Something Eternal

by Joel T. McGrath

  Soon after, the heavy double doors behind him opened again. This time, two large, brutish men in black suits appeared. They immediately parted on two sides, remaining at the back of the church as a small, but aggressive older man in a black, ankle-length, shiny silk robe approached.

  He had a high forehead, with a receding hairline, and a beak-like nose. He walked toward the baby-faced youth in the front row, while the two larger men remained near the double doors on each side, with their backs against the wall of the building. The man with the beak-like nose carried an agitated expression as he walked down the aisle. His hands folded one on top of the other in front of him. His hard soles clicked, reverberating off the far walls, growing louder the closer he got.

  The man with the beak-like nose stopped at the front row where the baby-faced youth was seated. He turned his beaked nose and gazed at the baby-faced youth, who did not look at the older man, but rather, ordered him.

  “Sit, my old friend.”

  The man with the beaked nose in the black robe sat next to him, bowing before he did. “Yes, your eminence.”

  “Please…call me Skylar,” the baby-faced youth graciously said. “We’ve known each other too long, so do away with formalities, Corbrak.”

  Corbrak nodded his head once. “It is done.”

  “Tell me the details then.”

  “I have taken over the council and disbanded it by using the corruption of the knighthood as justifiable cause before the people. I alone sit as the ruling party now.”

  “And the knights’ temple?”

  “Locked up and forbidden, but…”

  “But…”

  “But before we could apprehend the temple master, Acuumyn, I’m afraid he delivered the Sphere Atlas to the last remaining knights.”

  Skylar shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not worried. The knights are a relic of the past…not unlike this church.” He gestured around at the stained glass windows. “The knights cannot harm us anymore. However…”

  “Yes?”

  “I am concerned about Malum.” Skylar tilted his aviator glasses downward. His mild eyes hinted worry.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, Malum seeks too much power. He’s too ambitious.” Skylar played with the handkerchief in his front jacket pocket, and then adjusted his aviator glasses over the bridge of his nose. “See how his army is coming along. Will you, Corbrak?” He winked at him.

  With another silent nod, Corbrak tucked his heels under the hard, wooden pew. “Do you want me to…?” A commotion of screams outside the building interrupted his thought. “What was that?” Corbrak quickly stood.

  Skylar remained seated. He also heard a crowd of people faintly moaning, yelling, and asking why. Nevertheless, he brushed it aside and minimized the commotion. “One of the priests just jumped to his death. It is a great day for the Shroud when one of little worth has fallen. It thus gives extra meaning and strength to our cause.”

  Corbrak gradually sat back down. Their body language regulated the conversation. Corbrak knew the answer now, so he dared not repeat the question. “I will use Dominic to kill Malum once he has finished gathering those vile…ugh…Dwellers.”

  Skylar turned toward Corbrak. A sly smugness kinked his lips as he leaned forward and gripped the pew’s railing with his free hand. “Is he up to it?”

  “Absolutely!” Corbrak said with conviction. “I have been watching him. He’s been stranded, exiled, and alone on a small coral island for months. It has driven him crazy with rage toward Malum, and he has done nothing except gain skill and power.”

  “What if we’re just trading one problem for another,” Skylar retorted.

  “Dominic is controllable.” Corbrak subconsciously rattled his head from side to side. “Dominic wants simple things like prestige, wealth, and women. He takes no heed of the larger picture at all.”

  “Hum.” Skylar rubbed his strongly chiseled chin. “Then make it so.”

  “Since there are no leap zones for apertures where he is, I will have a fishing boat veer off course. They will see Dominic and bring him back to the mainland,” Corbrak elaborated.

  “Good, now that just leaves me with the problem of my little princess.”

  Corbrak inquired with an upward eyebrow. “Your little princess?” he asked.

