The Second Coming Read online

  “Incredible,” he muttered.

  Diarmuid laughed. “Yeah, I guess it's something when you've never seen it before.”

  Lya harrumphed beside him.

  Diarmuid urged his horse forward. “Come on, it's a little bit further and we can camp within the city for the night.”

  The road was in shambles and they meandered along its broken course. From this vantage point Paine noticed the details of the buildings. None had windows left, the glass pillaged or broken from the storms after the Shift, and rusted beams jutted at strange angles. They traveled for some time along the potholed road, bordered by the remains of what Diarmuid referred to as the suburbs. When they reached the main part of the city, the concrete sentries towered over them and Paine arched his neck. It dwarfed his own village hundreds of times over.

  There was a lure here. Paine couldn't put his finger on it, but it was as if something within the city called to him, summoning something within him — perhaps his childhood passions, or maybe his desire for something awe-inspiring in his life. He urged Shadow forward, enticed by the stories of the old world and enthralled by the lives of the people that had lived in such a wondrous place.

  Later that night, he stared into the heavens and watched the moonlight dance along the remains of the great towers. He looked over to where Diarmuid lay beside him, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. There was something more than appealing about the man, in his strength and giving nature. He had offered Paine his blanket and Paine accepted it with a shy nod of gratitude. He was not accustomed to the generosity of others. Most often, people wanted something in return.

  He wondered if perhaps Diarmuid shared his preference for male companionship. The difference in their ages was about the same as that of the couple that had raised him.

  Diarmuid cocked his head and caught Paine glancing in his direction. Paine held his gaze for a brief moment and smiled before he turned away. Maybe this time he wouldn’t need a potion.

  He stared back up at the sky, and it was some time before he slept.

  The following morning greeted them with a sky coated in a patchwork of gray, the sun struggling to pierce the medley of cloud. Paine rose, feeling groggy. Talon glided through the firmament above, swerving between the skyscrapers of old, wingtips adjusting with the shifting currents that lifted her higher into the air. She nearly shit on him.

  Fucking bird.

  They packed and began the slow trek through the cityscape. Paine was engrossed with the ancient marvels that surrounded them. His attention was cleaved between his own wandering mind and Diarmuid's pointing to a hodge-podge of rusted metal that lay in the street.

  “That was once a bus, I think. They could carry over fifty people.”

  Paine walked over to inspect it. The remains of small benches lay between the weeds that grew among the scraps of metal, looking like closely placed tombstones. He pulled the tangled foliage aside and discovered a treasure of intricate metal parts. Smaller piles of the same corroded refuse lined the streets. He knew them to be cars, the horseless carriages he had heard so much about.

  They passed concrete poles that rose from the ground like broken fingers pointing skyward. Few were left standing. Many had fallen across what were once smooth roads, and were now dishevelled piles of rubble that weaved around the buildings. The whole place oozed a serenity Paine had known only in one place — the cemetery in Fairfax.

  No breeze blew through the streets, as if the city was between breaths. On they traveled, altering course and veering off the main streets when they were blocked by the fallen corpses of the buildings. They turned down another side street, and Diarmuid halted them with one upheld hand. The birds were silent. Paine held his breath as Diarmuid surveyed the area. Fang emitted a low growl, her hackles risen.

  Diarmuid dismounted and unsheathed his sword in a jerky, hesitant motion.

  “Go beside that tower and stay hidden.”

  Lya rode to the side of the street, dismounting beneath a gnarled oak. She released Talon to the sky. Paine paused, questioning if he should obey Diarmuid’s instructions or follow him. In the end, he thought it wise to do as he was told. He followed Lya and watched Fang bound off after Diarmuid.

  Paine fiddled with Shadow’s reins. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I don't know,” Lya said. She gazed toward Talon, closing her eyes in concentration. After a time she responded. “There are six people coming down the next street. They're heading right for Diarmuid.”

  “We need to warn him,” Paine said and charged forward, running after the man. He ignored Lya's hushed calls for him to wait.

