by SL Figuhr
He smiled cruelly. “Now begin.”
It did not take long for her to tell him, or for him to write it. He chanted over a seed and picking the bird to which it belonged, killed it. He waited and the bird did not come back to life. She whispered the last words of the chant and felt her soul leave her and enter the snake armband.
Now to grab it. But she did not move cautiously enough. He spotted her and came over and his foot sent bowl and band skittering across the floor. She lay gasping up at him. He took out his dagger. “A clean death, like I promised.” He slit her throat.
Once she was dead, Eron cleaned his dagger and picked up the armband. He looked at her once more before secreting the band on his person. He shouted for the guards, ordered them to take and burn Cassiopeia’s body. He followed them to make sure it was done, and watched as they buried the remains in a sand dune far beyond the palace walls.
* * *
Eron paused and I filled his goblet with wine again. He thanked me and took several healthy swallows before continuing, “It wasn’t until centuries later I found out the truth. Cassiopeia had managed to complete the ritual and had started a cult. They were good immortals, gathering in strength and number so one day they could stop me.”
Here Eron laughed.
“She almost succeeded, but she herself had been betrayed yet again. I learned of her plans and life from a man who had turned evil. He had been one of her acolytes, and he wanted to kill me and take my spot as king.”
Eron paused, reliving ancient days in his mind. I was astounded. To think! These people had discovered a way to become immortal which didn’t require them to restrict their movement according to the time of day. How many of them still existed? I realized he knew how to do both rituals! Excitement coursed through my veins, then doubt; if it was easy, he wouldn’t tell me outright. He was leaving something out, some crucial bit. He had mentioned it, what was it?
“You do not think evil of me? You do not think I should die along with Nicky?”
Why tell me his story if he was going to ask? I said as much.
“I can’t get over the evil vampire, I suppose. I guess by telling you, I’m convincing myself you’re good, the way I changed to become good.”
Oh please. “You seem to have gotten stuck on the concept of one must be either wholly good or wholly evil. When what we all are is shades of gray?”
He paused for a moment. “I think it’s because of Mica. He has such convictions of right and wrong, and even though I know better, it’s so hard not to get caught up in his vision sometimes. Then I get disgusted with myself and dissatisfied. I can’t believe you never noticed that about him?”
“No, not really. We didn’t spend oodles of time together the way you and I did.”
Eron paused to brood a moment, before picking the thread of his story back up. “There had been great wars between our kinds. My side had gotten lucky and we captured Cassiopeia. I wanted to personally execute her. But when I saw her, I couldn’t. I’m not sure why, I think it was because she was the only one who had been with me from the beginning of my Becoming. I had been growing disenchanted with life, with what I was doing, only I didn’t want to do the Ritual of Undoing yet. Perhaps Cassiopeia sensed it, or she just couldn’t find where I had hidden my soul. She wanted to talk, a white flag of truce between us. For some reason, I dismissed everyone there except her.”
* * *
“I sense a sadness in you; do not tell me the great scourge of the earth, the Destroyer of Nations, regrets the path he has taken.”
Eron poured more wine for himself, offered her a goblet which she accepted. “No, not exactly. I have enjoyed my time and the things I’ve done. Only…” he paused to search for the words he wanted.
“Only you grow tired of always destroying, always being the tyrant. They rebel eventually don’t they? Those you’ve conquered. You do not have their love, their honest respect, only their fear and hatred.”
“Yes,” he mused, “I suppose that’s it.” He gave a wild bark of laughter which threatened to become hysterics. “You’ve cursed me, haven’t you? Wished upon me, this ennui, this boredom, this never ending torment. This is your revenge isn’t it? Well, are you enjoying it?” and he continued laughing wildly.
She raised her brows and looked into her cup a moment. “No, I thought revenge was what I wanted, but seeing you, I’m not so sure. It makes me wonder if the things I’ve done have truly been for good, or if there was more harm in them.”
“You are trying to get rid of me, the Great Evil; how can any action springing from that be wrong?” He groaned.
She stood contemplating again. “I don’t know. It’s why I wanted to be caught, I suppose. That and I always wondered: you took my snake armband all those years and years ago. If you thought I had completed the transformation, why didn’t you do the Ritual of Undoing on it just to be sure?”
He was not sure why and said as much.
“I think, even then, something buried deep inside you was waiting for this day. Waiting for you to make a choice which will change both our lives.” She paused and drawing away from him, knelt. “May I show you something?”
Eron nodded tiredly. He watched as she took a small pouch out from under her tunic. Opening it, she looked for a bowl and finding one, emptied it on the ground. Dried herbs, spices, flowers and other unknown powders filled the bowl. Cassiopeia took a sliver of wood from the brazier in the tent and ignited the mixture. As it burned it smoked, filling the air with a seductive scent.
He watched in fascination as she raised her arms, palms out over the smoking bowl, looking at him. Eron felt his instinct buzz; he had a feeling he would not like what she was about to do but didn’t care anymore.
“Unlike you, Majesty, I have continued my education in the occult. I have found something I think will help us both.” She began to chant.
