Rebirth (Legends of the Kilanor Book 2)

by Jared Stone

  The soldier struggled to take another breath. “Four days ago,” he said.

  Dareia looked displeased. She stood up. “There is no chance of catching up to them now,” she said. “Especially with Argus in such a state. We must take some time to rest and recover and find some new clothing. In a few days, we may resume our journey in the direction of Hierapolis. Whatever might be awaiting us there could be formidable, and we should be prepared.”

  The priestess walked over to the pile of dust that had once been the resurrected gladiator, clearly trying to conceal the pain apparent in her limping, and picked up the onyx serpent dagger from beside it. She held it up before her and inspected the blade. “For it would appear that we are dealing with quite a well-outfitted enemy…,” she concluded with an air of apprehension.

  Bennu clapped his hands together. “Sounds like a plan to me!” he exclaimed joyfully. Then, a little more sheepishly, he asked, “Can I now?”

  Dareia let out a sigh. “If you must…,” she said, waving her hand in permission.

  Bennu unsheathed one of his daggers and began to creep over to the inured soldier lying on the ground, wearing a creepily excited grin upon his face. Argus turned his head in the opposite direction. He didn’t want to see any of what was about to transpire.

  * * *

  Using strips from Dareia’s already-ruined garments, Argus’ leg was wrapped and bound the best that they could manage without supplies. No herbs with medicinal properties could be found in the nearby woods, and they knew that they would need to find a vendor of such things soon, in order to avoid more disastrous complications. Dareia’s own cuts and scrapes were painful as well, though none of them as serious or life-threatening as her companion’s. Supporting Argus between the two of them, Dareia and Bennu helped the injured man limp over and climb up onto one of the Roman soldiers’ horses, after which the three traveling companions rode them to the safety of a city a couple of miles farther down the road.

  With what little money they had on them, they rented a room for the night at the local inn. Getting Argus settled onto the bed, Dareia then told Bennu to watch over the man while she went to procure more coins with which to fund their stay. She was gone for several hours, but, upon returning, she had sacks filled with so many coins they could have easily stayed there in luxury for a year. Argus was thankful that he had such a resourceful ally on his side, though he never did find out what she had done to possess so much wealth in such a short time.

  “You know, when I said that line earlier about being prostitutes, I had not intended it so seriously…,” Bennu couldn’t help but comment with a smirk.

  They stayed in the city almost a week, with Argus resting and beginning the recovery process, aided by medicinal herbs and tinctures purchased in the marketplace. Dareia soon secured for them passage aboard a ship destined for the port of Smyrna, from which Hierapolis was a few days’ travel. Loading up on the necessary supplies for the long journey, the three soon found themselves boarding a vessel destined for distant ports.

  Argus, still in a very weakened state, spent most of his time aboard the ship below deck. From his position on the uncomfortable cot, he could see little of their journey, aside from the darkened wood beams which entombed him. Dareia and Bennu would take turns sitting down in the cargo hold with him, but even they soon ran out of things to discuss. Within a few days, Argus had had enough of his floating wooden coffin, and he hobbled up the stairs to breathe in the salty sea air.

  “Woah woah woah!” Bennu cried out upon seeing him, running over with his hands raised. “You should still be resting, big guy! We would not want you out of commission for the upcoming fight!”

  “No, I am fine,” Argus said, wincing, as he slowly moved across the swaying floor beneath him. “I just need to get some fresh air; that is all.”

  “He shall be alright,” Dareia asserted confidently. “Argus has been healing quickly. It is good for him to get up and use his legs again.”

  Bennu clearly wore a look of concern for the man’s wellbeing, but he stepped to the side to allow Argus to pass. The injured man carefully placed his feet one after another to arrive near the priestess, leaning on the railing of the ship for support. Over the wall, he could see the waves crashing against the hull, spraying up mist that flew through the air and landed in the pillows of sea foam around them.

  “How much farther must we go?” Argus asked Dareia, still looking out over the water.

  “Not much,” she answered. “A couple of days, perhaps. We made one stop at a port earlier today to drop off some cargo, but that should be the one and only stop that is made between Rome and our destination.”

  Argus swallowed nervously. Though anxious to get off that ship, he was also apprehensive about their meeting with Ini-herit. He wondered what the high priest wanted with him and what tricks a follower of Apep might employ to obtain what he desired. He reached to his side and felt for the black serpent dagger that he now kept sheathed there. He was comforted a little, knowing that he now held his own divinely-gifted weapon.

  “You two! Dinner time!” Bennu called over from the other side of the ship, where one of the crew members was reaching into a barrel and handing out rations.

  “Thank the gods! I am starving!” Argus exclaimed, grabbing at his growling stomach.

  Dareia laughed. “Are you not always hungry?” she asked the man playfully. Argus smiled and hung his head, nodding.

  “Well, I shall see to it that you are given a double portion then,” the priestess said.

  Argus furrowed his brow. “I do not think that I may do such a thing, Dareia,” he protested hesitantly. “The captain will likely be very protective of his limited food stores.”

  Dareia laughed again. “Do not worry, Argus,” she reassured, placing her hand upon his shoulder. “The captain and I have an… understanding. He shall do as I say.”

  And that settled that matter. Argus ate more that night than he had in weeks.

  * * *

  93 CE: The Plutonium

  The priest in the dark robe stepped out of the misty tunnels and into a great cavernous space, followed faithfully by one of his immortal servants carrying a tan ceramic urn. Their surroundings were pitch black, but the gray orb of energy within the man’s hand provided enough light to illuminate the way forward.

