33 Meeting Volcanus

‘I’M GOING NOWHERE,’ Pole snapped, gritting his teeth as he stared down the approaching storm. He got that look whenever he felt stubborn, which was often.

‘One can take loyalty too far,’ Beezer noted. ‘You should do as he says, breather. A Darken should always obey.’

Threadfin snorted. ‘A bit late for that lesson, I think. Podral has always been a bit of a rebel in that regard.’

Pole just settled for a decent glare at the elder mage. ‘You think I’ll be safer inside there than out here?’ he demanded, jerking a thumb behind him at the strange building. ‘I’ve been around this stinkin’ magic long enough to know I’m safest with Fin.’

Well now, Threadfin thought. He’s never said that before. Wonder what’s gotten into him lately?

Beezer moved off to the right to hide behind one of the ancient columns, while Threadfin and his Darken retreated further up the steps. The five funnels neared the circular area, wind whipping up red dust and rock.

The storms quietened and the funnels dissipated. They couldn’t see anyone, and all went quiet, but Threadfin knew they were out there. There was a closeness to the air. It was the heat of angelic power, a force both foreign and exciting to a viral. It terrified him too, but there was no need to dwell on the negatives.

‘Pod,’ he whispered casually as they waited for whatever was coming next, ‘you do know you ceased being my Darken some time ago. I’m not a member of the Imperial Family anymore. Not officially anyhow. You don’t need to put yourself in danger. Not for me.’

Pole shot him a derisive look ‘You bring this up now? After I traipsed all this way to protect your bony ass? You know, you’ve got real timing issues, lad.’

‘All I mean is you can keep out of this one. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ve got a bad feeling. Things have changed between us.’

‘Not sure what you’re getting at.’

‘I think it happened around the time you became my closest friend.’

The man shifted uncomfortably, spat, and said nothing. Then, spat again.

Threadfin stared at him, perplexed. Can’t shut him up half the time, he thought. Now I’ve gone and said something bloody meaningful, and his tongue is in knots? ‘Look, all I’m saying is, I’d rather you didn’t die trying to protect me from something you can’t protect me from.’

‘Funny,’ his friend mumbled, ‘thought that was what I’ve been at all these years. You don’t think there’re many Darkens puttin’ up with magic flung at them left and right, do ya? Wasn’t in the job description, but I done it nonetheless.’

Threadfin smiled. ‘No, I don’t think there are any others like you. Most Darkens aren’t such a pain in a mage’s backside for one thing.’

Pole sniffed. ‘Just keep your head in it, coz here they come.’

The angels appeared walking leisurely towards the Necropolis. They kept a healthy distance apart. Most wore threadbare cloaks in dark colours with the hoods up, faces in shadow. Otherwise, they appeared unremarkable, if one didn’t take into consideration their wings. Folded, but visible, they each suggested an impressive span in a set of various hues of dark greens, blues, blacks, and browns.

The one in the centre walked nonchalantly through the columns and into the circle, wearing a long dark coat. His movements were slow, as though time were of no consequence. In fact, to Threadfin’s eyes, his footsteps appeared to slow time down. There could be no doubt as to his identity. Volcanus’ wings were also folded, their hue of deep browns with a glint of white.

Lowering his hood with an exaggerated slowness, the Amerae might’ve been some exotic visitor, someone passing through an ancient vista on his travels, he seemed so untroubled. He might’ve been.

But he wasn’t.

Tall at roughly seven feet, he had long black hair framing a stern face, but it was the eyes which held Threadfin’s attention. Like molten gold.

‘Should we kneel or something,’ whispered Pole in his ear.

‘No, Pod, we should not.’

‘Ya sure? This feels like a kneeling sort of moment.’

Threadfin decided not to grace that with a response, but he did notice Volcanus smile. To hear them at such a distance was uncanny and worrying. This was the First of the Angels not just of the Fallen, and his powers were unknown.

Those pale orbs pierced Threadfin, giving this visitor’s nonchalance a dangerous edge. Revising his thoughts, Threadfin realised he and his friends were the visitors. This was Volcanus’ home, after all, and we arrived without an invitation, not to mention that we’re unwelcome.

It was then the viral noticed a faint light entwining the angel’s hands, as though he’d captured twin stars and was keeping them from sight. The Despoiler had his magic ready then. With Threadfin’s current magical predicament, he didn’t hold out much hope for Beezer taking on this foe alone. In fact, he wished Beezer would step out into view. They could not win this fight.

