The Reaping: Immortalibus Bella 2

by SL Figuhr

  “I can cause people to instinctively know they do not want to be around me, or to cross me, without realizing what I am. The hindbrain’s response to predators,” Lira stated matter-of-factly.

  Eron made a voilà gesture while thinking, Fuck, she’s actually proud of the fact. “Not making a convincing argument right there you’re not an evil overlord in waiting, Queen of the Night.”

  His friend set his journal aside and held a hand up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on here? Eron, you’re acting like you’ve known her for a long time. Is she one of us or not?”

  Eron watched as Lira’s face smoothed out, the life leave her eyes, so she seemed a statue. He couldn’t even see her breathe, and began to get creeped out. “Uh, you don’t need to convince me of your superpowers there, X-man. Hello?”

  He half-stood and waved a hand in front of her face, jumping when she came to life again. Both of them ignored the other Immortal in the room, who was looking suspiciously at them.

  “I was thinking,” she snapped as he hurriedly sat back down. “We don’t know how powerful a magick user he is, as he is unique, so therefore anything is possible, even the impossible.”

  He thought he knew where she was going. “In other words, he could have personal protection from the demon on him at all times. I like it, a supernatural prophylactic.” He thought he saw her lips twitch in amusement.

  “Yes, but if it is the case, why is this entity not...” She made a waffling motion with her hand, “feeding off of those around him?”

  Eron watched her face as she frowned, and wondered how he missed seeing it before. Her skin flowed like warm wax when she showed emotion. He felt a thrill go through him, exhilaration a powerful being trusted him. I can use her, slowly seduce her into trusting me. Find out what all her secrets are. In an even more hidden part of his mind, the part which once loved being feared as a despot, I can try to gain her powers as my own. He felt a warning tremble on the edges of his consciousness and kept a pleasant, inquiring expression as she re-engaged in their conversation.

  “I have felt for some time now that things are not right with the town. The emotions, thoughts, and actions of the people are more extreme than they should be, as if they were under duress. I think it is because the evil of the demon is tainting the community. It is a natural part of its being, not something it can control.”

  Eron tried to think of a good analogy. “Like how uranium or plutonium is harmful to all living matter unless containment precautions are observed?”

  He could see she was impressed. “That is precisely what I mean. Only in this case, instead of decaying and dissipating, it builds and gets stronger.”

  “That would mean we’re all going to be fucked six ways to Sunday?” He was being facetious and got another eyebrow quirk.

  He was beginning to get sick of that response and idly wondered what would happen if he tried to shave both of Illyria’s eyebrows off with his dagger.

  “Would one of you please answer me? What the fuck is going on?” Colin yelled. “You are acting as if our discussion is real, and not metaphysical.”

  They glanced at each other, and Eron began, “Sorry, Colin. Sit back down and I’ll explain. Please?” He waited while his friend reluctantly sat, still fuming. “Her Grace has suspected ever since she met Nicky that something was wrong with him. When we showed up, asking questions, she figured it was a chance to find out the truth of the matter.”

  She continued, “I knew my suspicions were correct the night of the Harvest Ball, when Eron and I walked into an ambush. Nicky’s slave and some other unknown person betrayed him, and used magic, however impossible. I was asked to meet with his slave a few nights ago.”

  Eron took over. “I was following her on the chance I could capture the kid and get him to tell me where he hid you and your brother. Instead, I saw some freaky-ass shit going on.”

  Colin tapped his fingers on his journal cover, evaluating her. “I do have one question, more important to me than our talk of magic users. Where is my brother?”

  “He is still missing,” Illyria said, “It would be helpful if you explained what happened to you and where you had been kept. It may give us another area to investigate.”

  He bowed his head a moment. “The ritual I told you about at the grove. We were ambushed. I was held for a time inside Nicky’s lodge, but neither the boy nor my brother was there. Eventually I was moved. Unless you can track the remnants of an army, there would be no point. My time as a captive assured me of that.”

  Oh shit. Eron tried to keep the shock off his face.

  “What army?” Lira’s voice deadly soft.

  “Why, the one you and Nicky visited and fought.” Colin calmly returned her stare.

  She was silent, gazing at him, as if thinking. Eron looked at her with narrowed eyes, hoping she would give him some clue as to what direction she would go. The silence lengthened and what had been warm flickers of lamp light and shadow became sinister.

  “We didn’t see you there,” Eron felt compelled to say.

  “No, you probably wouldn’t have unless you inspected the camp. A man calling himself Nicky’s slave, the one you two claim is a demon, made sure I was kept out of sight. I might never have escaped, except someone or something attacked. I woke to find my cage damaged enough I could escape. ” He was still staring at Illyria, his tone challenging.

  “Is that so?” she asked with a smooth calm which made warning prickles go up the spines of both men.

  “I think it safe to say you are not human, not like those around us, nor are you wholly mortal. What are you?” Colin demanded, leaning forward.

  Shit balls! Eron opened his mouth, closed it as the silence became strained, like a rubber band about to snap.

  “Has it occurred to you that, by asking, you place your life in danger?”

