Rise of the DarkWalker: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book II

Feeling like his body was turned inside out and put back together backwards, Carter stumbled to the ground and dropped to his knees with a thud. The sharp, stinging pain raced up his thighs and down to his feet.

His chest tightened, each breath shallow as if the air itself resisted him. He pressed his palms into the ground, the rough texture reminding him he was alive, but his limbs felt foreign, weak. He hated this sensation—this helplessness. There had been too much of it lately.

It jolted the dizzy feeling from his mind. He found himself in the middle of a plaza with a crowd of people nearby. Murmurs of the crowd reached his ears. People pointed at him, and several approached with objects he didn’t recognize, but knew from how they were held—like they were ready to attack— had to have been weapons.

His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the murmurs. ‘Are they all staring?’ He shifted uneasily, feeling exposed and hunted. Something primal stirred in his chest. ‘I’ve faced worse before, haven’t I?’ But this felt different. He was alone. Uncertain.

‘I’ve fought my way through horrors in the Realm, stared down demons from the Abyss, but this is new—a battleground where the rules are unknown, and I’m not sure if I’m cast as hero or villain.’

The approaching people were dressed in wet looking, blue-black armor that pulsed rhythmically as if it breathed. It even went over their heads. Their exposed skin was an iridescent blue that reminded him of fish scales. They paused a few feet from him, and then one came a couple steps closer. This one was larger than the others, and had glowing symbols etched in its skin that pulsed in time with its breathing. It pulled off its helmet, revealing a male.

‘I wonder if he’s a Mer.’ The thought was the first coherent one he’d had since coming here. Carter shook his head and had to lock his teeth against this vomit that tried to escape. ‘Nope. Can’t make a bad impression by spraying puke over everyone.’

The warrior’s voice, deep and resonant like the churning of ocean currents, cut through the rising tension. “You are not of the sea.” His eyes—like gleaming black pearls—narrowed. “How is it that you stand here? The sea does not welcome outsiders.”

Carter blinked, still trying to shake the dizziness from his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another voice.

“We should return him to the depths.” This voice was colder, more impatient. It belonged to another warrior who stepped forward, holding a long, ornate trident that hummed with a strange energy. His grip was firm, and he held trident with the forks pointed at Carter. “He is not one of us. Let the sea judge him.”

“No, we should bring the interloper to the King. Allow him to decide.” This voice didn’t stand out from the crowd.

The first warrior continued to study Carter, waiting for his answer.

‘Should I run, fight, or just be honest?’ The thought flashed through his mind as he gathered himself into a crouch, ready to spring into action. ‘I’m not going to get very far with running, especially as I don’t know what those weapons can do. Fighting would be a massacre, probably of me, which wouldn’t be fun. Honesty it is, then. I hope they’re open to listening.’

“I… don’t know.” A maelstrom of uncertainty churned inside him. “The last thing I remember was seeing a swirling portal of light that… called to me, and then I hit the ground here.”

The second warrior to speak stepped forward. Carter tensed, ready to defend himself. His mind raced. The weight of the trident seemed to press down on him, unseen but tangible. It thrummed with energy, more advanced than any he’d encountered in the Realm before. Or on Earth.

‘If he twitches wrong, I gotta stop him as quick as possible. Will a neck strike even be as effective on these guys?’

And then, a commotion came from behind the warriors, causing them to glance over to the noise.

“You’re always making a dramatic entrance into my world, aren’t you, Carter?”

The guards dropped to a knee with left hands clapped to their chests as a familiar bearded red-haired Mer swaggered through the crowd.

“At least this time you’re not drowning.” The Prince of the Mer gave a lopsided smile, his eyes full of mischief and an unspoken challenge. “Though it was good to have you in my arms.”

Carter rose and bowed at the waist. “Your Majesty.”

“So formal, Carter? I thought we were friends?”

The Walker straightened and glanced at the surrounding warriors. “Well, after how these guys responded to me, I wasn’t too sure.”

Amando lifted his hand to the warriors and they rose. “Judge them not, Walker.” His voice had changed from flirtatious to regal. “They are protectors of our people. They’re doing what is necessary.”

Carter nodded. “Up to, and including tossing newcomers out to be judged by the sea?”

The Prince glanced over the warriors, and focused on the one Carter spoke of before returning his gaze to the Walker of Worlds. “Including.”

“That’s unfortunate, Your Highness. They might accidentally kill a potential ally.”

“Barring yourself, Walker, allies don’t show up uninvited.”

Carter took a deep breath. He drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword. “You know, your high and mighty tone is pretty off putting, Amando.”

“He is our Prince, land dweller.” The impatient warrior spoke up again.

“And I am a King.” Carter deepened his voice, filling it with ice and iron.

Amando raised his eyebrows. “Nice basso profundo, Your Majesty.” He smirked.

