Chapter 28
Shadows Fade followed Dust, the Wanting Man, the herald of the only god who didn’t want to kill her people, out the small storage room and through the dark temple. With Omnis’ Collar removed he ran more freely and she no longer had to check her speed at every turn.
Just most of them…
Shadows Fade had expected more from him. She got the feeling that most people did. He was strong, sure, had impressive recovery abilities and a mind for fighting but he’d barely survived fighting a few dozen dark spirits. Even she and Godly Claw would have fared better. Someone infused with Resistance’s favour should be capable of more.
But then, the difficulty may have come in who was supporting him. Or not, as it happened. It was very possible Dust had formed a plan that relied on Eleanor Naismith and been caught by surprise when she froze. For now, the warrior would believe that had been the case.
So he was slower than he should be, more damaged and gnarled. At least he showed no fear. That she liked. And he was now leading her through the temple, taking them straight to the acrid scent of the ritual, so his extra senses had returned. Most importantly, he would not be a drag in the coming fight and would not hesitate as he had when that Soulless had attacked them.
Shadows Fade snarled to herself, quiet enough that Dust would not hear; she was furious at letting something like that surprise her. She’d been too cocky after capturing that bandit alive, hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings. If she had, she might have felt his presence, masked though it was by artefacts; she certainly wouldn’t have let it wrap its cold, pale arms around her, or had to fake her death.
Soullesses were rare though; most people, white or otherwise, were too squeamish to give themselves over to the Old Gods and turned to magic for power instead. That Soulless had used artefacts to supplement his abilities but was still powerful. In fact, its willingness to use artefacts showed a self-awareness and lack of arrogance that made it very dangerous.
It must be the one pulling the strings in this cult, the real power behind it. That was how these collectives organised themselves, keeping their most powerful members hidden to avoid opportunistic ire from every other dark spirit. It would usually take something extraordinary to pull something like that from its hole.
Something like the Wanting Man.
Shadows Fade realised a flaw in her logic about the Wanting Man; she hadn’t given herself to Resistance, had been too ‘ squeamish’… but The Wanting Man had, albeit in a different way to the Soulless. Perhaps, she thought, she should praise him for that bravery. He was not called The Wanting Man for nothing.
They were soon at the kitchen area, a series of tables and pits that stank of human flesh. Shadows Fade looked up and whistled, knowing that it was unlikely anyone would hear, and Godly Claw appeared over a pothole in the ceiling as expected. It was the first time they’d seen each other since their ‘death’; Godly Claw always took a while to reappear after the spell and usually it was some distance away, as though the winds of magic had blown her like a fallen leaf. She knew Shadows Fade well enough to come to the temple and the warrior knew her Spirit Wolf would be drawn by the magic escaping those vents.
“Claw of the Gods is alive,” Dust said. He seemed glad of this.
“Godly Claw,” she said. It was annoying that Eleanor Naismith had garbled her Spirit Wolf’s name so much but only to be expected from an amateur.
He frowned, then nodded. “Godly Claw.”
The Spirit Wolf barked then jumped down into Shadows Fade’s arms. Being mostly willpower, she weighed little and was easily caught.
When they touched again, reconnected, Shadows Fade closed her eyes and took in a hitched breath; the biggest drawback of faking her death was the sharp disconnection between her and Godly Claw, an emotional ache that hurt more than a real death could. The Spirit Wolf felt it too so they remained entangled in each other.
In the embrace, Godly Claw told her that many dark spirits had stirred following Dust’s fight in Crucifix. She did not know if they had retreated at seeing Dust captured as she had concentrated on hiding from them. Shadows Fade hoped they had slunk back to their holes for Father Kilkenny’s sake. The Spirit Wolf also gave her a rough layout of the temple, showing that they were maybe half a mile from the entrance in the valley. That information, and the knowledge of some of the other potential exits, might come in useful later. But what mattered most was that she was here, with her.
“We’re close,” Dust said after a polite length of time.
“We are,” Shadows Fade said, opening her eyes. She wiped her tears on her shoulder, unashamed of her emotions but needing clear vision.
