Chapter 59. Brawl

  “What else you got?” Allison shouted with limitless bravado.

  Lyle spoke words of magic while forming quick precise hand gestures, and oily black tentacles oozed out from a hole in reality in front of him. They snaked around his body, coiling and wrapping him, then hardened and snapped, leaving Lyle in a form of black full plate armor.

  “Jay! Give us some pointers here, how do we get to this guy?” said Delilah. Bruno was circling the table that Lyle stood upon, trying to find an opening, but his arrows simply bounced off of the armor.

  “He needs to concentrate to cast spells,” said Jeremiah, “keep him off balance, break his concentration.”

  Jeremiah was struck by a flurry of violet lights fired from Lyle’s outstretched hand. It was like being struck by clubs over and over again.

  “Bruno, keep his attention!” Allison yelled.

  “He doesn't give a shit about me, I can't hurt him!” Bruno said. As if to demonstrate, Bruno darted in and slashed with the one blade he could wield. Lyle took the blow on the armor, and the armor attacked back. A spine of metal split off and shot into Bruno's flank, penetrating deep into his body like a splinter.

  Bruno stumbled back, coughing and gasping for air.

  Allison took the opportunity to shield charge Lyle, but an inky pool of shadow swept out from beneath Lyle’s feet and snagged Allison’s legs in a black tentacle. She slashed at it, slivers burning away, but was thoroughly restrained

  “Bruno's got a punctured lung. Jay, get in there while I treat him,” said Delilah.

  She threw a smoke bomb down at Bruno's feet and disappeared into it.

  “No,” said Lyle. He gestured at the smoke screen and blew it away with a gust of wind. “I want to watch when it wriggles. ”

  Bruno suddenly spasmed in agony, mouth open in a wordless scream.

  “And you, burn,” said Lyle. He pointed at Delilah and a trio of bright beams of flame lanced into her. The raking flames blackened the skin on one side of her face and ignited her hair. The clothing around her armor caught fire. Delilah screamed and spun away, swatting the flames on her clothes and scalp. Her normally unflappable nature burned away as she panicked from the pain.

  “Yes, feel the skin bubble! Feel it pop!” Lyle was giddy with excitement.

  “You son of a bitch!” Allison yelled as more black tentacles enveloped her arms and body.

  “Pathetic,” said Lyle. “Your turn, Jay. Would you like to throw acid? Breathe the poison gas? Go on, surprise me.”

  Jeremiah drew his dagger and tried to think of a strategy. If he could--

  “Too late. Banished.” With a gesture and a word, Lyle seemed to fall away from Jeremiah. The entire room stretched out before him, like seeing infinity through a keyhole, with blackness surrounding the edge of everything.

  And then Jeremiah was sitting in a chair. It was a brown leather armchair, upholstered and comfortable. The throbbing of the hellwasp stings had stopped. In fact, all pain and discomfort had stopped. He wasn’t breathing. He didn’t need to. He and his chair were alone in an endless expanse of white all around.

  And then he wasn’t alone.

  “Hello, Jeremiah Thorn.” A man appeared before Jeremiah. He was a human, wearing a solid black suit with a single heavy diamond at his collar. His hair was short, feather light, and black as pitch. He was incredibly handsome, all hard masculine angles, but with perfect supple skin and kind brown eyes.

  “What-What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” Jeremiah shot up from the chair. Had he died? His hand went to his pocket and found Gus, curled up defensively.

  “You were banished,” said the man matter of factly, “sent away. Kicked to another dimension by a demonologist. Can you guess which dimension?” The man’s voice was playful and raspy. He began pacing a lazy circle around Jeremiah.

  “The Abyss? This is the Abyss?” said Jeremiah. Through some magic Jeremiah couldn’t even conceive of, Lyle had sent him bodily to one of the domains of the afterlife. Though it was just a white space with a chair. He had been expecting…anything else.

  “Hah! No no, I caught you on your way down. That place isn’t meant for mortal eyes,” said the man. “I can give you a glimpse if you don’t believe me. You’ll probably claw your own eyes out, but I’ve seen worse decisions.”

  “Send me back!” Jeremiah shouted at him. His friends were fighting Lyle right now, their lives at stake, and they were losing.

  “Keep it together,” said the man. “Time flows funny here, this is all taking place between heartbeats. I just wanna talk.”

  “Who are you?” asked Jeremiah. “Are you the Abyss? Did I speak with you before?” This didn't sound exactly like the presence he had encountered at the center of the cults circle, but it wasn't exactly not, either.

  The man chuckled, “Call me B. And no we haven't spoken before, not directly. Oh sure, the Abyss runs through me, just like it runs through everyone down here. From the lowliest imp to the double hyena headed nut job that runs everything, we're all cut from the same cloth.”

