Death Bringer

“He cracked. Don’t you see? They drove him insane. And while he seems to have recovered for the most part, he’s different, isn’t he? You rescued him, he came back, and all of a sudden we’re all talking about the Death Bringer. This is not good news for our dear friend. After all, we Necromancers called him the Death Bringer when he was Lord Vile, didn’t we? But he turned his back on all that. And now that he’s home, and we’re saying that you, his precious little Valkyrie, might turn out to be the Death Bringer, well… It’s all too much. Events conspire to bring him close to his empty old armour and all that power reawakens. His armour gains sentience, stands up. He has no more control over it than you or I have control over a stray thought.”

  “But Lord Vile was… Lord Vile is evil.”

  Tenebrae shrugged. “Who knows what darkness lurks in the hearts of men?”

  “But he joined Mevolent. That means Skulduggery and Serpine were on the same side.”

  “No one was more surprised about that than I, believe me. But the more I thought about it, the more I understood. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Lord Vile is merely Skulduggery with a mask on. They’re two different people. Skulduggery’s anger and violence had overwhelmed him, and there was nowhere left to turn. So, he blinked, and was gone, and in his place stood Vile. Vile came to us, he absorbed our teachings, his power grew at an exponential rate, and he quickly became our most powerful Necromancer.

  “Only he abandoned us. We didn’t even get a chance to tell him about the Passage, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to save the world. He wanted to destroy it. And the quickest way to get what he wanted was to leave us, and join Mevolent.”

  “Serpine killed his family.”

  “Serpine killed Skulduggery’s family. Vile didn’t care. To Vile, Serpine was just another instrument to use, like Baron Vengeous, or Mevolent himself.”

  Valkyrie knelt by Skulduggery. “I know he’s lying. He’s trying to trick me. I know you’re not Lord Vile. Lord Vile is a mass murderer. Explain this to me. Skulduggery, please, just explain it. Make it make sense.”

  He looked at her. She could see through his eye sockets, to the flickering shadows that played on the inside of his skull. He turned his head, the shadows moved, and he looked at Tenebrae.

  “You brought me back,” he said. “That’s it. That’s all there is to it. The great mystery I’ve never been able to solve. The great question. And you, you are the answer.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “I thought there would be more to it. Instead, I’m, I’m the result of a Necromancer trick.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t easy to trick Nefarian Serpine. I wasn’t even sure it would work – something like that had never been tried before.”

  Skulduggery walked towards Tenebrae. “You didn’t tell anyone. All these years, you didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Why would I? What would it achieve? If your friends knew your secret, they’d have found a way to kill you long ago. And then my wonderful work would have been undone. I liked the fact you were walking around, saving the world in your own little way. It must be like what a proud parent feels.”

  “How do I stop it?”

  “Stop what? Vile? I’m afraid I don’t know. These developments are quite unexpected. Your subconscious is your own. Maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

  Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery. “It’s true?” she asked, her voice hollow.

  Skulduggery turned. “Yes. I told you it was Vile’s ghost that was giving the armour purpose. In a way, that’s true, once you accept that Vile’s ghost is my subconscious. The armour is imitating me. Or it’s imitating how I used to be, at any rate.”

  “You’re Lord Vile.”

  “Yes. Sorry, I should have told you.”

  “You killed Ghastly’s mother.”

  “Among others, yes. He doesn’t know, obviously.”

  “Stop talking like that!” she roared. “Stop talking so normal!”

  “What would you prefer? Sobbing? Wailing? Maybe some more silence? Regret never won a war, Valkyrie, and ‘sorry’ isn’t a big enough word for what I’m feeling. I’ve spent my life since then trying to make up for it, but I’ll never make up for it. The things I did were unspeakably evil, but for those few years, I didn’t care.”

  “You… you told me you did terrible things.”

  “I did.”

  “I didn’t think they’d be so…”

  “I know. We can talk about this later.” He turned back to Tenebrae. “If my subconscious is controlling the armour, and the armour wants to kill your Death Bringer, then why haven’t you killed me?”

