The Deathless Quadrilogy

by Chris Fox

  Blair was holding his own, tearing furiously at Cyntia’s face in a blur of claws and teeth. Yet she had a death grip on his right leg, massive claws exposing bone. It must be pure agony, yet it didn’t touch Blair. She was awed by what she was seeing, the true melding of beast and man. The only thing she had to compare was the Mother’s slaughter of Mohn Corp.’s garrison back in Peru when she’d first awakened.

  She came down with the long blade braced against her right leg, both hands gripping the grooved hilt. The move was instinctual, plucked from the beast lurking within her. The blade pierced the back of Cyntia’s neck, two feet of gold disappearing as it found bone. Cyntia roared in pain, glaring up at her hatefully from the eye Blair hadn’t yet gouged out. She seemed to weigh Liz’s attack, but lunged forward to seize Blair in a massive bear hug. Then Cyntia began to squeeze.

  Blair’s ribs shattered, his brief scream turned into a pitiful wail as Cyntia tightened her grip. Liz lost any semblance of rational thought, at one with her need to kill a woman she’d once called friend. She plunged the blade deeper, her roar echoing over the bay.

  A sickly green light burst from Cyntia’s wound, burning Liz’s skin like a long afternoon asleep in the sun.

  This is the true power of the blade, Ka-Ken. Purify her soul and claim it for your own.

  Liz tightened her grip on the blade, driving it deeper into Cyntia’s back until only the hilt was visible. Liz howled, funneling her rage into the blade. The sickly light grew brighter. Brighter still. Then it flared into the clear white brilliance, a liquid heat. The light began flowing up the blade in rapid pulses, each jolt like a shot of espresso after a long night studying. Strength flooded Liz. Power. Understanding. It was incredible.

  A portion of the strength she accumulated is yours, Ka-Ken. A gift from the blade. This is why the weapon is so kingly, so highly prized.

  Liz’s howl deepened. The sword was vibrating now, a living thing in her hands. Cyntia had stopped struggling, sagging to her knees and dropping Blair’s mangled body. He twitched weakly, dragging himself toward a nearby car.

  The pulse became a steady stream, a massive burst of something she could only describe as Cyntia’s essence. Part memory, but mostly a wash of emotion. Infinite grief but a rage to match it, a blend that could result in no other fate than madness. Liz was flooded with pity, finally understanding the awful struggle Cyntia had undergone; her friend had been driven mad by the death of her world. The only thing she’d held onto was her hope that Trevor could somehow save her. That faith had led her down an ever darkening road, one Liz herself could have walked had their roles been a little different. What she was doing here was a mercy, a last favor for her friend. Cyntia’s body went limp, an empty husk of meat and bone. It lay at the base of the pile of zombies, a final insult to her memory.

  Liz scanned her surroundings, taking in the relative silence. There were no more gunshots from above. There was no sign of Irakesh. Only the mound of bodies. Liz sheathed the blade. She knelt next to Blair, cradling his mangled body. He was breathing, but his eyes were closed.

  She didn’t know what he’d been through in their time apart, but it had left him with very little energy. It might be days before he healed enough to rejoin the fight.

  70

  The Key

  Blair returned to consciousness by degrees, each shallow breath pressing a shattered rib into his lung. His vision focused and he realized that his body had been propped against the bumper of a Suzuki Swift.

  Liz-wolf stood near the mound of corpses lying about her with that golden sword as she danced between shambling bodies. Hundreds of them advanced, forcing her to spend more time dealing with them than she did digging into the mound.

  He wanted to help, but he couldn’t feel anything below the waist. His useless legs were still mangled, a femur jutting through the skin in his left leg. Experience told him that he’d eventually heal, but not in time to make a difference.

  “Blair,” a voice hissed from his right. He slowly turned his head to see Steve’s midnight form crouched next to the car.

  “Help Liz,” Blair wheezed. It took everything he had to force the words out.

  “I will. I’ll help all of us, but I need your help to do it,” Steve said, studying him with that calculating gaze.

  Blair’s mind was foggy, but he knew what Steve was after. The access key. He also knew why Steve had chosen this precise moment to ask for it. Irakesh had yet to show his hand. When he did their only hope was to counter him with the power of the key.

