Mark looked at them for a very long moment, and then he relaxed, as if nothing was wrong. “Oh,” he said, “David. Beth. You scared me. What are you doing out so late? You know the rules. Go on home!”
David was somewhat relieved. Mark did recognize them, but in Mark’s typical fashion, he completely forgot where he was and apparently also forgot that David and Beth had both been missing for ten years. He responded the only way to respond in such a situation.
“Yes,” David said quickly. “Pardon us.”
“Pardon,” Beth said as well. They walked quickly past him and moved faster than Mark would have believed possible out of town.
* * * * * * * * * *
Mark watched the pair slide past him. He felt they should really know better than to be out after hours. After all, people disappear at night. Well, it had not happened for a long time, but the mayor himself had put him in charge of the night watch all the same. He was proud to serve.
He walked on his prescribed path making sure the town remained safe from the evil that had come into their lives ten years ago and taken his brother away. Of all people, David should know to stay in at night since he was the first one to...
David?!
Mark whipped around to see two figures disappear into the darkness. Had he seen them? Would anyone believe him? Should he tell someone? Or perhaps in the future, he should not allow Mr. Whitt to serve him one last drink before he closes up for the night.
* * * * * * * * * *
David and Beth walked briskly away from Mark and never looked back. They reached to the road leading out of town to the south, and once they passed the shops on the South side, they ran to ensure they would disappear into the darkness before Mark had a chance to follow them or even see them again. The fact that he had spotted them was unfortunate, but they could not change what happened. He knew that Mark could not have followed them, but he worried about what this might do to Mark, who had always been slow. David was at least grateful only one person had seen them.
They crossed the distance between the town and Zechariah’s house in only a few minutes and looked behind them. “I sure hope he thinks we’re ghosts or a dream or something,” David said.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Beth assured him. Somewhere between the town and here, Beth had regained some of her stoic Elewo demeanor. David nodded as she walked to the mound that held the Levi-Cart. David took a step to follow her, but he stopped and looked at the tunnel leading to the door to Zechariah’s house.
Beth glanced at him and noticing he stopped, she turned to him. “What is it?” she asked.
“I want to go inside for a moment,” David told her and walked to the door.
“Are you looking for something?” Beth asked.
“No,” David said. “I just have to see it again.”
Beth nodded and followed him into the short tunnel, which was cut smooth the first time he had seen it. Now, grass had grown in almost to the door. Dirt had collapsed from the sides and top of the tunnel giving it a very rough look, but not wholly blocking the door yet. Rain and wind had blown in toward the door over the years covering it in a layer of dirt, which had the added benefit of further obscuring the house. He worried what the elements might have done to the interior.
David opened the door to the house and pressed the light button on the wall. The house remained dark, which David had assumed would happen. He had learned much about the churning pool systems over the years and knew how simply they operated. All it took was a spark to get them going again, and most Fempiror had the spark button near the outermost entrance. He felt around the light button and found another button. This one was a little harder to press, and when pressed, it gave a loud snap.
A hum sounded deep within the house, and he knew that since he had already pressed the light button for the main room, the lights would illuminate once the churning pool started turning. It took about thirty seconds before the lights flickered on throughout the large, round room that served as both the living room and kitchen. Zechariah had done an exceptional job on its construction as the wood covered walls, floor, and ceiling showed very little wear from ten years of total neglect. Some water had stained the corners of the room where the wood came together, but the damage was negligible. To his right was an open door, which held the bed that David had awakened in after his transmutation ten years ago. Ahead of him were two more doors, one of which housed the churning pool he had just activated, and to his left was a hall leading past the kitchen area. David had always assumed the other closed door off the main room was Zechariah’s room, but he knew nothing about the rest of the house.
The opening of the door had stirred a layer of dust off the floor, which swirled in front of them. Dust and cobwebs covered everything in the house, since no one had been here since he and Zechariah left for Erim. David walked slowly inside as Beth closed the door behind them.
David gazed around the room and vividly remembered his first few days again. Zechariah had made the Rastem code proud by saving David’s life when David wanted to leave in the middle of the day. David glanced at his hand, which had completely healed of the burn Zechariah had given him to prevent him from leaving that morning. He hated Zechariah then, but he knew that if Zechariah had not done that, David would have tried to leave and died right then. The old man had saved his life repeatedly, and that unconditional love for a complete stranger led to his death. David was not sure even now that he could do the same if ever the situation arose.
“This is where he lived?” Beth asked walking up behind him and breaking him from his reflection.
“For quite some time, as I understand it,” David said with a nod. He turned to what was his room for a short time and pressed the light button. The lantern shaped light on the little table to the left of the bed in the center of the room provided more than enough light for the little room. Beth followed him into the room and stood next to him.