Dust waited for Shadows Fade to put Godly Claw down. Then they ran to a solid iron door set into a corridor opposite the one they’d entered through. The drone and moans of an orgy filtered through the door jam, as did the bitter scent of cast-off magic. This close, she could tell the ritual was a powerful conversion spell, far stronger than she had expected it to be; with what she had tasted before, she had assumed the ritual was happening out in the open, not hidden away. What exactly were they doing to this Penelope Chalmers?
“One narrow entrance into a room full of cultists,” Dust said.
“It won’t be an easy fight.”
“No,” he admitted. “We take Penelope alive if we can, though; I can draw the corruption out of her but only if she survives.”
She didn’t know he could do that. Resistance was glorious, a constant surprise. And she was arrogant and premature to have judged Dust’s worth. “I’ll take her alive,” she agreed. “You go for the Soulless.”
He didn’t need to work out who she referred to. “If you’ll do the honours?” Dust asked, nodding toward the door.
“Open it?”
“Please.”
Shadows Fade stepped up and gripped the door tightly. It was, of course, locked. She would need her full strength to pry it open. She looked to Dust to let him know she was ready and he drew his gun, the magical one with spells powered by his own Soul Waters, and held it in both hands. Then he grinned.
“See you on the other side.”
Shadows Fade smiled back then pulled at the door. Her muscles flexed then took power from her tattoos, generating more and more strength, warming as the magic flowed through them. The symbols on her biceps and shoulders were small pockets of fire by the time the lock gave way and the door came open with the horrible sound of wrenching metal. Its sudden surrender made her stumble back and crash against the other side of the corridor.
Dust charged down the stairs and into the ceremony. Shadows Fade didn’t follow; her arms had to recover before any fighting. Godly Claw waited beside her, impatient to sink her teeth into evil flesh but understanding the delay.
The roar of Dust’s magical gun echoed up the stairs. It was not as loud as the warrior might have expected; the ritual chamber must be quite large. Screams punctuated his attacks and the flow of magic was stunted as the revellers died or halted their fornication.
When her arms felt normal again, only a few seconds after Dust had started the fight, Shadows Fade ran down to join him, drawing her knives as she went. Godly Claw kept pace behind her, eager, ready.
The steep stairs beyond the iron door ended in a wide, tall chamber designed for the most powerful and depraved rituals That Which Sins could request; ancient channelling spells and fortifying runes were worked into the ceiling and floor and multiple altars were placed at magically-significant points of the semi-sphere, though most were hidden by near-darkness. At the centre of the room was the main altar and hundreds of candles which hung in an ornate frame and dimly lit the place.
Centuries of That Which Sins’ taint made the air bitter, as did the scent of sexual activity. This was a temple not just to the Old God but to her people’s historic mistakes.
There had been more than two dozen cultists taking part in the ritual before Dust had attacked, stick-thin men, women and children with dark spirits supporting or engaging with them. Most were naked but some still wore their robes. A few were so lost in themselves and their activities that they hadn’t noticed Dust’s interruption; those who had but didn’t die in the opening assault had retreated to the central altar.
The Soulless was by the entrance, crouched over and gripping its face. The stone behind its head was singed and a chunk of the flesh from its shoulder was missing. She smelled a protection spell over it; it was likely recovering from being caught unaware by The Wanting Man. Dust knew it joining the fight suddenly was a risk as he cast the occasional glance back at it.
The present danger came from the cultists huddled around an obese witch who had cast protective magic over them. Dust traded shots with them across the chamber; he firing his weapon and they throwing spells. Dust’s bullets often overcame the witch’s defences and pierced through the cultist’s ranks and he easily batted away their counter-attacks with the magic gun between shots. Shadows Fade was impressed at how useful the artefact could be.
Behind the obese witch, a young girl masturbated on the altar. From her placement at the centre of the room, it to be Penelope Chalmers. It was there Shadows Fade would head. She told Godly Claw this and raced to save her.
