The Eternals

by Richard M. Ankers

  * * *

  Eternals do not feel fatigue, but the boring monotony of step after rocky step soon showed upon my otherwise calm facade.

  “Do you have to kick stones over the edge, Jean?”

  “I don't have to, but I enjoy listening to them clatter. It breaks the tedium of walking.”

  “Well, I'd rather you didn't. You might hit one of my men on the way up.”

  He was right, I might have, but my aim had been a little off. “For you, Vincent, anything.”

  “Thank you,” he muttered and turned back to his corpulent jiggling.

  I pitied the horse terribly who I suspected of having being genetically altered to cope with its gelatinous burden. The hypnotic effect of said flesh, which bounced before me in unending ripples, drove me almost insane. My simmering temper remained checked only by my ennui.

  An hour or more passed with no sign of moon or stars, both obliterated by a semi-permanent sheaf of cloud. That did not stop me taking in the full magnificence of the then distant Shangri-La. Without the distraction of being a hunted man, I could better appreciate the immensity of its construction and the worrying departure of its means of propulsion. Like the miniature balloons they were derived from the Zeppelins appeared to have popped from existence never to be seen again. Shangri-La sat marooned.

  The Zeppelins' removal was a nifty trick that I added to my list of required explanations without ever supposing I'd receive a satisfactory answer. But their departure ruled out another means of escape and that troubled. I had to, however, appreciate the irony of a city in constant motion being the source of spiritual enlightenment. If it was so hard to find there was no wonder wandering pilgrims could never reach nirvana.

  I thought we'd never crest the razor-edged massif when suddenly we did. The two leading scouts babbled such a commotion that I was on the cusp of ripping out their throats when the Marquis levelled out before me and I followed suit. The iron monstrosity that greeted our eyes was not the most inviting site, but it was at least something other than black rock and blubber.

  “Vladivar's palace,” the Marquis stated.

  “Castle,” I corrected.

  “Don't tell him that or you'll doom us both,” the Marquis whispered.

  “So you fear him,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, I shall tell the Crown Prince whatever I wish. A palace is a symbol of magnificence and a reflection of the society it is central to. This bunion on a craggy arse is a symbol meant to inspire fear and nothing more. It is therefore a castle and a morbid one at that. The obnoxious place reminds me of a haemorrhage that requires treatment.”

  The Marquis beckoned me with a chubby digit as the rest of our procession made the mountain's summit. Not wishing to get within jowl splashing distance of the man, I edged a little closer to the horse. Oozing over the side of his mount the rotund Marquis smiled a crooked smile and said, “We shall see if you are so brave in his company, Jean. I venture to say, you shall not. In fact, I'd even bet your life on it.” I did not appreciate the accompanying vile wink.

  “I have no life, dear sir, so that bet's null and void before we start. And, I reiterate for those with blocked ears, I kowtow to no man, least of all an old world lunatic.”

  I savoured the look of fury that flushed across the Marquis' face. His mouth puckered, eyes squinted, and hands tightened on their reins and I knew that instant he hated me. All those years of knowing his wife despised him, yet longed for me; knowing that the world would end with she basking in her own vice and he having encouraged it by his own ineptitude. But what really burned him was the fact I couldn't care less.

  A noise shattered the tension, as of lost souls being dragged from heaven, a moaning of such magnitude that many of the monks covered their ears to it. As one, we all spun toward the racket to see the enormous twin gates of Vladivar's domain opening inwards. The wolf ushered us into its maw. I did not like it one bit. But everyone's seeming inability to move drove me to lead the way, and I strode towards the behemoth that was Vladivar's home. Only Sunyin had the nerve to follow me.

  The Marquis waited awhile before plucking up the nerve to do so too, though I observed he made certain to be enveloped by a cavalcade of surrounding monks. Coward!

