The Blood by D. J. MacHale
"You kept your word and fought Brennus," Marsh said.
"But to what end?" Damon shot back.
Cooper grabbed his sword, ready to protect Marsh if Damon lashed out with the poleax.
"This is a war that cannot be won," Damon added, then chuckled ironically. "I suppose in hindsight it was not wise to make this my one and only battle."
"You led your army bravely," Marsh said. "You don't have anything more to prove."
Damon looked down to the fighting in the distance.
"A noble effort that ultimately was for naught," Damon said wistfully.
"It's not over," Ree said.
"But soon," he warned. "Look down there. The spirits from the Blood cannot be held back. They will break through and begin their final assault of the Threshold."
"I don't believe that," Marsh snapped at him. "There must be something more we can do. You're the genius general. Come up with something!"
Damon gave Marsh a small smile. "It is ironic that the person who hates me the most has the most faith in me."
"So do something!" Coop shouted. "I'm not a big fan of yours either, by the way."
Damon looked down to the battle and spoke as if he was thinking out loud.
"Without a dramatic change this battle will soon be over," he began. "As I see it, there is only one last move that can be made."
"So make it!" Coop shouted.
Damon shook his head. "No. I would most certainly fail."
"What is it?" Marsh asked impatiently.
"The spirits of the damned are driven," Damon said. "Brennus has turned them into a single entity with a common goal . . . survival and revenge. Look at them fight. No one spirit matters. They are sacrificing themselves willingly in the hope of making it through to the heart of the enemy. To Solara. No fighting force could possibly have come to this on their own. It was Brennus. He has gathered them and brought them to this moment. He is the force that guides their hand as if they were a single living being."
"So where is this Brennus?" Ree asked, surveying the field. "I don't see him leading the way."
"I am sure the sin eater will make his triumphant arrival once the battle has been won and the Threshold has been secured. It is something I have done many times. Until then, I believe he is directing this battle from his own vision . . . the small village where he performed his unholy art."
"And your point is . . . ?" Coop said.
"To kill this beast you must cut off its head," Damon snapped. "Without Brennus, they will be lost."
The group exchanged encouraging looks.
"Yeah," Coop said. "Makes sense. So go after him!"
"I cannot," Damon replied. "He knows me too well, as do his minions. I would not get within a whisper of him. It would take an innocent to end Brennus. Someone unexpected."
Damon reached to his belt, grabbed the poleax, and pulled it free. He held up his beloved, infernal weapon and admired it once again. He then grabbed the blade with his other hand and swung the sword down slowly until the handle was pointed directly at Marsh.
"I am returning this to you with my gratitude for your trust," Damon said. "I honor you for the faith you had in me, for your courage, and I say to you in all sincerity that after all you have seen, all that you have encountered at my hand, it is only fitting that you be the one to end this."
All eyes went to Marsh.
Marsh stood with his mouth open, stunned, looking up at his nemesis.
"You have been tested more than most," Damon said. "Both physically and spiritually. You are ready. Take the sword and cut the head from the beast."
Marsh focused on the poleax . . . the source of all his troubles. It led to the death of his mother and his best friend. It caused him to be haunted by the demons that lurked in his own imagination and in worlds beyond.
Marsh looked to his mother, desperate for her wisdom. "What do I do?" he asked.
"You've led this battle from the beginning," Ree answered calmly. "Now you can end it. What better way to demonstrate to the Watchers that we represent the true spirit of mankind?"
Marsh stared at the offered sword.
"Is that true, Press?" Marsh asked. "Will this convince the Watchers to—"
He looked to Press, but the Watcher was gone.
"Nice," Coop said sarcastically. "When the going gets tough . . ."
"Take it," Damon said to Marsh. "What I began, you can end."
Marsh swallowed hard. With a steady hand, he reached up and grasped the handle of the monstrous sword.
It was an unholy weapon that had changed his life forever.
And now it was his.
32
It was dark. And cold.