Carter narrowed his eyes. “The almost dizzying way you go from imperious to teasing seems to be to be intentional. Who is it meant for? Me,” he glanced to the still kneeling guards and back to the Prince, “Or them?”

Amando winked. “On your feet, men.” He then turned and headed back the way he came.

Amando’s wink held a flicker of mischief, and as he turned, Carter caught the briefest brush of his arm. A touch too casual. The guards, unaware of the unspoken tension, snapped to attention in unison, fists striking their armor with a wet slap. Carter suppressed the instinct to recoil from the sound, the slick pulse of their strange armor only adding to the uneasy knot in his gut. He wiped his hand over his face and then caught up to the Prince.

“I’ve got something for you, Your Majesty.” Carter reached for his belt where he’d placed the dagger.

“It’s Amando.” The Prince glanced over his shoulder. “I thought you were married?” He said with a big grin and pointed look at him.

Carter followed his gaze down to his belt and groaned. “Bloody hells.” He held up Conker’s Blade. “I meant—”

“No. Do not.”

Amando lit up. “Conker!” He snatched the weapon from Carter. “I’ve missed you.”

Carter blinked, staring at his now empty hand. He hadn’t seen the Prince move. He looked up at Amando, back to his empty hand, and once more to the other man. “That was rude.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Carter.” He fluttered his eyes at him. “I was just so excited to have Conker back, I just reacted.”

Carter drummed his fingers on his sword hilt. “I thought he was called ‘Conker’s Blade?’”

“He?” Amando tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“The dag—poniard spoke to me. Aloud and mentally.” He shook his head at the memory. “Like he was intelligent.”

“Oh, that is interesting.”

Carter lengthened his stride until he walked beside the Prince. “In what way?”

“Conker’s Blade, as I mentioned before, is an ancestral weapon. It’s also an artifact and symbol of our people. While powerful, it is no more intelligent than that wall.”

“So, why did you want it so bad you promised three courtoons of your warriors to aid Adora in exchange for me retrieving it?”

“Family pride, Carter.”

‘I don’t believe you. Family pride doesn’t fit how you act.’ Carter nodded. “I understand.”

Amando smiled. “Good.”

He stopped before a lowered drawbridge. It lead to a building that looked like a perfect blend of natural growth and Mer craftsmanship, rising from the seabed like a living monument. The lower half was constructed from living coral, vibrant and teeming with life. Twisting coral branches wove together to form walls, some sections delicate and translucent, others thick and fortified. Fish of every color darted in and out of the coral’s gaps, and bioluminescent sea plants clung to the surface, casting an eerie glow that illuminated the deep, murky waters.

Carter followed the shape building and then froze. The flickering light through the watery sky above held him riveted. He felt light-headed. “A-are we underwater?”

Amando’s smile faltered as he caught the panic in Carter’s eyes, the way his chest heaved and his hand shot out, grasping at nothing. “We are, Carter. We have been the whole time.” His voice was soft, soothing. He stepped closer, ready to grab the Walker if he went crazy.

Carter’s breath hitched, and his chest tightened as if the weight of the ocean pressed down on him. His vision blurred, heart pounding wildly in his ears. He clawed at his throat, gasping for air that suddenly wasn’t, his knees buckling beneath him as the edges of his world closed in. “H-how…” He shook his head. “Wha-why aren’t I drowning?” He turned wide, shocky eyes to the Prince of the Mer.

Amando held up his hands. “Because we’re not currently in the water.” He gestured around him. “This is where were have our limited interactions with air breathers. A bubble of force keeps the area dry while still being in our natural environment. We Mer can pass through like it is air, but air breathers are gently repelled.”

Carter took a couple of deep breaths. “Okay. I am ready.” He rose to his feet and stared up at the rippling currents which caused his panic attack moments ago. ‘You will not defeat me, or stop me.’ He tensed his muscles to force the trembling to halt. “Let’s continue our journey, Your Highness.”

“Are you certain, my friend?” Amando’s voice was soft, caring.

“Indeed.”

“Very well.”

Amando turned back to guiding them to the castle. A couple of the warriors murmured behind him so he took smaller steps to allow them to overtake him.

“I told you were should let the sea judge him, Commander. This one showed his deficiency when he saw the grandeur of the Royal House.”

“Just so you’re aware, if you have a moment of weakness on land, I won’t belittle you for it.” Carter didn’t look at the warrior as he spoke. “Instead, I would try to help you.” He then lengthened his steps to his normal stride and caught up to Amando.

“That was a diplomatic way to put him in his place, my friend.”

###

The light faded revealing an ebony clad warrior whose eyes glowed as if with a silver flame. In a blink, he lifted Lucien by the scruff of the neck, and launched the werewolf through a window. As the tinkle of broken glass danced through the air, he continued his motion and attempted to decapitate Anila with a spinning back slash.

