The Dark Path Read online

  Approaching the podium, Vain suddenly sensed the tight grip of trepidation. A strange sensation, alien to the assassin, began to course through his veins, and it took a moment before he realized what it was.

  Fear.

  Not fear of death, nor even fear for his immortal soul. Simply fear, pure and undiluted from the depths of his very being. Every instinct in him screamed to flee from the room, to remove himself from the source of his fear, but he gritted his teeth and forced his feet in the direction of the pillar and the object it held.

  By the time he reached the centre of the room and looked at the object of his quest, his knees were visibly shaking and his hand trembled uncontrollably as he reached towards his prize.

  On the pillar sat a small, circular piece of flat metal, similar to a large coin, except that it bore irregular edges and the metal, if it were indeed metal, was pure black. How it had glinted in the near darkness eluded Vain, for the disc seemed to absorb what little light lingered. The assassin gazed back at the doorway and saw the old woman, Xamiel, still standing there, cackling to herself at his discomfort. The notion sparked Vain’s anger, and he quickly turned back to the pillar and snatched up the amulet in his right fist.

  Pain exploded through Vain’s entire being and he cried out. Flames of torment flowed freely through his system and he felt himself being torn apart, cell by cell, atom by atom. The Dark Man fell to his knees and tried to drop the Glimloche, but it burrowed into the palm of his hand, like a crab digging into the sand.

  Vain tore desperately with his left hand at the piece of metal, but soon it had tunneled too far under his skin, and he could feel it clawing its way beneath his flesh towards his shoulder. The skin of his hand closed over and instantly healed itself.

  When the Glimloche reached his shoulder, Vain experienced a new pain, much more intense than the original. Between screams, he noticed the skin of his upper chest swirling and puckering, the Glimloche twisting end over end towards his heart. He fell to the floor on his back and raked uselessly at his skin with his fingernails.

  After an eternity of anguish, the amulet finally made its way to Vain’s heart. The pain burned so severely now that he wondered how he remained conscious, until he recalled that for all intents and purposes he was already dead, this torture being suffered only by his soul.

  If he still had one.

  Strangely, this thought seemed to bolster the assassin, and he clutched grimly to what little sanity remained in him. He tried to dull the pain through sheer willpower. If anything this appeared to increase his torture. Finally, Vain surrendered to the agony and let it run free through him. Instantly it dulled, replaced with a tremendous sensation of power so intense it felt almost painful in itself.

  Vain glanced at the centre of his chest and found the Glimloche had disappeared. He moved his hand over the spot where he could sense the power most strongly and touched nothing, not even a blemish where the amulet had been. Confused, Vain looked at his hand and saw faint lines of energy beginning to appear beneath his fingernails, gradually starting to trace lines over the skin of his hands and on up his arms. Sitting up, he checked his other hand and saw that the same spider web network of thin black lines existed there also, crisscrossing up his arm and down across his shoulder, speeding up until his eyes refused to track their movement. Within moments, the same lines of power covered his entire body, all tracing to where the Glimloche had disappeared into his chest.

  “And now you are at one with the Glimloche, Dark Man,” cackled a familiar voice behind him. Vain spun to his feet and confronted the old woman.

  “What has happened here, old witch? Where has the amulet gone?”

  Xamiel cackled again.

  “Do you think this is funny, hag? We’ll see how much you laugh when I tear out your throat.”

  “Oh I do like you, assassin,” crowed the old woman. “I can see why that man they called Priest chose you. Even in the midst of Hell you seek to confront that which you do not understand. You show no fear, even though a tool of great evil has just wrapped itself around your soul. You will serve me well when you arrive here permanently.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Vain. “Who are you?”

  “Let us just say everything is not always what it seems here. Now, back to your original question: in the first place, no amulet exists. The Glimloche is not a physical tool or weapon you can wield by hand; it is a creation of immense power, now entwined with your mortal soul. Your soul has absorbed powers beyond your wildest dreams... or your worst nightmares. Yes, Dark Man, even you have nightmares, and this will make them seem like fairytales in comparison.”