Marsh had stepped out of the swirling fog into a dense pine forest. He stood still and listened, hoping for a clue as to where he was and where he should go.
"Been here, done this," Coop said.
Marsh spun quickly to see Coop step out of the fog.
"Go back," Marsh ordered. "I've got to do this alone."
"Why?" Coop asked. "Because Damon thinks it's your destiny or something? Bull. You need me, Ralph."
"You still think I'm not capable?"
"Don't get all huffy," Coop replied. "You're plenty capable. Or as capable as anybody who never threw a punch in his life and has to fight the nastiest guy in existence."
"I don't plan on fighting him," Marsh said as he held up the poleax. "All I need is an opening."
"And I'll make sure you get it. I've been here before. I know where he lives. I even know his brother. Are we going to do this together or are you still trying to prove something?"
Marsh kicked at the ground anxiously.
"C'mon, Marsh," Coop argued. "It's us. You and me."
Marsh looked straight at Coop and said, "I think you're right. There may be a reason why we're in the middle of this. But if that's true, then I've got to be the one to end it."
"Agreed. And I'm going to make sure you do."
Marsh gave him a slight smile.
"Excellent," Coop said. "Follow me."
He led Marsh through the woods along the same route he had taken when he had been there before, hunting for Damon. "Over there!" Marsh declared.
"No," Coop said. "The village is this way."
"But something's going on over there."
Coop listened and heard it too. There was the sound of activity coming from a spot deeper in the woods. The two changed direction and wound their way through the trees until they broke out onto a huge meadow that was full of anxious spirits jockeying to enter a wall of swirling color. There were multiple thousands, all crowded together, all pushing toward the fog . . . and the battle that waited for them on the other side.
"This is where they landed when they came through," Coop whispered. "Jeez, there's still a ton of them."
"Makes sense they'd come to Brennus's vision," Marsh said. He looked around and added, "So where's Brennus?"
Coop glanced around, but the twisted spirit was nowhere in sight.
"I doubt that he needs to be pointing the way for these guys," Coop said. "He's got them totally programmed."
"So then, where is he?"
They sunk back into the woods and continued through the moonlit labyrinth. Along the way they passed several spirits from the Blood who wandered aimlessly as if having lost track of the others, and their minds. They would focus on Marsh and Cooper for a second, then move on, uninterested.
"Damon was right," Marsh said. "They would have recognized him and stopped him."
"Yeah, we're nobodies," Coop added. "But not for long." They continued until they came upon the low stone wall that surrounded the village.
"This is where Brennus lived in the Light," Coop explained. "And did his sin-eating thing."
They cautiously hopped the wall and, with their swords drawn, crept past the stone huts until they reached the village center, where a ring of huts surrounded a single well. The village was dark and quiet. There was no sign of life anywh
Two heavyset characters stood guard out front.
"That's where his brother lives," Coop whispered. "He's an old man named Riagan. He's no threat, but those two bozos out front are trouble."
"Get them out of the way," Marsh said flatly.
Coop gave Marsh a playful shove. "I told you you needed me."
Marsh wasn't in the mood for kidding around. "Just get them outta there," he commanded.
"Done."
Coop left Marsh, quickly skirting around the back side of the huts to circle closer to the sentries.
Marsh followed, but not too closely. He wanted to be in position for when Cooper got the burly guards away from the door. His heart pounded. He forced himself not to think about what he was there to do. He had never hurt anyone in his life. He feared that when the moment came, he would hesitate. Or worse, fail. He had to keep telling himself that Brennus wasn't human. He was the sum of so much evil that he could coerce legions into destroying the spirit of mankind. Marsh kept the vision of the battle at the Threshold in mind. So many spirits were willing to fight for what was right. How could he not do the same?
Cooper crept around the back side of the hut next to Riagan's. He was behind the sentries, but ten yards away. It was a long distance of open ground to cover. He held his black sword with one hand, the blade pointing skyward. He knew he didn't have to win a battle, he only had to get a piece of them. The sword would do the rest. He looked back to see Marsh crouched on the far side of the hut, behind him. He gave him a wink, then sprinted for the guards.
