#7 – One Step Closer
By Robert Rock
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The flashing lights of the cruisers reflected off the blackened widows of closed shops and other businesses. Locals had gathered in the street to see what all the noise and bother was about. Several drunks from the local pub had poured themselves onto the street to jeer the bobby’s and cat call the detainees.
The sirens had mercifully been turned off; their echo within the close quarters of the alleyway had been deafening.
“Right, ya wee git, into the wagon.” Two Bobby’s tussled with Satyr trying to get him into the back of a paddy wagon.
The satyr, far more powerful than his small size belayed, gave them a real run for their money.
Other Bobby’s busied themselves collaring several foul mouthed fairies, a drugged out troll, and several sleazy looking humans.
One Bobby, exited the apartment building that the police activity centred on carrying several large bags of powered material.
Off to the side of the activity the police chief stood next to a rumpled man in a bad brown suit. His clip on tie was slightly askew, b ut at least his glass eye was in straight.
The two men took in the scene without speaking for a time, until the police chief turned and began to speak.
“Well Eccles, what can I say? Our department is in debt to
yours again. We couldn’t have gotten close enough to these types of people
to
break up this ring. At this point it looks to be the biggest haul of fairy dust
and powdered unicorn horn that we’ve busted since the Barrier went up. This
should put a major dent into the local trade in downtown
“It’s what we do Jamieson. You got my note on the matter my department’s looking into?”
“Yes, I’ve reviewed the file and I can dedicate some resources if that what you’re asking.”
“Lord no Jamieson, I don’t need to get any of your good people killed. What we need much more is information. Anything that crosses you desk that might even be remotely connected needs to get over to us right away.”
“Aye, will do Eccles. On that note, there was quite a
ruckus
in Parson’s Green the other day. A tussle between two people wielding powers
and a Troll, your people I assume.”
“That they were, they were retrieving some sensitive material that is pertinent to the case.”
“Fair enough, but what your people missed in their hasty retreat was another player entering the Green and killing the wounded troll .”
“Killing? A troll? By themselves?”
“Aye, by themselves. Nasty bloke, extremely violent confrontation from the report I’ve read. Might be someone to keep your eye on.”
Eccles was quite for a moment and processed what he ha d just heard from the chief of police.
“I believe I’ve been keeping an eye on that bloke for a while now already.” Eccles mumbled to himself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, I’ll expect a repor
t on
the troll incident and an others like that to begin flowing to the
The Chief turned to look where Eccles had pointed and saw several reporters rushing to the scene.
“Bloody hell,” the chief said and began moving to inte rcept the reporters.
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The werewolf flew through the air and crashed roughly against the wall. The combination of his weight and the speed and strength with which he was thrown left a large hole in the drywall.
The werewolf lay on the deeply carpeted floor slightly dazed and covered in drywall dust.
Mortigen crossed the room to stand above the werewolf. He looked down at him in complete disgust.
“Explain to me how the communiqué was lost again. This
time
please be sure to indicate you complete incompetence at the appropriate
places.”
In his anger Mortigen’s entire being began to glow with an unearthly light. His body seemed to have increased in ma
ss and
the term menacing didn’t seem and apt enough description.
The werewolf began to stammer out his response; unfortunately for him the response he choose only worsened the situation for him.
“I’m a full member of the tribe, you can’t treat me li ke this. The pack will reprimand you severely for the treatment I’m receiving here.”
The elegant black suit that Mortigen had wore bust at its seams. He reached down and picked up the werewolf with one hand. Holding it by the throat he lifted the werewolf off the ground and began to squeeze.
“Your pathetic little pack or tribe is insignificant t o me. You will all fall in line or you will all be crushed completely. Now again, who has my communiqué?”
The werewolf looked deeply into the eyes of Mortigen a
nd
realized that the leaders of his tribe had completely underestimated Mortig
en,
both his power and ambition. They all fell for the co-operative double spea
k he
had used and now
“I don’t know,” He said in defeat. “I was guiding the troll to the office as I had been instructed when I was hit from behind. I black out and when I came too, the troll was dead in the middle of the Green and the pouch was gone.”
“Thank you,” Mortigen said and a loud pop followed and he broke the neck of the werewolf. It s dead form began to side back onto the carpet already reverting to its human form .
