THIRTY THE NIGHT OF ALASTOR
THIRTY
THE NIGHT OF ALASTOR
A s the moonlight bathes the ancient ruins in its silver glow, we move with purpose, our footsteps muffled by the grass.
Opel leads the way, followed closely by Nathaniel.
Although no longer a Keeper, he clearly still remembers his training.
He moves with precise focus and determination.
And then there’s me, feeling a little out of my depth and wishing I was curled up on the sofa with Lily and Jack giggling at Naked Attraction on the TV.
We climb over a mound. A pair of Dark Friars are patrolling the perimeter. Opel signals for us to halt, and we crouch down.
Opel swiftly dispatches them, their bodies thrown against a flint wall.
With the area momentarily clear, we make our way to the back entrance of the hillfort. We await Tariq’s signal.
‘You good?’ Opel says.
I shrug. ‘Just… worried about Tariq.’
‘He knows what he’s doing, Liam,’ Nathaniel says. ‘He’s powerful and smart. He’s trained for situations like this.’
I nod, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.
‘Tariq has pulled off crazier stunts. He’ll be fine.’
As if on cue, the torches around the site begin to extinguish, one by one. Tariq said it wouldn’t take him long, and he was right.
Raised voices come from inside the Dark Friar encampment.
‘If they didn’t know we’re here already, they do now,’ Opel says.
‘Tariq’s given us the cover we need… it’s time,’ says Nathaniel.
We emerge from our hiding place as the last torch extinguishes, plunging the site into darkness.
Nathaniel quickly knocks out an approaching Dark Friar. Opel incapacitates another, throwing him to the ground with a flick of her hand.
Distant shouts and screams fill the air. Tariq must be engaged in combat somewhere.
‘Liam, on your left!’ Nathaniel says.
A hooded figure is charging toward me. I grasp the front of his robe and propel him upward and over one of the walls. His cry is quickly cut short.
‘Good work,’ says Nathaniel.
A sudden orange blast lights up the ruins, followed by screams of agony.
‘Get the Firestarter!’ A voice rings out in the distance.
It’s Draven. His command cuts through me.
But Opel knows it too. She bolts into the darkness.
I go to follow but Nathaniel’s grip on my arm holds me back. ‘Leave her… we need to get to Layla.’
We navigate the ruins. A Dark Friar flies above, yelling in fear.
I assume that was Opel’s doing. Another jumps out from nowhere, tackling Nathaniel to the ground.
I’m on him, pulling him back and tossing him head first into the protruding stone.
I hold out a hand and help Nathaniel to his feet. He nods with gratitude.
We take some steps down toward the central point. Nathaniel halts, and I almost collide with him. Screeches pierce my ears, growing louder with each moment that passes. Dread tightens its grip on my chest at the bone-chilling sound of Wretches.
‘Opel is without her pendant and using her powers, she’s attracting them,’ Nathaniel says.
There’s a strong glow just a few metres away. I sidestep, peering around one of the larger walls. It’s Layla. She’s kneeling at the well, arms outstretched. She’s surrounded by some sort of green-tinted shield. She is chanting, but I can’t make out the language.
‘I don’t think it’s Opel,’ I say, gesturing for Nathaniel to come to me. ‘Look!’
He does, then curses. ‘She’s begun the summoning ritual.’
‘How long do we have?’ I say.
Nathaniel glances at his watch. ‘Five, maybe ten minutes.’
Movement stirs in the darkness beyond Layla. Wretches are pouring out from the shadows. Half are mesmerised by Layla and the glowing green orb around her, while others are attacking Dark Friars. It’s chaos, yet Layla remains focused on her task, as if unaware of the mayhem unfolding around her.
‘The Dark Friars are distracted,’ I say.
‘I’m going.’ Nathaniel’s voice trails behind me, but I’m already sprinting toward Layla, the battlefield a swirling vortex of danger as I jump several ruined stacks.
I collide with a Dark Friar, our bodies hitting the ground in a tangled mess. Adrenaline surges as he scrambles for his fallen blade.
He moves fast, but I swiftly twist his arm away, the blade dangerously close to my throat. I elbow him, sending him sprawling to the side. With lightning speed, I’m back on my feet, delivering a swift kick that sends him crashing into a wall, unconscious.
Without pausing, I rush to Layla. Bathed in green light, her bulging veins pulse beneath her skin as her words echo into the well. She’s far from the history teacher I once knew. Despite my attempts to get her attention, she remains focused on her chant.
‘Hey, miss!’ I shout, but she doesn’t flinch.
A smattering of applause interrupts me. Draven stands several metres away, clapping slowly. He’s alone. Panic grips me as I scan the area, searching for Tariq, Opel, and Nathaniel. Where are they?