Coop covered the ten yards quickly and destroyed the first guard before the sentry even realized he was being attacked. With a powerful swipe of the sword he lashed it across the doomed spirit's chest, barely feeling the impact as the unsuspecting guard was turned to a shadow that quickly vanished.
The second spirit, Maedoc, reacted quickly. Rather than attack, he jumped back in order to buy time to defend himself.
Cooper didn't attack either, but kept the spirit sword high.
"Remember me?" Coop taunted while waving the sword.
Slowly he backed away from the hut toward the well.
Maedoc's eyes blazed. He glanced to the door as if unsure if he should leave his post.
"Looking for help?" Coop taunted. "Don't think you can take me yourself?"
The baiting worked. Maedoc growled angrily and stalked toward Cooper . . .
. . . leaving the door unguarded.
Coop didn't dare to glance in Marsh's direction for fear that he would alert Maedoc.
"C'mon, Bluto," Coop teased. "You're dying to take me apart, aren't you? Nobody's gonna stop you this time. It's just you and me."
Maedoc crouched low, looking for an opening.
Coop knew it would be no contest. Maedoc was unarmed. His only goal was to keep the brute's attention on him and not on the hut.
Maedoc faked a move, as if he was going to charge. "Ooh," Coop taunted. "Slick move. Didn't see that coming." Maedoc let out a low growl. His anger had reached the boiling point.
Coop held the blade close, ready to nail the big guy the moment he sprang.
Maedoc jumped forward . . .
. . . and Marsh made his move toward the door.
Coop glanced to his friend, and immediately wished he hadn't.
Maedoc saw Coop's look, pulled up, and glanced over his shoulder.
"Damn," Coop swore.
Maedoc forgot about Coop and took off after Marsh. He was fast for a big guy and would have caught Marsh before he got to the door . . .
. . . if Coop hadn't gotten to him first. He lunged at Maedoc, blade first. The tip of the spirit sword caught the huge man in the back. Maedoc froze and tried to turn back to see what it was that had skewered him, but he never saw his attacker. A second later the burly spirit floated away as shadowy vapor.
Marsh didn't notice or care. He pushed open the door and leaped inside.
Coop started to follow but didn't get far. He sensed more than saw a quick shadow flash by his face. A second later he felt searing pain stretch across his arms. He had been holding out the spirit sword with both hands as the shadow flashed down, hitting his wrists, knocking the weapon from his grasp. His instinct made him recoil from the attack, which was the worst thing he could have done. By the time he caught his balance and recovered enough sense to retrieve the sword, his attacker had swept in and scooped the blade from the ground.
"What have we here?" the man said as he quickly directed the blade toward Cooper.
Cooper froze, now facing the point of his own weapon. "Didn't expect to see you again," the man said with a smile that showed stained teeth.
"Sanger," Coop said with disdain.
"Aye," replied the old man. "Don't know when to quit, do ya?"
Marsh stepped inside the large hut with every sense on alert. He kept his back to the door and the poleax ready. The first thing he registered was music. The soft sound of a single recorder filled the room with a haunting tune.
A fire burned in the dead center, surrounded by a ring of stones. Its light was so bright it threw the walls of the round hut into deep shadow. Brennus could have been lurking anywhere.
Marsh moved cautiously around the perimeter, keeping his back to the wall so that everything was in front of him. Once he moved a few feet, he could see past the fire to the far wall of the hut, and froze.
Lying on a wooden table was Brennus. The grotesque, twisted spirit was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The only movement came from his short, quick labored breaths. Marsh's confidence soared. Brennus was in no shape to put up a fight. Whatever was wrong with him, he didn't seem capable of joining his spirit army, let alone leading them into Solara. But the battle was still raging and whether he was physically there or not, he still had influence over the Blood spirits. That wouldn't end until Brennus was ended.
