The Destroyer of Worlds (10 page)

“My God,” said Ally. “I’m sorry. No one ever told me that your…that our family had been killed.”

“No one you know could have told you,” said Alastarius. “Arran Belphon was just a child, and I would not meet Conmager for another year.”

“Who killed them?” said Ally. “Why?”

“They had gathered at your father’s estate. For a feast. I was to have been there, but I was distracted. A winged demon had been seen in the countryside. Sir Liam Mastere and I rode out to find it.” His voice grew bitter. “It was a feint, and it kept me from your father’s estate long enough for Lord Marugon and King Goth-Mar-Dan to kill everyone there. A nurse hid you in a cupboard. But Marugon slaughtered the others.” 

“Why?” said Ally. “Why would Marugon do that? Did…did he want to keep your Prophecy from coming true?”

Alastarius shook his head. “No. I would not make that Prophecy until my dying breath, over nine years later. Marugon did not come to kill me, but to take revenge against me, to hurt me as badly as he felt I had hurt him.” 

“What did you do to Marugon?” said Ally. 

Alastarius sighed. “Nothing. Which was the problem. He felt that I had done nothing for him.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ally. “He’s just a man, like Arran always says. Why did he hate you so much?” 

Alastarius laughed.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Lord Marugon is many things, Ally, but he is most certainly not human.” 

###

Krastiny squeezed the trigger, and the dark man in the black cloak leapt aside, dodging behind a broken air handler. Schzeran’s shots clanged against the machine. 

“Behind the van!” yelled Krastiny. A bullet struck the ground at his feet, and Krastiny dodged behind the van, Schzeran at his heels. 

“Shit,” said Schzeran, staring at Bronsky’s corpse. “Shit. He owed me money yet. I mean, just…shit.” 

“Be silent,” said Krastiny in Russian. Hopefully the dark man did not know the language. 

“Who the hell is he?” said Schzeran, in Russian as well. 

“One of Ally Wester’s protectors, I would guess,” said Krastiny, checking his pockets. The van’s passenger door still stood open, and he crawled over, reached up, and snatched a second gun from the glove compartment. “Listen to me. He cannot see us from behind that machine, only hear us. I will charge him with both guns. He’ll hear the shots and think that both of us are attacking. With luck, he will expose himself. You must shoot him then.”

Schzeran blinked. “But won’t he kill you, boss?”

Krastiny smirked. “Then shoot him first. Understand?” 

Schzeran nodded. 

Krastiny climbed to his feet, joints aching, and ran out from behind the van, guns blazing. His bullets rang against the rusted air handler. The dark man leapt out, a pair of pistols in his fists. He leveled his weapons, and Krastiny’s stomach knotted in panic…

Schzeran’s first shot slammed into the dark man’s side, the second into his chest. Krastiny pivoted and fired three times into the dark man’s torso. 

The dark man staggered, clawed at the air, and collapsed into the snow. 

###

“Not human?” said Ally. 

“At least not entirely,” said Alastarius. “His material body is human, of course, as is at least part of his spirit. But only part. He is dominated, mind and body both, by the void.”

Ally watched the mists swirl through Castle Bastion’s ruined courtyard. “Then he is possessed?” 

“No,” said Alastarius. “Come closer. Let me show you.” 

Ally hesitated, and then stepped close to the Wizard’s specter. 

“This is one of the advantages of the spiritual realm,” said Alastarius. “For those who know how, the past can be viewed as if it were happening now. Take my hand.” 

Ally obeyed, and the old man’s hand felt strong and substantial. 

Alastarius muttered a spell, and he and Ally soared into the air, leaving Castle Bastion behind them, and shot away to the north. Ally watched the countryside as they flew past. The snow vanished, falling up into the sky, leaving behind trees with red and orange leaves. The leaves turned green, then shrank back into the trees as snow erupted from the earth.

Ally stared in wonder. “Are we going back in time?”

“No,” said Alastarius. “In a certain sense, we are going nowhere at all. The spiritual world contains echoes of all past events. We are viewing those echoes, you might say. And…now!”

The world melted, twisted, and reformed. 

She and Alastarius stood in a large hall built of black basalt and red granite. Rough-hewn pillars supported the roof, and slashed torn war banners dangled from the rafters. A current of icy power ran through the hall, and Ally felt the cold presence of black magic.

“What is this place?” said Ally, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“The Citadel of the Warlocks, in the city of Castamar, in the Year of the Councils 917,” said Alastarius. “Or 1957, on Earth.” He raised an arm and pointed. “Look.”