‘I must say, Mr O’Connor, you’re a survivor,’ Draven remarks, stepping closer. ‘A knife to the gut, a horde of Wretches. But I’m afraid you will not survive Alastor.’
There’s no change in Layla’s state.
Ignoring Draven, I grab a fallen knife from the ground and approach her.
‘You don’t want to do that,’ Draven warns, clicking his fingers.
My heart clenches as Tariq appears, quickly forced to his knees by two Dark Friars.
‘Tariq!’
Draven’s raised hand stops me. ‘Stay where you are, Auctus.’
He closes the distance between us. ‘Step away from Layla, or I’ll kill your little boyfriend here.’
‘Don’t listen to him, Liam, take her out!’ Tariq struggles.
I know what I should do, but Draven’s threat looms over me. Gripping the blade tightly, I back away from Layla.
‘Wise decision,’ Draven says, pulling his own blade from his coat.
Tariq resists his captors, but his attempts to summon flames are overcome. Draven steps forward, filling the space between Layla and me.
The ground rumbles. The battles around us come to a standstill as the Wretches cower back in the darkness. The remaining Dark Friars fall to their knees in amazement.
The orb surrounding Layla turns from green to red, her eyes are black as coal.
‘You’re too late.’ Draven cackles.
‘No!’ Tariq’s voice trembles. ‘Liam, go!’
I search for anything I can do to stop Layla, but Draven blocks my way.
‘Nothing can cross the barrier now, Keeper,’ Draven taunts. ‘It’s over. Alastor is rising!’
My fingers curl around the blade’s handle, the cold metal sending a shiver through me. I hold it up, ready to attack. I may not be able to stop Layla, but I can at least stop Draven.
He sniggers. ‘One hundred and fifty years I have lived. You think you can stop me now?’
‘My strength might be useless against you, but you’ve never seen me throw,’ I jest, adjusting my grip on the blade.
‘Take your best shot, Auctus,’ Draven challenges.
I weigh my odds. Can I make this? Draven’s confidence is justified; he surely has a countermove ready. But we’re running out of time. I need to take this chance.
But then my focus shifts past Draven. An opportunity.
I draw a breath, my arm snapping forward.
The blade slices through the air with grace.
Draven tilts his head just slightly, and the blade whizzes past him, missing him by an inch.
He straightens, a triumphant smile stretching across his face.
‘Missed,’ he says, raising his own blade.
I remain still. ‘Did I?’ I smile.
Suddenly, Draven jerks upright, his eyes widening. His knife falls from his hand, and he collapses to his knees. Behind him, some twenty feet away, stands Opel, her arm outstretched.
Draven’s eyes meet mine briefly, before he topples forward, revealing the hilt of the blade jutting from his upper back.
Nathaniel appears, swiftly dispatching the Dark Friars holding down Tariq. Opel retrieves her pendant from Draven’s pocket and slides it back around her neck.
‘Nice shot,’ I say.
‘Back at you,’ Opel replies, pulling the blade from Draven’s back.
The ground rumbles again.
Tariq and Nathaniel join Opel and me as we stare at the glowing red barrier between us and Layla. Smoke is beginning to bellow from the well, spilling out around us.
‘How do we stop this?’ Tariq shouts.
Opel rushes forward with the blade in hand.
‘Opel, no!’ Nathaniel screams.
Opel attempts to slice through the barrier, but she’s propelled backward.
Tariq is at her side, but she’s already picking herself up and brushing dirt from her clothes.
‘What is that thing?’ she says.
‘It’s an energy barrier,’ Nathaniel says, running his hand close to the barrier’s edge. ‘It must be part of the ritual to protect the summoner from harm.’
‘Step back,’ Tariq says.
Tariq takes a step toward the barrier, his hands aglow with flames. He attempts to penetrate the shield, but the fire dissipates as it encounters the barrier, and Layla’s focus remains undisturbed.
‘It’s futile,’ Nathaniel says. ‘The summoning is almost complete. It will take a hefty force to break through the barrier now.’
I survey our surroundings, seeking any sort of solution. The ruins stand on all sides. Gods witnessing our end.
Then it clicks. Ruins. My gaze locks onto the towering flint walls.
I turn to Nathaniel. ‘If the old castle was made from seresberi stone, then there should be some within these ruins, right?’
He frowns. ‘Yes. I suppose there would be.’
‘When I received my pendant, Charles said seresberi stone could dispel certain magics and ward off evil, correct?’
Nathaniel hesitates. ‘Well, yes.’
‘Great. Because I’ve got an idea,’ I say, staring up at the tallest ruin closest to us.
