The Reaping: Immortalibus Bella 2

by SL Figuhr

  “Rablias!” the boy yelled at the man before him, “You may look older than me, but I have lived longer. When I tell you to do something, you do it exactly as I tell you, or I shall find another who wishes to learn my secrets.”

  “Of course, Master. I’m sorry, Master. I will do better, Master.” The Head Questioner abased himself before the boy.

  “You will put my special prisoner in the area reserved for our most important guests. He is not to be touched or tortured.”

  Nicky motioned to two burly men, carrying a wrapped bundle, roughly man sized, between them. The little boy watched the three disappear down a hallway further into the dungeons.

  * * *

  Nicky scowled at the slave chained down before him. He still was unable to call his demon, and that more than anything both pissed him off and scared him. He needed to be big again; he needed to take care of Rablias and that damn Mica. He continued the ritual, forcing all extraneous thoughts away.

  The boy made the marks as the slave tried to thrash and scream; he gestured and spoke the final phrase. It was always an unpleasant sensation to grow big. The pain sharp as his bones, muscles and skin stretched. It took every bit of will power to stay upright through the process. In a matter of moments, the slave’s life was gone and his corpse appearing to be a millennia-old shriveled mummy.

  The once-little boy felt so tired, but he couldn’t sleep, not now, not here. Nicky forced himself to put on the clothes made for his bigger older body. He scarfed food from the plate, and drained the cup of wine. He left plate and glass lying on the ground, and made his way back to the hunting lodge. Now he could sleep, just long enough to re-energize, and mayhap a better plan of how to deal with his disloyal slaves would come to him.

  * * *

  The minute Nicky entered his room, he was struck speechless at sight of the bodies and the disorder.

  “Who’s been in here? How dare they kill my slaves and befoul my things!” he snarled as the two palace guards standing watch outside his room followed him inside.

  “Our fellow guards, my lord,” answered one of the men. “Your rooms have been sealed off since the attack upon your personage, and have been under watch ever since. Have you another entrance, My Lord? We would make sure those who committed this atrocity are not still lying in wait for you.”

  Nicky ground his teeth; he didn’t need guards mucking about in his private space and said so but they began to search anyway. “What of the others that were in the hall with me at the time of the attack?”

  “They survived, and the duchess claimed you were in league with them as you seemed to know at least one of the assassins. His Majesty thought perhaps you had chased after them or they took you hostage hoping to gain their freedom.”

  So the damn duchess thought to discredit him? Try to make him into a traitor? He’d take care of her permanently, after seeing her plotting with his demon, killing and scattering his army.

  “Your pardons, my lord, but His Majesty ordered us to inform you he wished to meet with you the moment you returned, and we are to escort you to him,” the second guard said as they reached the room holding his bathing chamber which held more dead bodies.

  “I will see him when I want. I have work to do still.”

  The guards’ protests were cut short at what was revealed in the last room; even Nicky was shocked at the sight. Two hidden caches were open, one leading downward, the other between wall joists.

  No! This couldn’t be! The utter betrayal was too much, all the special weapons gone! His demon had shown him how to make them, and crafting them had tested his failing powers. Why was he losing his ability to do magic? Damn Rablias, and his demon!

  The guards goggled in surprise at the opening with burgeoning suspicion.

  “How dare they use my rooms to hide their misdeeds?” Nicky played outrage and had the guards believing him. How dare Rablias leave it gaping wide; who knew how many people had seen? He would be forced to find out who knew and kill them all.

  The advisor sent the men ahead of him and paused to disable his traps before following the men. Why would Rablias and his demon do that? They would suffer for their impudence, after he got the answers he wanted.

  The three men started down the passageway; Nicky noted his traps had been sprung, the bodies of his slaves a twisted trail of bread crumbs. The rage in him grew a little more with each step. Damn demon, thinking to disobey him and protect his acolyte from the effects! When the man entered the round entrance chamber, he stopped short in puzzlement. There was blood on the floor, and the lingering scent of oil and of fire along with the remains of a smashed lantern.

  “This, this is an abomination, the work of evil. How could this be here without our majesty knowing?” one of the guards murmured.

  “What if just by being here we’ve put our souls in danger? We should leave and ask for help or...”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Nicky snapped, “If this shit was real, don’t you think His Majesty would have been affected by it? He prospers, as does the city. No, this is the work of some fiend to frighten us; you’re playing right into their hands. Keep moving; we need to capture anyone lurking here to cause harm.”

  “Of course, your lordship,” the now-shamed men muttered, and tightening their grips on their swords and the torches, moved to the other doorways, making sure all was empty.

  None of the traps in what Nicky thought of as his calling circle had been triggered. He was about to warn the men not to cross the line carved in the stone when they did exactly that, triggering the wards. He watched as the men died, angry he had no back-up. Whoever had been there would pay for their arrogance.

  Beyond was his main workspace, and he could see his stuff had been searched there as well. It wasn’t until he got to his storage space that his rage really started to boil over.

  “How fucking dare they!” he screamed as he surveyed the wreckage.