  “How can I use this to save the boy?” asked Vain roughly.

  “Good, good,” cackled the old woman. “You have no fear of that which you now carry. But don’t worry, the fear will come eventually, when you realize what you truly hold within you. As to how it can be used to help the boy, the answer is: ‘How can it not?’”

  Confused and frustrated, Vain barked, “Stop talking in riddles, you ancient bitch. Tell me what I want to know or leave me alone.”

  A flicker of anger glinted in Xamiel’s eyes and she sneered. “Fool! You know not what you carry or the power you now wield. It is everything and nothing, light and dark, power and weakness all at once. It will allow itself to be used until finally it is strong enough: then it will use you!”

  With her words, the old woman seemed to grow in stature, and the light faded from the room even more, the faint quaver in her voice replaced by a deep tremor of power. Vain began to feel a trickle of apprehension run down his spine, and he unconsciously raised his hands in a defensive motion to ward off an attack that didn’t emerge–at least not immediately.

  Vain blinked and Xamiel returned to the figure she had been, cackling loudly at the assassin’s stance. “Calm down, Dark Man; you and I are friends, and friends don’t fear each other. You will learn the powers of the Glimloche in due time, but for now it seems you are returning to your body. You lucky thing.”

  Vain looked down and saw his body slowly fading. The room became more substantial around him and soon he could see through his legs to the floor below his feet.

  “Don’t worry, Dark Man,” advised Xamiel, leaning on her staff. “You’ll wake up unharmed and intact in a few moments, and all of this will seem like a dream. Just one thing before you leave.” Vain squinted, trying to focus while she rapidly faded from his sight. “When you see Empeth, tell him Satan sends her regards.”

  Vain gasped in shock at the old woman’s words. Her eyes flickered from the milky-white they had been to a deep blood-red, her laughter rising to a beastly roar.

  And then he was gone.

  * * * *

  Vain sat up on the cold stone floor and sucked in a huge gulp of air. The seven monks still sat around him in the same pattern as when he had left. Seeing Abbot Dokei approaching, Vain asked, “How long have I been gone?”

  The Abbot peered quizzically at Vain and said, “Gone, Dark Man? You have not gone anywhere. It seems the ritual has failed.” He seemed slightly relieved at the outcome.

  “That cannot be!” gasped Vain. “I feel like I’ve been gone for weeks.”

  “Ah,” murmured the Abbot softly to himself. “We have never had to perform the ritual before and so were unsure of what the result would be. It appears your entire journey has been completely instantaneous. Possibly because Hell is said to stand outside of time itself.”

  “I feel different,” said Vain. “It feels like something is chewing away at my mind. I have to concentrate to make it stop.”

  “So, you found the Glimloche,” said Abbot Dokei grimly. “I had almost hoped you would fail, and Satan would expel you from his realm.”

  “Her realm,” corrected Vain. “And in fact she proved quite helpful. Everyone always goes on about how evil she is. Sure, she turned into a giant beast with glowing red eyes just before I left, but other than that she seemed quite agreeable.”

  Abbo
t Dokei stared, mouth agape, at Vain. “You met the ruler of the underworld?” When Vain nodded, the Abbot shook his head in dismay. “He is not a she,” he said. “In reality he is not even a he in our usual perception. The creature you saw is something far beyond our scant knowledge, but one thing we know for sure, that all the tomes and ancient writings agree on, is naming it ‘the prince of deceivers’. Whatever it told you was for its own ends and not out of any love for humans. It may be that it helped you so that its goals may one day be realized. Not today, not next week, but sometime in the future, what we have done here today may result in an evil far worse than anything Sordarrah could visit upon the Earth and humankind.”

  Vain stared impassively at the Abbot before rising to his feet. “Scary stuff. Stop it monk-man or I’ll wet the bed.”

