DUEL IN THE DARKNESS

 

Major Richard Blaine has led his Spartan 300 into a deathtrap, a realm between worlds. How will he save those who trusted him from an alien hell?

DUEL IN THE DARKNESS

“Don’t fight the darkness,Richard. Simply bring in the light, and the Darkness will disappear by its verynature.”

– Helen Mayfair

 

What had Helen whispered to me inthat French Quarter alley after death had silently crept by us on clawed feet?

“Ships that pass in the night,and speak to each other in passing, only a signal shown … and a distant voicein the darkness. 

So, on the ocean of life, we pass and speak to one another,only a look or a voice, then darkness again and deep silence.”

“Pain! Who brings me pain?”

It was an eerie, gruesome voice …as if an unclogging drain had been granted speech.

The volume of it was immense, asif a Titan or Fallen Angel squatted wetly in front of me. I remembered Helen’swords about light versus darkness and slung my rifle back over my shoulder.

There was more than one kind ofweapon. And you used the right one against the proper enemy … or you suffered.

The men and nurse behind mesquirmed on their feet as if in agony. What was wrong with them?

‘They are being mentallyassaulted by images so foul their minds will soon fracture and shatter.’

I turned my head to the Spartansand hissed low, 

“Fill your heads with the brightest memories of childhood youhave. If you want to keep your souls, do it now! Now!”

I stepped closer to the tentaclednightmare that filled the opening that had to have been forty feet high andwide if it was an inch.

Some instinct, or perhaps themurmuring of Sentient, kept my eyes from looking it full on.

“More Pain! You! You spinedmaggot. You bring me pain?”

Time and times are but cogwheels,unmatched, grinding on oblivious to one another. 

Occasionally … very rarely … thecogs fit; 

the pieces of the cosmic wheel slip then snap together momentarilyand give men faint glimpses beyond the veil of this everyday blindness we callreality.

The majority of people go past thosedoors that are half ajar, thinking them closed, 

and fail to notice the faintstirrings of the great curtain that hangs ever in the form of appearancesbetween them and the world of causes behind.

I know I would have passed bythis door if the lives of those who trusted me had not been at stake.

‘You can speak to thisabomination if you will endure the agony of it.’

I nodded and immediatelyregretted it as my throat, lips, and tongue seemed to spasm in impossible, fearsomeways.

“I bring you death if you forceme.”

“Your words. I understand them.How?”

I drew in a breath to steelmyself for renewed agony. “You will have to pay to find out.”

“Pay? Here in śāpagrast, it is Iwho make souls pay not pay tribute to spined maggots.”

It laughed like a clogged drainfighting the attempts to be cleared. My Spartans whimpered. My advice was notworking.

Sentient hissed within my mind. 

‘Do something, Blaine, or they will soon be drooling caricatures of what they oncewere.’

The Monstrosity kept on, 

“Thesands of the realm of   is not as the sand of other realms, for śāpagrastlies nearest of all to the world’s rim.  

Andstrange winds, blowing from a gulf no learned creature may hope to fathom, havesown its ruinous fields with the grey dust of corroding planets, the blackashes of extinguished suns.”

It laughed again, and all my Spartansfell to their knees mewing and holding their heads with both hands.

“Here in śāpagrast, lie in waitfor prey emancipated  demons lefthomeless by the destruction of their antiquated hells. Pay! Pay what, spinedmaggot!”

“You … will … let … my … People …GO!”

“Thy audacity offends me! Onlyone could speak so to me … AND YOU ARE NOT HE!”

My Spartans fell to the sands ofthis accursed cave and howled.

I asked Sentient for a miracle …and she granted it.

“I am STILL he!”

I waved my left hand with anintricate flourish. The image of the English Channel parting for the charge ofmy Spartan 3oo filled the cavern.  

It wasaccompanied by the strange echo of the roaring of surging waters protesting theabeyance of Natural Order.

“No! It cannot be!”

“Yes! LET … MY … PEOPLE … GO!”

“No!”

“Then, let this be on your head!”

I had always wondered where thetons of water of the dammed English Channel had gone.

I smiled. I suddenly knew where. Ithad gone where I had willed them now.

Tons of sea water crushed down uponeither side of my Spartans, sweeping the hundreds of the unseen demons awayfrom those who trusted me. 

Those scaled things wailed and choked and thrashed.

“NO!”

I twisted and roared to my Spartansstruggling to their feet. “Run! Run for the outside. Now!”

They ran.

The Old One, as now I knew it tobe, roared also. “No! I will consume them one and all!”

“Not if you die first!” I yelledat it, rushing straight at him, both palms open to touch its repellant fleshwith my artificial hands.

I almost stumbled as I smelledHelen’s strange, exotic perfume and heard her murmur in my left ear …

Left she always told me was herfavorite side, for it was the side in which the heart beat.

“The Valiant fight alone.”

Oh, how I wished I had kissed herthat time before Mr. Morton interrupted us.

Just once.

As my palms touched the loathsomeOld One, I whispered, “Helen, I love you.”

The Old One screamed as if inagony. Not blackness, but purest white enveloped me.

For a heartbeat, I felt soft, featherywings enveloping me … lifting me as if my body weighed nothing.

And for a precious heartbeat, myhands no longer throbbed.

Then, there was blackness …but not before a light kiss pressed down on my lips.