  Jeremiah’s shock instantly gave way to irritation. “So interesting. The B obviously stands for Baphomet. You're one of the demon princes of the Abyss, and you want something. Out with it.”

  B whistled. “Got a little pepper in you, huh? I like it! As for what the B stands for, I find a little mystery--”

  “Lyle summoned a Baphocyst,” Jeremiah interrupted.

  B nodded. “Alright, got me there. Spoil sport. Clever boy though, I'll give you that. As for what I want, you got it backwards. I want to know what you want.”

  “Pass,” said Jeremiah. He wondered if he could kill Baphomet by himself. Probably not, right?

  Baphomet laughed and waved him to sit, “Relax, Jay! So jumpy. I'm not here to screw you over or trick you or whatever else you're thinking. I'm trying to give you a gift.”

  “In exchange for my soul or future favors,” said Jeremiah, trying to speed things along.

  “Wrong!” shouted Baphomet triumphantly, thrusting a finger at Jeremiah. “In exchange for nothing at all. You ask, I give. Free of charge. No strings. No promises.”

  Jeremiah was taken aback. “I don’t want any of your crooked contracts or cursed wishes. You’re a demon. I have no reason to even consider this.”

  Baphomet threw his hands up. “Bah! That’s all devil talk. Contract, souls, twisted wishes--those guys give us all a bad name. Jay, I can give you more power than you’ll know what to do with, and I don’t ask for anything. I just want you to have it.”

  “Why?” said Jeremiah pointedly.

  “Why? Why?! Because you get it, Jay! Because you really get it. You understand. This guy here…” Baphomet waved his arm and an image appeared before Jeremiah, floating and insubstantial. It was a moment frozen in time, of Jeremiah riding his hundred handed giant. “This guy here? He gets it.” He leaned in and kissed the image.

  “I am free! I am everything you’ve ever wanted!” shouted the Jeremiah in the image. Jeremiah didn’t even remember saying it.

  “Oh, as sweet as sweet music,” said Baphomet with a shiver.

  “So if I ask you to give me the power to kill Lyle and save my friends?” asked Jeremiah. There was no reason to trust this demon, but his interest was piqued. If he was telling the truth. Which he certainly wasn’t.

  “I will give you that very thing,” said Baphomet, “you just tell me how you want it. You want new spells? I can teach you spells that you’ve never dreamed of. Magic words that have never been heard by human ears. Words that haven’t been heard since…well, for a very long time. I’ve got enchantment runes too. Runes that would make Thurok prance with glee. Runes that will change the very course of history. Would you like that, Jay? Would you like to change the course of history?”

  “You know Thurok?” said Jeremiah. He didn’t know why that’s what stood out to him. It just felt so personal.

  “Thurok and your mom and dad and friends blah blah blah. A single mortal’s story isn’t exactly privileged information. But don’t get hung up here, just tell me what you want.”

  “What exactly can you give me?” asked Jeremiah. New magic and runes was an enticing offer, especially if it really was free. And saving his friends…that was worth any price.

  “Anything. Everything,” declared Baphomet with a broad grin. “Just say it. Say it out loud and it’s yours. All I ask…”

  “Here it comes,” thought Jeremiah.

  “Is that you do whatever you want with it,” finished Baphomet. His smile widened at Jeremiah’s continued surprise and confusion. “Anything you want at all.”

  Jeremiah glared at Baphomet. “I’m going to use it to protect people,” he said. “I’d use it to help people. To give them a better life.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Yes! Good!” said Baphomet.

  “I’ll fight evil with it. I’ll find these other circles and destroy them, and the cults protecting them,” said Jeremiah, louder and angrier that his defiance wasn’t being rewarded.

  “Absolutely! Blast the whole organization to pieces!” said Baphomet with mounting enthusiasm.

  Jeremiah stared at Baphomet in confusion. How did this make any sense? “Why?”

  The smile dropped from Baphomet’s face. He took a deep, centering breath and looked at Jeremiah with genuine pain. “Because the world needs to see it, Jay. The world needs to know and understand the strength of one man. That the power resides in each and every one of you. You only need to seize it.”

  “I…I’m sorry what? You’re saying this is for the good of people?”

  “Yes! You realize that that flower pruning tight-ass empress has more ‘power’ than you ever will? And you could kill her with your bare hands? And she rules over thousands, where’s the justice in that? You’ve seen what happens when people control other people. What they do to each other…”

  Another wave of the hand, and images of a thousand atrocities over a thousand generations committed by a thousand rulers flashed around Jeremiah, a dizzying number, a riot of grotesque images and sounds. Jeremiah winced at the flagrant, unending violence. All at once they stopped.

  “I believe in you Jay,” said Baphomet, the grin returning. “And I think you might believe in you too. I think you might have found the will to do what needs to be done. To make those decisions. You just need the power to make them.”