Marsh gripped the poleax tighter and continued to move around the wall to get closer to his target.
Beyond Brennus was another table that was pushed right up against the wall. On this table were the partially eaten remains of a huge feast. There were empty bowls, loaves of bread with large chunks torn off, a half-eaten chicken, and loads of fruit, all with single bites taken out. Was this Brennus's downfall? Had he gorged on a huge meal and it had somehow made him sick?
The recorder music stopped.
Marsh had been so focused on Brennus that he had nearly forgotten about it. It wasn't until it ended that he realized it wasn't Brennus who was playing the music.
"Me brother be near the end of his existence," came a man's voice from the shadows directly across the hut from Marsh. It was a deep, intense voice that barely spoke above a whisper.
Marsh stopped moving.
"Are you . . . Riagan?" he asked tentatively.
"Aye," the deep voice whispered.
"What's wrong with Brennus?" Marsh asked.
"He carried the weight of sin for too long," Riagan replied. "No spirit be able to survive with such a dark burden forever. Returning to the Black be his undoing."
Marsh's heart hammered. Could it be? Was Brennus going to die on his own?
"The weapon you carry," Riagan said. "I heard tell of its power. Brennus sought such a weapon, but alas, it be of no use to him now. Perhaps . . . you should be giving it to me."
Coop dodged away from Sanger, who teased him with the spirit sword, waving it in front of his eyes. Coop kept backing up, making sure to keep the lethal weapon a safe distance away . . . and Sanger away from the hut.
"What are you doin' here?" Sanger said. "The fight for the Threshold's as good as over. You looking for mercy?"
"Yeah," Coop said. "That's it. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?"
"Liar," Sanger spat.
He swung the sword, forcing Coop to dodge out of the way.
"Why would I lie?" Coop asked. "Brennus is in charge now. Nothing I can do about that.
"Is that what you think?" Sanger said teasingly. "Shows what you know."
Sanger lunged at Cooper. Coop dodged to the side and made a move to grab Sanger, but Sanger pulled the sword back quickly, regaining the advantage.
"You're a fighter," Sanger said. "That's good. I enjoy a good dustup now and again."
Marsh inched closer to Brennus, his mind racing. Brennus looked helpless. It would have been easy to simply thrust the poleax into him as he lay there, but Marsh couldn't be certain if Brennus was as weak as he looked.
"Brennus treated me like a servant, he did," Riagan said with disdain. "A common slave. In the Light and then here. I would bring the dead here for him to do his work and collect his fees. It was the devil's work, but he gave me no choice. Me own brother. Now look at him. Crushed under the weight of his own making."
Marsh squinted, trying to find Riagan in the shadows. "You have a choice now," Marsh said. "He can't make you do anything. Not anymore. Help me stop the attack."
"Stop it?" Riagan said with surprise. "Why would I be doing that? I dreamed of this day. I planned for it. Unlike me brother, I have stayed strong. His fate will not be mine, for I be prepared."
"Prepared for what?" Marsh asked nervously.
Marsh finally saw movement in the shadows. A hulking figure rose up from the floor and stepped forward into the firelight. Marsh's knees went weak. Coop had said that Riagan was an old guy and not a threat. That couldn't have been further from the truth, for the man towered over Marsh with a grotesquely wide face and eyes that blazed with insanity. He wiped his greasy-slick face with hands that were twice the normal size.
"To take command of his army," Riagan hissed. "He had not the strength to continue, so I relieved him of his burden."
"You . . . what?" Marsh asked, aghast.
"All that Brennus was, all that he took on, be resting with me now."
"I . . . I don't understand."
"He be as good as dead, so I ate the sins of a sin eater," Riagan snarled, gesturing to the half-eaten feast. "And with that weapon I will enter Solara. So if you please . . ."
Riagan sprung at Marsh, grabbing for the poleax.
Marsh dodged away, tripped over a bench, and knocked over a small table.