|
#1
JUN 11 |
 |
Atlantis. 3000 years ago…
What was still standing of Atlantis, its ancient towers and colossal coliseums, was sinking into the ocean. Held afloat by anachronistic technologies and hidden Atlantean mysticism, the city was minutes away from final destruction. Thus was the will of Lilith, the Demon Mother.
Whaler, the diminutive wizard of the elements, stood over the dead body of his former colleague and Amazonian beast master known as Sela. The two had shared a bed two days ago; now he had killed her. She was in the way of his Demon Mother’s agenda and, therefore, she had to be eliminated. Now Whaler knew that his next target was none other than the Queen of Atlantis, the golden haired Gamemnae.
He had betrayed his kingdom and killed his closest friends, all in the name of Lilith. With her free to roam the world, to destroy the things that defied her approval, was all her had ever lived for and he knew that it was worth the losses. He had evaded the rage of Teth-Adam and hidden from the all seeing eyes of Nabu. He had killed Sela and torn Tezumak into small pieces of metal and flesh. His confidence had never been so well aimed, his abilities used for such destruction that it filled his blackened soul with hope for a future he desired in the shadow of the Demon Mother.
With the kingdom sinking around him, the ground was tilting at an angle. He used his inhuman speed to make quick work of his search for the ill-fated Queen. He was not expecting the presence of his former friend and brother-in-arms guarding the Queen. Nicolas Onokentauros had been his friend since childhood and Whaler’s betrayal affected Nicholas profoundly…because he had never seen it coming.
Onokentauros stood guard outside of the queen’s chambers, the last vanguard as the whole of the Atlantean Army had been dispersed and decimated. He held his enchanted morningstar tightly in his hand as hate filled his head with adrenaline at the arrival of the Whaler.
“Move aside, Onokentauros,” Whaler ordered, his feet sizzling with green energy, his facial markings glowing similarly. “There is no stopping the Demon Mother.”
“I cannot do that, Whaler,” Onokentauros replied, never lacking the courage to protect his queen. “Your treachery ends tonight as Atlantis falls into the sea.”
Whaler grinned as his hands ruptured into balls of green fire and smoke. “The treachery is only beginning.”
Nabu the Wise, aged and gray-bearded, shuffled as quickly as he could across the barren nothingness of the Empty Space. He had not the time to deal with his pursuer; the fate of the outside world beyond the Empty Space was on the verge of decay, threatened by the poisonous touch of the Demon Mother. Zacharael, the so-called Angel of Surrender was waiting for him deep within the center of the indescribable landscape.
Lilith had followed him into the Empty Space and he had no intention of confronting her without the Angel to assist him. His magic was somehow stifled by her presence. If Zacharael had accomplished the tasks that necessitated their presence in this realm, Nabu was assured that he and his world would survive.
Shadows of dead beasts and monsters of solid dread chased at his heels and he could barely keep ahead. He could feel her eyes on his back and could smell her breath even though he could not see her. She was everywhere and nowhere.
Unbecoming of his eons as a Lord of Order, Nabu stumbled in his hurry, slamming into the dust. His instinctual use of his ingrained magic birthed nothing of use as the black things surrounded him on all sides. He managed a minor defensive spell that bought him precious seconds but it would soon break and he would be consumed. He struggled to get to his feet but the irrational beasts held him in place, more by intimidation than by physicality.
Panicking, he called upon all of his willpower, pushed beyond the fear and helplessness, and manifested his helmet. He had created it to house his knowledge for a predecessor but perhaps now it would help him survive. The golden helm reflected a bright green energy as Nabu was discovered by his lost ally as the Green Lantern swooped from the endless night to rescue him.
Raker Qarrigat, Green Lantern of Apokolips, grabbed Nabu by the arms and the two streaked into the stale air. “A close call,” Raker commented as he flew, the soulless monstrosities still clinging to Nabu’s ankles and calves.
“I have never experienced these emotions,” Nabu replied as the kicked the beasts free. His voice was now hollow and resonant through the featureless helm. “We cannot allow this to continue.”
“Agreed,” Raker said as they entered into a completely altered landscape than they had experienced within the Empty Space. The gray sky was replaced with a white radiance, a clearing that appeared safe and clean. Four mighty spires marked the corners of the clearing, spewing columns of smoldering particles of light into the expansive sky. Ghostly creatures inhabited the energy that emanated from the spires, swimming in its primordial substance.
Raker did not slow as he beamed them to a single building placed at the center of the clearing. The door to the simple structure was ajar, awaiting their arrival. As they entered at impossible speed, they were witness to Zacharael, the hulking white skinned Angel of Surrender, under mystical attack by the aging Inde medicine man Manitou Raven.
Manitou Raven had his hand embedded into Zacharael’s skull, jostling the brain within with its semi-intangibility. The arrival of Raker and Nabu was unexpected and he dropped his medicine stick when they rushed through the door. He pulled his hand from the Angel’s head and tossed a handful of slime covered orbs at the new arrivals.