  “No,” Blair slurred, shaking his head. “I’m not falling for your damned tricks. I’ll die first.”

  “Then we’ll all die,” Steve hissed, leaning closer. “This time it’s no trick, Blair. With you incapacitated the rest of us are screwed. San Francisco is screwed. We aren’t going to be able to stop Irakesh, not without the key. I know you hate me, but are you willing to sacrifice everything just to spite me?”

  Blair glared at Steve, but didn’t reply. Not immediately anyway. Liz’s towering form still danced between corpses, but the fight was endless. For every one she cut down another filled its place, and there was an endless sea of waiting bodies. She could do this for days and not kill them all.

  “Let’s say I give you the key. We kill Irakesh, then what? You’ll be just as bad as he is,” Blair growled. Weakly, because it hurt like hell.

  “Now you’re just being dramatic,” Steve shot back. He glanced at Liz, then back at Blair. “Listen, make your damned choice, Blair. Give me the key and I’ll do everything I can to help us win. Deny me the key, and I’m out of here. I’m not sticking around and dying because of your stubbornness.”

  Blair was torn. He knew giving Steve the key would be a mistake. Steve was the worst kind of megalomaniac, and if they survived this he’d have centuries to regret this moment. If they survived. That was the deciding factor. They needed Steve, if they wanted to have any chance of victory.

  It is a painful choice, Ka-Dun. I support you in this. If we do not give the key to the treacherous one, we will be overwhelmed by the deathless. We will likely be overwhelmed anyway.

  “Take it,” Blair snarled, extending his hand. The fur was matted with blood, and his arm shook badly as Steve grasped his hand.

  “You’re making the right decision,” Steve said, giving him a confident smile.

  “No I’m not,” Blair said, closing his eyes and willing the key to flow into Steve.

  71

  Free Will

  Trevor floated above the sea of carnage clogging the bridge, every molecule on fire both from the gunshots to the face and from the act of violently transforming his body to a gaseous cloud. The anguish went deeper, of course. He badly wanted to die, to have Jordan or Blair or Liz put him out of his misery. Yet he lacked the power to free himself, a prisoner in his own body.

  Trevor gazed beneath him at the mound of bodies, at Blair’s broken body and the black-furred werewolf who crouched next to him. At Liz, who was desperately attempting to clear the area around the mound of corpses. She flowed between zombies, hacking off heads as her golden sword hummed through the air.

  A shape plummeted past him, sliding down one of the metal ropes that connected the suspension cables to the road below. Jordan. The Commander kicked off the cable to land in a crouch next to Blair’s mangled body. To Trevor’s immense relief Blair’s body spasmed. His friend was still alive, though just barely.

  Enough. They are no longer your friends. They are prey and we will slay them.

  Trevor drifted silently towards the ground, powerless to control his actions as he stealthily approached. Light warped around him, cloaking him in darkness as he descended. The closest target was Liz, his kid sister. The girl he’d grown up protecting. The one who looked up to him, who believed he could do anything.

  He struck, body solidifying even as his clawed hand punched through Liz’s lower back. He seized her spine, twisting violently. Liz tumbled forward with a cry of immense agony t
hat harmed Trevor in a way no physical blow could. He seized her golden sword in his free hand, yanking it away and pivoting towards Jordan.

  Jordan was fast, but Trevor had caught him in the act of reloading his pistol. The werewolf dropped the weapon and came at Trevor with his claws. It was a mistake. Trevor dropped low, blurring underneath Jordan and using the reach offered by the sword to draw a wicked slash across Jordan’s belly.

  The Commander yelped as he landed, rolling away from Trevor and coming up in a crouch. Even as he readied another attack, Trevor simply vanished, bending light to confuse his foe. Liz was staggering to her feet, spine already healed. Trevor gave her no quarter, ramming the sword through her back as he reappeared.

  “Getting tired of ill-mannered zombies. Give werewolf sword back,” a thickly accented voice said. Trevor had enough time to see a man with a metal leg striding in his direction, black armor torn and smoking. One lens of his chrome sunglasses had been shattered, and part of his goatee had been burned away.

