doubt trying to evade their pursuers.

She could see shapes in the maelstrom, formed from wind, dirt, and magic. The puddle of light she sought seemed not far off, and she was within reach of it when it also disappeared. The twins appeared at her side again.

‘Where is it?’ demanded Manic.

‘I don’t know!’ Lorn shouted over the sound of the storm.

Lightning struck close by, raising a fountain of dry red soil and bits of stones, one grazing her cheek. Her hand came away red and she stared at it in shock.

‘You may be dead,’ said Mania, ‘but here in purgatory your soul lives. He can destroy you here. The blood is an illusion of your mind.’

Lorn realised they could have abandoned her, but they hadn’t. She turned and faced the storm and the shadowy movements within. ‘We have no choice. We must fight.’

She still wore her twin daggers, the ones she’d once worn in the Styx. Her time in Tharaxis had taught her how to manifest objects from her life, and she was getting better at it. They didn’t vanish as easily as they once had.

Both shraeds wasted no time and attacked something moving within the storm. The winds swirled about them, and lightning struck, this time hurling Manic off his feet and leaving a scorched hole in the ground where he’d stood.

Mania sent a bolt of her own into the maelstrom and received a satisfying shriek for her trouble.

Lorn tried to shield her eyes with one arm, as grit flew into her face. Then figures emerged from the storm.

‡

The winds had died leaving Lorn and her shraed companions to face down half a dozen silvery shapes that barely resembled anything human. They seemed formed of light and darkness in some sort of twisted concoction.

No matter how strange they looked, they moved almost as fast as the lightning. One reached for Lorn with an appendage one could hardly call an arm, which was shaped like a blade at the end. It swiped at her, and she barely had the presence of mind to block it with her daggers. She was pleased to note her blades were both real and effective.

However, the blow sent her skidding backwards and it took all her control to keep her balance.

‘Stop thinking like one of the living,’ Manic shouted at her as he brandished the largest, baroque, and shiniest sword she’d ever seen, taking on three of the creatures by himself. ‘You are dead. You are a soul. Think like one!’

Mania sent fountains of dirt into the sky, the blackest of magic whipping across the others, driving them back. ‘Do not expect your body to act as it used to,’ she shouted. ‘It’s not real. You must force it to obey you.’

Her assailant was on her again in an instant, and Lorn had little time to recover, this time dodging and rolling, uncertain how to act on their advice. She was dead. Yes, she knew that. Yes, she was a soul. What did they mean?

Wait, she thought, wait, my body isn’t here. They’re right. I’m still thinking as though I’m alive. So much so that she could feel her thumping heart, which of course wasn’t possible.

When the creature struck again, this time she let it, letting go of all that she had once been, if not who. She knew his blade would go through her and not harm her, and that is exactly what happened. If such a fabricated creation could have been said to have looked surprised, then this one was in shock.

Lorn laughed. For the first time since dying she was enjoying herself. At least it made a break from the monotony of sitting and walking in a landscape barren of all but dirt.

Another swipe from the creature sent her sprawling and she realised she might have gotten a little ahead of herself. There was a lot she still needed to learn. Who knew being dead wasn’t simple?

Now there were two hunting her. They came at her so fast, she barely had time to react. She decided she was weightless, realising gravity had no effect on the dead. Why would it? She floated up and over them, and they flew past beneath her, swiping at nothing.

Lorn saw Mania destroy two of the lightning creatures, with a horrendous flailing of magic, which appeared to separate light, dirt, and energy from whatever magic held them together, disintegrating them.

Manic copied her, and it appeared the battle had turned. Daggers in hand, Lorn landed softly as her two assailants came at her one last time. She let them reach her and decided she was nothing but air, but that her daggers were soul-shards. She dropped to one knee as they reached out to tear her to pieces. Their blows passed through her, but her daggers stabbed into each of them. Their shrieks proved deafening, but she decided she didn’t want to hear them, and the sounds faded.

Rising, she glanced down at the daggers, both glowing softly.

‘My dear, I take it all back,’ said Manic as the twin shraeds rejoined her.

‘Take what back?’ asked Lorn turning with a wide grin, the first she’d had in a long time.

‘Why, all those things I’ve always said about you, and the even worse things I didn’t say.’

Her grin faded.

Mania reached out and touched Lorn’s face, but her hand passed through it. ‘You do learn quickly, my child.’

‘I’ve got two irritating mentors to thank for that.’

Manic’s face soured. ‘You see, I told you, sister, we are disparaged at every turn.’

‘Forlorn,’ added Mania.

‘Misunderstood.’

‘Forgotten.’

‘A pain in my ethereal backside,’ laughed Lorn.

She sheathed her blades, delighted with herself for once, and turned away. She began walking again, for there wasn’t much else to do in the no-place, but this time her steps had a purpose. At times, she didn’t walk but floated. After all, walking was for the living.

‘And where are you off to now?’ Mania demanded, while following her.

‘I know a way out, remember, and I’m betting it’s what you intended for me all along.’

Mania floated to her side with ease, although she was frowning heavily. ‘You weren’t meant to figure that out, not until the time was right.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘When we say it is,’ said Manic on her other side.

‘Not a good enough answer. I’m going to find that window, the one with no soul, and I’m getting out of this place. We can’t stay here. What just happened is proof of that. I mean, it can’t be any worse, can it?’

She realised the twins had gone silent, which was unusual for those two, and didn’t forebode anything good. Lorn kept moving, scanning for that one puddle of light which would be her escape. Good or bad, at least it would be something different.