Surviving Prophesy: The Immortals

by Frances Howitt

  ‘You are married to the Immortal Zacharias?’

  ‘You kidnapped me and aren’t sure of my identity?’

  ‘You aren’t much to look at,’ he told her rudely.

  Megan let her eyes drift over him in response, but refrained from actually commenting in kind. ‘So, why am I here?’

  ‘I am in need of a healer.’

  He was in need of a coffin! ‘To do what exactly?’

  ‘You can begin with me.’

  Megan scanned him and shook her head. ‘I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that your problem is simply the effects of advanced old age. Your body is worn out and already shutting down. There is nothing I can do to halt that.’

  ‘Heal him then,’ Darcourt snapped pointing at the man lying behind the screen.

  ‘I cannot do much for someone who has just been almost completely drained of blood. You took far too much this time. If you want to heal him, give him back what’s left in the jar behind your seat.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You know that I was already in the hall when you summoned his presence. Utilising his immortal blood might have lent you extra years, but you cannot cheat death forever; no one can.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll try your blood. You’re young and strong.’

  ‘I’m a wizard like you. My blood has no healing properties and could be incompatible to yours for all I know. That would certainly hasten your death.’

  ‘You stand before witnesses and refuse to heal me, or him? You will be punished by your Guild for that refusal. In fact I will send word right away and they will strike you off and send someone else.’

  ‘You can of course do as you wish. However, I must point out that I am not a Guild trained or registered healer. I’ve never passed myself off as one either,’ she told him calmly. ‘My name is not on any list of practitioners either. But I’m certain you know this already, so why did you actually decide to bring me here?’

  ‘You have been told there is a Prophesy regarding you?’

  ‘Something about me bringing about your downfall?’ she asked with studied casualness. ‘I don’t place much credence on something written before even my parents were born. Having said that, I never thought I’d ever have reason to be in the same room as you.’ She was aware of his anger, but was unable to get much of a “read” on his thoughts. ‘If you believe in this Prophesy, why bring me close to you? I was safely on the far side of the country.’

  ‘Now you are here and under my control,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Put them in the tower,’ he ordered, watching as two guards converged on her and took hold of her arms. ‘You will heal him and quickly or suffer the consequences.’

  Megan glared at him, then turned to watch the immortal now being carried out by two men. At least he wasn’t being dragged to add injuries to the woes his weakened body already suffered. She could tell he’d once been a handsome man, but the prolonged abuses he had suffered here had left their mark. He looked emaciated, his eyes sunken and his hair white. At least he still had hair, unlike Darcourt’s shiny pate.

  She nervously climbed the spiral stair following the men carrying the immortal and with her guards following her. She was glad the stairs were not too narrow and awkward, although the number of steps soon had her puffing, burdened with her baby pressing on her lungs as she was. She was very glad to be out of Darcourt’s presence so quickly. The old man was plotting something, but she had no idea what. Even if she did know, she doubted she could stop it.

  ‘What’s his name?’ she asked the guardsmen as they finally entered the room at the top. The room was circular following the line of the tower itself. To her surprise it was pleasantly sunny and furnished simply but adequately as a bedroom.

  ‘Lemoyne,’ the young guard, who had been her support, responded. ‘He is an immortal?’

  ‘Yes. He’s the reason your master still lives. I take it he’s the only immortal here?’ she asked, watching the men carefully place Lemoyne on the wide bed. Her sight noticed something as she scanned him and she hurried over to him and pushed back his sleeve to reveal an ugly mass of scabs around a needle stuck into him. To her disgust she realised there was a tap on the end of that needle tube combination.

  ‘Ugh, he’s being treated like a damn beer keg.’ She glanced at the guardsmen to find them wide-eyed in horror at the painful looking contraption embedded deeply into his arm. It certainly was an instrument of torture and had clearly been there a long time.

  ‘He has a daughter,’ the guardsman volunteered. Do you think she will be used in the same way?’