  Skylar moped. “Well, I have to show some legitimacy before the people. And since the council is no more, we cannot leave the people without a ruler. Therefore, Danielle James, the only daughter and half offspring of the only successful human immortal union, is the heiress to the throne.” Skylar tapped his index and middle fingers to his chest. “I will rule as king with Danielle, whether she likes it or not, as my queen for all eternity.” His mouth soured a little. “I myself believe species should keep to their own kind, but as no other union has ever produced a child, let alone royal offspring, half or full blooded, it matters not at this point.” He then pointed squarely at Corbrak’s beak-like nose. “Times have changed,” he said in an annoyed tone.

  Corbrak tensed his lower lip. “What of Danielle’s brother, David? Is he not a threat to the throne?”

  “Danielle will kill him, ergo, completing her purpose for the Shroud.”

  “She has a boyfriend, Seth I believe,” Corbrak chimed in again.

  Skylar breathed loudly through his nose, spitefully glaring at Corbrak. “Have Malum send one of those repugnant monsters, one of those…Dwellers to deal with this Seth.” Skylar shrank and tightened his lips into an easy frown. “Now go. Get what you need done, for we have other matters that need tending.” He seemed abruptly disquieted in spirit and agitated by Corbrak’s questions.

  With that, Corbrak bowed again. He walked up the long middle aisle, and the two large men in suits left with him out through the double doors of the building.

  Skylar just sat there. He looked all around. He crossed his arms and legs, leaning an elbow back atop the pew, exhaling in reflection, and relishing the silence of the church.

  Thousands of miles and yet minutes later, Corbrak and his two large, brutish men in black suits approached a disheveled campground in a densely, wooded glen.

  Flies swarmed the area and dung covered the dirt. Corbrak held his nose, pinching it with his fingers, biting his lip when he realized it was all over his shoes and freshly pressed black robe.

  “I hate this place,” Corbrak lamented. “I hate this realm. The whole thing is disgusting.” He put his free hand in the air, halting the two large, brutish men with him to stay put as he neared and entered a green tent to a subterranean world.

  Steps led down toward the burrowed caverns in the dirt. There was a single passageway bore out as with pike and shovel. Corbrak’s pupils contracted from the bright sun as he entered the tent. His eyes dilated blindly in the darkness with each step down into the cool, moist underground. He touched the wall, smearing damp soil against his palm. He wished to rub it away, and though he peered everywhere, only the clean, upper half of his black robe seemed an option, so he left his hand dirty, grinding his teeth, and holding his palm far from his water silk robe.

  A gravelly, male voice from up ahead in the unseeable dark called out, “Council member, Corbrak, how nice it is to see you with my one eye again.” He walked up with a candle and plucked out his glass eye, holding it up to Corbrak’s face.

  “Get that thing away from me.” Corbrak slapped, missing as the man put the glass eye back into his left socket. “And that’s Duke Corbrak to you, Malum.”

  “Well…since we’re playing those kinds of games, then it’s Lord Malum to you.”

  “Yes, very well then.” Corbrak became overly preoccupied by his surroundings. “Is that little Vanessa?” He leered. “Why she has grown up nicely indeed.” His tone turned firm. “But she’s hardly a suitable first-in-command for such a one as powerful as you, Lord Malum.”

  Without a word, Vaness
a moved with cat-like reflexes, summoning a translucent dagger, its tip held inches near the carotid artery of Corbrak’s neck.

  “What were you saying?” Vanessa asked, her red lips just inches away from Corbrak’s ear. “Is this suitable enough for you, Duke Corbrak?”

  Malum crossed his right arm over his stomach, and his other hand cupped his chin under a wide smile. Laughing, he said, “Vanessa, is that any way to treat our guest?”

  Vanessa removed her dagger from his throat.

  Corbrak’s tense frame relaxed, though moisture glistened on his high forehead. “I guess she’ll do then.” He had nothing with which to wipe his wet brow.

  “Here.” Malum offered a cloth that had bloodstains on one side.

  Corbrak glared at the cloth, then at Malum before snatching the rag, patting his brow with the tiny clean section, and then wiping his hand before dismissively tossing it to the ground.

  Vanessa, now at Malum’s side, held a half smirk, but no words. Vanessa used her radiant, silver dagger as light in the dark tunnels.

  “Do you have news, Duke Corbrak?” Malum asked emphatically.

