Dark Rising - Prologue

“Brother Alan, the man disturbs me. I want him removed.”

“Sure, Father. I’ll do it right away.”

“You’re right, you will. Now. You and Brother Myles call the Seeker, I’ll supervise.”

Brother Alan looked startled. “Yeah, okay.” He turned toward the tables and raised his voice, “Hey, Myles! C’mere! We got work to do!”

Father James grimaced and walked away shaking his head, leaving the other two to follow.

Within minutes, the three had made their way into the second basement of the small office building and through a short tunnel into the sewer complex. Only a hundred feet further on they reached what had been a break room for the workers who built the complex. Bare concrete walls surrounded them. A feathering of green moss on the ceiling and down one wall ended in a trickle of water wandering aimlessly before disappearing into a crack at the base of another wall. The three men avoided the wet areas: by the marks through the moss on the floor, more than one man had lost his footing there.

Father James observed critically while the two Brothers made complex signs and sounds over a series of pentagrams painstakingly inlaid in the concrete at their feet. As they completed preparations and Brother Alan began to chant, he smiled. This ceremony always excited him, especially when it involved someone new to the summoning. The reactions of the uninitiated were usually worth seeing as they had their first good look at what they summoned. He watched Brother Myles with relish.

After perhaps three or four minutes, a small flame appeared in the center of the large pentagram before them. It soon grew to man height and beyond, and a form became visible within. Roughly humanoid, with a head slanting into broad shoulders, it stood hunched on legs flexing in reverse of what the eye expected. Pale orange irises glowed around vertical pupils, gill like slashes were a parody of a nose. Fangs protruded from a lipless maw, dripping liquid which hissed and smoked as it hit the floor.

Brother Myles’ reaction was all Father James had hoped for, the hem of his robe was fluttering as if in a strong breeze and his shoulders were shaking. The little bit of face he could see was a pasty white. Brother Alan seemed calm as he continued his chant. No matter the man’s intellectual capacity and limited vocabulary, he was becoming very good at his job.

He looked back to the Seeker as it fully materialized, the flame dying to mere flickers at its taloned feet. After a quick look around the perimeter it stood within, the thing studied the three robed figures before it for perhaps a minute or more before raising a hand with three inch claws and pointing to Brother Alan.

“WHY HAVE YOU CALLED ME?” Spittle flew, hissing and popping. The voice, low and rough, vibrated in the teeth and bones of the three men. A stench followed the words.

Father James stepped forward, but not beyond the limit of the pentagram he himself stood in. “We ask your services, Seeker of Death. There is one we offer to you.” He did not need to look at the photo in his pocket to call up an image and send it to the Seeker’s mind.

“AND WHAT IS MY PAYMENT FOR THIS?” The Seeker eyed the men in front of it, tongue flicking over fangs. It spat saliva toward them, laughing as they twisted to avoid the droplets.

“His body, life and soul. Then you may return to sleep.”

“NO. MORE FIRST.” The flat tones reverberated off the walls of the small room. It leaned forward even more, claws flexing.

“Very well. Then take that one as well.” Father James gestured toward Brother Myles with a negligent flick of his fingers. “Sorry Brother, but…” He shrugged.

“AGREED.” Almost languidly, the Seeker reached for Myles, easily snatching him as the priest stared at his superior in frozen shock. With slow deliberation each limb was pulled off, shoved into an impossibly large mouth and swallowed. The screams seemed only to enhance its enjoyment. It held the man up, pointing a pulsing artery to its mouth, gulping the liquid as the pulses became weaker. By the time the first bite was taken from the trunk of the once human man, the screams had stopped. When only the head remained, it was tossed to Father James, who examined it complacently for a few moments before wiping the hair from the ever staring eyes.

Brother Alan watched the flight of Myles’ head but never faltered in his chanting, the discipline was too strong. When he turned back, the demon was staring at him, tongue flicking, blood dripping from its face and arms.

The Seeker watched him closely for a minute or more, as if debating its chances of broaching the protection of his pentagram without permission. Then it belched loudly, sending a fetid odor through the room, raised its head and sniffed. The backward folding legs carried it rapidly out of the room and into the depths of the tunnel’s darkness. Bloody three toed prints and scraps of robe and flesh were the only signs it left behind. Almost.

Father James held the severed head up by the hair. He assumed what he supposed to be an orator’s pose and took a deep breath. “Alas! Poor Myles! I knew him well.” Then he flicked the head into the pool of blood and bits of cloth and wiped his hand on his sleeve. “Or maybe not.” He laughed. “Have someone clean up this mess, Brother. I think I’ll go have some dinner. I find myself with a bit of an appetite, for some reason.” He left the small room, still chuckling. He stopped partway up the tunnel and yelled back. “And send someone to collect my robe. It seems to have become soiled!”

It was some time before Brother Alan followed, head down.