War of the Immortals

by Noëlie Frix

  “Don’t try to escape,” Atos warned. “It will only make things worse for you. I have some people to kill now. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

  Unexpectedly, he unlocked her shackles. Heka turned to the side, clutching her stomach, turning her back to Death. She heard his footsteps moving away then the loud clank of the door closing and locking. Warrior brought her hand to her shoulder and drew in a shuddering breath. Sembor, she thought hard.

  I hear you.

  Good. Don’t try to come, she warned. Death captured me. Can you communicate with the other companions and ask them to repeat what I say to the other Immortals?

  Of course. Are you alright?

  Not really. Death is holding me for…questioning. She knew it wouldn’t fool anyone, but it sounded better than what was really happening. I’ll try to get out, but I don’t have much hope. Is the death brew ready?

  Almost. Trélig says it should be ready by tomorrow. We’ll be there soon, he promised.

  Okay, I managed to get a view of the main hall and the entire outside layout of his fortress, she told him all she had noticed. I don’t know where I’m being held exactly, but if you manage to get here and get him to drink the brew, I’ll find you. Be careful. He’s really evil and extremely powerful, Heka added bitterly.

  We’ll save you soon, Sembor repeated and they severed the connection.

  Her wounds were closing already and soon all that remained were light scars which quickly started to fade as well. Warrior still felt the poison inside her, but it was weaker than before. Heka reached out with her hand and touched the wall. Sharp pain shot through her body, starting and stronger where Death had touched her. She had no weapons, and they had even gotten rid of her pin so she couldn’t even break the lock. For once, she was truly stuck. And almost defenseless.

  Chapter 17: Prison Visits

  When she woke up, all signs of pain were gone, but her situation hadn’t changed much. And she was parched. The door to her cell opened, and she heard two people walk in. Death lay his cold hand on her shoulder.

  “Hello again.” There was no answer. “So much for a warm welcome. Would you please lie on your back, dear?”

  “Haven’t you figured out by now that I am not good at obeying orders?”

  “Come now, behave yourself. You have a visitor.”

  Heka looked over her shoulder and saw a familiar face.

  “I thought you weren’t going to turn me in over to him.”

  “I won’t. But I thought it might be nice for you to have some family. For…support,” Atos grinned mockingly.

  “How wonderful!” she groaned.

  “I thought so too. I have some questions for you, and Death and I have much to discuss,” War said. “I am glad to see you again. You left in such a hurry last time, we didn’t have time to say goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” Heka snapped.

  “I just got here. I can’t leave you now. Remember? Family support. An uncle’s got to watch over his niece.”

  “Turn around,” Death ordered.

  Heka didn’t budge. Death rolled her over onto her back and strapped her down once more; even though she resisted, between the two of them, War and Death had no trouble immobilizing her.

  “You have amazing healing capability,” Atos admired. “Despite the poison your wounds are closed.” He pricked her finger and tasted the blood. “There’s only a very faint trace of it left. How do you feel?”

  “Does it matter how I feel now? You’ll make sure I feel terrible in just a few minutes. And you invited Marcus to come watch,” Heka said bitterly.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way. If you tell us what we need to know, there’s no need for the pain.”

  “Nail me!”

  “Still highly uncooperative,” War clicked his tongue. “I told you she would never betray her friends. Or her ‘noble cause’,” he mocked.

  “‘Nail me’?” Death said, acknowledging War’s comment with a nod.

  “You said you didn’t bite,” Heka reminded him.

  “You asked for it,” Death shook his head as if to show regret.

  “No, I didn’t. And Marcus, wipe that dumb grin off your face!”

  Her uncle just chuckled. “If you need to hold my hand, I’m right beside you.”

  Death looked at each of them in turn, “Aah, family; being able to rely on each other, no matter the circumstances…what a wonderful thing!” Then he focused on Heka, “We know you saw War’s plans of attack. What are yours?”

