The bolt jammed in the crossbow. The bandit bellowed a guttural roar that sounded inhuman, and he lifted the enormous mace over his head. Nishka cried out and darted aside as he plunged forward. The crossbow came down hard on his head. As Nishka fled, she tried to shoot the men in pursuit. Nishka braced the crossbow against her hip and loosened a bolt into the crowd. The missile plunged through a bandit and he toppled rigidly against a tree.
In that instant, she almost dropped her crossbow. She had killed a human being. Nishka felt nauseated looking at the man splayed against the tree. She tried to justify the murder, but part of her couldn’t accept it. She struggled to maintain focus, but her attention kept darting toward Arxu.
His movements were a rapid succession of smooth and intricate jabs, spins, and stances. It was bizarre how something as repugnant as violence could be so graceful. Arxu transitioned naturally from one movement to the next, a strike flowing into a parry. It almost resembled a dance, smooth and precise, a rhythm to his blows that was confident and deadly.
His body dipped below an incoming blade and his staff whipped across. His fighting prowess was astonishing, far surpassing anything his foes could throw at him. Nishka realized the bandits she faced were watching Arxu’s performance as well. The most foreboding among them nodded at his companions.
“Kill him.” Three rogues obeyed without question. Nishka hoped Arxu could fend off seven men at once. “I’ll face her alone,” the bandit snarled, claiming her. “Let her suffering be a lesson to the caravans that resist us.”
Eight bandits backed away from the battle. Apparently, he didn’t believe he would need reinforcements to kill her. Nishka raised the crossbow and leveled it at his chest. Her actions only seemed to amuse him. For the first time, she noticed how unsightly the man was. His unshaven face bore signs of physical abuse, most prominently several deep scars on his lips.
He looked confidently at his prey with his green eyes. Those same eyes settled on the crossbow clutched in her hands.
“You can’t do it, can you?” he said. “You can’t kill me.” Nishka took a single step forward in hopes that his confidence would falter. It didn’t subside in the least. “Even if you find the courage to pull the trigger, my companions will avenge my suffering.”
“You aren’t giving me any options,” she bitterly replied. She glanced at Arxu again; he was far too occupied with the onslaught of opponents.
The bandit smiled, “Lower your weapon. Perhaps I will let you flee.” He looked over his shoulder at Arxu killing his men. “I can’t guarantee your friend’s safety, however.”
Nishka hoped she could delay the criminal long enough for Arxu to render assistance.
“How can I trust you to keep your word?”
“Woman, you are in no position to negotiate your life. I’m offering you one chance to escape.” Nishka anxiously looked at Arxu again. “My patience is growing thin.”
“Tell your men to lower their weapons first.” She knew it was a ridiculous proposition, and she wasn’t surprised by the man’s raucous laughter.
“I told you that you can’t negotiate for your life. Now you’ve wasted your chance.” A sudden scream made the criminal spin around. He stared in disbelief as the three men he dispatched were struck down in seconds.
Arxu spun the staff intricately with a single hand and deflected a dagger. He slammed the head of the staff into a bandit’s chest and inverted the momentum, thrusting in the opposite direction. The sharp tip impaled a bandit that reared up with a sword. Arxu retracted the staff and agilely swept the third man off his feet.
Upon seeing this display, the leader scowled in fury and bore down on Nishka. He would kill her quickly and slay Arxu. He lunged forward and Nishka squeezed the trigger. He gasped in shock and plunged to his knees. He could acutely feel the crossbow bolt lodged in his thigh. It protruded from the back of his leg at an excruciating angle. He cried out in rage, a sound that signaled his companions to annihilate her. Nishka pointed her crossbow at the bandits and they hesitated.
“Stay the hell away from me,” she commanded.
They looked to one another for confidence, perhaps a stalling tactic. Nishka shot another bolt and it hissed past the nearest bandit. He immediately skittered backward, and his companions did the same. Nishka hadn’t intended to strike him, only to emphasize her point.
“She won’t kill you!” the leader screamed, rabid with pain and anger. “She had the chance and she only maimed me... Kill her!” The bandits hesitated despite his command. “She won’t kill you!” At last, the thieves advanced.
“But I will.” The crippled thief looked over his shoulder. Nishka quickly turned away as the thief died. Arxu retracted his staff now stained with blood. The remaining bandits yelled and rushed toward the assailant.
Arxu didn’t waste a moment seizing initial blows. The staff’s tip thrust at an upward angle through a man’s chin and swept across to bash his skull. Seamlessly, the staff weaved left and right, in mesmerizing blocks and turns. He struck a man in the side, spun around and plunged the staff twice into his opponent.
Something small flashed in Arxu’s hand but his fingers moved too fast for Nishka to see—and obviously his victim, too. Suddenly, one of the thieves was clutching his throat as it rapidly turned red. His eyes were round with terror and he tried desperately to breathe.
Seeing this display did not lessen the morale of the criminals. In fact, the murder only frenzied them with rage. Six men coordinated an attack against him, darting in from different angles. Two thrust their blades at Arxu to repel him toward the faceless man with the mace. He swung his blunt weapon at Arxu with a savage roar.