  Colin merely replied, “As opposed to Nicky and whatever he has enslaved?” He placed his palms flat on her worktable, “I won’t betray you. I just want knowledge; that’s all I’ve ever wanted, that’s why I became what I am.”

  She remained silent, evaluating the man before her, “What if it is knowledge I choose not to share?”

  “If I can prove my trustworthiness, will you reconsider?”

  “Very well.” She gestured to Eron. “Your friend holds some of the explanations you seek.”

  The sinister edge was gone from the room as Eron scrubbed his hands across his face a moment; how was he to tell his friend the impossible had happened without betraying Illyria’s secret? Perhaps it was time to tell his friend a little more of his?

  “This requires further suspension of belief.” Eron paused, mentally editing. “Do you know an immortal named Cassiopeia?”

  He could see confusion cloud his friend’s eyes. “No. I feel I should; what has the name to do with today’s events?”

  “I’m going to tell a bit of a story. I want you to listen without interrupting. When I’m done, I’ll try to answer your questions. Fair enough?” Eron asked.

  Colin thought for a minute, nodded once sharply. Eron gave him a highly edited, extremely shortened version of the witch immortal he had known.

  “For the longest time I thought magic was bullshit, until I was shown otherwise in ways that couldn’t be explained by logic, by natural scientific laws. In all my years, I have never met another person like him and his daughter. I’ve never known the formula which we use to become Immortal could be changed without disastrous results. I trusted Cassiopeia enough that I never questioned her when she said she had tried. That’s why this is just as big a shock to me as it is to you.” When he was done, there was silence again. He could see his friend struggling to comprehend everything he had been told.

  “Why didn’t you tell us before? Hell, we could have looked for, what was her name? Cassiopeia, to help us with the little boy.”

  “To do what, Colin? I didn’t even know there was another immortal like Cassiopeia, much less the little boy. I don’t have what sh
e does, did,” he amended, “or like the boy does. I don’t know if she’s even alive; it’s been centuries since I saw her, and after the second purge we had.” He shook his head and fell silent.

  “I always wondered why you kept insisting magic was real, even though you exposed every so-called magic user we ran across as a fake and a fraud. I thought the ritual was trappings, made to drive off all but the most sincere, that we accidentally discovered the potion. Thus the need for secrecy,” Colin finally said.

  Eron shook his head, trust his friend to think of the most logical explanation possible! “I’ve known real magic. I know how rare a user is, so in memory of her I expose them. And you are right, the trappings are to discourage those who would use it as an easy means to end their problems.”

  Colin mused, “I always wondered how Nicky outsmarts us all. How he’s managed to remain hidden and alive all these centuries. Of course,” here his tone turned distraught, “that makes it harder for us to rid ourselves of him. No wonder no one can find my brother; he could be right before us but the kid’s using his powers to disguise the man.”

  “We have a whole new set of problems. What if he uses his magic to retrieve Mica’s soul gem and kill him? What of his slave’s deeds? I must consider all the implications. Clearly we no longer can ask for him openly; we must work with caution and finesse.”

  Eron could see the despair lurking behind the concerned face his friend wore. “If it’s any consolation, Nicky can’t use his magic near or inside The Cave of Soul Gems. I asked Cassiopeia before why she didn’t just use what she had to retrieve and bring an enemy’s gem to her magically. She told me the cave is a dead spot; the guardians somehow prevent such things from working. He can’t bring the Final Death to your brother unless he goes and retrieves the gem himself.”

  “But he can still bring him harm, torture him, try and drive him mad. What if he has mortals guarding my brother? What do we do when they discover what Mica is? How do we know the kid hasn’t made any immortals himself?”

  “I don’t know, Colin, but if we could find where your brother hid the kid’s gem...”

  “Truth to tell, I had forgotten that Mica’s time is running out. I don’t want him to die a prisoner, knowing everything he’s done was useless.” Colin slumped in the chair, as if every one of his long years of life was weighing him down.

  The men jumped when Illyria spoke; she had been so silent they had forgotten she was there. “How long does your brother have, and can you find the gem if we concentrate on the boy?”

  “Not long,” Colin hesitated and continued, “Once a ritual to Undo is put in motion, there’s only a few ways to stop it.”

  Eron snorted. “I think we should just capture the punk. You can lure him away from his slave-demon thingy.”

  “Wait, what? Surely you’re not serious?” Colin protested, “We don’t even know where my brother is.”

  “You want to kill him and set a demon loose on us all?” Her eyebrow did the quirking thing again. It made him feel like he was being an idiot as they ignored the other man.

  “I do not remember much of demons from pre-Great Cataclysm times, but what little I do recall makes them seem like a being you would not want to bargain with, or cross,” Illyria added.

  “Now do you understand why I do not wish to kill the little boy right away? If we knew for certain it would go back to where demons live and remain there, I would say let’s capture the bastard now. But if he found a way to trap it here?”

  I had the nagging feeling we were missing something still. I forced myself to ignore all the other plans I was juggling and just go over what I had been told about the kid and what I had observed. Even in his new form, he used people as he always had. We had dispersed several of his sources of information, namely the sheriff’s group and the hidden army, but what if he had a few smaller ones?