  Upon reaching him, Diarmuid gestured for quiet. Three men and one exceptionally tall woman marched down the street, all dressed in leather pants and half-helmets. Between them struggled two people clasped in silver collars. One was obviously female, not much older than Paine. He couldn’t see if the other was a man or a woman; the black hair covered the face.

  Lya rounded the corner. She cast her gaze skyward once more, searching for Talon. She caught sight of the falcon and closed her eyes as she connected with the bird. The four Hunters turned their attention towards her, a deliberate, unified motion that made Paine shudder.

  “Talon cannot see any others,” Lya whispered.

  The woman gave orders for the three men and the young woman to go forward. She took the other captive to the side of the street and waited, crossbow in hand.

  One of the Hunters called out. “We know you are there! Under the authority of the Confederation, come out and surrender yourselves!”

  Diarmuid looked at Paine. “You think you can take one of them?”

  “I—“

  Lya pulled out her dagger. “I can.” The black liquid had almost solidified.

  “Fine. Go to the other side of this building. Don't do anything until their backs are to you. Take them from behind.”

  The two left Diarmuid and hurried around the corner. Paine felt like a third tit, useless to someone of his proclivities. He held no weapon and he was unsure about summoning the dead once more.

  Not this time. He got lucky once.

  They clambered over rubble and fallen trees as they scurried around the massive structure. By the time they reached their destination, Diarmuid stood in the middle of the street. Three of the Hunters faced him, one holding the captive face down to the ground. The female Hunter, with her long legs and blonde hair, still stood off to the side. The white cross on her vest gleamed in the sun.

  Oh God!

  Paine sucked in his breath. It was the same Hunter from their farm. A righteous anger throbbed in his neck. He fisted his hands.

  She would pay. They would all pay.

  The Hunter’s captive struggled, but was no match for the impressive woman. She was easily twice as powerful and with the silver collar, her captive was incapable of summoning any sort of spirit or spell.

  One of the male Hunters, the one with his booted foot upon the young woman’s back, called out again. “By the authority of the Confederation, we command you to surrender.” His teeth glinted. They were silver.

  His captive cried out a faint plea. “Help me, please.”

  “The Confederation holds no authority here,” Diarmuid retorted. There was a tenseness to his stance. Fang sat at his side, a smarmy grin adorning her hairy muzzle. She ignored two rats that scampered across the road.

  The men continued forward, strides unwavering. All three were built solid, appearing to be more than a match for Diarmuid over whom they towered. Paine wasn't sure if Diarmuid would be able to fight them all. That made him uneasy.

  Would he need to call upon the dead?

  There could be thousands in a place like this.

  “Do you know what you're going to do?” he asked Lya. He knew who he would target first.

  She stared at the Hunters. “I’m going to kill them.” Her voice was chill.

  “Can I help?” he asked.

  “Stay out of
the way,” she said. “You’ll know—“

  She was cut short as Diarmuid ducked to his left. An arrow scratched his face and blood seeped down his cherub-like cheeks. The man ran forward, letting it drip. Paine’s insides twisted as the Hunter nocked and fired again. Then Fang bolted towards them. The wolf dodged the next arrow; one that was meant for her throat. She flowed with liquid movement, streaming towards the middle man.

  The one with the silver teeth then dropped to his knees and drove his sword through the young woman’s back before Diarmuid had a chance to reach him.

  Paine gasped.

  The woman moaned her agony and her shackled legs and arms shook before she lay silent. The Hunter dipped his hand into the wound in her back that ran with red. He licked his fingers and grinned before Diarmuid reached him in time to swipe his sword at him. The Hunter rolled backwards, avoiding the swing.

  Paine reached for the young woman, as if he could somehow help her from this distance, but then retracted his hand as Lya leapt from behind the building. She flung her dagger at one of the Hunters. It struck him in the back and he dropped to his knees, struggling to reach for the blade. He coughed up blood and collapsed in a heap.