She turned to mist and the crystalline blue blade whipped through the cloud at neck level. She reformed and glared at Robilar. “You summoned a Hell Knight? What are you thinking?”

Robilar chuckled. “Silly vampire.” He dismissed her comment with a wave and gestured to the newcomer. “He is so much worse. Meet Robert Worthington, agent of the F.S.I.A. and slayer of the supernatural.” He glanced at the other. “Can you believe she thought I’d waste time or energy on a pathetic hell knight?”

Robert’s long white hair flapped around his shoulders in the breeze from the window. The black cassock swayed less energetically around his ankles. He tilted his sword up near his shoulder. “Robilar, you handle Lucien, and I’ll take care of Anila.”

Robilar nodded. “Done.” He noted Erna and Kätharina crowded behind a stone pillar, trying to avoid the battle. He waved his hand, indicating they stay put before diving out the window after the thrown werewolf.

Erna gasped as she covered her mouth with her left hand, her right reaching out to the Chronomancer.

Robert split into two copies of himself.

Anila’s eyes widened as her lips curled in a snarl of defiance. She raised her hand, a ball of fire growing from her palm. The flames boiled in fury as she readied her attack.

One copy plunged his sword into Anila’s heart, driving her against the wall as he ducked.

The other appeared out of the darkness like a wraith before his sword cleaved her neck, burying his blade into the same wall. The ball of flame flickered out as the vampire exploded into ash and dust.

The two copies of Robert tapped their swords together with a clink and melted back into one being. He hurried to the broken window, hair billowing behind him. He looked out, but the heavy rain made it impossible to see.

A flash of lightening illuminated the werewolf stalking the Chronomancer from a tiled rooftop. Robilar seemed focused in front of him, peering into the shadows under the eaves. The castle's towering stone walls glistened under the heavy rain, dark cracks snaking through the ancient brickwork as the storm beat down.

Thunder ripped across the sky as wind whipped his hair across his face. The pounding deluge running into his eyes burned as the water mixed with the sweat from his head.

Lucien carefully set a dripping paw on the slick tile as he prepared to pounce on the man below.

Kätharina called out from inside. “Robilar. Where are you?”

The sound of her voice made him look up to the window he’d leaped from. “What?” The torrential rain muffled her words.

Lucien crashed down into Robilar, driving him to the ground with a grunt as the wind was knocked from his chest. He crouched over the Chronomancer, slavering jaws poised over his throat. Robilar’s hands atLucien’s neck were the only thing holding him back.

Robilar’s sword bounced away over the cobblestones and ended in a cluster of pale white grass.

“I’m going to enjoy ripping your throat out.” The werewolf’s words were almost spit at the Chronomancer. “I know it won’t bring them back, but at last, Lisbeth and my boys will have justice.” He glanced over his furry shoulder at something in the rain, nodded and turned back. “And maybe their ghosts will stop haunting me.”

Robilar, arms trembling, paused in pushing his brother off him. “W-what?” The rain in his eyes burned almost as much as when the sweat was mixed in.

“You didn’t know?” Lucien’s voice was almost causal. “Their specters have chased me for the last century.” He then flinched as if touched by something his captive couldn’t see, rising up a bit.. “But it’s okay, see? They’ll leave me alone once I kill you.” His snout wrinkled and relaxed. “Yeah. That’ll be the solution.”

“That’s not how that works, Lucien.” His voice was strained, disbelief and frustration mixed in. He worked his leg, pulling it up between them. “If you’re being haunted, the only way to lay the spirits to rest is to burn their bodies.”

“No!” Lucien threw his weight back on his brother, forcing his leg down and to the side.

Agony raced through Robilar’s thigh and hip. “Why not?” He asked through gritted teeth.

The werewolf giggled. “I ate them.” Showing a lupine grin for a second, he went back to snarling. “Romulous said to complete my transformation. I had to.” Another giggle. “Eat their bodies.” He lunged for Robilar’s throat with a roar.

Robert nodded to himself. “I’ve heard enough.” He glanced at the women hiding. “I’ll be back.” He planted his foot on the windowsill and leaped through.

Erna scampered over to the window and stared out at the downpour.

Robert landed behind the werewolf with a wet thump.

Lucien paused his attack and turned to the new noise.

Before his turn could be completed, Robert punted him off Robilar.

The werewolf flew through the air, a short, hard flight which terminated in a stone wall.

Robert held his hand out to Robilar.

The other man took it and rose with a grimace of bared teeth. “Fuck that hurts.” He growled the words.

Robert nodded, still holding Robilar’s hand. He stared into his eyes. “It is time.”

Robilar nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them and nodded again.

Robert gave him a small smile and touched the center of Robilar’s forehead.

Golden light exploded around the men as they melted into each other.