The World in Shadow (Eternal Warriors Book 2)

by Vox Day

  There were others who felt differently, of course, like that bastard Peterson, who were as cocky as ever, breezily assured that no matter where they were headed next fall, they’d somehow find themselves on top of the social heap. Brien shook his head bitterly. Life was unfair enough that most of them were probably right. He just hoped none of them were going to Madison. He’d gotten his application to the University of Wisconsin in just before the deadline and his dad had agreed to foot the bills once he'd learned that the reciprocity agreement between Minnesota and Wisconsin meant that Brien qualified for in-state tuition there.

  Derek, who had test scores that were even higher than his own, but abysmal grades, was now claiming that he was going to join the Marines. Brien found that very difficult to believe. For one thing, it wasn’t like the Marine Corps was going to let his friend keep his long hair or sleep in until noon, and the Marines seemed like a pretty strange organization to join if you didn’t like getting beat on. Wasn’t that what Boot Camp was all about? But Derek had gone down to a recruiter’s office twice, and he insisted that he really was serious about joining. He’d even taken to wearing camouflage pants and a red USMC t-shirt the recruiter had given him to school lately.

  But Brien had bigger concerns than graduation and his future right now. The problem was, there were only two weeks until prom, and he still hadn’t found the right opportunity to ask Tessa. He walked past her locker four or five times almost every day, but she usually wasn’t there, or when she was, was surrounded by her friends. Brien had enough trouble dealing with the thought of asking Tessa at all, and there just wasn’t any way he could find the courage to do it with other people around.

  He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to eleven, and third hour would be ending in a little more than five minutes. The library was mostly empty, as the halls would be for another five minutes. He probably should have gone to English after all, but what the hell, it wasn’t like skipping one more class was going to keep him from graduating. Hmmm, five minutes until the bell, he thought. Plenty of time to walk down to Senior Hall again and see if Tessa was going to stop by her locker in between history and gym. She didn’t usually, but maybe she’d want to dump her books off before heading for the locker room today.

  He pushed himself out of his favorite orange bean bag and whistled as he forced himself not to rush, to walk casually, as if he didn’t have any particular destination in mind. Maybe he could walk past her locker down to the caf, get a soda, and then walk back up past her locker again just after the bell rang. That would let him pass the locker twice without making him look suspicious to anyone who happened to notice him walking back and forth through the area. Not for the first time, he wished that he’d taken Spanish; the dedicated classroom was just around the corner from Tessa’s locker and the Spanish students had a regular hang-out on the very steps he was now descending.

  As he reached the landing between the second and third floors, he saw someone moving below him near the bottom of the steps, and he froze. It was Tessa! He couldn’t believe it. She was even alone! She was crouched in front of her locker, pulling books out of her backpack and sliding them into the neat little wallpapered shelves she’d constructed at the start of the year. She was wearing khaki shorts, and he could see the muscles in her slim calves trembling as she finished putting her books away and stood up.

  Wow! He realized that he hadn’t moved, or breathed since he’d seen her, and he quickly hurried down the flight of stairs to reach her before she closed her locker. She heard him, and glanced over her shoulder to see who was there.

  “Oh, hi, Brien,” she said, turning back towards her locker.

  “Um, ah, hi,” he stammered.

  He was glad she wasn’t looking at him, because he could feel his face turning bright red. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, forcing himself to relax. Don’t blow it, you idiot! Be cool!

  “Just get here?” he asked with only the faintest quiver in his voice.

  She turned around to face him, and nodded.

  “Yeah, I had a doctor’s appointment this morning.” She shrugged. “What about you? How come you’re not in class.”

  “Class? Oh, yeah,” he lifted his folder. “I was just, you know, working on a paper.”

  “A paper?” Tessa sniffed sympathetically. “That rots, I mean, what kind of teacher assigns papers to seniors this time of year? I mean, we’re practically out of here already.”

  “Yeah, it sucks,” he nodded hastily. “So, you know where you’re going next year?”