  All his supplies of botanicals, minerals and animal-based materials for spells lay shattered and crushed on the floor. Expensive and rare ingredients, all gone, beyond all hope of recovery. The entire room was scored black, showing his traps had all been tripped; several people had to have either deliberately or unintentionally given their lives to breach his space.

  Nicky’s eyes fell on a charred mess of wood and his eyes opened even wider in shock. “My chests!” he yelped, “I will see you all dead! NO, not just dead, but first writhing in pain!” How good it would feel to make them scream and beg for his mercy. Mercy he had no intention of giving them.

  Those chests held the few objects which he had treasured from the long years of his life. He could see the remains of one, which some foolish person had tried to open; only the thought of how much agony they had to be in from the attempt kept him from going into a frenzy. Right now, he had other matters to deal with. Nicky retraced his steps to the circular chamber that was a gateway to all the other chambers in this underground space of his and turned to the entranceway in the west wall.

  The thick iron-banded wooden door was unlocked, further confirming Rablias or another aware of the space had come this way, though it was odd the door remained unlocked. Rablias might be a devious, grasping traitor, but he was not careless. Had he not had a chance to relock it? Blood drips on the floor let him know a wounded person had been this way; Nicky hoped it was Rablias, hoped he had been horribly injured from the backlash of what he tried to set off, and therefore less dangerous.

  I wouldn’t have to worry about Rablias too if he hadn’t tried to betray me with my own demon, just those two men of his. They’re strong enough to overpower me, hurt me, even in this form.

  As the door opened, he saw a rich golden glow ahead, giving him pause. The hallway shouldn’t be lit. Do they expect to ambush me in there? Can they be that stupid?

  Nicky edged forward, pausing again to listen, but heard nothing.

  Where is everyone? Surely not with the king? Why would they set an ambush this far down? It’s stupid, they have
to know I can trap them down there and block them in to rot.

  The space between his shoulder blades itched, had been itching for quite a while, Nicky realized.

  Someone down there is doing magic! Those traitorous assholes! How dare they try to use him to learn my secrets! I will kill them! All of them!

  Rablias must be desperate, and that meant he would be unpredictable. The young man felt the building pressure of magic sweep over him; it wasn’t Rablias, but his demon. When did he escape control? That’s what his acolyte and his demon burned his thigh for, to disable the tattoo which kept the boy safe from the demon. They would rue their attempt. Nicky’s eyes turned cold as dirty ice chips as he hurried toward the chanting from Mica’s cell. Enraging chanting. Driving him to new heights of fury.

  The voice cut off as he kicked the door wider. The advisor stood in the hallway, mouth open in shock, rage momentarily forgotten. The duchess was in a far corner of the cell holding his traitorous acolyte at sword point. Her slave was standing next to her, while huddled across from Her Grace was a much mangled Mica and another man standing near him with both arms up in the air to show he was no threat.

  “You will all hang!” the young man screamed just as that damn woman shouted,

  “Eron! Grab him!”

  Her voice echoed in the small room, as with a howl, Rablias tossed handfuls of round objects at both his captors and Nicky, one of which flew past the advisor; before he could react, they went off.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Goddamn, son-of-a-bitch...” Eron let loose with more expletives as he staggered against a wall. Whatever the man had tossed at them burned like acid. He clawed the stuff off his face.

  The immortal could feel his blood and skin pouring down in rivulets, and his hand smoked and bubbled as skin came off in runny strips. The pain was nauseating but he forced himself to remain conscious. He could barely make out Illyria dragging the unconscious advisor inside the room and chaining him up with the manacles previously used on Mica.

  “Colin? Mica?” He tried to walk to them, his eyes tearing from the pain.

  There was brief moans from the two men; at least they were alive. For now.

  “You have no idea of what you have done with this farce,” Rablias hissed from the floor. “Or of who the true traitor is.”

  “Then enlighten me, and perhaps we will all get what we want.” Her Grace’s voice was quite reasonable.

  The Head Questioner let out a raspy laugh ending in a fit of coughing; a rivulet of blood and drool snaked out the corner of his mouth down his chin as he lapsed into semi-consciousness. Eron joined Colin and Illyria in looking down at the man before them.

  “He’s still damaged from what he tossed at us the night of the harvest ball. He must hate someone really bad to still cling to life,” Eron said in a mixture of disgust and weariness.

  “I... but that’s not Nicky!” Colin stammered in shock at his friend. “This has to be the person he’s paid to impersonate him.”

  “Do you trust me, Colin? I will vouch for the identity of the person before me: Nicky, and no mortal,” Eron gritted out as he got the last of the burning, sticky stuff off.

  “I..,” his friend faltered, gaze shifting between his brother and the young man. “I’m sorry, but, I...not this time. I can’t. I can’t take it on faith. Not after all our talks of magic. What if the little boy used his talents to make the man before us his duplicate? We have to be sure. Mica needs to be sure.”

  “Fine, very well. Take this as proof,” Illyria replied as she walked over to the chained man.

  He was stirring to full consciousness and Eron knew what she was about to do and was amazed she would let her knowledge be exposed. She stabbed the young man in the heart. Colin yelled in outrage and scrambled up to grab her sword, but was too late. The young man gurgled once and died before them.