“This is where I woke up,” David said gesturing to the bed. “Zechariah was as consoling as he could be, but I was just hideous to him. With everything I put him through, he still cared. He stood by me.”
“It was his job,” Beth said simply.
David nodded. “I know,” he said. “But you know as well as I do that not everyone would have done what he did.” Beth touched his shoulder gently and then left the room.
David turned away from the bed and pressed the light button as he left the room. David walked to the room with the churning pool to see how it had survived all these years of neglect. He opened the door into a room that was built exactly like his bedroom, but in the center of the room was a near perfect circular pool of water with what looked like lightning flashing under the surface. David pressed the light button in this room, and he could see as the single light on the ceiling illuminated the room the larger wires that led out of the pool and through the walls into the other parts of the house. The tube that led in from the outside wall to just over the surface of the pool that channeled the water from the outside into the pool was still in place. The pool was about three feet deep but about halfway down were points of contact within the ring that went around the outer edge of the bottom of the pool. The flashes occurred at the points that these circling arms touched that outer ring. Like the Levi-Cart, the churning pool fascinated him even still since versions of this existed in everything the Fempiror had that used any kind of power. Zechariah had built this one so well that even after ten years of disuse, it was still in excellent condition and worked perfectly. David had been afraid that the pool would have overflowed even with the drains at the top of the pool, but Zechariah knew what he was doing there too, and the edge of the pool was completely dry.
Beth stepped into the room behind him and looked at the pool. “Did he build this himself?” she asked, awe coming through her voice.
David nodded. “It’s no wonder they thought he was so dangerous,” he said.
“Ulrich showed me the one in Urufdiam and explained how it worked, but
I could never understand it,” Beth commented.
“I’ve had it explained a few times, and I still don’t really understand it,” David said. “I’ve put more water in the Levi-Coils over the years, of course, but I’ve never had one stop working. I’m not sure I could fix that. If this hadn’t worked, we’d be in the dark for sure.”
“Will it work as long as we’re here?” she asked.
David nodded again. To be certain, Zechariah had been a master of many things. It was no wonder that Tiberius had said that the Fempiror world would experience no greater loss. Who else knew what this man knew?
Together, they left the room and David pressed the light button to extinguish the light. Beth wandered across the living room toward the hall next to the kitchen. He followed her down the short, empty hall to a small room that had only a table with a plain Christian cross on it. Above the cross was a small hole with a window that allowed a view of the stars. David gathered that at certain times of the day, that window would permit the sun to shine directly on the cross. There was no light button in the room, so he guessed that the lighting here was intended to be natural.
“I want to thank you for bringing me back,” Beth said.
David looked at her as she stared out the window. “I owed it to you,” he said. “It’s my fault you’re like this.”
Beth shook her head. “We share the fault,” she said, looking at the ground. “You didn’t know, and I didn’t care.”
“Do you regret it?” he asked.
She shook her head again. “Not the act,” she said. “I loved you. I thought I was never going to see you again.”
“Me too,” he agreed.
“But here we are,” she said and turned her eyes to his. “Together again.”
David smiled. It was as if no time had passed, and they were hiding from their families once more. But this time, they were two independent people who had endured heartache and loss over the years, and could actually make a more reasonable decision for their lives. He hoped she meant what it sounded like she meant.
“Would they approve of a Rastem and Elewo being together?” he asked to confirm what she suggested. Her smile said it all.
“Do you want to?” she asked.
“We’re going to live a long time,” he said. “Why do it alone?”
She held out her hands and he took them both in his. They stood before the small table. The cross rested between them like a priest overseeing a ceremony. Someday, they would find a priest to perform the ceremony properly, but to declare their intentions before God and themselves would work well enough for the moment. After all, they had already been one with each other, and since they had never been with any other since, David figured that in the eyes of God, they were already together.
“I promised once that I would stand beside you for all eternity,” she said.
“We have an eternity ahead of us,” he said. “Would you take that vow again?”
“Would you promise to love me beyond all other promises and all reason?” she asked.
“Beyond the vow of the Rastem.”
“And the vow of the Elewo.”
“Forsaking all others.”
“Cleaving one to another.”
“What was formerly two.”
“Will now be made one.”
“From now until forever.”
“Till death do we part.”
“Till death do we part,” David finished. He took her in his arms. Their faces were inches apart as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“Me and you, right?” he asked her, recalling those sacred words whose meaning only they understood. She smiled broadly, her eyes brimming with tears.
“For all eternity,” she whispered.
“No matter what.”
