
Leaping through
the fire-ravaged doors, Raziel landed lightly on his feet in the furnace
room. Momentarily uncertain, he hastily scanned the two ramps curving up
and around the great incendiary gauge in the center of the hall, trying
desperately to remember which one led to the gas release and which to the
ignition lever.
Beneath him,
the floor reverberated to the pounding tread of his rapidly approaching
brother, Dumah.
Raziel shuddered. Having only recently liberated Dumah from the Limbo
to which ancient human vampire hunters had murderously exiled his soul,
Raziel had already felt the steel-hard claws of his typically ungrateful
brother. Rejoined to his immortal flesh, Dumah had surprised the Soul Reaver
of Fate with his own ability to feast upon a soul with the merest touch
of his powerful talons. Up to this point Raziel had proceeded unchecked
in his quest to destroy his vampiric siblings and their king-father, Kain.
But this new foe posed a problem. His power amplified by the Void, Dumah
had proven invulnerable to all attacks. Raziel’s glyph magic had garnered
no greater reaction than Dumah’s amused contempt. Risking close contact
to employ the deadly Soul Reaver, Raziel’s efforts again proved futile,
and he was rewarded by a soul-thirsty touch that robbed him of his spectral
blade.
Now, weakened and
hunted relentlessly on both the Spectral and Material planes, Raziel had
sought outside assistance to aid his pursuits, and thus had lured Dumah
to this room in the hopes of lighting a conflagration that would make the
vampire behemoth yearn again for the flames of hell.
A loud roar of glee
startled him as Dumah barreled around a corner and caught sight of his
diminutive quarry. Galvanized by the imminent danger, Raziel suddenly recalled
the room’s layout clearly, and wasted no time in loping at full speed up
the right-hand slope.
Dumah’s massive
body burst through the ruined portal and came to an abrupt halt. Towering
a good fifteen feet in the air, he quickly took note of his surroundings,
and a bloodthirsty grin touched his face as he realized that his weakling
brother’s desperate plight had blinded him to a pair of doors on the level
to the left. No place to run now, whelp, he exulted. The vampire overlord
started to move forward, then paused.
Something nagged him
about this room. Banished from the world of flesh and light for so long,
his memory was slightly unclear. During the glorious chase of his depleted
eldest sibling, Dumah had paid scant attention to the path Raziel’s frantic
scamperings had led him on. But the doors into this lofty hall were twisted
and melted, and now that he recalled, the corridor leading here had seemed
unnaturally blackened. Was there something he was not seeing?
Suddenly it struck him. The path here, blasted and charred, as if by
FIRE!! With a violent shock, Dumah realized that what he had assumed
to be a panicked flight on Raziel’s part had actually been a ploy to lead
him here, to the furnace room that served to heat his castle in the frozen
wastes. Where he could die.
Dumah swayed on his
feet, dizzy for a moment. He cursed his vainglorious stupidity. His enhanced
power had repulsed all assault, leaving him certain of his own indestructibility
and strength. Excessive pride had doomed him once before to oblivion, and
now it seemed history would repeat itself. To die again…
No! Dumah snarled
inwardly. The vampire general brought himself under control. Thoughts
of death were swept away as his determined brain quickly analyzed the situation.
Raziel was already halfway to the gas-wheel. No time to run him down, so
then what? Run to the other side and wait there? Bah, such a tactic was
beneath him! Then Dumah seized upon a solution, one that suited him perfectly.
Once again he bared his fangs in a deadly grin.
Raziel was almost
at the wheel. Below him, Dumah dropped to one knee and raised his arm high.
A reminder of who is the strongest of all, brother, he smirked, and just
as Raziel was clapping his claws around the wheel to turn it, Dumah clenched
his fist and brought it thundering down on the floor.
Supernatural power
radiated out in an earthquake that rocked the hall. Raziel froze. A numbing
shock traveled through his body, causing his muscles to spasm and clench,
leaching his strength out through the ground. Clamped to the wheel, he
stood rigid as a statue, unable to move. “No,” he croaked faintly, but
that was all he was allowed.
Dumah bellowed his laughter. Rising to his feet, sure of his victory,
he sauntered casually up the ramp. Seeing his approach, Raziel began to
strive desperately for control, but without success. Nothing seemed to
be working, and try though he might, he remained immobile and helpless
before his brother.