  “The U,” she said. “I didn’t want to go too far away, and my sister’s a Kappa there.”

  “Kappa?” He had no idea what she was talking about. The blood pounding in his ears was making it hard to concentrate.

  “Yeah, Kappa Kappa Gamma, you know, the sorority. So how about you, where are you going?”

  “Northwestern,” he replied automatically. “Or, ah, Madison. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  “Good for you!” she said with a smile that rocked him to his core. “That doesn’t surprise me, you always were pretty smart.”

  Her cheerful approval echoed through Brien’s whole being like a chime from the gods. It filled him with joy, and sparked a wave of hope that drowned out the anxious drumming of his heartbeat and made him reckless with courage. For just a brief moment, he felt tall, handsome, and confident.

  And it was enough. All of his prepared statements, all of his painstakingly constructed invitations disappeared from his mind, and he opened his mouth with no idea of what was going to come out of it.

  “So, got a date for prom, yet?” he found himself asking her in a surprisingly assured voice.

  “Nope,” she shook her head, and her brown eyes met his gaze directly. “Do you?”

  “Not at the moment,” he admitted. “But I’d like to take you, I mean, if you’d, ah, like to go.”

  Augh! You idiot! Why did you do that, you jerk? I mean, um, ah… no! It was going so well, and then you had to go and fuck it all up, you moron! I can’t fucking believe you, what a complete loser you are!

  “What’s that?”

  The furious torrent of self-recrimination caused him to miss what she was saying.

  “I said, that would be nice,” she repeated. “Do you have my telephone number?”

  “Yes!” he answered quickly, too quickly. “I mean, it’s in the school directory, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, but that’s my home number. Here, I’ll give you my cell phone.”

  She reached into her locker for a pen and scribbled seven digits on a piece of paper. The ink was pink, and Brien found it almost impossible to take his eyes off it. She was giving him her number, not just any number, but her cell! She said yes! She actually said yes!

  He wanted to sing, to dance, to pump his fists in the air. If there had been a football handy, he would have spiked it. Maybe she’d like to have lunch today, or tomorrow maybe, after all, now they had to arrange plans. They had plans! He, Brien Martin, had actual plans with Tessa Fenchurch! No, settle down, he told himself, trying to restrain the tidal wave of happiness that was flooding through his heart and soul. Don’t ask her to lunch, don’t babble, just be cool. Don’t act like an idiot. You got what you came for, now exit stage right with dignity, style, and grace.

  He nodded slightly, and smiled at her. To his delight, she smiled back at him.

  “I’ll give you a call this weekend so we can arrange things.” He smiled again. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “I will too,” she replied.

  And on that uplifting note, he turned and walked away, feeling for all the world like a conquering hero striding off into the sunset. Yes, he thought triumphantly. Yes!

  There was some traffic clogging Highway 10 on the way home, but for once it didn’t bother Brien in the least. He felt as if the afternoon sun was warming him all the way down to his center; for the first time in more than a month, he was happy, truly happy. Was this what it was like
to be in love? He felt higher than he’d ever been before, it was like a drug, and he wanted to giggle and laugh at the stupidest things. A silly bubblegum song came on the radio, but instead of switching it off as usual, he turned it up.

  “…your love is cand-ay!” he sang along with gusto.

  A man honked his horn as an open space appeared in front of him, but Brien just grinned and waved cheerfully at him. What’s the rush, dude? It was like his heart had been locked in winter for three long years, and only now was experiencing its first spring. What a wonderful thing love was! He thought about how Tessa’s eyes had looked deeply into his when she’d told him she didn’t have a date. How his heart had leaped into his throat at the intensity of her gaze.

  Had she known, had she somehow guessed that he wanted her so much? And maybe, just maybe, she wanted him too.‘That would be nice’, she’d said. Nice! And she said she’d be ‘looking forward to it’! It was amazing, he thought, that the love he thought he’d secretly carried for her for so long was nothing compared to the way he felt now, it was just a seed, and only now was it blooming, blossoming into full flower.