The steel tip of a staff immobilized him as it sheared through his belly. He could not begin to imagine what had happened next. He was falling toward the ground and he could hear the cries of his companions. Arxu ducked under swords and evaded side swings as his staff performed a series of intricate defensive maneuvers. The same staff suddenly retaliated with surreal ferocity, moving far too fast for the highwaymen.
The last bandit had fallen to the road, his eyes looking blankly into space. His arm shuddered as what little remained of his life faded away. Nishka watched Arxu approach.
He showed no sign of fear or anxiety from the battle. Part of Nishka wished she could show similar resolve during a crisis. However, a concerning thought erased that desire.
She feared he may be utterly desensitized to violence.
Chapter 5
Traces of light lingered vividly on the horizon, receding beyond the tide of shadows that prefaced night. The darkness was soothing, a cool tone that lulled the eye. Nishka felt well rested merely sitting at the campsite. She also felt differently about her companion after the ambush.
A strange trust had replaced the previous suspicion that marked their relationship. She was starting to believe Arxu posed her no harm; in fact, he would devote himself to ensuring her safety.
Nishka thought about what he said when she first met him. Arxu had asked why she stayed with her father. The simple question he posed set off an internal dialogue that could not be hushed. Nishka was quietly coming to terms with the reality she avoided.
“I’ve stayed with my father for many years,” she admitted. Arxu looked up from the campfire embers to regard her. “I fear for my father. I’m afraid that he might injure himself while smithing, or he will grow ill and I won’t be there for him. I’ve stayed behind even though my younger brothers have left to have their own families.”
She cast a somber look around her surroundings. The sky had rendered vistas of violet that complemented dusk. An evening bird called longingly in the distance.
“He has encouraged me to marry and find my passion in life, but I fear for him... after I lost my mother.” Her voice drifted to a whisper as she recalled the painful memory. “One day, she fell gravely ill and she didn’t recover.” Years had passed since that tragic day, but she keenly remembered the loss.
“Have
you ever lost anyone?”
Arxu gazed through her silently. He looked as though her story had made no impression on him whatsoever.
“Have you ever lost anyone?” Nishka repeated.
After she had shared something so personal, he could only glare at her without empathy. Her hand arced out in a slap before she even realized what she had done.
“Say something!” she exclaimed. The disconnected man didn’t even flinch at the blow. “Why don’t you say anything?” The Nightwalker turned away.
“I died a long time ago.” Silence gripped Nishka and she gawked at the being sitting across from her. “I was murdered,” Arxu confessed.
Nishka lost her ability to breathe suddenly. Her conversation with Arxu had taken a very surreal turn, one she could not readily process. Arxu lowered his gaze to the earth.
“Before I was murdered, part of my soul was absorbed into a stone—” Nishka’s eyes darted toward the smoothed stone dangling from the pendant around his neck. Its luster was barely visible in the dark, as though it was a void into the night. Arxu lifted his hand and touched the carved jet.
“I did not thoroughly examine the contingency spell I set in place. When I awoke, I was… changed. I had lost the greater portion of my soul. My body was cold and weak. I was forced to crawl to safety and remain there until I gathered enough strength to escape.”
He faced Nishka and she looked away uncomfortably. His empty, blue eyes still pierced hers.
“I created a contingency in the event of my death—should I die, what little life force that remained in the pendant would be transferred to my body so I might live again. The remnant of my soul in the pendant restored me to life, but my mind was radically altered. When I awoke, I was alone and my energy was fading. My memories had been eradicated, including much of my personality. I do not know if I possessed friends or family. I do not know who I was before I died. Most of all, I am severed from emotion.”
His hand slipped from the jet pendant and rested on the leaf-strewn forest floor.
“All I retain of my former life is my name, the knowledge of my death, and the vision of my murderer.” He paused and allowed the silence to speak for him. “I had to relearn my craft and reread my tomes. My emotions didn’t interfere with my craft this time. I devoted many years to perfecting my skills and surpassing my limitations. I am far more disciplined and in control than I ever could have been in my past life.” He bowed his head. “But it does not make up for the loss…” Nishka felt bound in place listening to him.
“I cannot feel… anything,” he said, searching for words. She could almost see the longing in his eyes, as though spiritually lost. “I am detached from emotion. I cannot feel like a human.” At last, Nishka found her voice again.
“What can you feel?”
Arxu studied her, and with an expression devoid of emotion, he answered, “Nothing.”
Chapter 6
Night descended across the city as Margzor approached the Sepulzer temple. In the distance, the silhouette of the horizon and its edifices lingered mysteriously. Sepulzer was an opulent sanctuary for sin, a beautiful façade that concealed a criminal netherworld that reveled in assassination, prostitution, and slavery. It almost resembled a luxurious hell, and for each vice there seemed an entire district dedicated to its worship. The temple was perhaps the only pure thing in the wretched city.
How strange, he thought, that no one was present on the streets. He walked in solitude as the night sheltered him from prying eyes.
