The Rift. The possibility struck Marsh hard. Could it be? There was only one way to find out. He closed his eyes, imagined where he wanted to be . . .
. . . and stepped into the mausoleum that held his mother's tomb.
Nothing had changed since he had been there, other than the fact that he was now dead . . . and the lignum vitae sculpture was gone. Sydney had definitely been there. He looked into the opening between lives and was stunned to see his own body lying just beyond the portal. He was momentarily transfixed by the sight of his own dead body and had to force himself to look away. He needed to focus on what it all meant.
Sydney had been there, that much was certain. She knew that Damon had the poleax, had opened up another Rift, and that Marsh had gone through . . . to die. His body was proof of that. He tried to think like Sydney. What would she do with that information? She obviously hadn't sounded any alarms, or the place would have been full of people, wondering why a grave had been desecrated and there was a mysterious portal between universes. No, Sydney wouldn't have rung that particular bell.
But she wouldn't pretend like it hadn't happened either. She would do something proactive. She would try to help. But how? There wasn't a whole lot a living person could do to help a spirit in the Black who wanted to destroy another spirit.
Or was there?
Marsh smiled. The possibility seemed more like a probability. He walked toward the Rift and without hesitation stepped over his own lifeless body and through the portal. A few steps later he emerged on the far side, in the Black, in the lion pen beneath the Roman Colosseum.
The two lions were on the far side of the enclosure, sleeping. Marsh wasn't afraid. When he had arrived the last time, he'd only been a spirit for a few seconds. He didn't know the drill. This time he was prepared. If the lions attacked, he'd simply step away to another vision. His only concern was that they'd give him enough time to find what he was looking for.
It didn't take long. Lying on the floor against the far wall, covered by some dirty straw, was the crucible.
The last crucible.
The globe was resting directly between the two sleeping lions. Without taking time to overthink the situation, Marsh strode directly for the crucible and picked it up. He clutched the golden orb and kissed it.
"I love you, Sydney," he whispered to himself, and stepped into the colorful fog that took him away from the animal pen before the lions even realized they had had a visitor.
26
Zoe had learned from her father's mistakes.
The Guardians had lost the battle for the Rift because Adeipho had underestimated the resolve and ruthlessness of Damon's soldiers. He chose to hold back the Guardians with the black spirit-killing swords as a last line of defense, expecting the others to repel the invaders with conventional weapons before they could get close to the Rift.
It was a tactic that failed miserably.
Damon's soldiers attacked with furious abandon, leading with their own spirit-killing swords, mowing the Guardians down by the dozens. By the time Adeipho and the Guardians brought their own black swords into play, it was too late. The Rift was taken and Adeipho was destroyed. If not for the uncharacteristic intervention of the Watchers, Damon would have controlled the Rift.
Zoe was not about to make the same mistake.
"Our attack will come from several directions," she explained to her captains. "We will surround the Colosseum with groups of thirty. Each Guardian with a spirit sword will be escorted by two others with conventional weapons. When an enemy is encountered, the two escorts will engage him, allowing the bearer of the spirit sword to find the right moment to strike. We may lose many escorts this way, but it will ensure that the Guardians with the spirit swords will reach the Rift, for that is where the true battle will take place."
The captains of each Guardian unit understood and agreed. They had all been through the previous battle. They didn't want to repeat that disaster any more than Zoe did.
Cooper and Press listened intently to Zoe's plan. They would both be in the same group. Cooper with his spirit sword and Press acting as one of his escorts.
The army of Guardians was still on the street in Ree's vision, but it was now divided into small attack groups. Cooper had drawn a rough map of the Colosseum, showing where the Rift was and where the soldiers were stationed. The map was redrawn several times and given to the captains. Zoe assigned each group to a location and point of entry into the Colosseum.
"Our attack must be swift and merciless," Zoe declared. "Our only hope of stopping Damon in the Blood is to control the Rift. Are we all in agreement?"