  “This is an easy one. None. You didn’t give me enough time to figure out what I was going to do with the others.”

  “No, perhaps not. But you must already know what it is you would do,” War countered. “You’re the strategist. You call the shots.”

  “Apparently this hasn’t reached either of your brains,” she started, “but one of the reasons I came, is that I won’t talk. No matter what.”

  “Then, you leave me no choice.” Death once again drove his nail through her shoulder, though this time, the blood flowed freely. “On to treason,” he slowly traced the line from her leg to her ribs. She felt the warm liquid run down, yet his own nail was spotless.

  “You okay, dear?” her uncle asked.

  “Shut up. I hate you,” she moaned.

  The poison burned while Death’s hands were freezing against her skin. His power coursed through; Heka forced her jaw shut, tightened her hands into fists, her own nails digging into her skin and leaving little red marks.

  “You sure you won’t answer?” he whispered in her ear, making her head throb.

  “You’re despicable. I abhor you.”

  “You get hate, and I get abhor,” Death said. “How does that make you feel?”

  “A little disappointed. You got a better one than I did.”

  After a while, Death stopped, released her shackles, and admired his handiwork. Heka lay on her back, eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, blood mixing with cold sweat. Her wounds were black, infected with Death’s poison. Her breath was shallow and raspy. She tried to move her left arm, but it hurt too much so Warrior brought her right hand to her abdomen, applying pressure.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said once she’d caught her breath.

  “We’ll get you a nice glass of water,” Death said. “I’ve got someone I need to talk to, then we’ll be back.”

  When the guard came to bring her water, Heka still lied on her back, unmoving, her chest heaving slowly. The only thing that had changed was her wounds, which were healing already. The table was soaked with a mix of blood, sweat, and just a couple of tears she’d allowed herself once she was alone. She managed to grab the glass and started drinking slowly. She felt better. Good enough to sit up.

  Exhausted, Heka sat on the edge of the table, facing the door, watching the scars fade and feeling anger well up inside. She was still weak, Death’s poison was leaving slowly. She saw the door open. Too soon. Death walked in first, followed closely by Marcus. She felt someone else at the door but didn’t see him.

  “Good to see you sitting up,” Death said. “Are we feeling more cooperative?” he asked leaning closer. “Feeling better?”

  “Much, thanks for asking,” she said and punched him. She didn’t have enough strength to escape. Not with two powerful Immortals there. But she was glad she’d used what little she had to hit him. It felt good. Death staggered back, massaging his jaw.

  “Ouch! She punched me,” he told War.

  “I saw,” he smirked. “I’m surprised your jaw’s not broken. You’re lucky.”

  “Next time, I’ll make sure your luck runs out,” she sneered.

  “As kind as ever,” he mumbled. “Lie down,” Death ordered.

  Reluctantly, she obeyed.

  “How many times do you plan on wasting your time with me?” she asked bluntly.

  “As long as it takes to get answers. And I have something that might help us. You have another visitor.”

  The third person she had sensed ste
pped in and she gasped. Heka looked puzzled; she wasn’t sure she knew what was going on, but she understood she was not going to like it.

  “I don’t think an introduction is necessary,” Death smiled. “You two know each other very well. Or at least, you thought you did.”

  “Jason?” she breathed.

  Jason’s face remained an impassive, unreadable mask.

  “Yes. Shadow, Jason, our new ally, your boyfriend,” War listed using his fingers.

  “Ex-” Death corrected.

  “Unless she changes her mind,” Shadow countered.

  “You’re not serious?” she asked incredulous.

  “I’m sorry, Heka. But it was obvious to me, I was on the losing side. We were on the losing side. So I figured it was better to join with your uncle and Death. I hope you’ll understand. I am sorry,” but he did not sound very apologetic.

  “Not yet you’re not,” she warned.

  For a second, Shadow’s impenetrable mask wavered. Then he pulled himself back together and said, “You can join us, Heka.”