  “Well,” Tenebrae said, “let’s face it, I might be wrong. The armour might be operating completely independently of you – it might have gained a higher degree of sentience. In that case, killing you would deprive me of a valuable asset in taking it down. The second reason and, quite honestly, the most pertinent, is that I don’t know how to kill you. If I try, a bungled attempt on your life might redirect the armour against me. And I have no intention of dying before the Passage is brought about. Not when I’m this close.”

  “So you’ve been hoping that Melancholia brings about the Passage before Vile gets to her? That’s your whole strategy? You’ve been hoping?”

  “The centuries have changed all of us, Skulduggery. As Cleric Wreath delights in pointing out, we Necromancers are used to sitting back and not actually doing anything. We’re a very lazy lot, now that I think about it.”

  “No,” Skulduggery said, “you’ve waited too long for this lunatic scheme of yours to come true. You wouldn’t leave anything to chance.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not,” Tenebrae said. “Melancholia is the Death Bringer. She is the only Necromancer to ever reach that level of power. You left before you reached it, and the Lord Vile that’s walking around right now isn’t even you. It’s an echo of you, not fully charged. If you were in the armour, yes, I’d be worried. But you’re not. So if Vile attacks Melancholia, she will destroy it. Or him. What are we calling Vile – an it or a him? Ah, I suppose it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you two stay locked up here until all this is over. I hope I’ve given you enough to talk about. I do hate those awkward silences.”

  Tenebrae turned, and the door closed as he walked away. Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie. “You have a right to be upset,” he said.

  “Oh do I?”

  “I should have told you. I know you understand why I didn’t, but I should have.”

  “You let me go through this Darquesse thing, with all the guilt and the fear and knowing the things that I’m going to do, and you didn’t say anything.”

  “What did you want me to say? Look at me. I was Lord Vile, but now I’m OK? It would have made things worse. You would have looked at the things I did in that armour and you’d have assumed that in order to pass through and emerge on the other side, you’d have to do the same. But you don’t. That’s the thing. Violence and hatred and bloodshed became my reasons for existing. I stopped caring about anything else. I didn’t care who my enemy was, as long as I had an enemy. I was falling, and I didn’t know how to stop.”

  Valkyrie put her back to the wall, slid down to a sitting position. Her legs wouldn’t take her weight. “You murdered all those people. How many? Do you even know?”

  “I don’t. I lost count. Everyone lost count. I was like you. Necromancy came far too easily to me.”

  “You’re one of those sorcerers you told me about. The Elementals who can switch to being an Adept.”

  “It’s rare, but it’s possible.”

  “But… Skulduggery, you’re the good guy.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you found out this way.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Well, we escape. I’m not sure how yet, but—”

  “No,” said Valkyrie. “What do we do now? We’re partners. You’re my best friend. I love you. You were my… I l
ooked up to you. What am I supposed to do now?”

  He trned away. “You need to find yourself a new hero.”

  Chapter 30

  Tenebrae

  e had to admit, that had been fun.

  Tenebrae wasn’t a sadistic man, but the look on Valkyrie Cain’s face and the pain in Skulduggery Pleasant’s voice were just… delicious. He had been carrying that secret around with him for centuries, had come close to spilling it a few times before this. But he was glad he hadn’t. It was like an itch that you put off scratching – when you eventually did scratch, it was so much more satisfying.

  His mood didn’t last, however. When he got to his office, Vandameer Craven wasn’t waiting for him as he had instructed.

  Enough was enough. Tenebrae was sick of Craven and the ridiculous serenity that seemed to have washed over him overnight. He was sick of everyone treating the spineless worm like he was some kind of holy man with the ear of the messiah. Craven was still a Cleric, and Tenebrae was still the High Priest, and the natural order of things would be restored.

  So Tenebrae sat behind his desk, his temper boiling the longer he was made to wait. When his door finally opened, he had to force himself not to jump up and throttle the man.