The smoke swirled and seemed to dance and pulse in time to her chanting. Then he felt it, little whispers of air, like on the day he had stolen the source of the old man’s power. The smoke seemed to gather in the middle of the tent, the air swirling it into a column and out of that column a shape formed. It was wavering and indistinct but when it spoke, its voice was musical and made Eron think of Paradise.
“Why have you called me forth, human?”
“I have need of your race’s help. My father taught us how to make immortals, and how to undo it, from your teachings.”
The shape nodded. “This we know of. The power is not used wisely; many wield it who should not.”
“For which I am sorry, O Great One, and wish to make amends.”
“There is no way to undo what has been done, but it can be changed.”
“Let it be so.” She turned to Eron, and the shape seemed to hold him in its gaze.
“Yes, let it be so.” he repeated, ignored his instinct for once.
The shape seemed to nod; they felt its approval. “It shall be done. Henceforth, every immortal made shall make a journey to here,” a map appeared and showed them a spot, out of which grew an image. “This journey must be made in one year’s time. The living immortal must bring their soul gem with them and place it in the cave. My brethren will guard the spot.
“If this journey is not made within a year’s time, the guardian shall come for the living immortal; their immortality and their life shall be forfeit. The Ritual of Undoing will remain. One who wishes to end the existence of another living immortal must make a journey to the cave and say this phrase to identify and retrieve his enemy’s gem after acknowledging the guardian.” Another scroll appeared beside the first.
“Once the soul gem is taken out of the cave, the one who took it has seven years to end the life of the gem’s true owner. If he fails to do so, a guardian shall come for the one who took the gem and their immortality and life shall be forfeit. As I say it, so shall it be.”
Eron felt a bubble of panic. “Wait, does this mean we two shall have a year as well to make the journey?”
The shape regarded him. “Yes. You are tasked with spreading our words and agreement. Those who chose to ignore it will have their lives ended a year from now. You may not call upon my brethren or me freely without consequence. We are now the Guardians of the Cave of Soul gems.” So saying, the smoke thinned and the shape disappeared.
* * *
I must admit I was amazed he had voluntarily told me the immortal’s origins. He either thought there was nothing I could use out of it, or was beyond caring. Eron poured more wine and drank deeply before continuing.
“We made our journey. Not every immortal to whom we passed the words believing. True to the Guardian’s word, all those who ignored our warnings lost both their immortality and life. After Cassiopeia and I had handed our soul gems over to the guardian, I vowed never to remove her gem as long as she would grant me one favor. She would never try to hunt me down again nor tell people my secret of who I really was. She agreed. I disappeared as part of our bargain. I took on a different name, a whole new life. I gave up who and what I had been. Oh, I could never become wholly good, no, but I was not the great evil I had once been.”
Eron paused, his gaze drawn from the past and he looked at me.
“Are you atoning for past misdeeds? Is that why you let yourself be drawn into Mica’s quest?”
Eron glanced at the palms of his hands, then reached for his goblet. He took a healthy swallow before answering. “It must be, why else am I still here? Why else would I let Mica guilt trip me into staying?” Suddenly he clenched his hands into fists and pounded the arms of the chair. “Goddamn it Mica! You and your white knight complex!”
“I... see.” I had a feeling he was leaving out chunks of information but didn’t press the issue. I was confident that in time he would tell me. He had spoken quite a lot already. “And how does Nicky fit into all this? He knows the ritual?” I surely hoped not.
“No, from what I was able to find back then, in modern times; he only knows how to destroy us. He... he was a mistake from the beginning. After the restrictions were placed on the becoming and undoing of living immortals, Cassiopeia and I passed one more, children were not to be transformed. They would not be able to properly defend themselves or make their way in the world. As you saw for yourself, one of my kind decided to ignore the rule. I’m not sure how he managed to survive so long without someone retrieving his soul gem and speaking the Ritual of Undoing.”
“Very worrisome, as few people change who they really are at heart. It seems to me the little boy should have a great many enemies. One of them should have gotten rid of him before now.” It was a point I found nagging.
Eron’s brow creased and his answer, when it came, made him seem unsure of what he said. “I can come to no satisfactory conclusion other than killing us does not confer power. So there would be no benefit in destroying him, other than to get rid of an enemy. Nicky is very good at appearing to be one’s friend, then backstabbing his benefactor.”
I believed I understood. “By the time a person knows Nicky is their enemy, it’s too late, isn’t it? He’s killed them.”
“That’s what I think too.” We fell silent for a while.
“I still don’t see how any of this helps us,” Eron prodded me.
I swatted at his booted foot. “It does, I’m just not sure how yet. I have to think.”
“Great, and while you do, people will wonder where we have got to. I bet a whole new slew of rumors will have made the rounds. We need to get back, at least you should. If Nicky shows, I know you can talk your way out of anything.”
“And say what?” I wanted the pimple on my butt gone.
“I don’t know. You’ve seen his power and might, and you tremble in fear at what he commands.” He laughed at the expression on my face. “Please tell me you brought the horses?”
