From the Ashes (28 page)

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Authors: Gareth K Pengelly

BOOK: From the Ashes
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The demon snarled as he spoke, unwilling to remain silent any longer.

             
“You think to delay us? A hundred years is nothing to such as us, godling. We will come for your world, in numbers greater than you can imagine…”

             
The titan of light smiled.

             
And I shall be waiting.

             
He turned, striding towards the green portal, the barrier behind him keeping anyone from following. He looked over his shoulder, speaking to them one last time.

             
Oh, and Cece? I’d run if I were you. You have ten seconds…

             
He vanished into the swirl as the pair looked down at the glowing runestone that began to hum, the hum turning into a whine, the whine into a roar as power untold prepared to release in cataclysmic detonation.

             
The beast looked at the Seeress.

             
“Oh, sh-“

 

***

 

 

Enree gazed out upon the Pen, shielding his eyes from the blinding light behind it that faded, leaving behind the rising mushroom cloud that billowed miles into the sky, as though in slow motion. His every limb ached. His skin was raw and encrusted with dried blood from the countless wounds that bedecked his body. On his back, a Yaht, the bow-string long snapped.

              The last five Clansmen he had killed with his bare hands.

             
Behind him, the last survivors of the Plains People. Barely a hundred had made it through the battle, out of the thousand that had begun it. But they had survived. Against impossible odds, they had survived.

             
The pride of the Plains People had been restored.

             
“What do we do now?” came a voice from behind him.

             
The Plainsman thought from a moment.

             
“We journey North. We find others. We hide. We survive.”

             
Another voice.

             
“Is there any point? They told us the world would end…”

             
Enree smiled, his lined face creasing beneath greying hair.

             
“I know. But something tells me that we’ve not been forgotten. We go North. We survive. We wait.”

             
“Yes, Chief.”

             
The men turned from him, walking away and leaving him to his thoughts, his memories.

             
He remembered the cryptic conversation with Master Wrynn after the liberation of Pen-Argyle, that fateful night.

             
Fight, he’d told him. Fight and don’t be afraid of death. Don’t be afraid of anything. This world is lost, but not yet. Because, in the end, none of this has happened. None of it.

             
Not yet…

 

 

Chapter Ten
:

 

 

“Steve?”

              PC Webb turned, his face impassive, his eyes vacant. Looking down at his fist, Yearsley saw the torn remnants of a cheap, blue coat. The younger officer let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a second. Drawing deep, he plucked up the tattered reserves of his courage and walked to the edge of the building. He looked down.

             
“Steve…?” No response. “Steve!”

             
“…what?”

             
The younger officer turned to look at his companion. “Where’s he gone?”

             
The older officer stared at him for a moment, disbelieving, then moved to join him. Looking down into the alleyway a lethal fifty feet below, sure enough there was nothing; no mangled body, no grisly remains. The empty, wind-swept alley defying all logic.

             
“…bloody hellfire.”

             
The younger bobby looked at him.

             
“There’s nowhere to hang on to. He couldn’t have survived… Where’s he gone?”

             
A voice behind the two, low, quiet, yet somehow drowning out the very thunder that rumbled in the heavens above. They shuddered as they listened, hairs on their necks standing upright, for this was a voice no mortal man should ever hear.

A voice with the authority of a god.

He’s gone on a journey.

They turned, looking to the far end of the air-conditioning unit, before looking up, craning their necks to take in the scale of the being before them. Being, for what other word could they use? 

Angel? God?

“A… a journey?” ventured Yearsley, the pair dropping to their knees in fear and awe as they struggled to come to terms with the radiant titan before them.

Aye. A journey.
The being gazed into the sky with luminous green eyes, as though recalling events long past.
He will change. Things will come to pass, good, bad. But, ultimately, it will all end up back here, at the beginning.
He smiled, faintly, before turning to the two Constables.
You should go. It’s cold. Plus, you look like idiots in those plastic bags.

An elbowed nudge.

“Told you…”

Yearsley ignored the jibe, gazing up at the giant.

“What about you?”

The titan smiled.

I have a journey of my own to make. I made a promise to catch up with some friends and I intend to keep it.

“Where… where do they live?”

A quiet chuckle, like the distant rumbling of thunder in the mountains.

Not where, my young friend. But when.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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