  “To change the world…” said Jeremiah. He could save everyone. He could set everything right. Free the people from their cycle of poverty. Stop the waste of life from wars. Wipe out the demon cults. He could do it all. He might be the only person that could.

  “That’s right, Jay. It’s all for you, and only you. Lyle doesn’t get this deal. Lyle doesn’t understand, not really. I want to send you back in a blaze of glory. You’ll blow Lyle to pieces, save your friends, maybe even get the girl eh?” Baphomet winked at him, “and not worry a thing about lawyers and courts taking away what matters to you ever again.”

  “And if I say no?” asked Jeremiah.

  “I’ll be sad,” said Baphomet with an exaggerated pout, “and that’s all. I can’t force it on you. Well, I can, but that’s just a curse. No, Jay, you have to want it. You have to choose it. Only you can do that.”

  Jeremiah could imagine saying yes. Jeremiah desperately wanted to say yes. And why not? He’d been subjected to all manner of unfairness, legal and otherwise. Great powers sought to ruin his life by signing paperwork. How is that fair of someone who can raise armies of the dead?

  “I can see it,” said Baphomet with a knowing smile, “It’s hitting you. You’re feeling it. The oppression of man starts with restraining the strong. It’s time to become ungovernable. It’s time to become the paragon of the individual. Just ask…”

  “No strings?” asked Jeremiah.

  “Not a one,” confirmed Baphomet, “not even a handshake.”

  Jeremiah ran his hands through his hair. He gnawed his lip and let out a growl of frustration. “I gotta turn you down,”

  Baphomet nodded, seemingly not surprised. “Tell me why.”

  “Cause I don’t honestly think I know better than anyone else,” said Jeremiah.

  Baphomet nodded again. “You’re sure? You’re sure you want to turn down the power to shape the world as you like it, with no strings attached?”

  “I’m sure,” said Jeremiah. He had made countless mistakes, he never seemed to stop making them. Incredible power he didn’t earn was only going to result in mistakes he couldn’t handle.

  “Then this is one of those rare occasions where I’ve misjudged someone,” said Baphomet. “You’ll just end up under someone’s thumb all over again. Think of me, Jay, when Lyle is peeling off Delilah’s periosteum and eating it, I want you to think of me. Just so you know you could have stopped it, but chose not to.”

  Baphomet and the chair vanished in a flash of black fire. The whiteness of the room began to stain and deform with color and space. Gargled sounds like underwater screams began to fade into reality, and Jeremiah hit the ground of the palace’s meeting room, skidding to a stop.

  Bruno was spasming in agony, Delilah was screaming in pain and smoldering, and Allison was fighting a losing battles against black tentacles that were beginning to wrench her limbs backwards.

  Lyle had not noticed Jeremiah’s return. Palace guards were pouring into the room, and Lyle was obliterating them as fast as they entered, laughing at their hopelessness.

  “Thought we lost you for a minute there, Jeremy,” said Flusoh. “ Are you ready to make some abominations? ”

  “Abominations? With wha--oh,” thought Jeremiah.

  “Yes. Yeeeeeeessss,” said Flusoh gleefully.

  There were various bodies scattered about now, human and otherwise. Did it work the same for demons? Did they react to necromancy? Were there dangers? Jeremiah briefly pondered these questions until he saw Delilah dumping a resiny liquid on her burned face and scalp at the same time as she jammed a syringe into Bruno’s neck. There was no time to worry.

  He cast the spell of flesh and, as fast as possible, began to work.

  The Gorgugon made an excellent canvas, having so much bulk and musculature. Jeremiah slapped the clawed arms of the Baphocyst underneath the Gorgugon’s. There were dead guards as well, and Jeremiah dragged their bodies one by one onto the creation. He cast the spell of Flesh and replaced the Gorgugon’s fingers with human arms, sloughing them away from their previous owners, some still clutching spears.

  “Foolish, foolish!” said Lyle. He stretched out his hand and began pouring flames through the door into the column of guards that were arrayed in a tight phalanx. The flames rolled over and through their shields, and they began to scream. “Yes, let me hear that sweet music,” Lyle hissed. He turned his attention to Allison, still struggling against the black shadowy limbs. “Now, let’s wrench that neck. Not too much, just enough.”

  “You're just a cheap sadist!” Jeremiah yelled. “You don't care about freedom for anyone, you just want to hurt people and need an excuse to do it!”

  Lyle whirled on Jeremiah in shock and confusion. But he recovered quickly, affronted by Jeremiah’s accusation. “Freedom is all that I care about! The freedom for all, to do anything they want!”

  “You hid underground because you feared the bigger fish that could tell you ‘no’. You're the entitled child of entitled children, throwing a generations-long temper tantrum.”