A massive obsidian altar rested against one wall, and a beautiful woman stood before the altar, clad in a robe of black silk and linen. Her dark hair streamed over her shoulders as she swayed back and forth, muttering a spell of the black magic. Shadows and black light sparked and writhed around her fingertips. 

“Who is that?” said Ally. 

“Adelemoch of Castamar,” said Alastarius, “one of the few female Warlocks who ever lived. And Marugon’s mother.” 

“His mother?” said Ally. 

“Watch,” said Alastarius.

Adelemoch arched her back and threw up her arms, shouting words of power. “Come forth. Come forth, great dark ones, princes of the void. I call to you! By my power, by my will, I summon you forth!” The floor shook, and dust fell from the ceiling. A pillar of darkness writhed over the altar. It widened, split open, and something hideous stepped out of the nothingness and into the world. 

Ally took a step back. Her eyes refused to focus on the monstrous thing, but it was tall and broad and huge, wrapped in shadow, its wings brushing the ceiling.

“That’s one of the children of the void, isn’t it?” said Ally. She remembered fleeing through the Tower of Endless Worlds with Lithon and Sir Liam, the nightmarish horde snapping and whispering at their heels. “She summoned a child of the void.”

Alastarius snorted. “Oh, more than just a child. That is one of the great princes of the voidspawn, a creature of madness and dark power. The children of the void you and Arran survived are as gnats next to this creature.”

Ally stared at Adelemoch. “What is she…”

Adelemoch slipped out of her robe, removing her clothing until she stood naked before the altar. Her pale body trembled with a strange mixture of lust and terror. She climbed onto the altar, lay back, and spread her legs. 

And as Ally watched, the hideous creature mounted Adelemoch. 

“Oh, God,” said Ally, taking a step back in sheer revulsion. Adelemoch’s shrieks and moans rang off the ceiling. “She summoned that thing to our world and let…and let it…”

“And that creature, that prince of the void,” said Alastarius, “is Marugon’s father.” 

“How?” said Ally. Adelemoch made a sound Ally never would have thought a human throat could produce. “How is that possible?” 

“Is it so hard to believe?” said Alastarius. “On Earth there are legends of succubae and incubi, demons that lie with mortal men and women. Adelemoch worshipped the children of the void and hoped to set them free.”

“Set them free?” said Ally. “They are imprisoned?”

“Yes,” said Alastarius. “The Tower of Endless Worlds imprisons them. Even a summoning as powerful as Adelemoch’s could only summon a prince of the void for a few hours at most. Now let us see what passes nine months from now.” He muttered a phrase and waved his hand. 

The hall waved, blurred, and snapped back into focus. Now a number of young men in black robes stood around the altar. Adelemoch lay sprawled on its surface, her stomach bulging with pregnancy. Sweat dripped down her pain-wracked face, and she groaned, her teeth grinding. 

“Adelemoch’s apprentices,” murmured Alastarius, gesturing at the young men.

“The birth goes ill,” said one of the men in a low voice.

“Aye,” said another apprentice. “It was as if she is birthing one of the winged kin.”

“Do not be foolish,” said the first apprentice. “A winged one would have devoured her from within. But the birth does go ill. Perhaps she is carrying the…child we have discussed.” 

“The Black Council itself will not approve,” said the apprentice.

Adelemoch’s shriek of agony cut off their discussion. Blood pooled over the altar’s surface, and the piercing cry of an infant filled the hall. Ally watched as one of the apprentices lifted a newborn boy, the umbilical cord still hanging from his stomach. 

“Mistress,” said one of the apprentices, kneeling besides Adelemoch. “The birth was successful.” 

Adelemoch moaned, her eyes turning glassy and distant. 

“She’s dying,” said Ally. 

“His name,” said Adelemoch, her voice a rasp. One of the apprentices cut the umbilical with a dagger and wrapped the infant in a blanket. “His name…” She laughed, her voice cracked and hideous. “He…is both mortal and spirit. He…he will be great…he will free them, he will free them all.” Her voice faded to a faint whisper. “He is the Lord of the Ugaoun…Marr’Ugaoun…Marr’Ugaoun…”

Adelemoch shuddered and went still. 

“What did the Mistress say?” said one of the apprentices. 

“I…am unsure,” said the apprentice holding the child. “I think…yes. His name.” He looked down at the baby. “His name is to be…Marugon.”