Mortigen tore away the remains of his shirt and suit j acket that hung around his body. He cros sed the room and pressed a button on his desk.
“Javik, please have someone come clean and repair my o ffice, and I’ll need something suitable to wear.”
“Yes sir, right away.” The deep gravely voice of his assistant answered.
Mortigen stared at the crude beaten gold sun on his of
fice
wall and thought. This plan of action was proving to be more difficult than
he
had suspected. Locally, F.66 was snooping around and he was fairly certain
was
responsible for the snatch of his communiqué. Across
Both sources of irritation would have to be cleared so oner or later and Mortigen decided to go after what he considered the low hanging fruit.
Mortigen reached over and pressed the button on his de sk once more.
“Javik, get the Prime Minister on the phone for me ple ase.”
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Blood splatter against the alley wall in a pattern that could almost be describe as pretty, if not for the grisly way in which had gotten there. Pollack would have been jealous at the outcome of the gruesome combat.
Calm grew over the alley, the sole person still standi ng looked at the picture the blood made. He himself was covered in gore and was fairly torn up.
Littered around him were the remains of seven vampires . Portions of the vampires bodies had been turned to stone, that had slowed them down sufficiently to allow the killer to complete his work
They had been destroyed in a variety of manners during the course of the conflict. 3 had been staked, 2 had been beheaded, 1 had been killed herself attempting to flee and piercing their heart with a shattered box, and the last was killed in what could only be described as torn apart alive.
The fog of violence began to lift form John. Since acc
epting
the charge by the new Pope and taking the name Solomon Kane, he had cut a
bloody swath through the magical underbelly of
He was attempting to stop Mortigen and destabilize the magical community. Unfortunately, his hyper violent nature usually kept him from sparing one or two victims to be questioned. This meant that even thou gh he had built up a hefty death toll, he hadn’t gotten any closer to Mortigen or his inner circle.
He knew that probably wasn’t going to change and he ne eded to make contact with Eccles for help. He hoped the old man wouldn’t prove difficult as usual and they could work together.
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Alter wasn’t sure how long he had been hunting around the lower levels of the temple. He was tired, his hooves were killing him, he w as both thirsty and hungry, and if truth be told ready to give up.
He sat on a granite slab the angled up from the floor. He passed his torch around taking in his surroundings. The lower level looked as though no one had ever been down there. He was sure the Minos’s palace had nothing on this place. In amusement Alter wondered if he’d find the Minotaur soon.
As he sat a thought, he became increasingly sure that he had been this way before.
In stopping to rest though, he noticed something that had gotten past him the first time by here.
Against the far wall of what appeared to be a dead end the shadows seemed to move.
Alter got up from where he was sitting and moved towar d it area of pitch black. As he approached all of the other shadows flickered and changed shapes with the movement of his torch. This particular patch didn’t move or flicker, it staid a constant swirling mass of …….nothingness.
Alter was sure that if he had hair on the back of his thick neck that it would be standing on end. As it was, the mind numbing feeling of uneasy was urging he, (quite strongly), to run from this place and never lo ok back.
He now stood face to face with the churning blackness and he distinctly heard whispering voices. In all his very long life Alter was positive he had never been this unnerved (he couldn’t bring himself to admit scared).
The whispering grew louder and louder in pitch, the wo rds meant nothing to him but they had the rhythm of prayer or worship.
In a flash the blackness surged forward and engulfed A lter before he even had a chance to scream.
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Damian entered the school whistling a Robbie William’s tune to himself. Damian hadn’t heard it before, but darn catchy if he did say so himself.
His clothes were torn in places and he had some dried blood under his nose and at the corner of his mouth.
The fight had turned out much better than he thought it would. Dust’s body and power’s were perfect for his upcoming tasks. He’d ha ve to work on turning down Dust’s voice in his mind though, his screaming and mulling was wearing after awhile.
“Shut up Dust. The fight’s been over for ½ hour now, s top whimpering. In case you didn’t notice we won by the by.”
Dust was wheezing and trying to (metaphorically of cou rse) catch his breath.
“You crazy bastard, you could have got me killed. Do y ou know how many of them there were in their?”