  ‘If she is immortal then yes, this could befall her too,’ Megan acknowledged. ‘How old is she?’

  ‘She’s no more than ten years old.’

  ‘Darcourt is dying; he needs more immortal blood than a child can spare. If he takes too much she will certainly die.’

  ‘Can you help Lemoyne?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s very weak. I will of course try, but he’s near death.’

  The men nodded, they could see Lemoyne’s state for themselves. They silently left the room, locking the door behind them. She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes closed, until a voice intruded unexpectedly.

  ‘Are there other immortals in the area?’

  She glanced up to find the white Harpy perched on the windowsill. She suspected he had been sitting on the roof listening.

  ‘Not that I know of,’ she responded and watched him climb into the room slowly, his gaze flicking between her and the man unconscious on the bed. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I am Fabien, wizard Megan,’ he responded and swept her an elegant bow. He then went to the bed and eyed the man he now knew to be an immortal. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told the others this man was in bad shape.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Fabien.’

  ‘Did I hear correctly that your husband is an immortal?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He knows where you are?’

  ‘He does now. Why?’

  ‘I would expect he will come to try to rescue you?’

  ‘Probably.’ She glanced again at Lemoyne and realised why Darcourt had treated him so savagely he was now near death; he expected to replace him. ‘I’m being used as bait,’ she whispered and Fabien nodded. She immediately tried to reach for Zacharias, but a sharp pain lanced into her skull for her trouble.

  ‘What happened?’ Fabien asked quickly, watching her clutch her head, moan and turn white. ‘Are you ok?’

  ‘This place has some kind of shield around it which is preventing me from reaching Zach. I must warn him. Damn it. I doubt he’ll be coming alone either. He’d better not bring any other immortals with him. Schubert always comes, but he has Clarice to look after now. I’m sure he’ll not want to leave her alone while she’s pregnant. I just can’t bear the thought of any of my friends getting sucked into this and being hurt. I must warn them away.’

  ‘You think your mate would listen?’ Fabien asked. ‘If I had a mate and she was in danger, I would go to her, even if she told me not to.’

  ‘Yes, he would do the same for me,’ she acknowledged and sagged. ‘At least he’s still got a long way to travel. We have time, whereas Darcourt does not.’

  ‘He must know this. If it was your mate he actually needed, why not take him instead?’

  ‘I don’t know. The Mistry female took me. I doubt she could carry a man very far. You’d be able to judge the strength needed for that better than I.’

  ‘It was the female who took you?’ Fabien queried in surprise, even though he’d seen her ride into the courtyard with Megan’s carriage. ‘She never used to fetch and carry; that was her mate’s role.’

  ‘Well, I do know a male Mistry died a few months back. Maybe she had to take his place.’

  ‘Or maybe she is seeking revenge on the one who killed her mate,’ Fabien suggested, watching her closely.

  ‘After what he did, he deserved his end,’ she told him with
a small shrug. ‘Tell me about the statues in the hall,’ she said abruptly changing the subject. ‘Were they once alive?’

  ‘They are not truly dead,’ Fabien told her slowly and heavily. ‘You sense them?’

  ‘No. It was just a hunch based on their defensive poses and you hovering protectively over the female Harpy. Who is she?’

  ‘My mother,’ he said simply.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said softly. ‘He is keeping them all in a kind of stasis then. Why?’

  ‘If she was dead it would break our hearts, but she could be honoured, mourned and put to rest.’

  ‘There’s a chance he will revive her then?’ Megan asked, keeping her doubts to herself.

  ‘We are not so gullible to expect he will honour his promises, even though we comply with his wishes,’ he responded, clacking his beak sharply, his eyes stormy. ‘However, we hope that when he dies the spell will die too and release her.’

  ‘Sometimes that is the case, but not always,’ she told him. ‘It depends on how the spell was structured in the first place and whether the wizard is still powering it. Those of his spells I’ve come across so far have been brutally efficient, used other things for power and were difficult to unravel,’ she warned.

