Mike Wild - Engines of the Apocalypse

Kali struggled to rise, staggered, retched, intending to go for the Pale Lord again. It was only as she began to weave between the tombs that a whisper from the helpless Slowhand halted her in her tracks.

"No, Hooper… no, it's too late…"

Kali turned to look up at him, but focused again on the pillar of souls spearing the Chapel roof. It was impossible from where she stood to see the top, but she didn't need to see Kerberos to know that it had at last been reached. The pillar of souls suddenly pulsed brightly, its helpless captives rushing up, and a second later pulsed again, this time downwards. The pillar of souls darkened as if flooded by a rush of arterial blood. Not so dark that Kali couldn't see what was within, though, and she drew back as the base of the pillar struggled to contain a miasmic wave of grasping, clutching, spectral forms, tearing at their own and screaming so loudly it seemed to pierce the very fabric of her ears.

One triumphant cry could be heard above the screaming; Redigor, his hands held high.

"They come!" He declared, laughing. " They come!"

Kali had wondered how exactly the final exchange might take place — how Redigor's delivery of the Ur'Raney back to Twilight would occur — and as she staggered back she got her answer.

The expansive, seething, screaming base of the pillar of souls filled and bloated, and exploded, dazzling those present. As Kali watched it through her fingers it blasted harmlessly through her and the wall of the Chapel behind her, towards the tombs. It wasn't harmless, though, was it? It was deadly, conjured across the millennia to be as insidious as anything could be. At least to those who had been chosen to be the recipients of what it contained. Kali could not help be awed by the sight, but knew full well that, within the next few seconds, it was going to end the existence of countless innocents who, through no fault of their own, had become caught up in the schemes of a madman who had plotted against them almost since before the human race had been born.

How would they end, though?

Despite herself, Kali couldn't help but ask the question. She pictured the soul wave expanding rapidly through the tombs, individual tendrils of it darting into each of the thousands of ancient resting places like snakes before snapping back out, carrying within each of them the physical essence that had been preserved in the remains of the Ur'Raney. Then, perhaps with a violent spasm from each of the soul-stripped assembled before the tombs, these snakes would strike, darting into necks, eyes, mouths, preparing to infuse themselves into the horrible emptiness from which the true inhabitants of these bodies had been so cruelly torn.

It sickened Kali — the awareness that somehow these things had to know which tomb to seek out, which body to violate, and they would move to them as unerringly as salmon returning to their spawning ground.

This, though, was all her imagining, and by the time she could see the Chapel once more, she realised she might never know.

Those souls belonging to Redigor's Ur'Raney Court had already found their homes, slipping into the bodies of Katherine Makennon and the other dignitaries as easily as worms into soft soil, and the effects on their hosts was immediate. Soft groans escaped each of them. Their eyes widened in response to the intrusion, then took on a peculiar blankness. This faded away, to be replaced by new eyes that took in their surroundings first with an almost childlike innocence, then a growing curiosity, and then a hunger unlike any Kali had ever seen.

They began to metamorphosise — ever so slightly but enough — taking on the slightest sharpening of their physiognomy, a subtle elongation of the ears, and the lightest of green tints to their skin. Kali could also have sworn — but this may only have been because of the manner in which they carried themselves — that they grew taller.

With almost reptilian twitches of their necks, each of the Ur'Raney rannaat sighed and, as one, turned to face Bastian Redigor. Their Lord stood smiling at them, a welcoming smile, his mu'sah'rin already draping herself languorously about his neck.

"Hooper…" Slowhand's voice said weakly from above Kali. "This might be the time for that 'long shot' you mentioned to Freel."

Kali said nothing.

"Hooper, the long shot?"

This time, Kali bit her lip.

"Hooper, you do have a long shot, right?"

Don't ask me that, Liam, don't ask , Kali thought.

What was it she had said to Freel, back in the Sardenne — I tend to work on the hoof? Well, she wasn't on the hoof now, was she, she was on her backside, collapsed helpless against a wall, and it didn't look like her long shot was going to be materialising at all.

"Sure, Liam. I'll ask Baz to stop, shall I? Get him to send his people home to Kerberos?"

A drop of blood fell from the archer, and he spoke slowly, quietly. "They have no home other than the hells, you know that. They don't belong on Kerberos and they don't belong here. Hooper, come on , you always have something up your sleeve…"

"Not this time. I'm sorry."

"Kali…"

" Not this time!"

Shocked, Slowhand stared down at her. But Kali was not looking up and all he saw was the top of her head.

"Kal," he said. "We've all lost people close to us, and we know how much that hurt. Now that's about to happen again, only on a massive scale. As I see it, as soon as that pillar disappears, they've lost their loved ones for ever, but so long as it's there we have a chance to bring them back… somehow."

Kali's eyes slowly rose to the base of the pillar of souls, still emptying itself of the last dregs of Ur'Raney souls. What the archer said was true — while that pillar still existed, there might still be time to save them somehow, to bring them back, for something to happen — no matter how much of a long shot it might be.

"Hooper," Slowhand said. "You're the only one who can do this…"

"I know," Kali whispered to herself.

"What?"

"I said, I know!" Kali shouted, picking herself from the floor. Between her and Redigor, the rannaat, who were just about to move away from their tombs, turned at her defiant cry. She uttered a primal roar as she ran along the aisle to launch herself at the Pale Lord. The rannaat looked almost amused, and looked to their Lord for guidance. Redigor, looking less amused, shook his head.

Kali pounded towards him, beads of sweat falling from her.

"Enough," Redigor said. "You are a meddlesome pain, child. I could easily strip your soul and take your body for my collection, but I do not believe I wish to keep either."

Redigor's arm shot out and he curled his fingers. Kali found herself halting in her tracks and collapsing to her knees with a cry of agony as something seemed to close around her heart and pull. She looked down, her mouth falling open in shock and pain. Whisps of light were being drawn from within her. As he had with so many before her, Bastian Redigor was extracting her soul — and doing so, it seemed, in as slow and as agonising fashion as he could.

"Hey," Kali uttered between clenched teeth, "that just isn't fair…"

"And since I do not wish to keep your soul, child," Redigor continued, ignoring her. "Why don't I simply tear it out?"

The elven sorcerer jerked his outstretched hand again and Kali wailed with pain. Though she remained on her knees, she was bent backwards, her spine and neck arched like a bow, throat taut, mouth stretched open as far as it would go. The light poured from her and across the Chapel to Redigor's fingertips. There the Pale Lord breathed in deeply and with satisfaction, as if he were drinking her.