  “How could you? You know we needed him alive!” He had his sword out, threatening her. He stumbled back at the casual way she knocked it aside as she moved back toward the head questioner who was moaning in pain as he came back to full awareness.

  “Colin, please, trust me, trust us,” Eron pleaded and moved up beside his friend, gesturing at the advisor.

  The stab wound was already healing; Colin watched dumbfounded as the man woke, thrashing and screaming invectives at them as he found he was captured.

  “You’re dead, you fucking bastards, all of you! Dead, you hear me? And you, you traitorous whore! You’ll fucking wish you were dead when I get done with you.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if you took Colin outside to the hall for a moment and explained to him. I doubt we have much time before Nicky’s slave arrives to free him. I would not care to be here when that happens,” Her Grace replied calmly.

  Colin watched something pass between his friend and the duchess, then Eron sighed and gave a barely perceptible nod. “Come on, let me explain outside a moment. Please.”

  “No, I won’t,” Colin said mulishly. “Why she is not surprised by all this? What have you done, Eron? This, this betrayal, has Mica been right not to trust you anymore?”

  Eron let out a weary sigh. “This needs to end. I had to put things on hold for this, things I can’t put off much longer.”

  “I can see you have integrity, not like these others. Don’t let them kill me; I’m the king’s advisor, not whoever they think I am.”

  Colin wavered, his eyes skittering from the young man to his brother, the duchess, then back to his friend. “He’s right, he’s the king’s advisor. We can’t do this without knowing for sure he wasn’t an innocent in all this.”

  “Your kindness shall be rewarded greatly if you free me. You are in here illegally, helping a traitor, think what the king will say.”

  “The head questioner does seem to be...”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this! If you don’t shut him up, I will,” Eron said to the duchess. “Colin, he kidnapped your brother! What about that says he’s innocent?”

  “I can’t do what you want without knowing the full extent of his involvement, and you know why. Mica would say the same thing, if he wasn’t the way he is now. It’s already out of control.”

  “We don’t have time for this, Colin. Mica doesn’t have time for it. Do you want his life and this quest of his to be in vain?”

  “We still haven’t determined the extent of his guilt or innocence. I won’t be a party to such rash condemnations.”

  “I knew you weren’t like the others, these traitors and liars. Free me and I’ll see to it the king rewards you well.”

  Suddenly Her Grace spoke. “Did you not tell me, Mister Dugan, you’d take any opportunity to speak with the young man caught up in the lies and machinations of the one you came here for? Here’s that opportunity. Ask of him what you will, and if his answers satisfy you, then we shall bring him before His Majesty.”

  “Are you insane? And give him the chance to escape?” Eron hissed to her, aggrieved, Colin had not indicated whether he’d retrieved what his brother hid.

  Colin faltered but his mouth firmed and he stepped decisively toward the boy, who had a self-confident supercilious air.

  “Who are you working with?”

  The young man’s eyes flared in rage for a moment, then he subdued it. Act like a mortal, this asshole knows nothing, but the other asshole’s might, and who knows what that bitch whore believes. “I am the king’s advisor, and his closest friend since we were children. He will not like this treatment you show me.”

  “Who were your parents? What happened to them?”

  “I’m an orphan,” his tone implying it was a subject he wished to have left alone. “How dare you question me as if I am some criminal when it is you who have committed the crimes?”

  “Let me rephrase the question. Who made you what you are? Who gave you our gift?”

  The advisor tried for scared, but ended up defiant instead. “What the hell do you know of it? I knew something was wrong, he said...” He
clamped his lips together.

  “He who?” Colin asked a shade too eagerly, missing the quick, gloating satisfaction which crossed the advisor’s face.

  “I... He never told me his name. How do you know of Those That Cannot Die?” Nicky demanded, laughing inside at how the fool before him believed what he was told.

  “Those That Cannot Die?” Colin repeated, “Is that what he told you we are called?”

  Eron snorted and whispered, “I call bullshit.” But this earned him a hateful glare from the young man.

  “I never learned his name. I saw the kid, person die and then live again. He said I was mistaken, but I know dead when I see it.” The tone was bitter and contemptuous at the same time.

  “And for that alone he changed you?” Colin asked skeptically.

  Nicky noted the doubt rethought what he was going to say. “No, you idiot; it was a reward for helping.”

  “Helping how?”

  “Helping escape. He said some evil men were chasing him, had been for longer than he cared to remember. He said they did it made him Undying so he could be their slave. But he got free.”

  “I find it hard to believe a man with the intelligence required of a king’s advisor would not investigate such claims.”

  “Of course I did, you fool!” Nicky snapped arrogantly, “My guards saved him from a passel of rogues who wanted to kill him and take his gift away.”

  “It could have all been a ploy...”

  “I was there, you moron! You dare to question my word? The word of a nobleman?” He thought the outrage a nice touch, and was pleased to see the bow the man before him gave.

  “But how is it the boy knew how to create those he called Undying if he was meant to be a slave? Would the men not keep that from him?”

  “In the battle, those men lost some of their possessions, including a locked box. It took months to figure out how to open it, months I protected the poor, frightened kid as he fretted those who pursued him would come with an army. The secret was within.”