When I indicated I had, still stewing over the role I was undoubtedly going to have to play, he said, “I’ll saddle them.” He gave a quick glance through the window. “But it would go faster if you helped, sun’ll be up soon enough.” Then he left.
I had a feeling he knew more about my strengths and weaknesses than was safe. I made sure the candles were out and the fires extinguished before joining him in the stable; I wasn’t about to let my haven burn to ash as a result of my own carelessness.
Chapter Eleven
The Marquis lit a cigar, and calmly smoked as he enjoyed his wine and watched the earl pace. How had a man as weak and cowardly as Chadrick managed to have an affair with the duchess? But for now, the marquis was more interested in the havoc he could cause now, and the rewards he could gain for it.
If I knew who to thank for causing the uproar at the Harvest Ball I would. The opportunities they’ve created by getting the damn advisor out of the palace is nearly priceless!
Kendall held his glass out, and his body slave filled it with wine. He had no more need to speak; soon enough the earl would let him know of his plans without realizing it.
“I find it preposterous that my lady wife asked such a thing of your body slave. She doesn’t approve of your lifestyle. Why would she confide in a slave, and your slave at that?”
“My dear Chadrick, I suspect she asked it of me because of the very way I live, which she so freely denigrates. I have told you before, if you took your fist or a whip to her from time to time, she would obey you, instead of the other way around. She is more of a man than you, but then it does explain why you prefer whores for your pleasures.”
“What I do in my private life is no concern of yours,” came the savage reply.
Kendall merely sipped again, sneering, “Is it true, what your slaves whisper? You are having an affair with the duchess? You believe she will marry you if you can wriggle out of the countess’s claws?”
“Leave her out of this!” Chadrick stopped and shot a glare to the other man. “Why have you told me my wife’s plans? What do you hope to gain from it? You do nothing without a reason.”
“If the rumors are true, she is the reason why your lovely ball-busting, frigid cunt of a wife is doing what she will. Tell me, how does a man like you manage to win a prize like Her Grace?” The marquis leaned forward, glass and cigar dangling from his grasp, eyes glittering in poorly concealed rage and jealousy.
“Do not speak of Elizabeth so...”
“Don’t be a hypocrite. I know the bargain your father made with you. I know you think me an unprincipled, hedonistic bastard, but at least I am not ruled by my wife. Nor do I let others take advantage of me.” Kendall drank and took another puff as he sat back, lips curling in contempt for the man before him.
The earl turned his back on his fellow peer, and gulped down his wine as he stared out a window, trying to master his rage. From behind him came the drawling voice speaking words he didn’t want to admit to himself.
“She won’t marry you, no matter what you think. Even I know that. A woman such as her? You are an amusement. I suspect you treat her as an equal and that’s why she let you fuck her, but you are weak. At heart, you know you are.”
“We have different concepts of what makes a man weak. I ask again, what do you want?”
“I thought it would be obvious, even to you: what I have always wanted.”
“Her Grace will never consent to sleep with you.”
The earl missed the look of hate which twisted the face of the man behind him. “You are a fool. If I want her, she will be mine, no matter what you think or feel. In exchange for information on your wife’s plans, you will support me in becoming advisor to His Majesty. It is time the nonsense of a foreign orphan guiding our country is stopped.”
“If I don’t?” The earl turned around, his eyes glittering with suppressed rage.
The smirk was evil. “Lord Nicky will receive proof that the idle rumors of your affair are true, as is the one you want to marry Her Grace. We both know that what he will do to keep from losing his chance at a dukedom will be more terrifying than anything your bitch of a wife can come up with.”<
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“You call me weak, and if I am, you will need more than my help to achieve your goal.”
“Which is why you will convince the duchess of her need to assure His Majesty gives me the appointment, rather than doing it directly yourself.”
“When Lord Nicky comes back, he will crush you.”
“My, my, you really are a fool. Naturally you will stand with me against the boy, otherwise your line will end when he learns you helped. If you don’t care for your own skin, think of your heir, and the duchess. The orphan will have his revenge,” the marquis mocked.
The earl’s hand tightened around the stem of his glass, snapping the stem. A slave hurried forward to clean the mess up.
“You.are.despicable.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Her Grace...”
“Had better do what I want, so you must be at your most convincing. I suggest you start with tonight’s dalliance.”
The earl stalked from the room and out of the mansion. He fumed as he waited outside for his horse to be brought around. He had no illusions Kendall would do, could do, exactly what he threatened. The ride home was short. He loathed himself and his wife for putting him in the position of crawling, of begging her not to take her displeasure out on their children and grandchildren.
* * *
“My Lord! We didn’t expect to see you here, not after, after...” His steward trailed off uncomfortably.
“My grandchildren, where are they?”
“Where they always are, my lord: in the nursery wing being looked after by their slaves.”
“They are well? They have not been sick?”
“No, of course not, my lord?” The man was puzzled.
The earl continued, “And my children, what of them?”
“Ah, uh, yes, the ladies.” Here the steward gave a nervous little cough. “They have been confined to their rooms. Her Ladyship said their behavior since the ball was unacceptable, and until they could learn to be proper ladies, they were not to join the rest of the family.”