Dumah moved to stand
next to his wretched elder, towering over him. He paused to enjoy the moment.
It was a good one. Raziel was obviously struggling, but to no avail. There
could be no doubt now as to who was truly mighty. Flush with power, Dumah’s
blazing red eyes caught a sidelong glimpse of those of his brother. Did
they glow solely with anger, he mused, or was that also fear he saw there?
The thought pleased him immensely, and he chuckled again, which caused
Raziel to strive in utmost horror to master his unwilling body, his eyes
scrunched tight in concentration.
Tiring of the scene,
Dumah took a step back and cocked his massive arm for the deathblow. Mightiest
vampire of all, he crowed inwardly, and soon even Kain would be forced
to admit to this, before he died and rejoined his precious firstborn in
the pit. Then, he, Dumah, would feast on the very soul of his god, and
the world would belong to the Dumahim. He only hoped, on reflection, that
he would not have to kill Kain twice to keep him down, as he had Raziel.
Seized with amusement by his own cleverness, he decided to make this his
parting shot, as it were. The dead silence of the hall was broken by Dumah’s
rumbling growl as he spoke the last words Raziel would ever hear.
“It seems to be always
my duty to kill you, brother.”
Raziel’s eyes sprang
open.
The world seemed to
shrink.
Brother.
Memories resurfaced,
memories of agony. The insane torment of the Abyss. Burning from outside
and within, all personality and self erased by scorched flesh, drowned
lungs screeching with silenced mindless wrath. The remembered desolation
fired all his nerves with phantom pain, reliving the devastation as he
had only fleetingly since his return to flesh. It came back in all its
intensity. The core of his being was washed away again in a deluge of burning
water. But something refused to leave with the rest, forcing itself beyond
the torture, tied to one word at this moment.
Brother.
A fleeting glimpse
filled his voided mind. During his incarceration, it had existed when all
else was lost, receding below the depths of conscious thought upon his
resurrection in the spirit world. Now it returned again, one of the last
things he had seen before the end, a solitary glimpse up as he fell. The
sight of the two lieutenants assigned the task of his death. His brothers’
faces as they watched his descent. One was Dumah.
His brother.
His executioner.
Betrayer.
The fury took hold.
Riding a tidal wave
of rage that obliterated all impediment, Raziel came back to himself, his
body all his own again and alive with pain. Dumah’s fist came sweeping
down. Raziel’s hands twisted the gas release savagely, his legs propelled
him upward, and with a wild shriek, he was air-born.
Dumah’s heavy blow
smashed the controls, too late. Shocked, he looked up to see Raziel, his
ruined wings unfurled, gliding across the pit toward the ignition lever
on the other side. Dumah aimed a wild sweep at his retreating form but
missed by scant inches.
He panicked. What
now?! The wheel was destroyed, but the gas main was still active, he couldn’t
turn it off. If Raziel reached the switch then Dumah was dead. Dismayed,
Dumah was frozen, rooted to the same spot where Raziel had previously stood.
Inside his mind, a frightened voice spoke the words, Not again.
Shaking his head furiously,
Dumah desperately strove for clarity. Should he go after Raziel, or flee?
Surely he could make it out of the room in time to save himself. Then he
recalled the blackened stretch of corridor, charred hundreds of feet along
its length, and he realized that the unleashed fury of this inferno would
travel far and halt his flight before he could reach safety. And besides,
he thought darkly, the mightiest vampire of all did not run!
Eyes locked on Raziel’s
winged form, Dumah realized there was only one solution. He would have
to close the central grate before Raziel lit it. He could do it. His Spectral
Constriction band could easily shut the mechanism. And then, with the danger
passed and the gas controls destroyed, Raziel would be at his mercy. He
would rend the life from his brother’s body on this plane and the next,
maybe even draw out the torture across time. Yes, time, that was what he
needed. Time to reach the grate. Time to live, by all that’s unholy, I
don’t want to die!! Dumah turned and raced down the ramp, raced for his
life.