  An unfamiliar pistol was gripped in both hands. The weapon barked and a round tore through Trevor’s shoulder. Then another ripped into his gut. A third punched through his chest.

  Allow me, my host, the Risen crooned.

  Trevor’s free hand came up of its own volition, gesturing at the Russian. A wave of sickly green energy burst forth and sent the man limply to the bridge’s cracked asphalt. He twitched and flopped like a fish.

  Now, my host, use the blade. Drink the Ka-Ken’s essence.

  He realized the sword was still embedded in Liz’s back, as she struggled weakly to gain her footing. A pulse of clear golden light surged up the blade, filling Trevor with strength. It was more than just energy. It was memory. Essence. He saw her thoughts, a sunny day in Costa Rica. A family trip to Yosemite.

  Each pulse brought a fresh memory, and a surge of strength. Liz withered, falling to the ground as he drained the life from her. Trevor exalted in the power, and he hated himself. He was killing his sister, killing what was probably the last living family he had in the world. All so he could serve a monster.

  NO. He wouldn’t allow it. Whatever he’d become didn’t matter. This wasn’t going to happen.

  You cannot fight it, my host. It is what we are.

  “It’s what you are,” Trevor growled, ripping the sword from Liz’s back. He tossed it to the asphalt in a clatter, taking a stumbling step back from Liz’s body. “I want no part of it."

  They will kill you, my host. You must take her essence, or she will take yours. Kill them.

  “No,” Trevor said aloud. The simple word had enormous power. It freed him from the need to obey the voice, from the need to obey Irakesh. He closed his eyes and forced the Risen into the shadowed depths of his mind. Then he opened his eyes to find the barrel of a .357 just inches away. It was held by a very pissed-off-looking Commander Jordan.

  “No,” Liz hissed, resting an arm on Jordan’s shoulder as she struggled to her feet. She stepped up to Trevor, peering down at him from that wolfish face with the eyes he’d known all his life. They might be set in a face covered with auburn fur, but this was Liz. His sister. “He could have killed me, but he didn’t. He dropped the sword, and he’s not resisting anymore. Let’s at least hear him out. What do you want, Trevor? Make no mistake, if it’s some trick I will kill you. I love you, but I can’t let you help Irakesh come to power. No matter what.”

  “You should kill me,” Trevor replied, every bit of him united in thought. “It’s the only way. I’m myself for now, but I don’t know if Irakesh can exert control again. Keeping me around is a risk you can’t afford.”

  “You don’t get off that easy,” Liz snarled, glaring down at him. “We can’t fight Irakesh alone and you’ve got a lot to atone for. You don’t have the luxury of death yet. Help us, Trevor.”

  Trevor smiled. “Same fire I remember.”

  “We can catch up later. Trevor, where is the bomb?” Jordan asked, raising an eyebrow. Trevor doubted the man would ever trust him. The feeling was mutual.

  “I can sense Irakesh shaping on the San Francisco side of the bridge. I’ll roam ahead and try to locate the bomb. Is this all we have left? What about the black-furred male with Blair earlier?” Trevor asked, looking around for their missing companion. There was no sign of him, at least on the bridge.

  “Steve?” Liz asked with a snort. She rolled her eyes. “We might be able to count on him, but I doubt it. It’s probably just us three. Blair isn’t in any shape to keep fighting.”

  “Shouldn’t we deal with these zombies?” Jordan asked, gesturing at the ring around them. The zombies hadn’t approached, though they shuffled around the edge of an invisible ring. A ring with Trevor at its center.

  “I can keep them at bay for now. Save your strength for Irakesh,” Trevor suggested. He faced the far side of the bridge, which descended towards San Francisco in the distance. “Let me go in first. When Irakesh attacks, and he will, make that opportunity count.”

  “Yuri will follow behind and look pretty,” the Russian said, retrieving his pistol from where it had fallen when Trevor had attacked him.

  Trevor smiled at that, the first honest one he could remember in a very, very long time.

