The Deathless Quadrilogy

by Chris Fox

  “Steve,” Blair growled, low in his throat. His eyes narrowed, and the Ka-Dun tried to surge past her. She raised a hand, gently squeezing his shoulder. It was enough. Blair subsided, eyeing her apologetically. “Sorry. I owe the bastard, is all.”

  “A fact that will be addressed today,” Isis said, eyeing Blair critically. He’d grown much, but was still far too impetuous. “Follow my lead. Do not speak, unless you are spoken to. That goes for the rest of you as well, especially you, Liz. It is possible Sekhmet may try to bait you into combat. Do not let her provoke you.”

  Liz gave a nod. She, at least, seemed calm. Jordan was a tangle of emotions, raging next to her like a bonfire. At least part of that came from the armor, though his own mind gave it fuel. The deathless Trevor was calm as well, walking next to his sister, just a few feet behind her and Blair.

  It was a ragged little pack. Each possessed power in their own right, but they were all of them young. Too young to be fighting such battles. Unfortunately, they were all she had. Sekhmet had brought members of her pantheon with her, as evidenced by Anubis’s presence. Would that Isis could have done the same. It almost made her wish she’d woken Jes’Ka, though after hearing about her father’s apparent treachery, not doing so had proven prudent.

  “Welcome, Isis,” Sekhmet called, voice clear and strong. It sent a shock through Isis, the familiarity of it. It had been so long since she’d heard it.

  “Hello, near-sister,” Isis said. It was the best compromise she could come up with. She could not call her friend Ra, but neither would she dishonor her by using a name she’d discarded. Sekhmet was well and truly dead.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Sekhmet said, her expression impassive. She wore her traditional garb, the flowing white garments very similar to Isis’s own. She bore no weapon save a belt knife, though odds were good she had a Sunsteel spear ready to summon. “Would you like refreshment before we begin?”

  “I would not,” Isis said, fighting to keep her tone even. She didn’t want to know what food Sekhmet would have offered. “I am eager to conduct our business. Time is precious, if Hades is to be believed.”

  Sekhmet’s face grew more grim, a darkness overshadowing her legendary beauty. “Indeed. I have prepared a tent for our use. I’d have my advisers close, unless you object.”

  She gestured at Irakesh, Anubis, and the Ka-Dun Steve. Isis considered a moment, then gave a nod. “I’d bring my pack as well. You’ve met the Ka-Dun Jordan. This is Ka-Dun Blair, Ark Lord of the Redwood. His Ka-Ken is Liz.”

  “Well met,” Sekhmet said, nodding graciously. She turned to the deathless Trevor. “Join us, my vassal. I’d have your counsel during these negotiations.”

  “Uh, sure,” Trevor said, eyes flicking between Liz and Sekhmet uncomfortably. Isis could understand why. She recognized the depth of feeling in his gaze. He was loyal to his sister, but felt a growing affection for Sekhmet. That kind of pressure could break a man, if he were forced to choose between them.

  Sekhmet turned for a large blue pavilion that had been erected in a meadow a little ways from the main camp. It had been set upwind, which mercifully cut the stench to a tolerable level. That had almost certainly been intentional, and Isis appreciated the subtle courtesy. It suggested that her friend still lurked in that undead body somewhere.

  Isis filed in after Sekhmet and her retainers, blinking a couple times to adjust to the reduced light. A ring of fluffy pillows had been set at the edge of a massive rug that dominated the floor. It was simple, harkening back to their mutual roots. She made for one side of the ring, sitting gracefully as Sekhmet did the same. The retainers on both sides took positions around the ring, all save two. Jordan didn’t sit, instead standing behind Blair with his metallic arms folded. A second figure moved on the far side of the ring, one who’d already been in the tent. He wore armor identical to Jordan’s, and Isis didn’t need to see his face to know she was looking at Wepwawet. She could smell the same taint that wafted from Jordan’s armor, and felt a stab of pity for the wolf-headed god. She’d always liked Wepwawet, and not just for their shared love of the noble wolf.

  Sekhmet waved her hand, and a vacant-eyed thrall moved about the tent with a pitcher of wine and a tray of bronze goblets. The thing was obviously dead, her stringy blond hair matted to the side of her face as she mechanically served them. Isis waited for the process to finish before speaking.

