Return To Primordial Island by Rick Poldark (read my book .txt) 📕

Tracey and Mary. ‘I will smite them both!’ However, her presence across the room faded as her spirit was recalled to her body. He both saw and felt her vanish from in front of Tracey and Mary. Suddenly, he sensed her inside the sarcophagus, only it was sealed. He heard a great shriek of fury from within, and the lid started to shift from pounding underneath.

Peter hadn’t much time. He turned and ran back past the guardian, who briefly animated and then resumed its pose after he was fifteen feet away from it. He rounded the boulders as the sarcophagus lid shifted, stone scraping on stone.

“Where’d she go?” asked Tracey, looking around.

“She’s in the sarcophagus,” shouted Peter as he ran to them, “but not for long!”

Behind him, he heard a smash. Mary pointed in horror, and Tracey waved Peter forward, “Hurry! She’s out!”

He looked over his shoulder to see Nazimaa sit up in her coffin. Her top half resembled that of a buxom young woman, and her chest glowed with the power of the death orb. As she lifted herself out of the coffin, he saw her lower serpentine half. She was beautiful and horrifying all at once. Not looking where he was going, he nearly crashed into Tracey and Mary.

“What do we do?” asked Tracey, panicked.

“She’s alive,” said Peter, “which means she can be killed. But…”

“There’s always a but,” said Mary.

“But, she wields the power of the death orb, which makes her nearly unstoppable.”

They turned to find her advancing toward them. She waved her hands around, her chest glowing brighter, but as soon as she stepped within fifteen feet of the guardian statue, it animated. It immediately attacked her, interrupting what was likely going to be an attack that would’ve snuffed out all of their lives in one blast. She grappled with it, and they tussled, each pushing back against the other.

“That was lucky,” said Mary.

“If she tries to use the death orb, I’ll counter it with my orb,” said Peter.

“And we’ll try to kill her,” said Tracey.

They all exchanged nods and dispersed. Peter went right, watching Nazimaa as she contended with the Simian statue. He waited for her chest to glow brighter and prepared to respond in kind, summoning his power. Nazimaa deftly dodged the statue guardian’s spear thrusts, but she couldn’t respond with counterattacks.

In the meantime, Tracey and Mary went left, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. They scoured the ground, picking up stones. Their search was interrupted by grunts and howls from up above.

Peter turned to find the rest of the Simian mummies barrel down the staircase, answering their master’s call. He turned and faced them, closing his eyes. He felt their cool, dark auras and reached out with his power, pressing against them, puncturing their outer shell and infusing them with the warmth of life.

*

Tracey saw Peter face the onslaught of Simian mummies, and she saw them halt in their tracks. They writhed under his power, their pallor fading, their dry skin and flesh repairing. She turned back to Nazimaa, whose chest was growing in illumination. In between dodging spear thrusts and wrestling with the statue guardian, she cast glances at Peter. Tracey’s eyes darted to Peter, who appeared to swoon, swaying on his feet.

“She’s hurting Peter,” Tracey said to Mary.

They began to pick up any rocks they found around them, hurling them at Nazimaa. Most of the throws missed, bouncing off the statue guardian’s stony exterior. However, Tracey used to pitch softball for the faculty team, and she was damned good at it. She picked up a softball sized stone sloughed off from the collision between the two massive boulders and wound up. She released the rock underhand, and it struck Nazimaa between the eyes, disrupting her focus. The demon’s chest immediately dimmed, but the look Nazimaa shot Tracey was the stuff of nightmares.

“Oooh, she didn’t like that,” said Mary sardonically. “Nice pitch.”

They moved closer to Nazimaa, preparing more stones for throwing. Tracey looked back at Peter. The mummies had already begun to turn. They sprouted black fur, and their musculature filled out. Their bodies convulsed as life rushed back into them.

Nazimaa and the statue guardian barreled past Tracey in a blur, as Nazimaa slammed the statue’s back against one of the boulders.

“Damn, she’s strong,” said Mary, chucking a stone and hitting the demon in the back of the head.

Hurt from the blow, Nazimaa shook her head as the statue pushed back. However, Nazimaa side-stepped, throwing the statue guardian off-balance, and she snatched its spear from it hands. As it stumbled forward, she twirled the spear in the air and swung it down, connecting with the statue’s head, knocking it clearly off its shoulders.

“Oh crap,” said Tracey.

“That’s not good,” said Mary, pausing mid-throw.

Nazimaa’s eyes burned like hot coals in her skull, and her chest illumination burned with hateful fury. Tracey pulled on Mary to run, but she felt something stop her cold. Icy fingers probed at her soul, as she felt her life begin to fade away from her body.

She heard a wordless voice in her mind, faint, calling to her. However, unlike the frigid sensation racking her soul, this voice was warm and familiar. It began to grow in volume and intensity until it filled her mind and chased away Nazimaa’s dark tendrils. Tracey recognized the voice as Peter’s.

She turned to find him squaring off with Nazimaa, his orb radiating in his chest and his eyes glowing bright like the sun, fixated on the demon. Confused, the now live Simians standing behind them watched the exchange in awe, pounding their chests and bouncing off the walls of the cavern. They appeared to recognize the demon. Tracey guessed this wasn’t the first time they had seen this battle, only last time it was with different players.

Having been released from