The captains shouted "Aye!" as one.
"Join your teams," Zoe ordered. "And good luck."
The leaders hurried off to present the battle plan to the brave volunteers who were willing to fight for the future of mankind.
"I'm sorry," Cooper said to Zoe.
"For what?"
"For thinking you weren't capable of leading them."
"I understand," Zoe replied. "And I will turn it back. How capable are you?"
The question surprised Cooper. Nobody had ever questioned his ability to fight. But then again, he had never been in a fight quite like this one.
"Don't worry about me," he said with a cocky smile. "See you at the Rift."
Zoe left to join her own attack group, leaving Cooper with Press.
"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" Press asked teasingly.
"No, but that's never stopped me before," Coop answered. Cooper hurried away from his group, headed for the garage. He ducked inside to find Ree, Maggie, and his grandfather sitting together.
"We're about to head out," Coop announced. "Ree, are you coming?"
"Of course."
Coop knelt down next to her and said, "I, uh, I let Marsh have it pretty good. I didn't want him anywhere near this battle."
"Why not?" Ree asked, surprised.
"Because he's not a fighter. You know that. I let you talk me into bringing him into the Blood. This time I'm not backing down."
"But it's not your decision," Ree complained. "That's what the Black is all about."
Coop glanced around the garage. "Yeah. The Black. Kind of feels like everything's on hold for a while."
"That's just it," Ree said. "It isn't. I told you before, I believe the Watchers know exactly what's going on. We've reached a crossroads in the evolution of mankind. I'm afraid if we aren't strong enough to turn back this threat, they may end up supporting the wrong side."
"Are you serious?" Coop asked, stunned.
"They're a reflection of us," Ree answered. "If the majority wants Armageddon, they may have no choice but to deliver."
"Jeez," Coop said.
"We can't let that happen," Ree continued. "We've got to show our strength and resolve. Marsh isn't a warrior, but he's been battling Damon from the start. Keeping him out of this fight could be a very big mistake."
Coop shot her a surprised look.
Maggie and Foley sat staring, stunned.
Coop shook it off and said, "Yeah, well, I guess we'll find out."
"Good luck, son," Foley said. "I'm proud of you."
Coop gave his gramps a quick hug.
"Wish I was coming with you," Foley said.
"We'll be back on your front porch soon enough," Coop replied.
As Cooper left the group to head back outside, Maggie jumped up quickly and walked with him.
"Do you think Ree's right?" she asked. "Could the Watchers come in on the other side?"
"I don't know," Coop answered. "I don't know anything except that half the lowlifes that ever existed are about to bust out of the Blood to try and bring down these nice little visions we've built for ourselves. How could the Watchers let that happen?"
"Maybe they're doing exactly what they're supposed to be doing," Maggie offered.
"How? By letting Press fight with us? I like the guy but there's only one of him."
"Or maybe they're waiting
to see what we do. Like Ree said, isn't that what the Black is about? I mean, everything that's happened so far is our fault."
"How is it our fault?" Coop questioned quickly.
"Not yours or mine, but all of mankind's. Damon was human once. So were those who follow him. They're no different than you or I."
"Don't lump me in with that freak," Coop cautioned.
"But you are like him. We all are. What's happening goes beyond any one person. Any one spirit. Mankind let this happen, so mankind has to stop it."
"And what if we can't?" Coop said. "Do you think the Watchers would be willing to let mankind destroy itself'?"
"I don't know. Maybe. If that's what we want, and a lot of spirits seem to want that. All we can do is fight for what we believe is right."
Maggie hesitated a moment, and then added, "Maybe it would be better if Marsh were here."
Coop was ready to argue the point, but held back. "I hope you're wrong about that. If the future of mankind depends on Marshall Seaver becoming a warrior . . ."
He didn't finish the thought.
Maggie said, "Maybe it just depends on him being him."