  “You betrayed me,” she said, her voice as trenchant as steel.

  “Yes, I did. You taught me to see the strengths and weaknesses of others. Join us, you belong with the strong, on the winning side.”

  “Go kill yourself. Maybe that’ll be a good incentive.”

  “Help us and you can stop suffering needlessly,” he insisted.

  Her only answer was a highly inappropriate and nasty insult.

  “Guess not,” Death said.

  “In that case, I’m sorry,” Shadow shrugged and shackled her hands and feet, his cold, soft skin rubbing against her warm, callused hands, then he took a step back and actually smirked, “You had your chance, love,” Jason cocked his head to the side, “too bad you didn’t take it.” He moved and Death came to stand in his place.

  “Your friend’s knowledge of your plans seems to be somewhat lacking. Like your uncle, he says you’re the strategist and didn’t share your plans with anyone yet. So I have two questions for you now. Same one as before: What are your plans? And: Who else fights for you?”

  “Jason and I used to. Then there’s Electra and Nature.”

  “We know that. We also know you’re recruiting.”

  “You caught me before I got to meet our recruits,” she said truthfully. “You wanted a direct and honest response. Well here it is, I don’t know who’s joined us.”

  “There’s still our first and most important question: What are your plans?” he reiterated.

  When there was no answer, Atos said, “You know the routine by now. Are you sure you want do this again?”

  “Do I want to? No! But I guess I will.”

  Death pierced her flesh. Heka focused on Jason’s face. He almost looked as though he enjoyed seeing her like that. But when his eyes met hers, he was quick to look away. She moaned in pain and Shadow did nothing to stop it.

  “Still won’t talk, eh?” Death asked her. “Let’s see if we can’t up the dose, shall we?” He put more poison in her veins, much more concentrated, more powerful, infinitely more painful. Heka couldn’t help herself. She screamed and bucked, tears streaming down her face. Death released his hold over her. He saw her starting to faint and gave her a little jolt of dark magic.

  “Stay awake,” he said. “I have to talk to Jason now, but I will be back,” Atos promised. “I will keep coming back. Shadow,” he said turning. “Wait for me outside.” Jason nodded and left, throwing Heka one last patronizing glance. “If this is a trick, I’ll know,” Atos said to her once Shadow was gone.

  “It seems…it’s not. I am…going to…kill him!” she panted, throwing a withering glare in the direction he’d left.

  “Good, I’m reassured. Are you coming, Marcus?”

  “Would you give me a moment?”

  “Sure. You know where to meet me.”

  “Yep, I’ll be there. No worries. I just want to talk to my niece.”

  “She might not feel too talkative for once,” Death warned. “Possible side effect of being in my presence too long.”

  “That would actually surprise me.”

  Chapter 18: Escape

  War sat on the edge of the stone table; Heka was still strapped down and panting, though she managed to glare at her uncle. Marcus used a handkerchief to absorb the blood and clean up her wounds. He pushed back a strand of hair from her face.

  “What…do you…want Marcus?”

  “To talk,” he said simply. “I thought torture-slash-interrogation wasn’t on your to-do list,” he grinned and Heka rolled her eyes. “I’m curious about this,” War traced the line from her leg to her ribs. “Death said it was the mark of treason.”

  “You know this story,” she said quietly.

  “Only part of it. It was during the war between the Great Armies of the North and South, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she tried to nod but her head pounded, and she gave up. “And we both fought for the North.”

  “One of the rare times we fought side by side. Though not in the same company, of course.”

  “And I was more directly involved. As always.”

  “And we didn’t fight for the same reasons. But we nonetheless fought for the same side,” War smiled. “You fell in love with a mortal boy. A soldier of seventeen, if I remember correctly.”

  “A warrior I had trained.”

  “What happened?”

  Heka closed her eyes. There wasn’t much point in answering him, it wouldn’t change anything if she did. Except it might help take her mind off the pain.

