Phillip Simpson - Rapture

Satan stared at his son for a moment and then threw back his head and barked with laughter. He sobered quickly.

“You fool,”he said quietly, his voice dripping with scorn and malice. “If you choose not to fight, you prove to me you are not worthy. Samael will become my Antichrist by default and you will die by my own hand. Now stop your whimpering and do what I brought you here to do.”

“It doesn’t matter whether he fights or not,”said Sam. “I will never become what you want me to be.”

Satan narrowed his yes, which suddenly flashed with red. “We’ll see.”

Angrily, Semiazas threw off the hooded cloak he wore, revealing black armour that glistened like the carapace of a giant beetle. A sword appeared in his hands; a broadsword, long bladed and as dark as his armour.

With a mighty roar and moving so swiftly that even Sam struggled to follow, Semiazas attacked, bringing his sword down so quickly that Sam barely managed to get his blades up in time. Somehow he parried with his katana, but the power of the blow left his hand numb. Training and instinct forced his other arm out, striking from the waist with his wakizashi, intending to let his brother’s momentum carry himself onto the blade. Semiazas twisted with inhuman speed and the blade passed harmlessly to one side. He kicked out, taking Sam full in the chest. The blow carried all of Semiazas’ considerable strength, knocking Sam off his feet. Both Sam’s swords went flying, skittering over the smooth tiles and disappearing into the shadows.

Stunned, Sam found himself flat on his back. Time had slowed again. From the corner of his eye, he could see Aimi struggling against Joshua’s grasp, their movements seeming ridiculously sluggish. He heard Aimi scream, the noise arriving long after her mouth moved as Semiazas leapt and brought his sword down in an arc that would have split Sam in two. At the last second, he rolled aside and the sword bit into the limestone, shattering the stone with the power of the blow.

Sam surged to his feet, desperately searching for his swords. He caught a glimpse of something glittering in a darkened recess to one side and he lurched in that direction. Semiazas, carefully watching the direction of Sam’s glance, anticipated the move and intercepted, his blade snaking out towards Sam’s torso. Somehow, Sam managed to twist aside. He somersaulted, sprinted and then leapt towards where he thought his sword was. His body slid along the tiles. Behind and above him, he sensed Semiazas, airborne and tensed for the killing blow.

Sam slammed into the wall, ignoring the pain of impact as his hand shot out frantically, searching for his sword. He almost sobbed with relief as the familiar hilt slid into his hand, knowing immediately that it was his katana. He rolled and got his blade up just in time to meet his brother’s downward blow. Sparks flew as the two swords met. Semiazas’ power was immense. The blow pummelled Sam’s own blade down onto his chest.

Above him, Semiazas leered. “Let’s continue this somewhere more comfortable, shall we?”

Before Sam had time to respond, the world around them blurred, shadows gathered and then parted suddenly to reveal a familiar scorched landscape. Hell. They were back in Hell, a place that Sam had hoped to never visit again. Somehow, his brother was able to travel between the planes without the aid of a pentagram.

Sam was still on his back, Semiazas perched above him, his blade resting almost casually against Sam’s own. Sam could tell from his brother’s body language that he felt he had the advantage. This was his home turf, a place where his powers were strongest. Semiazas had miscalculated though. He either didn’t know that Sam had already been to this realm or assumed that Sam would be disorientated enough for Semiazas to quickly finish his brother. Either way, he was wrong.

As soon as Sam breathed in the sulphuric stink of the place, renewed strength filled him. He grinned savagely and surged to his feet, throwing his brother backwards and off-guard. Sam found himself on an island of rock, hundreds of metres tall, completely surrounded by a vast pit of blazing hell-fire. The foul winds of Hell buffeted him but he welcomed them, breathing deeply, enjoying the feeling of power they inspired in him.

Semiazas’ confident sneer disappeared to be replaced by something akin to shock. He paused, looking at his brother in a new light.

“I see you find this place more to your liking.”Semiazas shrugged. “No matter. I think you’ll find that your powers are no match for mine here.”

He gestured with his hand. Tendrils of impenetrable blackness leapt from his open palm to wrap themselves around Sam. He tried to cut them but both blades passed harmlessly through the midnight tentacles as if they didn’t exist. As Semiazas watched, smiling, they began to constrict him.

He felt his breath shorten. He was beginning to black out. The black serpentine bonds were going to end his life, here, in the pit of Hell.

Then, a vision appeared unbidden in his mind’s eye. Aimi. She was holding her hand out to him. He felt a resurgence of power course through him. He had to fight this, had to defeat his brother. For the sake of Aimi.

He summoned some internal strength that he didn’t know he possessed. Taking a mighty breath, he expanded his chest and cast off the constricting bands. They evaporated like morning mist, freeing him. He stood before his brother somewhat unsteadily, taking a few hasty breaths.

Once again, Semiazas looked shocked. “I don’t know how you did that, but it will make no difference to the final outcome.”

He strode forward confidently, his sword above his head, then he struck quickly, supremely confident that Sam would be unable to withstand the attack given his stunned state.

He was wrong. Sam brought his blade down in a vicious parry, taking his opponent off-guard. His riposte almost skewered Semiazias who dodged nimbly aside.

Sam resumed his guard position, circling warily around his opponent. Red eyes stared into red eyes, sizing each other up, gauging weaknesses. They were well matched, his brother and he, with identical strength and reflexes. Semiazas had been well trained; Satan obviously had access to sword-masters in Hell.

Semiazas attacked again, this time thrusting straight out. Sam moved to block but it was a feint. The blade twirled under his defence and he felt a burning sensation as it struck home, slicing cleanly through the flak jacket he wore and biting deep into his chest. He winced in pain and immediately felt weaker. With open dismay, he noticed that Semiazas’ blade seemed to be glowing as if it fed on his injury.

“Do you like my blade?” Semiazas sneered. “It’s called Soulstealer for a reason. Forged in these very hell fires over two thousand years ago. It feeds on life-force.”

Sensing the advantage, Semiazas attacked with renewed vigour. It was all Sam could do to defend, forcing him back towards the rocky precipice. Semiazas’ blade seemed to be everywhere at once, moving with such speed that even Sam struggled to see it. Soulstealer struck home again and again, leaving bloody trails on the top of Sam’s thigh, on both arms. Each time the cursed sword struck home, Sam felt his strength ebbing, and he was at a serious disadvantage with only one blade. Semiazas, he admitted, was a better swordsman than he. Two blades would even things out. If only he had his wakizashi.

Semiazas had forced him right to the very brink of the precipice. Sam risked a glance downwards and the sheer drop made his head swim. Even if he survived the fall, he doubted whether he would actually be able to survive immolation in the fires of Hell. He simply couldn’t let this fight go on for much longer; he would have to end it quickly or Semiazas would wear him down or just force him into the pit. Soon, he would be too weak to hold his blade.