  Diarmuid fought the Hunter with the silver teeth, meeting him stroke for stroke. The man towered over Diarmuid, but the shorter man held his own. The Hunter brought his sword down and Diarmuid dove out of the way, the blade missing its mark and striking rock with a loud clank. Diarmuid rolled to his feet, sword defending against the man once more. He barely got to his knees as the metal thudded into the ground.

  Fang engaged the second Hunter, darting around his massive legs and biting at his knees. The Hunter's sword missed the wolf, his movements languid compared to Fang's calculated raids. Lya ran up to him and flung a powder in his eyes. He screamed in pain and she pulled out the parchment from her pocket. She smeared the blood of the dead woman on her hands.

  The female Hunter threw her captive to the ground. She lifted her crossbow, a heavy and cumbersome weapon she flung with ease. It was aimed at Lya. Paine felt a stirring within him, bubbling and ready to spew forward. He clenched his fists and almost called forth the dead, but Talon screeched and launched at the woman. Her shot fired amiss. The falcon veered for a second assault, but the woman was prepared and dodged. Lya raised her crimson hands to the air and completed the summons.

  A faint breeze stirred behind Paine, its breath frigid and stale. Realizing her predicament, the Hunter turned and ran. She disappeared among the ruins, whistling for her mount.

  Of the two remaining Hunters, one raised a silver cross at Lya, but it was too late. A whirlwind of dust swept around her. Her face turned ashen and hollow. Her eyes rolled back and her body shook. The Hunter was thrown to the ground by an invisible force. Slashes striped his body as if he was being ripped by bear claws. Bite marks appeared on his legs. He screamed and tore at the ground with bloodied fingers. He lost a nail. The Hunter was then pulled backwards into an empty building, where he screamed further and then went silent.

  Diarmuid continued to fight the last Hunter. While he fought, the body of the young woman and the other Hunter were slowly dragged into the same building. The silver-toothed Hunter swung at Diarmuid again, but slipped on the streaming blood of his comrade and Diarmuid didn't hesitate to pierce his chest with his sword, groaning as he shoved it in. The Hunter fell to the ground. Then he, too, was hauled by invisible hands. The broken doorway waited like an open maw. He was sucked inside screaming, the sword still piercing his body. He left a trail of red. When the screaming stopped Paine shuddered. He unclenched his fists and found he had been biting his lip. The taste was salty and he wiped the blood with his sleeve.

  Lya dropped to her knees, teeth clenched. She continued to shake and put her hands to the ground. Her fingers gripped the dry earth and she shook her head. Then she groaned and sat still. The spell was finished. Diarmuid offered to help her up, but she waved him off. She sat a moment, recovering, before rising. She picked up a loose sword from the ground and handed it to Diarmuid.

  “You don’t want to go after yours. Take this one instead.”

  Diarmuid looked towards the building and then back at Lya. He accepted the sword and said nothing.

  There was a look of satisfaction in Lya’s eyes, one she made sure Paine noticed.

  Is she insane?

  He turned from her and walked towards the captive, who appeared to be praying.

  Paine couldn’t help but stare. Even up close, he found it difficult to distinguish gender. The captive had a hard-angled jaw that indicated male, but there was a softness in the facial features that said female.

  The deep voice betrayed his gender. “Thank … you,” he muttered. His voice was like thick syrup. “God … help me.”

  Diarmuid offered a hand to help him up. “I’m Diarmuid. This is Paine, and Lya.”

  “P-P-Puck,” he responded and held out his hands with the silver cuffs.

  Diarmuid unclasped the cuffs. “Where are the horses? We have to get out of here before she returns.”

  The young man pointed behind him, to where the Hunter vanished into the ruins.

  “You three go and wait. Fang, you stay with them,” Diarmuid said. He then bolted around the corner.

  Paine was still aghast at what Lya had summoned. She smirked, and they both said nothing.

  Careless.

  It was Puck who broke the silence. “You … p-p-pretty,” he said to Lya. He seemed to think before each word. His eyes hungered for her, a look he had no sense to hide.