  “I was resting in a small house on the outskirts of a forest. Few people knew where I was, because that was where some of the North’s plans were hidden. I was in charge of protecting them.”

  “He knew where you were, though.”

  “He’d come up to the house a few times, for training and dinner. So I wasn’t surprised when I saw him ride up to the house. He held me close, told me that he was curious to see what we had planned next.”

  “But you would not show him the plans,” he guessed. “So what did he do next?”

  “Pulled out a knife, inserted it in my leg, then moved it up diagonally to my ribs,” War traced the pattern as his niece spoke.

  “A perfect stroke. It would have brought slow and painful death to any mortal. You must have been losing a lot of blood.”

  “Hm. My bow was only a few inches away from me, so I grabbed it,” Heka continued, “and I shot him in the back. I reclaimed the plans; we won the war,” she finished.

  “It must be hard still. That is a painful treason.”

  “Not anymore. It’s been three centuries since then. Not to mention I killed him.”

  “Now you have Jason. Or had,” he corrected himself. A wicked smile stretched his lips and he looked deep into his niece’s angry eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself, dear,” he said and left.

  Heka closed her eyes. Rage boiled inside her. She was angry with War, with Death, with Jason, and with herself. Being the Warrior, she had the power to control things related to fighting—therefore, weapons were something she had total control over, and so was metal. She focused her energy on the metal straps holding her down. Soon they turned red and melted. She sat up, clutching her stomach and massaging her shoulder. Anger, sadness and pain welled up inside her. Normally, these emotions would cloud one’s judgment. But she was not normal. She had learned to control her emotions—so she suppressed them. She breathed in deeply, cringing at the pain in her ribcage, then exhaled. Eyes closed, inhale and exhale slowly. Anger turned to focus. Sadness to determination. The physical pain was still there, but, emotionally, she felt calmer. Sooner or later, Heka would let them out; she couldn’t hold down so many emotions for long, but long enough was all she needed.

  She tried to stand up and staggered. Her joints were stiff, her muscles ached, and her head throbbed. She pushed herself off the table, stumbled forward and miraculously managed to stay on her feet. Heka shuffled toward the
door and pressed her hand against it. The stone felt cool beneath her warm palm, and she found the metal lock. The cell was eating away at her life force, draining her of her power, but the metal, even if infected with Death’s dark magic, was friendly to her. She melted down the lock, slid through the door and, using the blade of her hand, knocked out the man who stood guard.

  Her cell was at the end of a long, dark corridor. Doors lined both sides of the wall where a few torches burned dimly. For now, she was alone with the guard, but she knew it wouldn’t last. A cold breeze blew through, making her shiver. Warrior pulled off the guard’s black pants and gray shirt as best she could then slipped them on, cringing when she moved her left arm.

  “This sucks,” she muttered. This situation was near-desperate and hearing her own voice was reassuring. She wasn’t sure where exactly she was, only that her internal compass was guiding her to Death. She staggered forward, her right hand clutching her stomach, the other arm limply hanging at her side.

  A door opened and a guard walked out. She roundhouse kicked him to the gut and brought her clasped hands down on his neck. Heka heard a satisfying crunch but winced with pain. The soldier carried a war hammer, a weapon she didn’t like and, in her state, couldn’t even lift. She walked into the room to find herself in a bathroom. Heka stared at the image reflected in the mirror. She was paler than usual, which was quite a feat in and of itself, almost as translucent as Death. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark rings underneath them, her hair hung in limp dull curls, and her lips were cracked. She flushed cold water onto her face and neck and breathed in deeply, feeling a tiny bit better.

  “I look like crap,” she muttered as she stepped out and went back to her mission.

  Chapter 19: The Death Brew

  “Jason?”

  “Yes, my Lord?”

  Death and Shadow sat on comfortable couches in the dark living room.

  “I’m curious to learn more about your powers and those of your team?”