The angels halted twenty paces from the Necropolis steps, well apart, the others a few paces behind their leader. Volcanus smiled again, and the effect was one of warmth and affection, but Threadfin never was one for smiles. Cold and frosty was how he preferred his enemies. At least then, he knew where he stood. The Grim had smiled, an awful lot now that he considered it. The worst ones always did.

‘You are looking for me?’ Volcanus asked, voice deep and rich, and somewhat hypnotic.

‘Hmm.’ Threadfin descended a few steps, and put a finger to his lips. ‘Well, we are looking for an ugly old bastard who got too high and mighty, putting all of existence in jeopardy, but you don’t fit the description I was given. You’re a lot more arrogant, I think.’ He heard Pole choking on a curse behind him. ‘You wouldn’t have seen anyone like that around by any chance?’

‘You are Threadfin Todralan, I take it.’

‘I go by Todder these days.’ Son of a ... he knows my bloody name? Virtue had told him he was known to the angels, but he hadn’t really believed it.

‘Yes, I have heard,’ said Volcanus looking amused.

‘And you are?’ I hope you’re ready, Beez, and it had better be good.

Volcanus’ smile broadened, giving no sign he wished to fight. ‘You already know my name, or you would not be here.’

‘Never heard of you.’

‘You almost had me in that alleyway. You are certainly persistent, and I would know why.’ The angels all lowered their hoods, revealing two males, and two females, all of them staring at Threadfin, and not a smile between them.

‘I wanted to explain things the first time,’ answered the viral, ‘but you never gave me a chance. No, you had to make me come all this way, and cost me a friend in the process.’ The heat of anger in Threadfin was rising, but it didn’t feel right. He tried to tamp it down, knowing Volcanus wasn’t one to tangle with. Besides, he’d come here for this angel’s help. So far, getting it seemed as impossible as ever.

‘Yes, I know of your companion, and you have my condolences.’ This was said with a voice suggesting he couldn’t have cared less. ‘Now, what are you doing in my realm, Threadfin Todralan.’

‘I told you, it’s Todder.’

The Despoiler raised both hands, the shining stars held within, growing brighter. ‘My patience isn’t limitless, undead one.’

Threadfin felt another stirring in his gut, as though he’d overeaten for lunch and was experiencing what breather’s called indigestion. Or what he imagined it was like. Pole had described it once after devouring a rather spicy meal involving Calamiri goulash and a bottle of Valtari red. Dammit, keep your focus you fool.

All he needed now was the Grim to ruin everything. Whatever Virtue had done to the Grim was failing. And where had she gotten off to anyway? It might’ve been easier had she been there to explain things for them. ‘I came for your help, Volcanus. I have a situation only you can resolve.’

‘You are unwell,’ suggested the Despoiler, as though the grinning bastard knew anything of a viral’s constitution. ‘I can see it in you. Not an infection, but something else.’ He stepped closer, eyes pinning Threadfin like a falcon spotting a rabbit. ‘And an angel has touched you in an attempt to hold it at bay. What is this?’

‘You are called the Despoiler and the Father of the Fallen, but I guess you’re not all knowing then. You know, I used to think you feathered lot were perfect. Divine is the word breathers use, isn’t it?’

There was a long pause, but the angel’s smile never slipped. ‘I have many names. Despoiler is among them, but hardly my favourite. You’ve known me most recently in my human form as Rajax, but here Volcanus will suffice.’ Threadfin realised this was a warning. So, he’s touchy about his name.

The angel continued, ‘I know a lot of things, but the Spectrum is vast and populated by all manner of existences. I cannot and do not know everything. Nor do I care to.’ This last was added in a wry tone.

Volcanus then growled low in his throat, glanced to his left, and raised both hands. A cry erupted from beyond the pillars. Two of the angels vanished in a whirlwind, but it wasn’t long before they returned.

Wrapped in light and air, they dragged Beezer with them, heels scraping over stone, arms motionless and rigid to his sides, shrivelled eyes popping from their dark hollows in fury.

‘Do not hurt him,’ Threadfin cried, descending a few steps, but halting with Pole’s grip on his arm. His friend’s warning came too late.

Ropes of burning light whipped from the Despoiler’s gauntleted arms, entwining both Threadfin and his friend. Their touch burned. Pole cried out while Threadfin just gritted his teeth against the pain. The viral collapsed to his knees, and his Darken toppled beside him.