  “I do.” Corbrak regained his composure. “The first immortal is pleased, and he wants to know if you’re ready for the next phase.”

  “The next phase,” Malum repeated. “Well then, this way.” Malum waved Corbrak to follow him and Vanessa. “Did he say anything else…perhaps about me?”

  “He did. He said he admires your ambition, and he has a special reward for your loyalty after the knights and their castle are destroyed.”

  Malum opened his crooked fingers, spreading them apart, bringing his hands together, he bounced tips against tips with delight. “Finally, I’ll be noticed for all my service to the Shroud.”

  “I’m sorry.” Corbrak interrupted. “I can’t understand how you’ve been able to tolerate it here for so long.”

  “How do you mean?” Malum replied with an upward inflection.

  “I mean, I hate this place. I hate everything in it. I can’t wait to get back home, so how do you stand this foul smell, this filth, this chaotic place!” Corbrak locked his hands bent inward as if he were strangling a neck.

  “It’s not so bad…once you’re here for a few thousand years that is.” Malum tilted his head. “Right, Vanessa?”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Vanessa simply replied, rolling her eyes at Corbrak.

  The three had walked for some distance. Malum reached up and unhooked a long stick wrapped in cotton rope, with beeswax melted on the top end of the stick and rope. He then instructed Vanessa to hold her radiant sai dagger up to the cotton beeswax portion of the long stick. She did and the torch lit a bright flame. It soon died back and burned a slow, dim flare for them.

  Malum’s free index finger pressed against his lips for silence among the group. He then gestured with the torch for Corbrak to inspect a dark room to his left side. Corbrak peeked in and saw hundreds of tame Dwellers bumping off each other and the walls in a sort of sleep-like state.

  “Huh,” Corbrak scoffed. “Is that all?” He quickly pulled his head out of the stinking, putrid chamber for a slightly fresher breath of air.

  Malum grinned. “By my count, there are only seven knights left, all of them inside the castle.”

  Corbrak raised his voice and corrected, “Well, by my count…”

  Malum held his index finger to his lips again. “Shush. Don’t wake them.”

  Corbrak lowered his voice. “By my count, there are five hundred archers guarding the castle, thirty human children with our gifts guarding this realm, and seven powerful immortal knights protecting them all.”

  Malum nonchalantly countered, “The archers are mere humans, easily defeated, so too the children they train as knights. Those kids are just insolent wastes of time, trust me on that one.”

  “You don’t have enough of these things.” Corbrak’s whole body shook and face reddened even in the dimly lit tunnels. “A single knight can kill a hundred of your genetically enhanced creatures. And while a hundred of your Dwellers hunted and killed millions of humans centuries ago, it took only ten knights, during the human’s Dark Age, to exterminate five thousand Dwellers in one battle.” Corbrak smashed his fist into his palm. “To this day, the world is none the wiser, but it was a crushing blow for the Shroud, and tipped the scales in the knights’ favor.”

  Without a word, Malum glanced over at Vanessa. He squatted down and tossed the torch along the hallway up ahead. The torch skidded many feet before it came to rest, exposing hundreds of rooms on both sides of the passageways, and they were all just like the room Corbrak peeked his head through.

  “Is that enough Dwellers for you?” Malum’s arrogant tone resounded.

  With his mouth agape, Corbrak’s eyes widened. “Yes. Yes, it is! There must be ten thousand of those things.”

  “As usual, Duke Corbrak, you think too small,” Malum retorted. “There are many more Dwellers than that.”

  Vanessa rolled an upturned chin and a short, curled smile at Malum. “Yes, Lord Malum, you are magnificent.” Her eyes darted quickly toward Corbrak.

  Malum stood straight. He raised his palms upward over his head, and with trembling hands he thundered, “Behold! My legion of Dwellers!”

  From the peaceful Mediterranean fields, Vincent fled. Hunched over, he winced, grabbing at his back. Ulcers filled with pus oozed from puncture wounds around his spine. His legs grew heavy, so he dragged them onward. Taking the road less traveled, he groaned with each step, and with each step, he felt weaker. Rags wrapped around his burnt hands. His cheeks sucked inward, his jaw and cheekbones protruding, and the rest of his gaunt face blackened in patches with charred dust.