  “It is good to see you, near-sister. I hope that today, if we both find wisdom, we will somehow put aside the millennia of warfare and come together to face a common enemy,” she said, her voice competing with the flapping of the pavilion’s fabric from the wind outside.

  “That’s a title I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from you again,” Sekhmet said. Her gaze was searching, the putrid green in her eyes still strange after all this time. “Before we can reach an accord that will satisfy both our people, perhaps we should discuss the nature of the threat. I’m willing to share what I’ve learned, if you grant the same courtesy.”

  The subtext wasn’t lost on Isis. Sekhmet believed Osiris was the threat, and was gently rebuking her for not agreeing.

  “A fair request,” Isis said. She turned to Jordan, motioning him forward. “The Ka-Dun Jordan had the tale from Hades. As I was not there, I can not speak to the truth of it.”

  Isis noted Irakesh’s reaction when Jordan stepped forward. The deathless’s face tightened, and he shot a hatred-filled glance at Trevor. Wepwawet also took a step forward, though whether to protect Sekhmet or support Jordan she wasn’t sure.

  “Not much to tell,” Jordan said in that strange synthesized voice. “Hades offered to help save Wepwawet, though he didn’t mention he was going to encase him in cursed armor that can’t be removed. He told me Osiris went to war on the underworld. Apparently he drove back everyone, and severed all conduits to the Nexus. Hades claims Olympus is trapped until he can reestablish the link, and he believes the only way that will happen is if the two of you work together.”

  “He gave me much the same tale,” Sekhmet said, meeting Isis’s gaze. “Osiris has been tinkering with demons for many millennia, while we slumbered. His strength has grown immensely during that time, and it’s likely his power base vastly exceeds our own. Even with our combined strength, it is unlikely we can overcome any army he has gathered.”

  “It’s worse than you know,” Isis said, giving a heavy sigh. “When your son had his most unfortunate confrontation with Ka-Dun Blair, we learned something troubling in the aftermath. Osiris controls a powerful house known as Mohn. This group has mastered the best technologies this world has to offer, technology not unlike the armor both Jordan and Wepwawet now wear.”

  “So he not only has an army of demons, the kind we fought when we finally overcame Set, but he also possesses the best this new age has to offer,” Sekhmet said, pursing her lips. “This is troubling in the extreme, if we can even believe what Hades has to say. Such a thing does not seem in keeping with Osiris. He was always sanctimonious, but he did what he thought was right. He considered himself a protector, not a destroyer or conquerer.”

  “Mighty Ra,” Anubis rumbled from his place at her left. “Time changes all men. Perhaps the millennia have warped his mind, made him more like his twisted brother. Or perhaps the darkness was always there, and grew within him as he aged.”

  “Isis?” Blair asked, his voice soft, though not timid. She nodded at him and he continued. “Ra, I noticed something that I thought relevant. If Osiris controls the First Ark, and if he had a link to the Well, then he’d have effectively infinite energy, right?”

  Sekhmet’s eyes locked on Blair, narrowing slightly. She’d ever been one for formality, and didn’t like a Ka-Dun of Blair’s lowly age using her title with such familiarity, that much was clear. Yet she gave a nod. “Indeed. He’d have near limitless energy, certainly enough to craft an army while the rest of us slumbered.”

  “Then that raises an interesting question. As I understand it, you and Isis se
eded mankind with a sort of genetic memory, which is why we remember so many concepts from your age,” Blair began. He sat up straighter, clearly excited by the topic. Isis watched Liz watching Blair, and smiled. Those two belonged together, and the seeds they’d planted were finally blossoming. It was a small consolation amidst all the horror. “Yet that doesn’t explain why we know specifics like your name, or the history of your people. It would seem someone from your time guided our early cultures. You see proof of that in ancient Egypt, in the Mayan empire, and even in Cambodia. In each case the cultures built similar structures.”

  “Yes, the stone pyramids that aped the Great Arks,” Sekhmet said, nodding. “What of it?”

  “I’ve spoken to Isis, and we believe those structures were built at places of power to siphon energy,” Blair continued, leaning toward Sekhmet as he drove his point home. “Why would Osiris go to such trouble if he had a nearly limitless supply of energy?”