  I walked straight through the gates to be met by the rising towers and turrets of this iron world. Not a soul was there to greet or meet us. I found myself in the awkward position of not knowing what to do next. I had no desire to march into the place, nor did I wish to turn around and high-tail it back whence we'd come. There was also the little factor of sunrise which would not give enough time to make the return journey without being incinerated; I had no intention of becoming so.

  I was about to shout the Marquis over from whatever burrow he was contemplating wobbling to when Sunyin tugged at my sleeve making me start. The little fellow pointed to a dim corner of the courtyard we'd entered, where I was to realise we were not as alone as first thought. There were eyes upon us in this darkest of realms. Two old men, silver-haired and dressed from neck to toe in black, iron armour, stood motionless. The two sized our party up. I could feel it, and I did not like it. That feeling of not being in control clawed at the demon all Eternals kept locked away inside. My own, I knew from experience, should never be allowed to reach the surface. So, to a look of horror from Sunyin, I marched straight up to the guards.

  There was nothing to be said that a look would not cover, so I gave the pair one of my best, just you try it, withering glares.

  The two old men hung their heads as my eyes glowed to supernova. Their rattling armour suggested I'd made my point. Their wills were no match for my own.

  “Where is Crown Prince Vladivar's fabled hospitality?” I growled, whilst wanting to laugh at my own joke. The two old men, who now stank of fear, didn't answer, instead, turned to the almost invisible door they protected and gestured. “When I talk you will be courteous enough to answer!” I demanded. One of the two kept pointing whilst the other opened said door and held it ajar. That was not the response I'd asked for and for a moment I lost myself. One of the two, I do not remember which, landed across the courtyard in a heap, as monks scattered backwards and forwards. The other man found himself pinioned to the side of the door. The trickling liquid that leaked from his armour only furthered my anger. I could not have been held responsible for my actions if not for a gravel-voiced intervention.

  “Release him, Jean.”

  It looked like the commotion had attracted the master's attention and a multiplicity of his minions, too.

  “You should teach your dogs better manners,” I snarled.

  “Did he not answer you as you wished, tovarisch?”

  “You know he did not.” I was calmer than before, but still angry, and had no intention of backing down even to an army.

  “Not only do I know he did not, but I know he could not. He is mute as is his brother.”

  Despite feeling a fool I still felt slandered by the actions of the two silver-haired guards. I should have put the man down gently and asked if his brother was well, but the red mist lingered and I dropped him in a pool of his own urine, instead.

  Vladivar looked at the guard horrified, then to his horde, then laughed like the devil he was. I'd made a greater enemy than before, but had his respect. However, that did not stop Vladivar's horde pouring past me into the courtyard. A section of his men, with the master of the castle at their point, surrounded me and the gallant Sunyin, whilst the rest streamed into the courtyard.

  I'd seen many terrible deeds done by Eternals, and in particular the Hierarchy, I'd even perpetrated some myself, but I'd never known anyone act as they did to others of their kind. A section of Vladivar's men tore into the passive monks with the ferocity of rabid dogs. The double scimitar flash of eastern teeth sank into the monk's jugulars with sickening squelch after squelch. In a throwback to some middle-aged nightmare, Vladivar's horde acted like vampires of old. The courtyard was awash in
blood and a familiar scent I couldn't quiet place.

  Poor Sunyin looked aghast. The fellow's face had turned alabaster white as his head dropped to his chest. Those that surrounded us and their master laughed and cheered, joked and jeered; it sickened me to the bone. I would pay them back for what they had done.

  Vladivar beamed across at me throughout the slaughter. The dark one judged my every reaction and I his.

  We stayed that way, observing the crimson chaos, until with a nod of his vicious head, Vladivar allowed the rest of his men to feed. They did not need telling twice.

  The Crown Prince sauntered to my side, towering over even me in his obsidian armour, and put a gauntleted arm around my shoulders like an old friend; I was not his friend nor ever would be. He then led me away from that living hell and instead into its lair.