Above the hall, Raziel
floated towards his goal. The ignition lever filled his vision, and he
strained his emaciated form forward to gain every inch of distance. There
was no longer fear, or doubt, or even self-pity. Only hatred, wild and
unrestrained, pushed him on. The switch was a promise of revenge, its song
throbbing in his pain-crazed mind. Kill Dumah, it panted. Kill Dumah, kill
him, die hard and be awake for it this time, you bastard!! It was no longer
a question of could he do it. He would kill Dumah. This was the truth and
he knew it.
Only four feet away
from the edge of the rise, Raziel sank below the lip. A bestial snarl tore
from deep within him. Suddenly releasing his wings, he reached forward
and dug his talons deep into the wall, where he hung suspended.
Behind him, Dumah had reached the floor and now hurled himself towards
the grate. Raziel scrabbled madly upwards like a deranged spider. He had
to kill Dumah, he had to!
Dumah was almost to
the grate, almost there. He saw Raziel hanging on the wall. Exultation
flooded his thoughts and spurred him on. He prepared to unwind the band.
He was going to win. Almost there…
Raziel didn’t see
Dumah approaching, didn’t care. His eyes were set on death and his body
moved without conscious thought. The legs pushed out against the wall with
all their strength, the arms pulled up. He shot up into the air over the
edge, one hand snaked out to catch the handle. Twisting in midair, he landed
with a thump on his feet facing out into the hall just as Dumah reached
the grate.
Dumah saw this happen.
He faltered. His racing steps slowed, then stopped. He stood staring up
at Raziel, taking in the tableau before him with utter disbelief. A strange
numbness swept through him.
But I am the strongest,
he thought dully.
His shocked brain
seemed to record the next few moments slowly, but with perfect clarity.
He saw the muscles in Raziel’s arm flex. He saw the talons tighten, and
the lever pull back. A loud click sounded from below him, heralding his
doom. Sudden terror shattered his self-control, and he drew a deep breath,
his last, to give voice to his lost soul, when the furnace room blew.
A maelstrom of flame
struck Dumah from behind, accompanied by a thunderous detonation that was
swiftly surpassed by his agonized roar. Searing fire engulfed him in endless
pain. He burned. Every part of him burned. The breath in his lungs turned
to flame, stifling his cries. The world around him was ablaze. His strength
deserted him, and his mighty legs buckled. He smashed down to his knees,
then pitched forward in a burning heap onto his face. The agony subsided,
and from the corner of one seared eye, he caught a glimpse of his executioner,
tall and strong, enveloped by fiery waves that did not touch him. Death
came then, and Dumah was no more.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The fire had long abated,
gone forever along with the master of this hall, but Raziel had not yet
moved. He sat perched on the edge of the ramp, perfectly still. After consuming
his brother’s soul, he had watched dispassionately as the charred meat
that was all which remained of a mighty warrior had crumbled and dissolved.
Time passed without his notice.
He had spoken
to the Elder. His unearthly overseer had urged him on to a confrontation
with Kain. “No,” Raziel had responded forcefully.
The liquid tones
of the Elder filled his being. You deny me, Raziel? Have not my gifts
been to your benefit, demanding the obligation that you rid us both of
the one who has engineered your downfall?. And the world’s?
“Retribution
upon Kain was only part of the motivation you played upon to enlist my
efforts,” Raziel whispered savagely. His head came up, and a terrible glint
suffused his eyes. “There is one more.”
For once,
the Elder seemed nettled. Such a task can wait, Raziel. You now have
everything you need to breach the stronghold wherein lurks Kain. After
which…
“No!” Raziel
interjected harshly. “I will have a clean slate before I face him. The
very crime which thrust me into the sphere of your influence has yet to
be fully redressed.” The memory resurfaced, his final one before the Abyss.
Yes, that was right- there had been two of them there, watching him scream
and die.
Raziel nodded
silently. “I will leave no loose ends for Kain to play upon when we meet.”
Silence reigned.
Then, Very well, Raziel.
With that, the
Elder had gone.
Now, Raziel rose
and stretched, the Soul Reaver carving a wicked path through the air. He
brought the blade before his face, examining its twisting, hungry energy.
The eerie glow bathed his face with a devil’s cast, lending his eyes a
disturbing radiance, and he spoke a single word.
“Turel.”
He turned and
strode purposefully from the hall.