  ‘Yet you have successfully beaten them?’

  ‘Yes, but there’ve only been two so far,’ she said with a shrug.

  ‘Help free my mother and I will give you whatever aid I can.’

  ‘Thank you. To have a chance at unravelling the spell I will need time to study a statue. If you could bring me a small one that no one will notice missing, I stand a far better chance of accomplishing what we both need.’

  ‘You needn’t pilfer from the hall,’ a raspy voice intruded and they both turned to the man behind them on the bed.

  ‘You are Lemoyne I believe?’ she asked and he nodded, glancing at the Harpy anxiously.

  ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Fabien,’ he said striving to put the weakened human at ease. ‘What do you mean about the hall?’

  ‘He only keeps the important ones out on show,’ Lemoyne said. ‘Ah, thank you,’ he added as a glass of water was held to his lips by the young woman. He drank deeply glad to quench his dreadful thirst. He knew better than to attempt to get up. Unfortunately he knew this feeling far too well. He’d never woken to find strangers in his room before though. Normally he would have to force himself to get up to find food and drink to aid his strength. It was a slow process trying to recover from severe blood loss. It made him dreadfully weak and it was then difficult to move. He was very relieved to have aid this time.

  ‘I am wizard Megan,’ she said quietly, aware of his dark eyes fixed on her face as she helped him drink. ‘Darcourt wishes me to heal you.’

  ‘My days are numbered, my lady. We both know there is little even a wizard healer can do for me now.’ He accepted the rest of the water before turning his head back to the Harpy. ‘There are so many statues that they line many of the main corridors. There are some small ones near the kitchens that no one will miss. Help her. She is our best hope,’ he added and watched as the Harpy gave a single nod before disappearing out the window.

  ‘Eat,’ she urged gently, holding a sausage to his lips that she’d found in the cooler cabinet.

  ‘What is the point?’

  ‘The point is that while you yet live there is a chance to escape this place. Darcourt seems to believe I have some power over him. What if it is true? What if I can free us?’

  ‘I hear you, but my life hangs by a thread,’ he whispered. ‘I cannot get up let alone run.’

  ‘I know. Just don’t give up,’ she urged and stroked back his hair soothingly. ‘Can I trust the Harpy?’ she asked into his mind and listened for his response.

  ‘They are honourable and do not make promises lightly. Watch what you say to him. Do not break your word, they consider that a serious affront.’

  ‘Sleep, Lemoyne,’ she said gently and tucked the covers around him. She was very relieved he’d woken and that she’d managed to get some food into him. Unfortunately, it was the best she could do for him at present. She ate a few snacks and then curled up on the wide bed beside him and was quickly asleep.

  28

  True to his word Fabien returned that evening with something heavy and cumbersome in his arms.

  ‘Thank you. What is she?’ she asked. The dainty creature looked almost human, although only about three feet tall. The eyes were unusually large, and the nose small. The most obvious difference, aside from her size, was her long narrow and pointed ears.

  ‘She is a wood elf,’ Fabien responded. ‘They are a quiet, shy race that keep to themselves. There are so many of them by the kitchens. Why would he attack them?’

  ‘Perhaps they refused to bow before him, or accept a ruler outside of their own race? I really don’t know. Set her behind the bed where she’ll be less obvious to anyone coming in here.’

  Megan moved round the bed and sat close to the elf. She put her hands out, hovering on either side of the elf’s head, yet didn’t make contact. Until she knew how the spell worked, she had no wish to touch the statue and perhaps have some residue of the spell grab her magic and freeze her like the elf. She took her time examining the spell markers, even though some were quite faint. It was clear this particular elf had been trapped for decades.

  ‘Lady Megan, someone comes,’ Fabien warned urgently. She opened her soft brown eyes and nodded her thanks to him, while tossing a shirt that had been on the floor over the statue’s head. Reluctantly he headed back out the window leaving her to face whoever was coming. As a warrior it went against his instincts to abandon a female to face potential danger, especially a pregnant female. He perched on the roof where he would be able to hear anything said.