  He lovingly traced in his mind the seductive curves of her white legs, and her slender ankles. He loved the way the lines of her bra showed through her t-shirt, and he itched to see and touch what it was hiding underneath. And did she have a great butt, or what! He grinned like a maniac, recalling how her khaki shorts had clung tightly to her as she’d crouched before her locker.

  He was, he decided, the luckiest guy on the planet, and he was going to make her the happiest girl in the world on prom night. Already he was thinking about what kind of tux he would rent, should he stick with the classic black James Bond look or not? Maybe an elegant soft-grey coat with tails would be better, something that would be unusual, but cool aristocratic. Hmmm. Better wait until you find out what she’s going to wear, that’s really the best thing to do, he finally decided.

  Brien didn’t bother to pull into his new space in the garage, but left his car in the driveway instead, barely remembering to turn off the engine as he ran into the house.

  “Mom, mom, guess what?” he shouted, eager to share his good news. She’d been pretty depressed lately, and he thought hearing about his upcoming prom date might cheer her up a little.

  “I’m upstairs,” she called back. “Be down in a second.”

  Brien tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently, then decided to fix himself a victory snack. But then, as his hand closed around the handle of the refrigerator door, he abruptly changed his mind. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t exactly skinny either, and he wanted to look good for the prom pictures. He had three weeks, after all, and that was plenty of time to drop a few extra pounds.

  He stared at his reflection in the dark glass of the microwave door. He looked like he needed a haircut too, Tessa wouldn’t want him showing up at her door looking all scruffy. He’d just resolved to ask Mom if he could see a dermatologist tomorrow he heard her coming down the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” she asked in a falsely bright voice.

  His heart went out to her. Poor Mom. She tried to be cheerful and put a brave face on things for him, but he knew she was still bleeding inside. Had she ever felt this way about Dad, or had Dad felt like this about her? No, it was different, it had to be. Otherwise, Dad never would have left. His love for Tessa was a completely different thing, it was pure, and dedicated. Three long years he’d waited for her, and now, finally, his patience had been rewarded.

  “Well, I kind of asked this, ah, this girl out,” he said awkwardly, and he couldn’t help blushing. “To the prom, you know? Anyhow, she said yes, so I guess we’re going. It’s in three weeks. I should probably get a haircut.”

  “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful,” Mom said. “Is she the one you mentioned….”

  She didn’t finish the sentence, but looked at him inquiringly. Brien blushed again, and nodded.

  Mom’s answering smile was broad and happy, the first real smile he’d seen on her face since that awful afternoon four weeks ago. She threw her arms around him and enfolded him in her embrace in much the same way she had before, but this time it was a happy hug, a sharing of joy, not sorrow. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt a suspicious wetness on his cheek that could have been a tear.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered in his ear. “I know how hard it must have been for you to talk to her, and I’m so very, very proud of you.”

  Chapter 17

  The Stolen Heart

  You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace.

  —Song of Songs 4:9

  “So you’re taking Tessa to the prom….”

  Derek leaned back precariously on his office-style chair and took a big hit off his half-smoked fattie. The large bay windows of his bedroom were open, and Brien watched as his friend exhaled and the smoke trailed outside on the strength of the warm spring breeze.

  “Well, good for you,” the black-haired boy declared finally. “I’m not saying I think it’s a good idea, you know what I’m saying, but I know you’ve got serious wood for her, so it’s cool by me. It’s definitely cool.”

  Derek thought it was all right? Wow, that was a relief! It wasn’t like Brien was going to cancel out on Tessa just because his friend didn’t like her, but it would have been really disappointing not to be able to talk about his plans for what he hoped would be a magical evening.

  “Why don’t you ask somebody too?” he suggested. “Then we could double-date, wouldn’t that be fun?”