  72

  Boom

  Irakesh smiled as events unfolded before him. He perched on the roof of a small round building that sold gifts, just across the bridge on the side closest the strange city with its garden of towering glass spires. The sounds of combat competed with the low moans of the nascent deathless clogging the causeway onto the bridge.

  Cyntia’s death was timely, though its nature was troubling. Her growing insanity made her a threat, one he was glad to see eliminated. Particularly as it meant disabling the Ka-Dun Blair. That one no longer possessed the key, but he’d been a dangerous and canny opponent. One Irakesh was pleased to see removed from the battle. It would take several nights under a gibbous moon to recover from the wounds he’d been dealt.

  The arrival of the Ka-Ken and her Sunsteel weapon had been a shock. If he was not mistaken that was the blade of Osiris himself, the father of the world he’d left behind in the last age. How had she come to possess it? That seemed an unlikely coincidence. He did not trust such coincidences.

  The weapon’s origin could be investigated later. First he must complete his task. After that he could take the weapon from the Ka-Ken’s lifeless hands, claiming it for himself. If the rumors were true, it was even more powerful than his own na-kopesh. An Emperor’s weapon. He would have it and have this continent as well. He’d reached the apex of his plan, after which the rest was only a matter of patient, deliberate plotting.

  The sun touched the water to the west, the clouds obscuring its glory as it began its mythical journey through the underworld. Its fading light painted the bridge’s copper into burnished gold, and Irakesh finally understood the structure’s name. Perhaps that name was more apt than he’d have thought. It was a pity he was about to destroy it.

  Some of the mirth faded as he rose from his crouch. Trevor materialized next to the Ka-Ken, attacking viciously. His thrall tore into her pack, driving them back with incredible ferocity. It was an amazing display of power, and truth be told, Irakesh found it more than a little terrifying.

  Then, at the very moment of his triumph, Trevor discarded the Sunsteel sword and sank to his knees. Had Irakesh breathed he’d have held his breath, waiting for the blond Ka-Dun to kill Trevor. Then the Ka-Ken gave Trevor…a hug? Trevor had broken the compulsion, and been embraced.

  It didn’t matter. Irakesh would prevail. No one could stand up to the full fury of an Ark, not even Isis herself. Nothing could touch him when he was close enough to touch the Ark’s heart.

  A high-pitched whine began beneath him. Irakesh had never heard the like, and neither had any of the unfortunate souls he’d consumed. It was wholly alien, though not unexpected. It must be the bomb, finally ready to unleash its near-limitless energy. Irakesh concentrated, shifting into mist as he rea
died his will. This would be incredibly delicate work.

  The entire structure vibrated for a split second and in that moment Irakesh blurred, accelerating not just his body but his consciousness. He drew deep from the reservoir he rarely touched, gripping the hilt of the na-kopesh as he began to shape. Then the blast came, every molecule of the structure blowing apart like leaves drifting on a lazy wind.

  Irakesh harnessed that energy, funneling it towards the tip of the ark. It lanced into the dark stone, washing down the sides of the enormous structure and into the bay. Tendrils spilled out all around him, tearing into boats and houses with equal fury. The area around the building’s scattered atoms ceased to exist, torn apart by the unthinkable energy he’d unleashed.

  It washed towards the bridge, melting steel and concrete and flesh. The first quarter of the bridge was obliterated before Irakesh gained some semblance of control. He yanked that power away from the bridge, away from the city. It poured into the Ark in a river of liquid fire, the energy disappearing into the white-hot slopes of the ancient structure.

  How long the process went on, Irakesh couldn’t say. There was an eternity of fire and pain, an unending struggle to contain the uncontainable fury he’d unleashed. Then it was over. The fire was gone, leaving nothing in its wake save smoking ruins. A deep crater filled the area where he’d stood, and the now disconnected cables of the beautiful bridge sagged inward, slamming into the still smoking metal at the first junction with a thunderous crash. Miraculously it still stood, the last three quarters straddling the bay. Marvelous.

  Irakesh reached out, touching the power of the brilliant Ark behind him. It was immense on a scale he’d scarcely dreamed of, so far beyond what he’d expected that he understood now why Ra had considered him little more than a child. She’d wielded such power for nearly her entire reign.