  The howling winds pushed him backward. The hot sun beat upon his head. The cold rains soaked, chilling him to the bone. The clear nights were icy, yet quiet and comforting. Gingerly lying on his back, examining the night sky, only among the stars could he see her now. The constellations outlined Noemi’s curves. The intolerable solitude detached his physical pain. Regret and remorse bogged Vincent in a state of constant denial and despair.

  The images appeared so real, he could reach out and interlock fingers along the golden wheat fields with her once more. He felt her soft skin. Her flowery aroma dallied on his clothes. Her laugh, her smile, her kindness, and love, forced him to smile while beholding a universe of glittery charms in the black expanse. A cold wind rustled leaves past his huddled place in the shadowy woodlands. His smile, like her spirit, suddenly vanished.

  He got up and kept walking, though he knew not where or why. At least, he figured, walking felt like he was doing something to find her.

  He shut off his thoughts, for they consumed and slowed him to nothing. He ignored the grumbling in his stomach. His tongue became dry and unbearable. He did not understand how the cabin, safe and secret, burned to the ground. He mumbled incoherently to himself. “What happened? Where are you? Who did this? By god, they’ll pay!”

  Vincent learned many things he never knew during those slowly rapid passing days and nights. The pain from his back grew worse. The Dwellers had wounded him badly. He vomited, and dry heaved many other times. His core felt uneasily warm. It was cold out, yet his heart restlessly fluttered and his brow dripped.

  He avoided people, even hiding when he saw them.

  He could not remember the last time he ate, so against his better judgement, Vincent diverted travel to the nearest town. His balance off, his eyesight dim, he experienced spurts of dizziness. The people’s faces were distorted, they all seemed to stare at him, some talking, others pointing.

  He bumped into various people. They pushed him to the ground, muttering “filthy bum,” before continuing on their way.

  He stole a woman’s scarf from a vendor, ducked down an alley, and tied it over his head. He grabbed a discarded wooden crutch, and leaned most his weight on the Y
-shaped divide before exiting town with a portion of donated bread and water.

  Two large men had been following Vincent since he walked into town. One wore a black, wool, Greek fisherman’s cap with a leather band around the crown and short visor. The other bunched rolls of extra skin under a double-breasted, dark gray, tattered navel coat. Both were large men with scowls and scheming eyes. Neither exchanged a word with the other. Rather, a series of head nods and looks guided the other to follow. They tailed at a distance, and then closed in on Vincent when he made his way out of town and onto a wooded trail.

  “Hi there, mate.” One of the men grabbed Vincent by the scruff of his collar.

  “What da ya got there?” The other punched him in the back.

  “Aaah!” Vincent screamed. His ulcers popped. More pus oozed from his back. The pain from the sores buckled his knees, dropping him without a fight.

  The two men rummaged through Vincent’s belongings, sparse as they were.

  “This filthy bum don’t got nottin’.”

  “Let’s kill him.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  One of the men pulled a knife from inside his coat pocket. The other man kicked Vincent repeatedly in the stomach and head, grinning between kicks.

  “This is for not having anything to steal,” the man kicking Vincent said.

  “Ohhh! Argh! Stoppp,” Vincent faintly uttered. He reached toward them. “Noemi…” his words faded. His hand dropped. His head and neck lurched upward, but rolled to the cold ground after. Saliva and blood flowed out his mouth as words and movements ceased.

  The man with the knife raised it back. “Yeah, and this is for bein’ a filthy bum, you filthy bum.”

  Neigh! Neigh! A horse appeared suddenly. Its hooves high in the air, it clopped down in front of the men. Their eyes startled and spread wide, the man dropped his knife, and the two fled back toward the town.

  The horse settled. It was hooked to an old, worn vardo—a Gypsy wagon. It had two small wheels in front and two much larger wheels in the back. It was green, though the paint blanched amid bare wood in missing chips and timeworn weather damage.