Tariq follows my line of sight. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Let’s do it.’
‘Well, you better be quick, because we’ve got company,’ Opel says.
The Dark Friars have regrouped and surround us on all sides. There’s no escape.
‘Tariq, help Liam,’ Nathaniel commands. ‘Opel and I will keep the Dark Friars busy.’
With Tariq by my side, I sprint around Layla, emerging on the opposite side of the wall. I crane my neck to look up at the massive stone structure – it looms before us, formidable and ancient.
‘You think this could work?’ I say.
‘We don’t really have an alternative,’ Tariq says.
‘I don’t even know if I’m strong enough.’
‘You got this,’ he says, resting a hand on my shoulder.
A Dark Friar charges toward us but Tariq is there, flames flying from his hand. The Dark Friar catches alight and runs past us, screaming in agony.
‘I’ve got your back,’ Tariq says. ‘Get to it.’
I take a deep breath, channelling the heat within me. The energy courses through my veins, infusing my limbs. My arms push against the wall, and my legs anchor me to the ground. The stone beneath my palms shudders in response to my pressure.
But the wall is resilient.
‘Don’t stop,’ Tariq encourages, as he flames another approaching Dark Friar.
I push again, crying out with determination. But it’s no use. I’m not strong enough. My powers are still too new to me.
A tremor ripples through the ground, and Tariq and I exchange a concerned glance. Layla’s chanting has ceased; the barrier remains intact, but an ominous activity surrounds the well – the smoke has blackened, and light, strobing, darts from the well.
‘Alastor…’ I say.
In a rush of desperation, I push against the wall once more, every ounce of my being dedicated to this cause. Yet, my body protests, and I crumple to the ground.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t…’ I admit, my breath ragged.
Tariq runs his hands through his hair as he takes in the scene unfolding around us. He collapses next to me. ‘Liam, you have to do this. There is no other option.’
‘Tariq, I’m telling you I can’t.’
His bright green eyes bore into mine. ‘Kiss me.’
‘What?’ I say.
‘That night I kissed you on your bed, I felt everything you felt, Liam. I know what that kiss did to you because it did it to me too.’
My abilities, they went into overdrive.
‘But what if it doesn’t work, I…’
‘Then it doesn’t, and we had one great kiss before everything goes to shit.’
I smile, then lean in.
Our lips connect. It’s intense, desperate. Among the turmoil, our world narrows, leaving only us. Sensations hit maximum, an electrifying fusion of touch and taste.
My ears take in new sounds, the thumping of my heart, and Tariq’s too. The distant struggles of Opel and Nathaniel against the Dark Friars. And deep down in the well, the Crossing. It stirs. Alastor is crawling up.
The ground rumbles beneath us.
Reluctantly, I pull away from Tariq. My lips are buzzing.
He smiles at me.
Summoning newfound strength, I turn to the wall, my sweat-drenched body aflame with determination. I push against the stone. The fire within me intensifies, my feet anchor into the ground as I pour every ounce of energy into this push. My muscles burn, and I roar with pure adrenaline.
Finally, the ground beneath me gives, and the wall breaks free of its foundations.
There’s a grip around my arm and I’m pulled back.
‘It’s going!’ Tariq shouts, holding me.
We stagger backward as the wall begins to topple.
Layla looks up from her position within the orb. Terror spreads across her face as the wall crashes through the barrier. She screams as stone and flint explode over the well.
The red glow of the orb fades as Layla is crushed.
Dark Friars run from the scene, leaving Nathaniel and Opel to watch as the rubble continues on, smashing into the ground and tumbling down the well, disappearing out of sight.
The smoke and light funnels back inside, and from somewhere deep down in the earth, a harrowing screech escapes the Crossing.
Then, there is silence.
My body feels like it’s about to betray me, but Tariq holds me, preventing me from collapsing into an exhausted heap.
‘You did it,’ Tariq says, his grip on me tightening.
My gaze lifts, first to his eyes, then to his lips. ‘No, we did it.’
Nathaniel and Opel rush toward us.
‘Is everyone alright?’ Nathaniel asks.
‘That was epic,’ Opel says, slapping my back.
I wince.
‘Come on,’ she says. ‘That couldn’t have hurt.’
‘No, it’s my…’ I clutch my stomach, a sharp pain coursing through my lower abdomen. It throbs.
‘Liam?’ Tariq says.
I open my mouth to respond, but the area around me starts to spin, my surroundings blurring and distorting. My grip tightens on my stomach as the pain intensifies.
Through the haze, Tariq’s voice calls again, then Nathaniel’s. But their words are distorted and distant. The edges of my vision darken. Then nothing.