Their lips pressed together in a moment that would stay with him forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Mutation Effect
The alchemist sat in the observation area of the sunroom watching his subject. The alchemist had arrived at the town hall immediately after sunset on the 13th to ensure that the Subject had not escaped during the day. He was certain the windows would hold up to the Subject’s strength just in case he got violent, but he knew there was a chance that humans would pass by the window causing the Subject to jump at them. It was a risk like so many others he had taken, but since it was impossible to transfer the Subject back to the enclosed room, he was forced to take it.
The subject had jumped at the glass partition when the alchemist entered the room indicating the subject’s intelligence had decreased into animalistic tendencies. The alchemist had only left the room once, and upon his re-entry, the subject had leapt against the glass again. Since then, he had paced back and forth in the holding chamber, his shoulders hunched over, looking at the alchemist hungrily. The alchemist believed his previous subject had died due to a lack of blood and wondered how long this one could survive without a fresh victim.
With this critical question unanswered, Vladimir was due to arrive this evening, and he considered how he would display this subject to Vladimir when he arrived. He would recommend that Vladimir’s guards stand ready to hold the subject just in case the subject’s animal nature remained dominant. While the Tepish leaders had taken samples of the new serum, the alchemist felt that the serum needed more tests and refinement to try to retain the recipients’ intelligence. Otherwise, they would have a dangerous army that would be unable to discern ally from enemy. Given their relative impatience, however, he feared that the Tepish leadership would ignore his words.
He shook his head. He had come so far in what he had made, and now, after eight years of research and testing, his first surviving subject was turning into an animal. He glanced at the clock in the room that rested on a table against the wall between the glass and the room’s entrance. It had been roughly two hours since nightfall. He knew Vladimir would have left Erim as soon as the sun went down, so he would be arriving very shortly. The alchemist had instructed Obadiah to see Vladimir to the secret section of the hall as soon as he arrived. He dreaded having to tell Vladimir that the serum still needed more work.
He looked back at the subject and noticed that the animal condition was worsening. In the past few minutes, the subject had gone from pacing on his feet with hunched shoulders to pacing on his hands and feet. Fearing the worst, the alchemist stood up and spoke to the subject.
“Excuse me,” the alchemist began. The subject elicited no sign that he heard or understood the alchemist. He knew that sound could penetrate the glass wall since it was open at the top. “Can you show that you understand what I’m saying?” he asked. The subject just kept pacing.
The alchemist thought quickly. He wanted to rule out the possibility that the subject had lost his hearing as well. The alchemist cleared his throat and tried to remember how, in his younger days, he had made a sound like an animal roar. It was a rough sound then, and would probably be so now, but it would likely get the subject’s attention. He let out a guttural sound like a cross between a roar and a sick growl. It made no difference, though, as the subject suddenly leapt for the glass again and slammed hard against it. The alchemist was so surprised that he took several steps backward. At the very least, it proved that the new Fempiror could still hear, as worthless as it may be for them in this state.
The door at the end of the hall opened. That would be Obadiah escorting Vladimir to the subject’s room. The alchemist opened the door to the hall just as the footfalls reached him.
Vladimir, dressed in the red and black armor of the Tepish, passed into the room with three escorts and Obadiah.
“Welcome, Vladimir,” the alchemist said.
“I received the information back from our last messenger that your subject ate well,” Vladimir said.
“Yes sir,” the alchemist said. “He is progressing almost as predicted.”
“Explain almost,” Vladimir requested.
“Well,” the alchemist began, “it seems that
the serum is not yet perfect.” He pointed to the subject, back to pacing on all fours and staring. “You see, for some reason, the subject is reverting into an animalistic mindset. He jumped at me when I entered. He doesn’t understand language. He is even walking on his hands.”
“And what is the problem with that?” Vladimir asked.
“Well, if he has no concept of friend and enemy,” the alchemist explained, “then there’s a high risk of him turning on us.”
“The goal of this mutation is to destroy both our enemies and humanity,” Vladimir said shortly. “The less conscience they have, the better.”
“It’s not so much a matter of conscience—” the alchemist began.
“You’ve done well here,” Vladimir interrupted.
“Thank you sir,” the alchemist responded, a little flustered. He did not understand why Vladimir was so unconcerned with this problem.
“No need to be modest,” Vladimir continued. “Your insight broke the code that eluded our poor trapped brains for so long.”
“I have done what I could to serve the Tepish,” the alchemist said. “I’m just afraid that—”
“We have two more tests to try,” Vladimir interrupted again.
The alchemist was confused. No one made him aware of any additional tests, nor had the Tepish leadership requested any. Before he could respond again, Vladimir snapped his fingers at one of his guards. The guard reached into a satchel on his belt and removed a nilrof, the two-pronged device that the Tepish have used for centuries for transmutation. The alchemist could see only two ways this would go, and he hoped for only one of them.
Vladimir took the device and stabbed it into the guard’s neck to withdraw a cylinder full of blood.
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