Coop reached out and wrapped his arms around her. "Stop thinking so hard," he said. "Go somewhere safe. I don't want to lose you."
"I don't want to lose you either, but nowhere is safe." He lifted her chin and the two kissed.
Both feared it was for the last time.
Marsh moved quickly but cautiously.
One step at a time. That was his mantra. He didn't want to think too far ahead because he had no idea what he would do once he got there. He had to focus on each new step and worry about the rest later.
His goal was to get to the Rift and into the Blood . . . to find Damon. He believed that stopping him was the only way to end the insanity. He only wished he knew how. His lone weapon was a single crucible. The last one. Though he knew full well it had no power over Damon in the Blood, he clutched it as insurance in case his enemy made it back through to the Black. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. When he got to Damon—if he got to Damon—he would have to find some way to end him. It was the only way.
He made his way from the depths of the Colosseum, taking the same route as when he had made the journey with his mother. With each step his anxiety grew. What would he find up there? Were Damon's forces gathering in anticipation of his triumphant return from the Blood? Had Brennus's legion of the damned already come through? And what of the Guardians? When would they attack to try and seize control of the Rift?
He climbed up from the dark stairwell to ground level, turned into the tunnel that led to the arena, and peered out from the shadows.
It was daytime. The arena was quiet. The stands were empty. Guards were still stationed in front of the Rift but they didn't seem to be on alert.
He wasn't too late. The attack hadn't come, but time was moving. Several more Roman soldiers were scattered across the arena floor and more were arriving from the outside. When the Guardians attacked, they would have a battle on their hands.
The Roman soldiers moved without urgency. They had no idea that a storm was brewing . . . on both sides of the Rift. From what Marsh could see, it was the perfect time for the Guardians to attack.
Keeping close to the walls, he climbed the few stairs up to the first level of seating and once again made his way around the circle of spectator seats, headed for the Rift. He reached into the front pocket of his hoodie for the hundredth time to make sure that he still had the crucible.
He was halfway around to the Rift . . . when the sound of blaring trumpets tore through the silence.
Marsh froze.
This was no fanfare to signal the start of a game. These trumpet calls were harsh and frantic. One word came to his mind: alarm.
He peered over the brick retaining wall and down into the arena to see that the Roman soldiers had tensed up. Several more sprinted into the arena with their weapons drawn, but once they arrived, they did nothing more than glance around in confusion. Still more soldiers ran in. This group was armed with the black spirit swords. The trumpets had definitely touched off a panic, but seemingly for no reason. There was no attack. The soldiers with the black swords gravitated toward the Rift, joining the other handful of soldiers who were guarding it. The rest of the soldiers stood in a loose group in the center of the arena, unsure what to do.
Their confusion didn't last long.
Marsh saw it before any of the soldiers did. To his far right on the edge of the arena, the air rippled and a colorful fog appeared. Directly opposite it on the other side of the arena another fog appeared. Halfway around a third materialized, followed by a fourth.
The Guardian's siege was about to begin.
From out of the swirling mist came Zoe's attack groups. Their weapons were raised high, with many carrying their own black swords. The stunned soldiers were surrounded in the center of the arena. Those soldiers with the black swords quickly moved to the front, knowing what was coming. Others sprinted directly for the Rift. They knew what was coming too, and why they were being attacked.
The second battle for a Rift had begun.
The attack teams burst from the fog in a dead run, screaming from the rush of adrenaline.
The soldiers to the center could do nothing but wait.
The four groups descended on them, attacking with the kind of fury that was missing when they had defended the Rift in Ree's vision.
"Coop!" Marsh said aloud without thinking when he saw that his friend was leading one of the attack teams.
Alongside him was Press, who was armed with his wooden stave. Compared to the experienced soldiers, Cooper wasn't proficient with the black sword. He hacked away with power, but with amateur skills. If not for Press, he might have been wiped out in the first minute. Press was his guardian angel. His wooden stave twirled and spun as he knocked away any soldier who attempted to rush Cooper.