Trussed up like chickens for a roast, and there was no escape.

Well, thought Threadfin. I guess it could’ve gone a lot worse

‡

THE CEREMONY WAS TO be held on a plain below the vampire city of Dis. There was one tunnel leading down to the place her dhampir guide called Gehenna. Quel was stingy with the details, and Myral guessed he was afraid to tell her anything else; he kept muttering about her needing to see it herself.

The tunnel mouth was located within a building, which she thought of as a vampire church, located not far from the feeding square. The first problem she noted was the place was mobbed with vampire church-goers. Was there a vampire god? She didn’t think they worshiped the Grim. He’d be too weak and pathetic for this lot, and she recalled that they had turned on him anyway.

There was one particularly elderly looking vampire with a third eye in its head. It held an unusual staff, metallic and twisted like the cords of tree roots. A flame of greenish-blue glowed at its tip.

Having an appetite for souls and flesh wasn’t enough. Now they had vampiric mages too?

Once again lost in a maze of alleys and intersections, Quel brought her to a squat building, one she thought of this time as a shop. It was one of the few buildings to possess an actual door made of wood. It was thick too, and she thought it could withstand a battering.

Once inside, the dhampir turned and locked it with a crossbar, and for the first time since her arrival, she began to feel safer. Not that being locked in with a dhampir was her first idea of safety, but it was an improvement.

Until she heard a growl behind her of course. ‘I knew you were a traitor,’ a deep voice said.

Myral whirled, feeling the blood drain from her as though a vampire was feeding on her. Quel turned into a quivering wreck. From the darkness, a glow formed as the speaker lit a torch. The flames revealed a dhampir, but not just any dhampir.

Corso.

Quel stammered and stuttered as he attempted to lie his way out of the predicament, but couldn’t get the words out. More of a squeak.

‘I’ve been watching you, Quel,’ said the dhampir lord. ‘You’ve disappointed me at every turn, and now I have the proof I need. You don’t think Wormwood will let you away with this do you? This is no small matter that I alone can take care of. This must go before him. Well, anything to say?’

Quel began to shake his head, and then changing his mind, decided to nod. Myral sighed in irritation, and took a step towards the dhampir lord. She was not about to do any blubbering or nodding. Either I live or I die. It’s not much different from my time as a zorast priestess. Same religious shittery, different lunatics.

‘You could have killed us both,’ she said, ‘or you could have captured us, since you’ve obviously been following us. It is clear to me you waited here so you could speak to me. Am I right?’

‘Ah, yes, the human female. Quite clever isn’t she, Quel? A treasure to be certain.’ He ignored her, and stared hard at the younger dhampir. ‘You didn’t think you let her escape all by yourself, did you? I let you do it, you idiot. I made certain no one would interfere too. You are a toad, Quel, but you have your uses, limited though they are. Had it gone wrong, you would have been the only one to blame. I—’

Myral stamped her foot, ready to slap Corso, not that it would have done her much good. ‘Enough! What do you want of me?’

His smile brought down the temperature in the small shop. ‘What everyone wants, priestess.’ Bastard knows everything about me it seems.

She turned to Quel, who looked up at her with fear-filled eyes. ‘Power,’ she whispered.

‘Of course,’ said Corso.

Myral turned back to the dhampir lord, trying to figure him out. ‘You want to take power from ... the vampires?’

‘I may be half a vampire, Miss Azarm, but I am still human enough to understand what they are. Beasts, vicious and unthinking. Dhampirs should become the new vampires. Human vampires, who will subjugate and rule this world without interference.’

‘You will fail,’ hissed Quel in what Myral thought was a rare moment of bravery. ‘Lord Wormwood is no fool. He will skin you alive, and then feed you to his lieutenants.’

Corso moved closer, but Quel managed to position himself behind Myral. Little idiot. Wasn’t like she was going to prove much of a shield now, was it?

‘They are not true vampires, Quel. We are the perfect amalgam of life and undeath. We do all their work for them, cater to their every whim. Without us they would flounder and fail. We are the foundation of their power, and I intend to tear down their house and rebuild. The rebellion is awakening.’

Myral couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You will destroy yourselves. I need not do anything, but wait. Don’t you see? Wither inherited his power over the vampires and Wormwood betrayed him. Now you intend to betray the vampires in turn. Who, I wonder, will betray you? You can’t help it. It’s in your nature and it will be your downfall.’