“You have chosen the wrong woman to follow,” Raven growled, his words dry and remorseless. “What I will do with the three of you will be considered merciful in the eyes of the new world. As former allies, I give you the opportunity to die.”
“We are not interested in your Demon Mother,” Raker replied as he showered the Inde with a barrage of green will power. “You do not know what will happen.”
Raven shrugged off the Lantern’s light easily as he contested with a weak example of Nabu’s power. “I do indeed know what will happen,” he spat. “You and all will die and I will live to see my wife again. The promise of the Mother has revealed my own future to me.”
“She is the mother of all lies!” Nabu yelled as the Inde’s orbs erupted into tiny flying snakes that moved in a wave through the air at Nabu. He was bitten a hundred times as he tried to muster his knowledge through his ineffectual helmet.
“You lie because you are full of fear,” Manitou Raven announced as he cast an invisible spell that brought Raker to the ground. The Green Lantern smashed into Zacharael’s afflicted body.
Raker rolled over the large Angel and popped to his feet, uninjured and full of anger. “I am a Green Lantern,” he declared. “I fear nothing!”
Raker let loose an eruption of energy that consumed not Manitou Raven but rather Nabu. Nabu instinctively consumed the energy, feeding from the raw manifestation of Raker’s willpower in order to feed his own lack, artificially bypassing the prevention spells that had been keeping him incompetent. Nabu grew in mystical power as golden lights spilled from the eyes of his helm.
“No!” Manitou Raven cried as he could deduce what was happening. His body became fluid, his muscles would not reply. His soul was torn from his wrinkled body and siphoned into the Helm of Fate. “I only wanted my wife back,” was the last whimper that anyone would hear from Manitou Raven for the next three thousand years.
Raker quickly crouched to confirm that Zacharael still lived as Nabu struggled to contain the sudden upsurge of magic that was released back into him.
“He lives,” Raker said as Zacharael stirred.
“Excellent,” Nabu replied as he inspected the tools spread randomly about the room, strewn into a mess by the Inde’s invasion. “It appears that everything is according to necessity.”
“She will find us soon,” Zacharael mumbled, quickly recovering. “Her prison is prepared.”
“Wait no longer,” Lilith whispered in her ancient tongue as she stood in the doorway. Dark monsters hugged her legs, caressing her feet. Her eyes bled red as she licked her lips. Her flawless pink dress flowed in a nonexistent breeze. Horned antlers sprouted from her jet black hair. Behind her, the Empty Space was full of her infernal spawn, demons birthed to bring existence to its end.
“Come to Mother.”
Whaler manifested his energy harpoon into his grip as he barreled at Onokentauros, disregarding the possibility of injury from his opponent’s formidable weapon. His Maori face markings fed his rage with conviction that he was in the right.
Onokentauros caught the lunging harpoon with his bare palm, the blade cutting deep into the flesh. He countered with an abdominal thrust, forcing the handle of his Morningstar into Whaler’s belly. Powerful energies were exchanged as their weapons coursed through their bodies. Whaler, sixteen inches shorter than his opponent, used his size to his advantage, ducking and repositioning himself to Onokentauros’ side.
Blood poured from Onokentauros’s injury as he received additional harm as Whaler blasted him with a solid energy attack from the shaft of his harpoon. His hair was lit aflame. Whaler let him fall to the ground to try to extinguish himself.
“Your beloved Queen is quite the fool,” Whaler exclaimed with spite. “To sink the majesty of Atlantis to keep the Demon Mother from destroying it…”
“It is the only way,” Nicholas replied, agonized as he rose to his feet. Blisters bubbled on his face, his ruined hair melted to his scalp. “You are in the wrong.”
“I could argue with you until we both sink into the ocean,” Whaler replied as he held his harpoon in an offensive position. “I will finish you now and save you from further humiliation.”
He stabbed the razor sharp harpoon at Onokentauros and was astonished as Nicholas parried the thrust with minimal effort, spry despite the injuries. Onokentauros grabbed the harpoon by the handle as he produced a bejeweled dagger from his decorated tunic. As he stabbed Whaler in the throat, the harpoon ejected a fatal amount of its energies into Onokentauros’s body. The expulsion disintegrated Onokentauros’ arm before Whaler dropped it, himself fatally wounded.
The former allies collapsed against each other, their lifeblood pooling together on the floor around them.
Whaler tried to further antagonize his opponent but blood had filled his lungs, throat and mouth. Nicholas was in shock, his mind lost to the trauma. Neither of them was able to properly comprehend Gamemnae’s actions. She exited the room that Onokentauros had tried to guard, garbed in the customary Atlantean funeral attire befit for her status of queen. The waters of the sea began to fill the building, the kingdom now on the verge of extinction.