Cooper may not have been proficient with the sword, but he wasn't afraid to use deadly force. No sooner did Press knock a soldier off balance than Coop would be right on him with the black sword, thrusting it forward and turning the spirit to shadow.
The cries of battle and agony were louder and more dense than any other spectacle that had ever played out in the arena, either in the Black or the Light. The clash of swords was constant, followed by a cry of despair in the instant before a spirit was no more.
Zoe fought with a vengeance . . . for her father and for all the Guardians who had lost their spirits to Damon's soldiers. Her sword was quick and merciless. She alone ended the spirits of a dozen soldiers.
Her battle plan was brilliant. The soldiers were taken completely by surprise and trapped in the center of the arena, where the Guardians could pick them off, one by one.
The Guardians suffered their own casualties as well. Many had survived the battle for the Rift in Ree's vision only to fall this second time around.
Marsh watched the carnage with horror . . . and awe.
The idea that so many spirits were dying before his eyes was hard to comprehend. But he couldn't allow himself to be a spectator. He had his own mission.
The Guardians hadn't yet made a move toward the Rift and the soldiers who waited for them with their own black swords. With the soldiers to the center being quickly wiped out, Marsh knew that the Guardians would soon turn to their objective.
The soldiers in front of the Rift knew it too and tensed up, ready for the attack.
Marsh scrambled along the ring of seats to get closer to the Rift. His hope was that the Guardians would draw the soldiers away from the opening and he could use that moment to slip through and into the Blood. It would be about as risky a maneuver as he could imagine, but he felt it was his only chance.
The fighting to the center of the arena was winding down. Only a few of Damon's soldiers remained. The Guardians were already gathering together, preparing to turn their attention to the Rift and charge the last line of the soldier's defense.
Marsh's heart raced. Could he do it? Would he have the guts to jump down into the fight and dodge his way through the slashing swords and into the Rift?
"What do you plan to do, Marshmallow?" came a familiar voice.
Marsh spun quickly to see that another spirit had arrived.
"Ennis!" Marsh called. "Get down!"
Ennis calmly sat down on the bench in front of him.
"I wish I could say I was happy to see you," Ennis said.
"I'm sorry, Ennis," Marsh said. "I should never have left you alone."
"There is no need to be sorry," Ennis said. "What happened to me was inevitable. I welcomed it. But seeing you here makes my heart ache."
"It was my choice," Marsh said breathlessly. "Damon cut another Rift into the Black and I went through. I wanted to. Now Damon's in the Blood and I'm going after him."
"No, you cannot," Ennis said sternly. "This is not your battle."
"Yes, it is," Marsh argued. "I didn't ask for it, but it's mine now."
"You stand no chance against that devil," Ennis argued.
Marsh reached into his hoodie and pulled out the crucible. He held it out to Ennis and said, "Maybe a little."
Ennis's eyes grew wide. "How is that possible? Why is it here?"
"Sydney tossed it through the Rift from the Light." Ennis glanced down at the battle that was nearly complete . . . and about to begin anew.
"Help me, Ennis," Marsh begged. "Help me get through the Rift."
Damon was not about to accept defeat.
He picked himself up from the dirt, stood tall, and marched his way back toward the Colosseum with growing resolve. He would not allow the peasant sin eater to triumph at his expense. As he drew nearer to the Colosseum, he saw that the spirit army had already entered the ruins. Was he too late? Had the battle begun? Damon picked up the pace and ran the rest of the way, snaking through the piles of debris until he entered the remains of the colossal ring and saw the Rift within.
Brennus sat in his cart at its mouth, staring into the opening between lives. Listening.
The sounds of a raging battle could be heard coming through from the Black, yet the spirit army was not moving. Damon's hope soared. There was still a chance. With one hand on the hilt of the poleax he stood tall and strode toward Brennus.