  “Because,” came a strong, masculine voice that chilled Isis to the core. She rose slowly, clutching her hands to her breast as she turned to the tent flap. A tall, dark-haired man stood there. His chiseled jaw and glittering green eyes were forever etched into her memory. “I needed that energy to survive.”

  55

  Dramatic Entrance

  Liz shifted in the blink of an eye, dropping back into the shadows as she drew her blade. All around her werewolves were shifting, deathless were drawing golden weapons. Both Wepwawet and Jordan activated a familiar metallic whirring she recognized as the cover pulling back over their missile launchers. The only person in the room not preparing to fight appeared to be the man who’d entered. She’d never seen him before, and wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Osiris, if that was who he was, was a handsome dark-haired man in his late thirties.

  If she’d learned anything since this whole ugly werewolf mess had begun it was: get in the first shot. Liz glided forward, shifting into wolf form on the second step. She maneuvered behind her target. The Sunsteel blade slid into the small of his back, drawing a wolfish smile as it met resistance. Part of her had feared he might be an illusion.

  Then Osiris vanished. It wasn’t a trick of the light. He didn’t blur. One moment he was there, the next he was simply elsewhere. She glanced at the tip of her blade, still covered in blackish blood.

  “I’d wondered where my sword had gotten to,” came the same cultured voice from behind her. She started to pivot, but it was far too late.

  A hand clamped around her sword hand like a vice, twisting until the weapon dropped from nerveless fingers. Even as it spun toward the ornate rug the man continued his attack. He launched a quick kick that shattered her right knee. It knocked her further off balance, and she tumbled to the carpet in a heap.

  Osiris caught the blade inches from the ground, pivoting smoothly to plant the tip against Liz’s neck. She read death in those hard green eyes, and knew nothing she could do would prevent it.

  “Husband,” Isis’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. Osiris blinked once, taking a step back. Both Trevor and Blair had moved to support Liz, but each had drawn up short, stopped by that single word.

  Osiris dropped the sword near Liz’s outstretched hand, walking calmly into the ring of pillows. He gestured with one hand, and the pale-faced thrall brought him a goblet of wine. Osiris drank deeply of it, then looked up at all of them in mock surprise. “I’m a little hurt that I wasn’t invited to this meeting, Sekhmet. There was a time when you called me chieftain. Don’t you think courtesy ought to have included me?”

  “An impostor?” the fiery-haired goddess asked, turning to Isis. Liz still wasn’t sure what to call her. Trevor said Ra. Isis said Sekhmet.

  “No,” Isis rumbled, flexing her claws as she sniffed the air with her muzzle. “It is my husband. I would recognize his scent anywhere.”

  “Even were that not the case, I can prove it,” Osiris said, extending his free hand in Liz’s direction. An odd vibration began from her sword, then the weapon flew from the carpet like a falcon, sailing into Osiris’s outstretched hand. Liz gaped in shock.

  The sword recognizes its true master, Ka-Ken. It has served that one for an age of history far beyond knowing, and the weapon’s primitive intelligence is happy to rejoin its master.

  “I didn’t realize the blade had even been found,” Ra said, turning to Isis with narrowed eyes. “Why am I not surprised one of your bestial get had it?”

  “Does it matter?” Isis shot back, turning to Osiris. “It’s back with its owner now, whatever we might wish.”

  Ra took a step closer to Isis, standing shoulder to shoulder with her. Well, shoulder to waist, since Isis was much taller in wolf form. “You’ve always loved grandstanding, Osiris. If this is an attack, it’s an ill-conceived one. What do you want?”

  “Want?” Osiris said, blinking once. Then he smiled. “I want the world to survive, Sekhmet. I want humanity to live beyond the next few decades. That, unfortunately, will not happen if events are allowed to unfold along their current path. Now, clearly you are surprised to see me. Just as clearly, both you and Isis bear me some sort of ill will. While I am thrilled to see the two of you speaking again, I’d rather not be the subject of your collective ire. So why not enlighten me on the cause of this animosity, and we’ll see if we can come to some sort of accommodation?”