  Not to mention cuttting the cost of renting the limo in half. Dang, but they were expensive! Brien had just about swallowed the pen he’d been holding in his mouth when he learned how much they wanted just to drive you around for a couple of hours. Still, it would be worth it. He wasn’t about to show up on his first date with Tessa in his junky old beater.

  “I don’t think so,” Derek dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “But I think you’ll be interested to hear about a little news of my own. Remember the Obilisk text we got from that thing you said was some kind of crazy virus or whatever?”

  “Sure?”

  Derek reached out and moved the mouse with his free hand, and clicked twice. Microsoft Word sprang to life, and displayed a window full of text.

  “Check it out. That professor who was looking at it emailed this to me today.”

  Brien stood up and walked over to the computer. He leaned forward and peered at the words on the computer screen. It was arranged in what appeared to be formalized stanzas, and the professor had added some kind of explanatory notes marked in parenthesis. He read it aloud, slowly and softly.

  [1] In the 35th year, the terrible voice of Nergal was heard,

  [2] the voice of the mighty (god), in the palace of the strong King;

  [3] for the Son of Assur-natsir-pal he called. For the marcher

  [4] over all the world he came, for the King of all the four zones of the Sun (and) of multitudes

  [5] of men he came, astride a chariot of fire. Like the iron stone of Khapusca was his face,

  [6] and his eyes burned like the flames that, at the walls of Zirta, the city of Udasca, once licked

  [7] at the word of the destroyer of cities. Upon the shoulder of his mighty warrior

  [8] his hand he (Nergal) placed and bade him come to drink of the brilliance of heroes.

  [9] Hea, (god) of the deep, the King of crowns, determiner of destinies, breaker

  [10] of kings and men, has spoken; let him who hears obey.

  [11] Great Shalmaneser no more reigns

  [12] over (the) sea of the setting sun.

  [13] At the right-hand of him (Nergal?) he waits,

  [14] mighty Assur-natsir-pal’s Son.

  [15] As he left, on clouds of blood (and) fire

  [16] so Assur’s hero shall return.

  [17] (the) Euphrates will run red with gore;

  [18] and walled cities fall an
d burn.

  [19] He shall come to those who call,

  [20] The Son of Assur-natsir-pal;

  [21] To those who burn the blood and wine

  [22] Upon the mighty god’s great sign.

  “Nergal… sounds kind of like Nurgle of Chaos, doesn’t it? And that last part is almost like a prophecy, or something,” Brien said thoughtfully when he’d finished. “Doesn’t it sound like that to you?”

  Derek ignored him and pointed at the screen.

  “Keep reading,” he ordered. “There’s more at the bottom.”

  Brien scrolled down the document and underneath the translation he found a brief commentary by the translating professor.

  Fascinating stuff! I must say, it is tremendously interesting, as this particular text does not appear in any of the compendiums published by the University of Chicago. Whether it is a small piece of an inscription which has not yet been published, or whether it is simply a clever forgery, I cannot say. At the moment, I am inclined to assert the former; at least for the first ten lines, since there are a number of terms which appear to be formulaic and are placed in a grammatical structure which is wholly consistent with the traditional Akkadian order of composition. Thematically, these lines read very much like an addendum to the Face D base of the Black Obilisk, the text of which I believe you already have. There are a few idiosyncracies, to be sure, but this is not uncommon; there is a fair amount of variance even within many of the published materials.

  It is the latter twelve lines that I find especially intriguing. You may have noticed that the structure changes dramatically, indeed, I suspect that it was written some time later than the first ten lines, and by a different author. Whereas the author of the first ten lines, as with the author of the Obilisk text,(and they may well be the same person), goes to great lengths to avoid mentioning Shalmaneser’s name, the author of the latter twelve lines seems to feel no such concern. The latter lines also have an almost poetical ring to them which I have attempted to reproduce for you,(my apologies, I’ve never fancied myself a poet and I’m sure the metre is disastrous), and it all has a mystical air of prophecy about it which is very un-Assyrian. A most practical people, the Assyrians, although not very neighborly.