  Just a few more connections…

  “You were never worthy of freedom!” shouted Lyle. A new pulse of wrongness, stronger and sickening, rolled out from Lyle like a wave of heat. Jags of purple light coursed out from Lyle’s finger tips and punctured the air like glass, scattering images of their surroundings through the air in a mad refraction.

  Now or never.

  Rise.

  In Jeremiah’s mind there appeared a malformed and oily blob. It twisted and wormed, grew and shrank, quivered and froze. It nauseated his thoughts, but it was still his to control.

  Kill.

  The Gorgugon lurched up, demonic flesh charged with undead magic. Each finger was the muscular arm of a dead guard, and at the end of each was a hand holding a spear. It leapt toward Lyle in a single bound, slamming into him and interrupting whatever horrid spell he was planning on casting. The multitude of spears drove Lyle into the ground and slashed at him while the ape demon tried to crush him with both hands.

  Lyle hit the ground with a grunt of pain, but the spears couldn’t penetrate the strange demonic armor surrounding him. The abomination squeezed with all it’s might, but it couldn’t crack Lyle’s shell.

  “Fruitless! A waste of a beautiful creature,” declared Lyle. The armor began splintering off and growing like a black vine up inside of the abomination, new branches bursting through the skin and severing limbs as it grew. While powerful and immune to pain, the abomination was stymied by the mystic armor.

  Meanwhile, Jeremiah was in motion. He reached Allison and slashed at the shadow tentacles with his dagger, freeing one of her arms. “I’ve got this, get Delilah,” said Allison. With her sword arm free, and Lyle too distracted to direct the tentacles, she was able to start pruning away the shadow.

  Delilah was shivering uncontrollably and seemingly oblivious to the scene around her. “I-I can’t move,” she said when Jeremiah reached her, “in shock. Need stim-stim-stimulant c-compound four.” Even as she spoke, the burned flesh on her face split and wept blood.

  “Just stay down,” said Jeremiah. He reached into her Giant’s Bag and summoned compound four to his hand. As he pressed the needle into her neck, he felt the oily blob in his mind quiver and begin to dissipate. He glanced up to see his new creation being split to pieces by the black vines of armor that had fully infested the abomination. Lyle laughed as the vines retracted and the conglomerate demon tipped over, destroyed.

  “Pathetic!” Lyle stood. He eyed Jeremiah administering aid to the shivering Delilah. “I will strip the periosteum from her bones and make you watch.” He giggled in wicked glee, eerily reminiscent of the sounds Nascent had made.

  The little laugh twisted something in Jeremiah, something angry and hateful. He lay Delilah back down gently, then turned his attention on Lyle, eyes burning with rage. “Step up, you pompous little bitch.” Then he charged.

  Lyle opened his arms wide. “Yes, come to me. Rend yourself upon me.”

  Mid stride, Jeremiah pulled his armored shirt up over his head and, with a flick, wrapped it around his fist. A slash with his dagger in just the right spot disabled the enchantment, and the shirt solidified. Lyle was still cackling when Jeremiah threw a steel wrapped fist in a full haymaker punch into the side of the cultist's helmet.

  Jeremiah had seen how effective armor could be. He had also seen, on many occasions, Allison getting her brains scrambled by a vicious hit.

  Lyle toppled and covered his head with his arms. Jeremiah straddled his chest and rained punches down, rebounding Lyle’s head against the floor. Lyle kicked his feet helplessly. Jeremiah felt the black spikes of armor piercing his flesh as he swung. It hurt, but all it did was hurt.

  “Come on! Get knocked out!” Jeremiah growled at Lyle. Lyle’s defending arms started losing their strength as his brain bounced around inside his skull. He tried to cast a spell, but his concentration failed him.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang….Bang…Bang…Bang……Bang.

  Jeremiah was exhausted. He was panting, sweating, and Lyle was still conscious. Concussed for sure, but that wasn’t enough.

  “Let me help you with that,” said Allison. She had appeared beside Jeremiah.

  Allison reached down and grabbed Lyle by the waist as Jeremiah rolled off. She lifted Lyle bodily off the ground, tossing him up on her shoulder. Lyle struggled meekly, still dizzied from the pounding Jeremiah had given him. Allison gripped Lyle’s legs and whipped him forward in a high arc. Lyle’s head snapped into the table with so much force the wood split. He went limp.

  “Is he dead?” she asked Jeremiah.

  “I don’t know,” panted Jeremiah. “Maybe?”

  Allison hoisted Lyle up again, limp and unconscious, and whipped him into the table again.

  “How about now?”

  “That did it,” gasped Bruno. “the thing in my ribs just stopped moving.”

  Jeremiah took the needle-like cultist dagger and placed it into the eyehole of Lyle’s armor.

  “What are you doing?” asked Bruno, gingerly reaching into Delilah’s bag.

  “Not leaving anything to chance,” said Jeremiah. He stomped on the pommel.