  “Cleric Craven,” he said, “so good of you to grace me with your presence.”

  “My apologies,” Craven said, bowing. “Our younger Necromancers are understandably nervous. They needed someone to reassure them that it was all going to be OK.”

  Tenebrae frowned. “And that someone was you, I take it?”

  Craven smiled. “I go where I am needed.”

  “Take me to her,” Tenebrae said, standing up.

  Craven raised an eyebrow. “Your Eminence?”

  “Take me to the Death Bringer, Cleric. It’s time I spoke with her.”

  “Ah, unfortunately, I cannot. She is to remain undisturbed.”

  “I am the High Priest, Cleric Craven. You do not say no to me.”

  Something flickered in the Cleric’s eyes, something Tenebrae had never seen in those eyes before, and then it was gone. “Of course. Once again, my deepest apologies. I will take you to her at once.”

  Tenebrae stalked out of the room. Craven followed him through the corridor, struggling to match Tenebrae’s long stride. The satisfaction Tenebrae derived from robbing Craven of his newly acquired dignity was a petty kind of satisfaction, but it was satisfaction nonetheless, and it made the corners of his mouth want to lift in a smile.

  Things got even better when they reached the bowels of the Temple. Tenebrae gestured to Craven to lead the way to whichever chamber held Melancholia, but if the Cleric thought this would mean that he could dictate the walking pace, he was sadly mistaken. Tenebrae walked so quickly that Craven had to virtually scamper ahead of him lest Tenebrae tread on the hem of his robe. More than once, Tenebrae managed to stand on the trailing material, and Craven’s head would jerk back with a strangled gag.

  Finally, they came to a door, and the childish fun and games were over. Craven opened the door wide and Tenebrae swept by him. Melancholia St Clair lay in a hole in the ground, filled to the brim with mud. Her robes lay beside her. Her eyes opened to watch the two men enter. If she was surprised, it didn’t register on her face. She remained where she was.

  “Melancholia,” Cleric Craven admonished. “The High Priest has entered the room.”

  “I can see that,” Melancholia said. “Surely you don’t expect me to stand?”

  “That will not be necessary,” Tenebrae said.

  “Valkyrie Cain is here, isn’t she?” Melancholia asked. “And Skulduggery Pleasant.”

  “Yes,” Tenebrae said. “How did you know?”

  “I can feel them,” she said. “I can feel their energy. They are not happy, are they? She is angry, and scared, and hurt.”

  “I would say that she is, yes.”

  Melancholia smiled. “Glorious.”

  “How are you feeling, my child?”

  She looked at him. “I’m tired.”

  “Are you hurt? This is a healing mud you are in, is it not?”

  “It’s regenerative,” Craven said quickly. “It fills her with energy and—”

  “I know what regenerative means,” Tenebrae interrupted. “And I was asking the girl.”

  Melancholia closed her eyes and let her head loll back gently. “The girl has a name.”

  Tenebrae paused. “What was that?”

  Her eyes were still closed. “I said, the girl has a name. Melancholia. Death Bringer. You can use either one. But you can’t call me ‘the girl’.”

  “I am the High Priest of this Temple, young lady. I can call you whatever I choose.”

  One eye opened, and she squinted up at him.

  “I asked if you were hurt,” Tenebrae continued. “I expect an answer.”

  The girl sighed. “Sometimes I burn. It’s not nice. It hurts. The mud makes it feel better.”

  “Burn? Why do you burn?”

  “Because of my scars.”

  “Ah yes, the scars. I’ve been meaning to ask about those.”

  Craven stepped forward. “I can explain to you—”

  “I want her to do it. Melancholia?”

  “He carved symbols on to me,” Melancholia said. “It took months. It was painful. But it needed to be done. I was the Death Bringer, and I needed my power. It’s all worth it now. Every moment I spent screaming. It’s worth it.”

  “Then it’s true,” Tenebrae said, turning to Craven. “You carved her up to loop the Surge, didn’t you? That’s why she needs to recharge constantly.”