  “You enjoyed the show, da?”

  “I can't say I did, actually.”

  “You didn't? But that is our nature, Jean. Do you not yearn to release the beast within?” Vladivar's jet-black eyes burned with the flickering torchlight of his domain.

  “First, only my friends call me, Jean. Second, how do you know me? Third, don't you think the mediaeval look is, well, a little mediaeval?” I sneered the last point in an attempt to show my contempt for him. I did not care what retaliation I provoked as I was already way beyond the point of discretion.

  Vladivar looked at me with something akin to pleasure lying behind those tar pit eyes. I took in his scarred skin, chiselled, square face and close cut hair. He was a hard man to age. I knew him one of the oldest of our kind, but outwardly he looked no more than forty in the way people's ages used to be calculated. He was a predator in preparation, an animal waiting to strike and not because he had to, it was all just a game.

  “I call you Jean because you have no other name and have as much reason to call you it as anyone else, after all, you are friendless. Everybody knows you, Jean: noble; insouciant; deadly. You are a man whose reputation precedes him, tovarisch. It is because you are the way you are that you are not lying in a heap with your shaven-haired friends. And if anyone on this pathetic planet can appreciate the lure of the old ways it is you, so don't act all coy.”

  “They were not my friends.”

  “Your look said different.”

  “My look was one of disgust.”

  “Well, we are simple folk here, Jean, with simple furnishings and simple lives. One could argue it the way a vampire is supposed to live.”

  “They could argue it, but they'd be wrong. And I am an Eternal, not a common or garden vampire such as yourself.”

  “In your opinion, tovarisch. In your opinion,” he repeated.

  Philosophical though our chat was it did not disguise the fact he led me into ever darker halls, ever deeper corridors. It was no surprise when Vladivar strode down a final grotty corridor populated by many guards to a single doorway with a serving hatch. Through said door I was taken and deposited within by my host.

  “I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I'm not sure I can trust you to roam my palace unattended.” Vladivar's grating voice took pleasure in his taunts.

  “I would not trust me either. I have a habit of stealing soap from the places I frequent.”

  “Oh, that's right, I forgot, you are a vagabond, a man with no home. Well, Jean, this can be your new home,” he said, removing his arm from my shoulders and giving one a pat as he left my windowless room.

  The door closed behind him with a sickening thud. I was left in the dark, musty oblivion of an oversized stone coffin as the laughter from outside faded away.

  I examined my prison, all five-feet square of it. There was no way out. So, I did the only thing I could, I sat down, legs curled beneath me, locked my eyes on the doorway, and waited.

  Chapter Seven

  -

  Vladivar

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “He's no better than the monks.”

  “Look at him all dressed up like a big, black bruise.”

  “Bruise him, did you say?”

  I chose non-resistance, instead, saved my strength for when it could best be applied. That surprised the ten men he'd sent, but not long.

  I was dragged without given chance to walk; kicked without arms to defend, and spat upon by one particularly seedy guard who wore a red sash around his armour. I made quite sure to transpose the details of his one-eyed visage to memory.

  Idealess as to where we headed, the guards took pleasure in jolting my face with both fists and floor. I'd had worse though and held my anger at bay. It wasn't until the dark and dingy corridors widened into a far grander, yet equally spartan hall, that I realised I'd been tossed into the middle of Vladivar's court. The room was packed with dark armoured underlings who made a point of emphasising their violent natures with pathetic posturing and fang baring. They were so weak; they just didn't know it yet. But I did.

  Picking myself up off the floor, I took in all with a three-hundred and sixty degree wobbling turn. The last image my eyes alighted upon was the form of Crown Prince Vladavar. He sat upon an onyx thrown crafted into the shape of a great bear that reared from behind, teeth bared and eyes raging.

  “Spaseebo, tovarisch.”

  “You don't need to thank me. I had nothing else to do this fine evening.”

  “Oh, I didn't thank you for coming here just for being cooperative.”