Some cultists saw her and Godly Claw approaching and turned to this new threat; the dark spirits amongst them were pushed to the front and urged to fight, two of them great lumps of flesh with chains around their necks and the third a pale pink form with multiple genitals. Shadows Fade supposed that they had names, classifications, but had resisted learning them as giving them names gave them power.
Whatever they call themselves, the dark spirits charged the warrior. The two powerful forms flanked and tried to grab Shadows Fade; each received a knife to the skull in return.
Godly Claw jumped and tore into the nearest one’s throat, taking a great lump of black flesh with her as she leapt away. Already their ranks dwindled. The other still had enough control over itself to punch at Shadows Fade, a blow she ignored.
But she shouldn’t have ignored it. That little girl, the biting, abused child, had ruined her defences; her impact-reducing tattoo had been compromised by tiny teeth marks. She would feel the full force of the blow.
The great fist winded her, bruised her ribs. She doubled over and fell to her knees, unable to breathe. Godly Claw saw this and used Shadows Fade to leap onto the dark spirit’s broad chest. Her claws extended into talons when she landed, piercing the creature. Then, with all her strength, the Spirit Wolf arched her back and tore the talons down the spirit, killing it.
Godly Claw’s intervention was welcome but didn’t save Shadows Fade any pain or embarrassment. Though it wasn’t his fault, she blamed the Wanting Man for her failures in these fights; Shadows Fade wanted to prove not just to him but to Resistance that she was worthy, doing the right thing and she was trying too hard.
No, it was more than that; she wanted what she thought she could get from them too much. Right from their first meeting, she had hoped they might combine to rally her band, even her people, into taking back their lands. And that meant she didn’t exercise her usual caution, had been delighted at capturing the Mexican alive, and had paid the price both times.
She stood and forced air into her lungs with quivering chest muscles. She would not make the same mistake again; serving Resistance, not trying to get him to serve her, was the only thing she should care about.
Godly Claw had fended off each spell the cultist fired at Shadows Fade whilst she was down and the strain showed in her slow movements and whimpering. The pink genital monster saw the wolf was momentarily weak and tried to take advantage, bore down on her. Shadows Fade sprinted forward and gutted the dark spirit with two swift slices before it got the chance. Its pink guts fell to the floor. With a roar, she sank her knives into its malformed head and ended it.
Looking back, she saw the Soulless was still recovering. If Penelope Chalmers weren’t their priority, she would have charged him, finished him if she could. But she had her role in this fight and would not disappoint as Eleanor Naismith had.
“Stop being so pathetic and kill her,” the witch shrieked.
At her order they split their attentions, half focussing on Shadows Fade instead of Dust. A hail of dark magic came at her. She dodged many of the attacks, knowing the strange arcs and curves of magic intimately, and those she couldn’t avoid fizzled harmlessly against her tattoos for now.
Godly Claw growled, raced ahead then dove into the pack. The obese witch’s spell fought against her for a moment but the cultist’s will was lower than Shadows Fade’s and the Spirit Wolf passed through. She then went for the weakest cultist to sew panic among the herd; her blue razor teeth sank into a child’s stomach and tore intestines free from his flesh.
As planned, the cultists scattered, panicking. Shadows Fade cut down those who raced towards her, slicing through throats and guts. Two of them had unusual magical scents, a heady yet familiar aroma that promised dark pleasures; she chased after them in particular and made sure they got no further, whatever they were.
The warrior realised her death toll had risen to double figures for today but gave it no more thought than that; these weren’t people. People don’t give in to the Old Gods.
The destruction of what had counted for her left flank got the obese witch’s attention; she hissed at them and started to gather her powers for an assault.
“Defend my back,” Shadows Fade thought to Godly Claw.
The Spirit Wolf raced out of the cultist’s sphere, passing through the defensive spell with ease this time, and stood ready behind the warrior. It was a shame to lose the advantage of being in their ranks but they would fight better together, back-to-back.
Free to concentrate ahead of her, Shadows Fade roared a challenge and ran at the gross cultist. An artefact lodged in the witch’s nipple like a thorn finally answered her prayers and frighteningly-potent magic appeared around her arm. It formed a whip and she screeched as she lashed out, the dark energy crackling as it came.