“Dust it doesn’t matter, they don’t matter. They had n o powers; I could have whipped them out with a couple of thoughts if I was really concerned. How did such a puss get this much power?”
“My power level was never this high until the Barrier. I’d never bother to test the upper limits when they did increase. There never seemed to be any need to.”
Damian plopped himself down on a couch and flip on the telly.
“Dust what in god’s name do you think you’re doing?”
E
ccles
roared coming back in after his adventure in
“What do you mean Chief?” Damian responded.
Something was definitely not right. Eccles knew immedi ately that the whole demeanour of Dust had changed; it was in how he carried hims elf and the level of his gaze. Too many damn years as an investigator, to be fo oled like that.
Damian surmised what Eccles was thinking in the gap of silence. He acted immediately whipping out Eccles memory of the last few minutes and back filling it with his expected response.
He directed Eccles to his office and sat thinking.
“How on earth did you do that?” Dust demanded.
“Shut up Dust, I’m thinking.”
“No seriously, I though Eccles was going to kill us. I ’m supposed to be following up on some leads that were uncovered about Mortigen and I don’t have any report to give because of your, well hijacking my body .”
“What’s the issue you’re looking into?”
“A person
by the
name of Mortigen is seeking to unite the magical community in
Damian cackled loudly.
“You people are idiots. Do you really believe that altruistic claptrap? Give me a break a seven year old could see through tha t if they really thought about it for a minute. I’ve heard whispering of this Mortigen. I think I need to see him.”
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Alter came too in the complete darkness. He shook the cobwebs out of his head and tried to focus. He’d never been anywhere that w as completely devoid of light, it was beautiful in a way. True humans could ne ver appreciate total darkness, to much built up collective unconscious fear.
He got up and began to fumble around. The whispering p rayers he had heard from the other side were no almost deafeningly loud.
He moved gingerly toward the source hoping to end his search.
Very slowly, Alter realized that there was a tiny sour ce of light in the distance; both the voices and the light seemed to be in the sa me direction, which was seemed to be either a really good or really bad sign.< /p>
“Why have you come to this world demon?” A croaking vo ice asked?
“What? Who asks?”
“Your kind does not belong in this realm; leave now be fore it is too late for you.”
“Look pal, I don’t know how I got here, I’m not sure how to get back, and I’m on wild goose chase, that I’m pretty sure ends in my death. Kill me, help me or leave me alone.”
“Valour in your kind is rare, almost as rare as the ability to clearly see one’s situation. I choose to help, continue toward the light, take what you find there, but know that what you will do here seriously compromises the balance.”
“Fine what ever,” Alter began to walk away. He stops and turns toward the voice, “What, what do you mean the balance? And how the he ll to I get out of here when I’ve got it?”
There was no answer, and when Alter turned back toward the source of the light, he found that he was there. Before him glowing in almo st blinding light was the jewel that he had been searching for. He had expected many people to be around because of all the voices, but he realized that the jewel seemed to act like some kind of black hole for prayers. All prayers given in the name of Ra were filtering into the jewel and giving it strength. As he bent down to grasp the jewel it saw other sparks of light in the distance glowing in a variety of intensities.
As soon as he grasped the jewel there was a flash of light and he stood upon the enormous alabaster alter of Ra.
The ghostly form of Ra lay upon the alter waiting.
“Place the jewel in its place servant.” Ra commanded.
Alter bent forward and did as he was commanded. Reality seemed to tremble for a moment; everything around him seemed to move as if it were a mirage in the distant desert heat.
There was a horrible sound as if something was tearing at its seams, and a rush of wind.
The obelisk topped with electrum shone with dazzling l ight and Alter realized that he must have fallen at some point and was looking u p.
The strong, bearded face of Ra looked down on him from above. It was no longer semi-transparent. It was solid and it radiated like the sun itself.
“The heart of all great gods beat with blood servant, but that blood is never their own.” Ra pulled an ebony blade from his tunic. “Y our sacrifice seals my return to this world.”
Before he had a chance to scream the blade plunged dee ply into his heart. Blood spurt out of the wound and ran down the channels built into the side of the alabaster alter. The magic was complete and the one of the old gods had returned to the world within the barrier.
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Comments are always appreciated.
Rarock2002@yahoo.ca or Pendragons yahoo group.