Resurrection Bridge by Sean Cunningham

Author:Sean Cunningham [Cunningham, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Falconbrook Press
Published: 2024-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23 – Malchariel

Malchariel had hidden himself from the sun of the First Realm because his people were weaker in daylight. It was a natural time to rest. And so, his error: he had not realised the sun of the First Realm was dangerous.

He climbed onto the rooftop of the warehouse. The sky to the east paled as dawn threatened. He had replenished his strength from the shapeshifter corpses below, but he could feel it ebbing again as the city rushed towards the sun.

That made things more difficult.

Filaments that spread from his first vertebra through his brain sent pulses into his mind. He was due to report back to his people. With dawn coming, with his enemies knowing his location, the timing couldn’t be worse. But the signal was not a request.

He summoned the mists. Grey cloud bloomed out of the aether, into the air around him. At once it joined him to the mist-shrouded worlds where his people spent eternity and the sounds of London died away.

In the aetheric shroud, a silhouette appeared.

“Seeker,” Lord Yamurogos whispered.

Malchariel inclined his head by the correct amount. “Great lord.”

Though he dwelled in the hallowed lands of mists, Lord Yamurogos manifested as he would in the physical world. Tall, robed from the waist down, his torso was a shrunken thing, skin stretched over a ribcage of metal tubes. His arms were longer than normal human proportions, his hands splitting into fingers that ended in scalpels. Horns that curved forward at a right angle bracketed his head. Malchariel could not see his lord’s face, could not see the fangs for tearing flesh and cracking bone, but his eyes were the twin fires of ancient stars.

“I have found her,” Malchariel said.

“And yet you do not possess her,” Lord Yamurogos replied.

Malchariel schooled his features to show none of his offence. “I have tested her and her allies. I am crafting an army of my own to defeat them.”

“This is the First Realm,” Lord Yamurogos said, disdain hissing from him. “What challenge can it offer?”

“The sun here does not merely weaken,” Malchariel said, “it burns. And there is a Wizard of Teleoch–”

“Excuses,” Lord Yamurogos said. “The capture of the Reisarchi princess is crucial to the future of our people. If you are unequal to the task, Malchariel, say it now. I will destroy you and assign another.”

It was an effort to maintain a respectful tone. “I will not fail.”

“Be mindful of the sacred blood, Malchariel,” Lord Yamurogos said. “It is not for lesser beings.”

“I understand.” Once victory was his, any vampires he created were to be destroyed.

The robed and horned figure faded back into the mists. Malchariel sensed the world of his people recede. He released the spell that summoned the mists and the vapour boiled away to nothing.

He had not mentioned the Khadian battle mage. Had he done so, Lord Yamurogos would have sent more hunters. Malchariel wanted that kill for himself. He wanted it like he’d wanted nothing in ages of the universe.

Malchariel heard Setareh climbing up behind him long before she reached the rooftop.

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