  The surrounding monks stared enraged at the Dark Man’s tone, and two moved to admonish him for his insolence, but the Abbot waved them away. “Do not mock what you do not understand, assassin,” he said calmly with no hint of anger.

  “The forces that you so willingly battle are more powerful than you can possibly imagine. The Catholic Church calls them God and the Devil. We know of them as harmony and chaos. Whatever you call them, one is good and works for the benevolence of creation, while one is evil and works to unravel anything in this realm that benefits good.

  “In your killings you have increased the capacity for evil in the world, for when you do evil deeds they not only affect the ones who you hurt intentionally, but also those others attached to the people you hurt. In turn, that upsets and angers them and eventually they may also perform deeds of evil because of the evil visited upon them. They will justify their actions by saying, ‘I will do this deed to avenge my lost one,’ even though quite often the ones they hurt are not the ones who hurt them. The only way for the pain to stop is for one person to say they will not do it, despite what they may feel inside. This contributes to harmony, and thus restores the balance in the universe.”

  The Abbot’s words were uncannily similar to those used by Sebastian when Vain had tried to kill the giant Tobias. The truth in what the Abbot preached was easy to see, and yet so difficult to act upon. If Martin Roberts’s wife and child had not been so brutally killed, Vain would never have existed. If Vain had never existed, all of the people he’d killed would possibly still be alive, and their survivors would not have gone on to seek vengeance for their loved one’s deaths.

  “Your logic is double edged though, Abbot,” said Vain, introspection clouding his thoughts. “For every individual I’ve killed, there is also one less person to visit evil upon others. One person less to break into a man’s house and tear away every shred of what is good in his life and turn him into a monster of hatred. One less person to torture a little girl while she screams for her daddy, but he watches helplessly because he is too weak.”

  “What you say is true, Vain,” began Abbot Dokei carefully, “but you must ask yourself, how many people have become monsters like yourself because of your deeds.”

  Vain stood looking thoughtfully at the Abbot. “I don’t care,” he finally spat.

  “Of course not,” said the Abbot softly. “You are Vain. The only person of importance is you, and the only things that matter are those that you concern yourself with. You care nothing for your influence on those around you, or the impact that your deeds have once you’re done.”

  “You’re wrong, holy man, I do care. I care about the boy. And may your God or harmony or whatever the hell you call it help the person who tries to stop me from saving him.”

  With that the assassin turned and left the temple, not seeing the small smile of satisfaction creep into Abbot Dokei’s features as he descended the stairs.

  * * * *

  Vain’s trek down the mountain proved far more difficult than the ascent. Without a guide, the assassin constantly made wrong turns and often ended up completely turned around and stumbling upon his own tracks in the snow. At one stage he almost gave up and returned to the temple, but his wounded pride wouldn’t let him return to the man who had so blatantly scorned him. As it stood, he was so lost by this time that he probably wouldn’t have been able to find his way back, even if he’d wanted to.

  Strangely, Vain seemed unaffected by the cold. At first he had dismissed it, due to the body heat generated trudging through the shin-deep drifts, but when he stopped for the night to make camp he realized that he still sensed nothing out of the ordinary. He knew it was cold, could feel the wind on the skin of his cheeks, but unlike the journey up the mountain where his entire body had ached from the chill, he now felt nothing. Likewise, when he held his hands close to the flames of his campfire, there appeared no distinct change in his skin’s temperature.

  Intrigued by this latest development, Vain removed first his heavy fur-lined coat, followed by the two thick shirts he wore beneath it and sat under the stars in the snow bare-chested. No burning frost bit into his skin, rather he felt exactly the same as when he’d been wearing the heavy clothes.

  Deciding to test this phenomenon further, Vain gingerly reached his right hand towards the flames, ready to pull it back at the first sensation of pain. When none came, he pushed it further into the blaze until his palm rested on the coals at the bottom of the fire. The flames licked and crawled over the skin of his arm, but no burning pain flowed from the intense heat. Gradually Vain removed his arm from the flames and inspected it for damage. Not a single hair on his forearm had been singed, and the skin beneath remained completely unmarred.