‘Ah, but you don’t know everything, Miss Azarm. Wormwood is not a vampire.’

Myral recalled seeing Wormwood when she was in the pit, and had noted how different he looked. She’d sort of figured that much out.

‘He is a fallen angel from eons ago. He controls them, but he cares nothing for them or us. Or you.’

What would an angel want with vampires? However, the answer came too quickly. He didn’t want them. He was using them. So, she wondered, what was this angel after?

Corso’s all too-human face screwed up in a spasm of anger. ‘I am offering you a truce. I know well who your benefactor is. Yes, I could kill you, but I would rather not incur the wrath of Adal. Yes, I know about him and his plot. I have been watching, listening, and soon I will take what is mine.’

Myral knew Corso was dangerous, but he was also predictable. ‘I have one task and it doesn’t include you,’ she said. ‘Do whatever you wish, but I will not help you rise to power instead of Wormwood. You wouldn’t be much better. There is just one who should control the vampires and their servants.’

‘Ah, yes, it all comes back to him. Once known by a different name, Gratalan Vanthyr. You think us clueless, mindless beasts, human? I was once like you, but they took me and, in my rebirth, I saw the entire history of the vampire race, of their long imprisonment beneath the earth. I learned of the one who freed them, only to imprison them again with his power. Do you think they thanked him for it? I may be half-vampire, but I feel their pain and anguish, their rage.’

‘Wither has the right, not you.’ She knew she was taking a huge risking challenging him, but she felt emboldened by the fact he wanted something from them. From her.

‘Has Quel not told you?’ At those words, Myral glanced at her companion, who cringed. ‘Ah,’ continued Corso, ‘indeed he has not. The ceremony will begin in moments, and your friend Wither will die. Wormwood also seeks what I do. Power.

‘You see, he has another agenda, and Wither’s magic will be of great use to him. He has travelled to different worlds with the vampires, but this place he seeks to reach is closed to him. He needs to enact a dangerous spell, which could destroy us all if it goes wrong. He needs Wither’s magic to power this spell. To open the way.’

‘The way to where?’

‘Elysium.’

She heard Quel gasp, but ignored him, saying, ‘Never heard of it.’

Corso shrugged. ‘Wormwood has a family grievance, and he will sacrifice Wither, and as many vampires as necessary, to attend a reunion. A bloody and death-filled event it will be. He will need to inhabit your friend’s body for a brief time, to utilize his power. Then he will open a vortex while destroying Wither. It is either your friend or the angel himself, and Wormwood has no intention of dying let me tell you.’

‘We’ll see about that.’ Myral grabbed Quel by the arm so quick and furious, the poor dhampir yelped. ‘We need to go, now.’

Corso laughed, but there was no mirth, just coldness. ‘And so, we have come to it. I met you both here, obviously because I did not wish to be seen. Wormwood cannot know my involvement until it is too late. Here is my offer, Myral Azarm, one which you cannot refuse.’

She paused, torn by the need to reach Wither, and the knowledge that if she did, she could do nothing to save him. ‘I’m listening.’

‘Both you and Quel will attend the ceremony. You can save your friend. I don’t care. All you need do is distract the angel once he has taken Wither’s body. Then, I will destroy Wormwood while he is at his most vulnerable. His soul must return to his own body you see.’

Slowly, he withdrew a blade from a sheath on his hip. ‘With this soul-shard, I will stab him as he returns and trap his soul, but this angel is dangerous. He is fast and deadly, and so you must capture his attention at the right moment. Then, with the portal already open, the vampires will enter the other world and go to their deaths. Those who remain, we dispatch. Your friend will be in a bad way, I’m afraid, but to have any chance of saving him, Wormwood needs to die. Now, do we have a deal? Time is running out, Azarm.’

‘And you can guarantee me that Wither will survive?’

‘You are not a child. You know there are no guarantees. What you will have is a chance. Nothing else. However, you cannot save him until after Wormwood’s soul leaves his body.’

‘You want me and Quel to distract Wormwood. This ceremony will not be unguarded. It’s suicide for both of us.’

Again, the dhampir lord shrugged. ‘A slim chance is better than none, isn’t it? What choice do you have in the end? What choice do any of us have?’

Myral tried to examine the situation from every angle, but she couldn’t see another way around it. If she refused, it was likely Corso would kill them both, and neither could stop him. After all, he would not risk Wormwood discovering his treachery.

‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice, knowing she spoke for both herself and Quel. ‘You have a deal.’