“My two biggest disappointments, the two of you,” she spoke, her voice regal and unwavering. “Whaler, you have betrayed all that you know, killed your closest of friends.”
It was apparent than Whaler was moments from death, his tan skin had gone pale while his facial markings dimmed to nothing. Onokentauros was shaking uncontrollably, clutching his gory shoulder where his arm once was.
“Nicholas,” Gamemnae shook her head in disapproval. “You promised to keep me safe. You promised to save Atlantis. This was your idea and it has failed. You have failed us all. You have failed me.”
She grabbed Whaler’s hand, which had gone cold, and placed it on Onokentauros’s hand. She used shear purple fabric and wrapped their two hands together. She mumbled words beneath her breath as she cursed them for an apparent eternity.
“For failing Atlantis, you are both cursed to live as one,” she told them, uncaring whether they heard her or not. Their bodies melded and morphed into a singular body, Whaler’s arm grew from Onokentauros’s shoulder. On the side of his face, Whaler’s through stretched through the skin. Four legs molded into a pair, organs mixing and matching.
With a frown of disgust, Gamemnae stood and waited for the waters of the sea to engulf her and the remains of a dead Atlantis. She watched the newly combined Onokentauros-Whaler gestalt come to the realization of what they had become. Unable to work together, they were pulled under the rising waters, still fighting despite their predicament.
Gamemnae raised her hands into the air, water now above her waist. The kingdom of Atlantis had but seconds to live. She screamed into the blue sky, a noise of rage. For the future of Atlantis, she had one final spell to cast.
Nabu, Raker and Zacharael stiffened at Lilith’s suggestion of paralysis as she lazily motioned in their direction. Holding them helpless, her intentions were indeed sinister.
“As I am standing before you, Atlantis perishes,” she boasted, stroking the chin of one of her shapeless offspring. “While a civilization drowns, you hide in dilapidation in the midst of an existence of nothingness.”
She closed in on her captives, breathing in their faces as they struggled to protest. She ran a long black fingernail down the smooth golden face of Nabu’s helm.
“What is it that you hope to accomplish?” she asked as she stared into their souls.
Zacharael managed to grunt through clenched jaws. “You are within the confines of an apex of creation,” he said, his words came easier as Lilith allowed him to explain. “There have been only two in the infinite histories of existence.”
Lilith scowled as she began to realize what was happening. She turned to see the door, her only exit, blocked by the swarm of her demon children, pushing their way in to witness the terror that their mother intended to cause.
“The first such apex was known as the Garden of Eden,” Zacharael continued.
“The one place that could contain something such as you,” Raker added.
Lilith moved to the door, murdering her children in an attempt to escape. She involuntarily released the men from her control.
“We know your true name,” Nabu’s hollow voice declared through his helmet.
Lilith froze. She turned back to face them with a look of utter terror in her face. She was crying blood. “You will receive no grief from me, no pleas for mercy.”
“Then none you shall have,” Zacharael stated as he shoved a Mother Box into her chest.
“KI-SI-KIL-LIL-LA-KE!” Nabu bellowed Lilith’s true name as the Mother Box began rapidly pinging its programming into her immortal body. The alien technology shot tendrils into her veins as she trembled and shook.
Raker covered her form in sheath of green plasma, amplifying the Mother Box’s efforts with his own willpower. As Lilith began to disappear, Zacharael retrieved the Mother Box from her chest and placed it to his own. A monstrous boom rattled the structure at its foundations as an endless tunnel of indescribable substance manifested into existence. The gravity of the tunnel sucked Lilith from the ground. Raker kept his ring focused on her as she was swept into the Boom Tube.
The Boom Tube gradually closed; Raker remained vigilant, streaming his totality into the Mother Box upon Zacharael’s chest. The Box soon stopped pinging and Raker ceased his emanation.
“It is complete,” he stated as he held his ringed fist for all to see. “The Circle has succeeded. There is now an infinite repetition of the Boom Tube between the Mother Box and my ring. Once she is transported from one, she is bounced into the other.”
“She is gone,” Zacharael said without a hint of satisfaction. “But there was a price too large.”
“She should have never happened,” Nabu exclaimed as he removed his helmet. “We all knew what must be done when we devised this plot.”
“Indeed,” Zacharael replied somberly. “I must remain here at the apex with the Mother Box, where no one can reach the possibility of her return. I sacrifice myself for the future of everything.”
“And I can never use my ring again for fear of her release,” Raker added. “I must go into hiding lest the Guardians learn of what I have done to their property.”
“And I must use my immortality as an earthbound Lord of Order to contain the true name of the Demon Mother, should the two of you fail,” Nabu completed.
“You have been fine allies,” Zacharael said sincerely as Raker and Nabu chained him to the wall in eldritch bonds that would sustain the centuries.
Speaking the last words he would say for three thousand years, Zacharael told his friends, “We will not fail.”
Unfortunately, they did.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The End...
Previous Issue | Next Issue