  Osiris sank into a cross-legged position, lounging against a pillow. If he was alarmed by the sheer number of weapons aimed in his direction he certainly didn’t show it. Whether that was confidence or overconfidence remained to be seen. Either way, Liz was more than a little annoyed he’d snatched her sword. She was tempted to try to take it back but, given that he’d handled her like a puppy, that would end badly. She barely used the thing anyway, though losing it like that was still humiliating.

  “You play innocent, but you know quite well why Sekhmet and I have gathered here,” Isis said, stalking over to Osiris. She shifted as she moved, somehow managing to look more threatening as a five-foot woman than she did as a nine-foot werewolf. “Do not play games with us, husband. You’ve been charged by Hades with the use of demonic weaponry, and also with a sustained assault that has resulted in the near destruction of the Nexus. Were it not for Ark Lord Blair’s intervention, it would already have been destroyed.”

  “So the god Hades has charged me with these crimes, and you pronounce me guilty,” Osiris said, raising a dark eyebrow. “Wife, you know me far better than any here save perhaps Sekhmet. Does that sound like something I would do? If I wished to conquer, why resort to the use of demons? I prefer my progeny to have their own will and, as you well know, I allow them to serve me or not as they choose. I have always commanded loyalty through respect, not the domination my brother preferred. Ask yourself, who is the most likely god to use such tactics?”

  Isis snatched the goblet from Osiris’s hand, and dumped the contents over his head. It ruined his perfectly coiffed hair, dripping down the shoulders of his Armani suit. She leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “I do not appreciate being spoken to like a child, husband. We are in dire peril, and I remain unconvinced you are not the threat. If these deeds were committed by another—if it is your treacherous snake of a brother—then speak plainly. You might be able to stand against me, or perhaps against Sekhmet. You cannot stand against us both.”

  “Peace,” Osiris said, raising a hand defensively. He straightened his tie, apparently seeking to regain the smug superiority he’d exhibited when he entered the tent. “I’m sorry. I’ve gone about this badly. I like making a grand entrance. Maybe a bit too much. In my defense, I’ve been rehearsing this moment in my head for over a dozen millennia.”

  Osiris looked like a little boy who’d been caught stealing, and Liz had the sense his chagrin was genuine. Isis turned to Ra. “What do you wish to do, near-sister? This is your camp, after all.”

  “We have yet to reach an accord between us, Isis,” Ra said, sweeping across the rug to stand next to the shorter woman. “Yet wh
ether the threat is Osiris or Set matters little. We must save the Nexus, and that means stopping whoever is in control of the First Ark. That will take both of us, perhaps all three of us. I’d even accept Sobek’s aid at this point.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Isis asked, glancing briefly at Osiris, then back at Ra. Liz held her breath, hoping against hope that the gods would see reason. They were a proud lot.

  “Give me your terms. What will it take to seal an alliance? I will give you the night to think about it. In the morning we will discuss terms, and hopefully reach some sort of an accord. Assuming we can do that, we’ll decide whether or not to include your wastrel of a husband,” Ra said, shooting Osiris a glance every child who’d angered their mother knew and feared.

  “Agreed,” Isis said, extending a hand. Ra took it, pulling Isis into an embrace. It went on for several seconds before the two broke apart.

  “I will give you this pavilion for the evening. If you have need of anything, send Trevor and I will have it seen to,” Ra said. She turned to Trevor. “You will be my envoy this evening. Stay with your pack, and see to their needs. Gods willing, we’ll all be allies come morning.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Ra said, turning to Osiris. “Do not think I trust you, Osiris. Do not think me weak, or stupid, because I allow you to remain with your wife. If you turn on me, or seek to turn her against me, then you will find me more than willing to fight such a battle. Anubis and Wepwawet watch your tent this night, and we are ready for war should you wish it. I can feel your weakness, my chieftain. That and that alone is why I allow you to remain unguarded.”

  56

  Demands

  Blair waited as Ra and her companions filed from the tent. That left him, Liz, Jordan, Trevor, Isis, and the man they’d called Osiris. All eyes were on the latter two, who were eyeing each other with an unreadable jumble of emotions. Hardly surprising, given the vast gulf of time since their last meeting.