Each step flowed in perfect unison with the rest of his body, a tempered confidence marking every stride. He was thankful that no one was there to witness what he would soon do. This was the closest he had come to setting his plan in motion, and he was determined not to let anyone intervene.
The temple was barely five steps away.
He paused at the entrance and listened. Margzor could hear voices inside, their tones suggesting worship. He felt something squirming inside him, possibly disgust. He reached toward the entrance and his fingers brushed against the intricately smooth surface. Opening the doors, he entered a soaring chamber with a tiled floor.
The space unfolded to a majestic interior. He almost felt swallowed up by the great architecture, so humbling and monstrous it seemed. It was difficult not to appreciate the artistic effort that had been dedicated to the temple’s construction. The vaulted ceiling loomed overhead, supported by flying buttresses and immense pillars.
Flanked on both sides by columns, a great aisle stretched out before beckoning him to the heart of the sanctuary. Distant voices echoed around the temple with reverence. Likely, the men and women were praying to their deity and asking for blessings.
The concealing shadows washed across the prayer hall like an eclipse.
The religious atmosphere was foreign to him. He admired the fresco glistening with colors, milky whites and azures that showed his reflection, but even these pure, illuminated stones couldn’t distort the hideous nature of this being.
He scanned the setting; the interior truly was beautiful. He considered the male priest walking toward him with a welcome expression. Margzor retrieved his sword, a keen blade that looked as though fire pulsed inside the steel. Its edge glistened voraciously in the dark, reflecting the dim light. It had never tasted holy blood before.
The priest stopped as a look of horror washed over his blanched face.
* * *
Nishka pondered what Arxu had revealed to her last night. She didn’t understand magick very well; she only knew it disrupted the balance of nature and resulted in horrible consequences. The likelihood that it had been manipulated to create life where there was none was believable.
“How are you feeling today?” Arxu looked at her with an emotionless expression, and at once, she realized how silly her question was. “What did you do when you woke up?” she asked.
“I gathered my belongings and—”
“No, I mean… after you died.” Arxu hefted his staff and adjusted the weight on his back. “What were you doing before my father found you?” All at once, Nishka’s questions came rushing forth.
“My father said he found you wandering on the road. Where were you going? What were you going to do? Have you been wandering aimlessly ever since your death?” Arxu opened his mouth to reply but Nishka blurted out one final question. “Why did you agree to escort me?”
“Your father approached me. I was doing nothing, I suppose.” He looked around the placid forest as he mulled her unanswered questions.
“I have been wandering the wilderness for many days now, meditating and gathering herbs. I don’t have a home to return to. I am drawn to places of power, which are often found in forests. I was searching for a strong source of magic when I encountered your father.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Nishka asked.
“No...”
Nishka scanned the forest and imagined what a place of power must look like. It would be far removed from society and the intervention of humans. It would almost certainly overwhelm even the most stoic bystander.
“Can you show me a place of power?”
“If I sense one nearby. They are rare.” Another question occurred to Nishka that almost didn’t make it past her lips.
“Can you tell me, Arxu, have you always looked that way?”
“What way?”
“Your skin is so pale and your hair is...”
“I don’t know. I believe I have always had pale skin, perhaps since my birth. Unfortunately, my death robbed me of all memory. My unnatural hair color may be a result of my vocation as a Nightwalker.”
“It may be?”
“I cannot remember.”
“Have you encountered other Nightwalkers?”
“No, they are rare. My knowledge regarding them has faded over time. According to what little I could learn from my books, each potential Nightwalker undergoes rituals during their inauguration into the secret sect.” The mention of a clandestine
order hooked Nishka’s attention.
“Are Nightwalkers religious?”
“No, but we have a great respect for the moon and night, including nature and all of its creations.”
Intrigued by his description, Nishka asked, “What are these rituals?”
“There is an obscure sanctuary within the forests of Eyegad where a man or woman performs ancient rituals; one is to bathe in a nearby pool beneath the moon. There, he or she meditates in harmony with the natural surroundings. The leader of the Nightwalkers, who is always female, judges the initiates as worthy or unworthy of joining their reclusive order. Most Nightwalkers don’t stray far from the sanctuary. They aren’t easily understood, and they are often subjected to harsh treatment by society and its authorities.
“One could argue Nightwalkers are not treated as humans. Many people are hostile or frightened of men and women endowed with paranormal abilities. Nightwalkers aren’t easily distinguished from a normal person in appearance, but it is possible some are quite open about their vocation. Most Nightwalkers who endure discrimination are exiles, and one who is exiled from the order is marked.”
“...How are they marked?”
“To ensure an outcast is never allowed to return and that society knows what they are, an exile may receive markings on his body with dyes extracted from wild indigo herbs. These runes bind to his skin and prevent him from returning to the sanctuary. Should he try, he will be unable to pass beyond a certain point in the forest. It would be as though the exile was trying to walk through an invisible gate. If his offense is considered too great, his hair may be dyed with indigo.”
Nishka stifled her laughter when she realized he was not capable of humor. At once, she felt slightly uncomfortable around Arxu.
“Were you exiled?”
“I cannot remember.”
The Undying God Page 4