  “I did what had to be done,” Craven said primly.

  Tenebrae grabbed him, shoved him back against the wall. “You arrogant fool. That level of power isn’t natural for her. There’s no telling what will happen.”

  A fit of anger overcame the Cleric, and he struggled to break Tenebrae’s grasp. Were he so inclined, Tenebrae would have found such a display of impotent fury fascinating. As it was, all he felt was disgust. He released his hold, wiping his hands on his robe as Craven stumbled away from him.

  “I did what had to be done!” Craven shouted. “I did what you didn’t have the imagination to do!”

  “She can’t be relied upon,” Tenebrae said. “There’s no telling when she’ll be back to full strength. There’s no telling if she ever will. She is not the Death Bringer!”

  Something came at him, something dark and terrible, and it hit him and Tenebrae spun head over heels through the air. He crunched into the wall and dropped to the stone floor. Agony raced from his shoulder across his chest. A collarbone was broken. Maybe a rib. Hissing in pain, he looked over at Melancholia, standing there, the mud dripping off her.

  “I am the Death Bringer,” she said calmly. “I’m the one you’ve all been waiting for.”

  His vision dimmed suddenly. “No,” he whispered, and then his life was dragged from his body.

  Chapter 31

  Fuel

  ison Dragonclaw laid out his torture instruments on the table. Knives, saws, pliers, hammers, neatly arranged one by one. Valkyrie watched him.

  When he was done, he hauled Skulduggery to his feet and shoved him against the wall, then went over to Valkyrie, did the same to her.

  “You’re not so tough now, are you?” he asked, his smile revealing small teeth behind that wispy goatee. “I bet you’re really regretting the way you treated me. Now it’s my turn. Now I get to inflict some pain.”

  She didn’t answer him. She barely heard him.

  “We’ve not finished treating you badly,” Skulduggery said. “The moment we escape from these shackles, we’re going to do it all over again.”

  “Even if escape were possible,” Dragonclaw replied, “you’d be too late. The Death Bringer is about to change the world.”

  “You hope.”

  “It is a scientific inevitability.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  Dragonclaw stopped what he was
doing, and looked round. “There is no such thing as a scientific inevitability?”

  “Nope.”

  “And what about, for instance, gravity? If I drop an apple, it will not fall?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “You are ridiculous.”

  “Just because an apple falls one hundred times out of a hundred does not mean it will fall on the one hundred and first.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be a rational man.”

  “I am a rational man, but haven’t you heard? I’m also insane. It gives me a unique perspective on things.”

  “Here is what I am going to do,” Dragonclaw said. “I’m going to pull you apart.”

  “Your High Priest doesn’t want me harmed.”

  “He doesn’t want you dead. He was quite agreeable to my harming you.”

  “If you separate my bones from each other, my consciousness could dissipate.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll leave most of you intact. The torso and the head, probably. Maybe I’ll remove the jawbone. It might stop you talking.”

  “I wouldn’t like to bet on it.”

  “Once you are incapacitated, I will then take apart your young apprentice.”

  “I’m not his apprentice,” Valkyrie muttered.

  “She’s my combat accessory,” Skulduggery nodded. “But you won’t get a chance to do any of that, I’m afraid. We’re going to get free in the next few minutes and then you’re really going to wish you had a few guards here for protection.”

  “I see,” Dragonclaw said. “And do you mind telling me how you plan to get free?”

  “I’m picking the lock on these shackles as we speak.”

  “Those locks can’t be picked.”

  “So says the prevailing wisdom.”

  “And you know better, I suppose?”

  “That is the usual state of things.”

  “And what are you picking the lock with, may I ask? A toothpick? A hairpin?”

  “The top of your pen, actually.”

  Dragonclaw laughed. “I don’t have a pen.”

  “Not any more, that’s true. But you had one in the pocket of your robes, don’t you remember?”

  Dragonclaw’s laugh faded. He searched his robes. “You’re lying. I didn’t have a pen.”