  “We need to discover who the second man in the hallway was, the one who set off the strange device,” I spoke. “He was with Nicky’s slave, so he must be part of the boy’s inner circle.”

  “It would stand to reason the mystery person who betrayed him has to have some influence or power in the kingdom. He is in a position to be beneficial to the boy. Who do you know of, Your Grace, who fits?”

  “Lord Jenabram, but my spies have found nothing indicating he is trusted by the boy.”

  “He passed out from drink the night of the ball; Saizar had to load him in his carriage.” Eron shot my idea down. “But the priest Colin mentioned. Didn’t he take care of Nicky at one point?”

  “He has been known to bring harm to others in the guise of religion, and he has a cottage. I told Brother John to come to me if the priest was harming another person, and my slaves have brought me no word he has ever come back.” Lira’s tone grim.

  “Maybe he’s not harming him, just holding him prisoner for the kid. We never thought to look there,” Eron pointed out. “Do you think he will let Colin in, much less tell the truth?”

  “The priest? Are you daft? More like he would go running to Nicky with the tale; now, Brother John might tell me if I invite him here to see how Mary Elana is doing.”

  “What about the dungeon?” Colin interrupted. “I find it hard to believe the kid wouldn’t have a dungeon man as part of his inner circle, especially if the sheriff was arresting and detaining people on Nicky’s orders.”

  “I had a slave make inquiries, and he was told no prisoners of the merchant class had been brought in recently,” Lira replied.

  Eron hummed a bit. “Unless he was smuggled in, and only the head questioner allowed to care for him.”

  “He would fit the profile of at least being desirable for the inner circle,” Colin interjected, “and it would explain why no one would admit to seeing Mica inside.”

  Eron bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Would he leave a prisoner like Mica, or any important enemy for that matter, in a place where he couldn’t get to them immediately? Even if he had to use the inner sanctum sanctorum? I think the little bastard would have a hidden cell or two only he and one, possibly two, henchmen would know about.”

  “I take this to mean you wish me to get you inside so you may check?” Illyria asked

  ‘‘It might help if you Ninja us in there and do your Jedi mind trick to the guards so the kid doesn’t know we’re there.” Again with the blank look; he was ready to give up.

  “Or bribe them,” Colin suggested.

  At their nods, she said, “Tomorrow night, at dusk. I will need time to gather sufficient coins.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I must say, this is quite the disappointment,” Eron grumbled to his companion in an undertone as they alighted from the plain carriage. “I was hoping for more Ninja, less day-in-the-park.”

  “He has to know we are looking for your friend, no matter what we do.”

  She turned as one of the guards confronted them.

  “The dungeon is closed to visitors.”

  Her Grace brought out a small square of parchment with a wax seal at the bottom and held it out. The man took it as she spoke, “The Head Questioner himself asked me to come; said it was of some importance about a prisoner who named me during questioning.” It is his writing, and he will be angry to be denied the chance to question the woman so close to the king. She may be a traitor. You will let her and her party proceed inside. The suggestion wormed its way into the men’s minds.

  One guard hawked and spat. “Best let the head jailor deal with it.” He gave her a look of pity and mingled regret. “We’ve got to search you and your slaves first for weapons.”

  “Of course,” she replied. They have no weapons. They are free to pass into the dungeon.

  The second man opened the door and escorted them inside after the first nodded. It was an age-darkened door, nearly hidden in the shadows cast by the walls of the palace looming to either side of them. Colin had a puzzled look on his face, and had opened his mouth to comment before an elbow to the ribs made him shut it a
gain as they were being admitted to an anteroom. It was lit sparsely by a few oil lamps, and benches lined two of the walls; another door stood at right angles to the entrance they had used. Next to it sat a small desk and chair, currently empty.

  The clerk fetched by the guard was very fat, and had a cloth tucked underneath his greasy chins. His eyes, almost buried in the folds of his cheeks, glittered in annoyance at being interrupted.

  “Lemme see the note. Rablias made no mention of such a thing to me.” He held out a fat hand with sausage fingers.

  The duchess gave him the parchment, which was immediately spotted with grease. It is the Head Questioner’s writing, he suspects her of being a traitor. He will be generous to the one who brings her to him. A woman close to the king revealed to be false. You will have the guards show them the cells, then lead them to the torture chambers. They will think they are being led on a tour at invitation of Rablias, and not to their doom.

  The man let out a nasty chuckle and his piggy eyes ran over the little group. He crumpled the parchment and dismissed the guard. “I’ll take it from here. Your Grace, please follow me.”

  The man led them in a waddle down a flight of stone stairs worn in the middle from the passage of many feet. They ended in a decent-sized room, which held more guards, who stopped their gaming to gape at the visitors.

  The men called out some questions, and were told to mind their own business as the clerk called two named Dag and Jimbo.

  “These three are here at the request of the Head Questioner,” the clerk whispered after leading them a few paces off. “He doesn’t want ‘em to suspect he plans to question them. He wants you to show ‘em all the cells, then take them to the torture chamber and help subdue ‘em.”

  “Sure,” the other man shrugged. “Pity though. She’s the finest woman we’ve had in here yet.”