The child wailed. 

###

Arran lay on the cold ground, trying to keep still. His chest and stomach felt as if they had been pounded by giant boots, but the Kevlar vest had stopped the bullets. He watched through half-lidded eyes as the thin man approached him. 

“Krastiny,” said the thin man. “I think he’s still alive. Should we question the bastard?”

Krastiny, the short bald man, scowled. “I said to use Russian, idiot. No. Shoot him and let’s be on our way.” 

The tall man shrugged and grinned. “My pleasure, boss." 

Arran swung his leg up and kicked. His boot impacted into the tall man’s wrist, and the gun went flying. Arran rolled to his knees, raised both his pistols, and fired. The bullets shredded into the tall man’s shoulders and chest. He shrieked, staggered, and fell to his knees. 

Arran’s last shot blew off the top of his head. 

Arran surged to his feet, guns leveled, and found himself face to face with Krastiny. The short man held a pair of pistols pointed at Arran. 

They stood in silence for a moment, watching each other. 

“Well,” said Krastiny. “This is awkward.”

Arran dared not waste any time with this man. Could he shoot to kill before Krastiny reacted? 

“Ah, ah, ah,” said Krastiny, tightening his grip on the pistols. “I can shoot just as fast as you can. And that bulletproof vest won’t stop a bullet through the skull. So drop your weapons and we can be on our way.” 

“Only after you drop yours, old man,” said Arran. 

“Not likely.” Krastiny shook his head. “Why are you here? How could you have followed us?” 

“It’s beyond your understanding,” said Arran. If he fired and hit the old man’s hands, perhaps Krastiny could not fire back. “I’m here to save Ally.”

“Ally. The girl.” Something like a shadow crossed Krastiny’s face. “Goth has her.”

“Goth?” said Arran. “You mean King Goth-Mar-Dan.”

“He’ll kill you, if you get past me,” said Krastiny. 

“Perhaps,” said Arran, “but I care not.”

Krastiny laughed. “Even if you kill me, you still won’t get inside. That door is three inches thick. And you don’t know the code for the keypad.” 

“I don’t care,” said Arran, refusing to take the bait and look at the door. “I shall find a way in.”

A strange, almost pensive, expression flickered over Krastiny’s face. “Yes. Yes. Perhaps you would. I think you’re a more dangerous man than I am, whoever you are.” 

“You’re stalling.” said Arran. He had to get into that factory.

“Bronsky and Schzeran,” said Krastiny. “I’ve known them both for years. Yet you shot them without blinking, without flinching, without hesitating. Not many men can do that.”

“I care not.” Nevertheless Arran felt a twinge of guilt. King Septimus Stormrider had been right, even in the depths of his folly. Arran had become a hardened killer, a man who could murder without a second thought. He brushed aside his guilt, refusing to take his eyes from Krastiny.  “You’re a fool. You helped Goth-Mar-Dan abduct Ally. I killed them both, and I’ll kill you.”

Krastiny smiled. “No. I don’t think you will.” Krastiny swung his arms out to the side, turned his hands, and dropped his guns. 

The weapons hit the concrete with a clatter. 

“The code for the door’s lock is 3986,” said Krastiny. 

“I should kill you,” said Arran. 

“Probably.” Krastiny shrugged. “But you won’t. You have more important things to do.”

Arran lowered his guns, watching for any sign of treachery. “Why are you doing this?”

Krastiny chuckled. “I’m not entirely sure. I’ve killed more people than I can remember. But I never felt any guilt, until now. Not for any special virtue of the young lady, you understand. It’s just…”

“That Goth-Mar-Dan is a monster and a nightmare made flesh,” said Arran. “He is an abomination. And any man that has the tiniest shred of conscience will despise him.”

Krastiny closed his eyes. “Yes. I daresay that’s it. The door’s code is 3986. Remember that.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Besides, there’s several million dollars sitting in that van. I think I shall take it, retire, and live a life of decadent luxury.”

“I should kill you,” said Arran.

Krastiny walked towards the van. “You repeat yourself. And you won’t. You have better things to do. Kindly do me a favor and kill Goth-Mar-Dan. It won’t do to have him stalking me.”

Arran ignored the little man and ran across the yard. He heard the van start and pull away, its headlights sweeping across the street. The small steel door loomed before him, a black keypad built into its frame. Both the door and the keypad looked new. Arran squinted at the keypad, pecked in the numbers Krastiny had mentioned, and stepped back.