  “Did I have a choice?” I quipped, taking in the bare rock of the courtroom. The place resembled a giant cave rather than a desirable residence.

  “You had one and chose the correct path.”

  “Well, I'm very trying, or so I've heard.”

  “You heard right. Do you like my humble home?”

  “Not really. It could do with a little pick me up, perhaps, a smaller entourage to lessen the stink.”

  “Hmm, I like you, Jean. You aren't scared at all, are you?”

  “I died a long time ago, or was I never born, I forget which? Either way, I'm sure things can't get any worse.

  “I'd beg to differ,” grated Vladivar, his voice like crumbling granite.

  “May I ask what you want with me?”

  “Why do you think I have want of you?”

  “I suspect I wouldn't be here if you didn't. Which reminds me where has the Marquis crawled off to? I presume he wasn't amongst the slaughtered.”

  “You presume correctly.”

  “I'm not sure there's room for his ego to fit in here with your horde of cronies.” A muttering and snarling arose from those spaced around the place but Vladivar silenced them with a gauntleted finger.

  “He's not here, and that's all you need to know.”

  “Good. I detest the corpulent fool almost as much as I do his overambitious spouse.”

  “Ah, that brings us nicely to the subject of women.”

  I raised my eyebrows a little at that. “I don't see you as a ladies' man,” I laughed, much to the apparent chagrin of the man on the throne.

  “But you are, aren't you, tovarisch?”

  “I wish you wouldn't call me that, it sounds like a confectionary. I'm not made of chocolate, you know.”

  “You're as sickly though.”

  At last, I was getting to him.

  “Now, back to business. I need to know what Princess Linka told you at the ball?”

  That caught me a little off guard as it was the last thing I expected him to ask.

  “Well, she discussed my costume and that coming as myself was a masterstroke. She also commented on the very poor class of dignitaries that were present. If there was much else of note, I have long forgotten.”

  “I know she talked of me, and wish to know what she said.”

  “I can assure you she did not, although I wouldn't tell you if she had.”

  “Jean,” Vladivar said, rising from his seat like a dark god, “what did she tell you?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, which was the ironic truth.

  “What happened, try to coax it from
Chantelle and had no luck, so you went straight to the source? How you knew she'd be at the ball though, I do not know? After all, her whereabouts had been kept so very secret by her father. I thought we should never see her out in the open, and certainly not at Rudolph's own palace. Apparently, she's been hidden there almost a year. But that is a mystery for another time and not for one of celebration.”

  “What is there to celebrate?” I asked.

  Vladivar closed in, more panther than man, and placed his arm about me for a second time.

  “Are you in love with me, Prince Vladivar, or do you touch up all your men so?” The blow to my chin was swift and painful, but it achieved the result of having his hand removed.

  “Think you're very funny don't you, my vagabond friend?”

  “Compared to you, yes.”

  A kick to the solar plexus doubled me over. I spat blood onto the floor as I eyed Vladivar's pointing and heckling hordes. One particular one-eyed jokester stood out from the others on account of his red sash.

  “Do you mind if I attend to something I'd promised myself earlier? It shan't take a moment.”

  “Why, not at all, tovarisch,” cackled Vladivar.

  I was across the room and back before any of the crowd could blink. Only when the one-eyed guard crashed to the floor did they know something had happened. It was with undisguised shock that they witnessed my tossing his heart from one red hand to the other as my eyes narrowed and a grin played across my face.

  One nod from Vladivar and the dark horde were upon me, kicking, punching, and worse. I didn't resist, it would have been futile, but instead waited for their master to signal enough was enough. He made a point of making me wait.

  “Are you finished?” I picked myself up, relocated my right shoulder, and then straightened my jacket's sleeves.

  “Impressive, very impressive,” Vladivar noted.

  “Not really,” I replied, spitting more of my own blood onto the floor. “Your men just aren't up to much, are they.”