  Amazed by this event, Vain put his shirts back on, more out of habit than necessity, and lay back down beside the fire. Closing his eyes, he felt the now familiar clawing at his mind and concentrated on pushing it away. It seemed stronger this time and took more focus for him to rid his brain of its horrible scrabbling across his thoughts.

  Slowly, Vain realized this must be how the Glimloche worked. In exchange for its power, the user gradually gave control over to the amulet. If used too much, the Glimloche would eventually dominate Vain completely, much as it had Empeth. This fact both angered and intrigued the assassin. He silently made a vow not to use the amulet again unless absolutely necessary. But considering the foes he faced, Vain realized that every second in their presence, the power of the Glimloche might be required just to survive.

  Shrugging away the problem in his usual fashion, the assassin cleared his thoughts and drifted off into the abysmal sleep of the damned.

  Chapter Eleven: The Angel of Death

  The young blonde man awoke with no memory. Rising from the odorous floor of the murky alleyway, he analyzed his appearance and noticed without surprise or shame that he stood completely naked. His body was perfectly sculpted and his long blonde hair fell softly down to his shoulders. Rubbing clean the grimy surface of a nearby window, he studied his face in the shrouded reflection and gave himself a wry grin. Perfectly straight, white teeth flashed back from the handsome, hairless face in the window. Satisfied, he turned away and moved towards the noise coming from the end of the alley.

  Reaching the main street, the young man looked around in wonder at the brilliant lights and colors that surrounded him. Across the street, a large building with a sign above the enormous entryway boasted: ‘The Late Show, with David Letterman’, in bright yellow lights which lit up the crowd waiting to go inside.

  This ‘David Letterman’ must be a leader of some sort, thought the young man. Perhaps he is a prophet or the emperor of this land.

  Instinctively knowing that he needed to avoid crowds like the one outside the building, the young man turned in the opposite direction and moved calmly off down the street. The avenue was well populated, and gasps of shock turned quickly to hollers of abuse or screams of disgust as the young man strolled past them.

  A few hundred yards down the street, the young man decided he should stay out of sight for the time being and entered another alleyway, striding into the darkness. He hadn’t gone far before realizing he no longer wal
ked alone, and soon felt a light tap on his shoulder.

  Turning smoothly, the young man looked directly into the chest of an enormous beast of a man. Arms the size of tree trunks bulged from a sleeveless shirt that swelled again where his neck muscles fought to escape from the taut material. A head remarkably similar to a sidewalk slab with eyebrows frowned down at the young man whilst behind him stood four smaller versions of the giant, all grinning maliciously.

  Smiling calmly up into the leader’s enormous ape-like features, the young man offered his hand in a show of friendship.

  “Look boys,” chuckled the ape-man, “the gay boy wants to be our friend.” His cronies sniggered mirthlessly.

  “I seem to remember this is a way of greeting in this place,” said the young man melodiously. The group seemed transfixed by his voice.

  Shaking his head viciously to clear it, the leader finally spoke, “Yeah, well, around here we have a different way.” With that he swung a bone shattering blow into the young man’s stomach with all of his strength. A loud crunching noise, like gravel being crushed beneath car tires, was cut off by a howl of pain that tore through the night air.

  The young man stood unmarked and unmoved in the centre of the alleyway, a bemused expression on his face. The four remaining thugs stood back in shock, watching their leader writhing in pain on the ground, clutching his wrist as shards materialized from the back of his arm right to the end of his hand. The bones from his elbow to his fingertips had shattered with such force that they had driven right through the giant man’s skin.

  One of the thugs drew a large knife from beneath his long jacket. Another drew a switchblade while the man beside him pulled out a short metallic tube that shot out into a baton when he pressed a button on its side. The fourth stood back with his hand inside his jacket while the other three spread around the young man. “You’re gonna pay for what you just done to Gabriel!” snarled the one with the baton.