  He’s simple.

  Lya looked at him sidelong and smiled. It wasn’t shy.

  “Are you all right?” Paine asked.

  Puck nodded. “Yes.”

  Lya remained silent and walked away. The other two followed, just as quiet as they gave a wide berth around a pool of crimson that coagulated. Lya retrieved her dagger, sheathing it without wiping it clean. Paine let the other two walk ahead, watching the doorway into which the others had been pulled. He studied where the young woman had lain and noticed a small kerchief. It was embroidered with the emblem of the crescent moon and a goat. It fluttered away with the faint breeze. Paine let it go and continued after the others.

  As they reached the horses, Diarmuid rode around the corner on a honey-colored gelding.

  “Quickly. She may be looking for help. Puck, we can take you home or you can come with us. We're going to Haven.”

  The young man’s slow voice seethed. “I … have … no home.”

  “Neither do we,” Paine said. “Our parents were killed by Witch Hunters.” He chose not to mention the same Hunter was responsible for Puck’s capture. There was a saying his father had often used about salt in the wound.

  No need for that here.

  But he wondered how she had caught up to them.

  Diarmuid dismounted and handed the reins to Puck who climbed atop the horse with a strained, clumsy effort. Diarmuid and Paine mounted their horses as Lya waited for Talon to alight on her outstretched arm. She swung aboard Sable and they all sped north.

  Charging through the ruins they fled, and within little time they reached the outskirts of the ancient city. There was no sign of the Hunter chasing them, but they rode for almost an hour, their mounts snorting heavily. The sweat of Shadow's flanks seeped into Paine's trousers.

  Eventually, Diarmuid brought his horse about and faced them.

  “How are you all holding up?”

  “Fine,” they resounded. Puck gave an exaggerated nod.

  “We need to get off the main road. It will take us longer, but we'll be less obvious.” Diarmuid paused, looking back to the valley of ruins, deceptive in its tranquility. His eyebrows furrowed. “The Hunters don't usually come into this area, and certainly not the ruins. Perhaps the influence of the Confederation has spread faster than I thought. From now on, no one casts a spell or summons. If there are Hunters swarming this area, we don’t need the extra attention. And there isn't anywhere to
turn between here and Haven, unless we go through the Westwood.”

  A tingling sensation danced along the nape of Paine's neck at the mention of the forbidden forest. He thought of the Confederation army that had ventured into the Westwood to cleanse it of evil. They were never seen or heard from again. What sort of devilry lived there, he did not know, and did not care to know. He took one last glance back at the city.

  What had Lya summoned? And was it still back there?

  She had barely remained in control of her own body. She had struggled to release herself from the spell.

  Next time she might not be so lucky.

  He frowned. Her presence was getting more distant and his heart began to ache. He wallowed in it for a moment, trying to bare it, and then followed the others.

  Hours later, Paine's thighs and backside were in a constant ache that would not let up no matter how much he adjusted his position in the saddle. When they stopped for the night, he groaned.

  He tied up Shadow before lying down at the foot of a small oak, ignoring the gnawing feeling in his stomach. Puck cried until he crumpled from fatigue. Paine remained awake for a time before exhaustion finally took him. The respite did not last long. The sun still had sleep in her eyes, barely rising above the hills, when Diarmuid nudged him awake.

  “Sorry Paine, but we have to move on again.” Diarmuid helped him up, his hand holding on to Paine’s a little longer than what would be considered proper.

  He blushed as Diarmuid released him.

  Paine then packed his things and mounted for the long ride once more.

  Almost the entire day passed at the same rapid pace before they stumbled upon a small village. It was rather unexpected this far west and there seemed to be a health to the village that surprised them all. Things grew here; pine trees laden with cones, wild grasses with buttercups, and shrubs with red berries — redder than Paine had ever seen. He was pleased at the sight, especially the awaiting inn. He felt exhausted, and smelled so bad he was certain even Fang would turn her nose up at him. A bath was in tall order.