Shadows Fade’s tattoos couldn’t deflect magic fed by an artefact that powerful. So she ducked, the power passing over her dark hair by an inch. The whip snapped back at her instantly, surprising Shadows Fade. She dropped to the floor to avoid losing her shoulder. It wouldn’t let up either; the warrior rolled over twice to avoid more assaults and then pushed herself into the air to avoid a sweep.
An elder male cultist tried to take this opportunity to finish Shadows Fade, peeling off from the crowd losing the fight against Dust. Her strength tattoo flared as she propelled herself into the air and land back on her feet. When standing, she knocked the opportunist into the incoming whip with her shoulder. The dark magic passed right through him, separating both his arm and his lower half from the rest of his body. His flesh fell in a sad, quivering pile.
Behind her, Godly Claw ripped apart someone else who tried to sneak up on her. Shadows Fade smiled.
The whip came at her in this moment of distraction. She flipped back, losing an inch of hair to the destruction, and landed so close to Godly Claw that her calf touched the wolf’s soft fur.
That fat mess of a witch waved the magic above her head, laughed and said “You stupid red-flesh whore, I will destroy you and then fuck your corpse until nothing is left.”
Shadows Fade growled. She’d never understood why her people were called red but it was a term of hatred and the venom raised her ire.
Godly Claw was then hit by dark magic and it ripped through the warrior too, sending a howl of agony through her head. Shadows Fade risked a glance behind her and saw the Spirit Wolf on her haunches, the blue of her flesh momentarily black. She would have intervened but the obese witch attacked, forcing her to throw herself aside to avoid being cut in two.
Shadows Fade had to get in close to finish this. Diving forward, she avoided a shoulder-height lash and scrambled into the magical barrier, her tattoos overcoming the magic with a moment of uncomfortable static. The witch screamed again and tried to cut her down but it was harder to control something whip-like at close range; Shadows Fade didn’t need to throw herself around to avoid the frantic counter-attacks. So she advanced with ease and menace, inevitable as death.
The witch stepped back, tried to keep the distance between them. She was no fighter, though, wasn’t aware of her surroundings, and slipped on the stream of mucus dripping from the altar Penelope still touched herself upon. Her great form fell with a crash, the whip flailing and cutting down two of her order.
Shadows Fade dived forward and fell upon the fallen mass. She grabbed the tooth in that immense breast, the artefact tingling with indignation at being touched by the follower of another god, and ripped it out. The witch screamed and the dark whip around her arm faded.
“You bitch, I will destroy you! I will crush your-”
Shadows Fade thrust her knives into the witch’s head, killing her instantly. When she took the blades back out, the witch’s blood poured out onto the floor. Given the size of her, there would be a lot.
Standing, she took in the battlefield. The cultists were dead, the last of them killed by Dust or Godly Claw whilst the warrior finished her own opponent; dozens of corpses spread across the chamber to make a killing floor. She noticed for the first time what the Wanting Man’s gun had done to these people; their wounds were burned solid and they had died with agony racking their faces. It was a worse death than Godly Claw could visit upon someone.
Speaking of the Spirit Wolf, much of her flank was missing and the left side of her head was black from the horrible magic that had racked them both. She asked whether Godly Claw was okay and got a brave response. If Shadows Fade was any judge, it would take her at least a week to recover.
The Soulless roared, a deep tone that shook the chamber and broke the moment of peace. It stood up, whole again, and dropped the protection around it. “That Which Sins must have planned this. She must have. Nonetheless, you will pay, Wanted Man. You will pay. YOU WILL PAY!”
“Look after Penelope,” Dust said. He faced the Soulless, his weapon smoking, knowing that the biggest danger was still to come. “Keep her safe until I can see to her.”
“I will,” Shadows Fade replied.
The Soulless stepped forward, clicked its knuckles. “Try while you can. I will deal with you shortly, Indian. First, though, I’ll break your god’s champion.”