  Megan sat in the single armchair with one of Lemoyne’s books in her hand. She watched as the guardsmen from earlier entered the room and went to check on Lemoyne.

  ‘How is he?’ one of them asked her.

  ‘Gravely ill,’ she told him sadly. ‘He did wake briefly; long enough to take a drink, but he’s slept ever since.’

  ‘I’ve never seen him looking so gray and thin,’ the guardsman remarked uneasily. He didn’t doubt her words with the proof staring him in the face. ‘Do you expect him to live?’

  ‘Why would he want to? He has no reason to fight to live,’ she said with a sad shrug.

  The guardsman looked as though he wanted to say something, then he glanced at his silent backup and pressed his lips together. Instead, he ordered the waiting servants to come in with fresh food, clothing and hot water to fill the small copper bath tub set behind a screen in the corner. Megan was heartened by that simple luxury. She had travelled in a hot dusty carriage for days without any chance of washing, either herself or her clothes. The guards were ushered outside the door by the maids and Megan then felt she could undress and accept their aid in climbing into the tall tub.

  While one maid washed Megan’s hair and generally aided her, the other gave Lemoyne a bed bath. He came to briefly enough to register what was happening and thank the girl, but then fell asleep again.

  ‘You are here to heal him my lady?’

  ‘If I can; he’s gravely ill,’ Megan said simply. ‘Thank you for caring for him,’ she added and the maids withdrew.

  Megan ate while the food they’d brought her was still hot. Then she examined Lemoyne again and came to a decision. She searched through the cabinets and finally found a hollow needle and tube hidden amongst some darning needles. She suspected this had been used on Lemoyne originally, until Darcourt’s need for the rejuvenating blood became a daily requirement, hence the current invasive contraption. She wondered if he’d thought ahead to the time when he’d need someone’s blood aid.

  She inserted the needle in her own vein and linked herself to him, ensuring there was no air in the tube before connecting them. Whilst she hadn’t lied when she’d told Darcourt that her blood had no healing properties, she h
oped it would aid his struggling organs and thus enable his body to work again. She monitored how her blood was being received by his body, worried in case he was not strong enough to adapt it. The last thing she wanted to do was poison him, but she knew that the food had not been enough. He was at the point where if she did nothing, he would continue to weaken and die. She didn’t give him much; it was best to see how his body handled it first and besides, any big change in his appearance would be noticed.

  ‘What is it you have done?’ Fabien asked as she carefully pulled a needle from her arm. He had been initially alarmed, but then decided not to interfere.

  ‘I’ve given him some of my blood. His body is starving for blood and whilst mine isn’t immortal, I hope it will help. Only time will tell,’ she added. She watched Fabien go to the bed and look closely at Lemoyne.

  ‘I can hear his heart beating evenly now,’ Fabien remarked and eyed the astonishing little female again. ‘I would say that has helped.’

  ‘Good,’ Megan said quietly, glad she had not messed up in front of Fabien. His trust was still tentative, but he had clearly allowed her to work uninterrupted. He had given her the benefit of the doubt, for which she was grateful.

  ‘What have you learned of the spell?’ he asked with a glance at the little elf.

  Megan followed his glance and realised the maids had tidied up and removed the draped shirt, revealing the little statue. Neither had said a word about it though. Probably they simply thought it an idle bit of decoration, especially as it seemed to be in use as a clothes rack. It was probably fortunate that the castle had so many statues crammed in everywhere, that they were commonplace.

  ‘This elf has been trapped a very long time. So long that some of the spell markers have faded and are difficult to read. I think I have most of it though.’

  ‘Can you try to free her?’

  ‘I’d like to, but I don’t think it’s wise. I think he’ll feel the disturbance if I try it. I’d rather minimise the risks by studying a newer statue first, to see the rest of the spell.’