  “This way,” Ini-herit instructed as he took another step deeper into the cave. The two figures moved almost soundlessly down the corridor and into an even larger space. On the other end of this expanse, a stone altar had been carved into the rock wall, and two stone pillars stood on either side as torch-bearers. Ini-herit brought the ball of energy in close to himself with both hands, twisted, then seemed to throw two halves in either direction. The orbs of light affixed themselves to the tops of these pillars and lit up the space enough for the men to see.

  “Place the urn on the altar,” Ini-herit instructed. His servant stepped up and did as he was told. The dark priest then approached him and handed him a black dagger.

  “The time is upon us,” Ini-herit said. “Do as you have been commanded.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” the man responded. Lifting the dagger high, the man brought it down forcefully, stabbing it into his own abdomen. As the black energy within the blade erupted and transformed the servant’s physical body into dust, Ini-herit began to chant.

  “Hatónó azlo kíkúhín. Az hagílínox uz…,” he said quietly in Lí’ísedón. He held out his left arm toward what remained of the man’s once-material form, and the ankh in his bracer began to glow brightly. From near the pile of ashes which had once been a man, a hole was suddenly torn within the fabric of space, twisting and contorting as if disturbed by its own unnatural existence. From this unstable portal, a solitary wisp of bright white energy issued forth and began circling the priest’s forearm. As quickly as the tear had appeared, it sealed up and vanished once again.

  “Yes, come to me, my boy…,” Ini-herit whispered lovingly in Ancient Egyptian as he
brought his black armband down to the urn on the altar. The wisp floated off of the golden ankh and into the mouth of the vessel, emitting a soft white glow from within.

  “You and I will soon be together again…,” Ini-herit vowed to the urn somberly.

  8 - Control

  Saturday, November 29th

  “Lucian,” said a deep voice from far above. “The one who bears the light.”

  “Who’s there?” Lucian cried out, frightened, into the mysterious darkness around him.

  “You really believe that the time has come?” said another, higher-pitched voice in the distance.

  “Where are you?” Lucian called out desperately.

  “Yes…,” the deeper voice confirmed sullenly.

  Lucian then saw a brilliant white light creeping in through the cracks around the frame of a closed door set right in front of him. Anxious to escape from the terrifying place, he grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the door open.

  Brightness came pouring in from the other side of this gateway, blinding Lucian and prompting him to shield his eyes with his arm. As the black abyss around him continued to retreat, the boy’s vision slowly adjusted and clarified his surroundings.

  He stood upon a white marble floor, and, all around him, pillars shot up into the sky. Nothing but wisps of white vapor could be seen past these massive structures, seeming as though they had been built directly in the clouds. And before him, where a door had once existed, stood an older man with white hair and a short white beard. He smiled at Lucian.

  “Welcome,” he said warmly.

  Lucian immediately felt connected to this stranger’s warm, amiable disposition. It was as if they had known each other from his birth.

  “Where are we?” Lucian asked.

  “We are wherever you think you are,” answered the man wisely.

  “How do I know you?” Lucian then asked, deciding not to pursue the line of inquiry from only a moment before.

  The man simply smiled. “Follow me,” he beckoned, turning and walking away from Lucian. The boy paused only for a brief moment before hurrying after this mysterious guide.

  “Great trials are quickly approaching, Lucian,” the older man went on to say, still walking purposefully toward something Lucian could not see.

  Lucian simply stared at the older man, trying with all his might to recall how they were acquainted. Everything seemed so cloudy and jumbled, and, upon closer inspection, he realized that even the man’s features were blurred and distorted, like a partial recording of memories long past.

  Lucian was suddenly jolted from his pondering by an explosion to his left. Jumping back in alarm, he looked over to where a giant, ornate house was burning to the ground.

  “They cannot be saved,” the old man said, standing there as calmly as if he was gazing into a crackling fireplace from a cozy armchair.

  “Who can’t be?” Lucian asked anxiously, trying to unravel the man’s vague assertions.

  “She is not as she seems, Lucian,” the man stated grimly, continuing to wholly disregard the boy’s questions. “Attachment and desire will lead her astray….”

  With this, the man turned and continued walking away from the pile of smoldering ash that had once been a gorgeous home. It was clear that the loss of such a magnificent possession meant nothing to him.

  “It is this…,” said the old man finally, stopping abruptly and motioning in front of him with his hand. Lucian stepped to the side so he could see past the presence of the man before him. There, growing out of the white ground as if out of dirt, was the unbloomed head of a flower.

  “What is it?” Lucian asked.

  “Approach,” the man urged.

  Lucian took several steps forward to arrive before the giant bud. Upon standing next to it, the folded head began to unfurl, with long, white, elegant petals flowing out to the sides. As it unwrapped, Lucian could see a shiny jade orb revealed within. Once the flower had fully opened, Lucian noticed that the perfectly spherical, otherwise unblemished orb was engraved with some sort of looping, curling writing he could not identify.

  “This is their desire,” the old man clarified from behind Lucian.

  Lucian suddenly felt overcome with an attraction toward the object. As he reached out his hand to touch it, his palm began to glow with a brilliantly bright white light.

  “Lucian…,” the man whispered. “You are….”

  At this, the man before him began to fade away. His voice was getting fainter and fainter, to the point where Lucian could barely hear him.

  “Wait!” cried out Lucian. “What? I’m what?”

  “No….”

  * * *

  “No…,” said a whisper in the darkness. “No….”

  Lucian heard this voice from far away as it pushed its way through his dream state and roused him from his slumber. It took only a few seconds before Lucian had successfully separated himself from the vivid visions of his dreams and determined that these disruptive noises were actually coming from the bed opposite his.

  “No…. Let go….” Blake mumbled from his side of the room again in a breathy voice that was almost incoherent. “I don’t wanna….”

  Lucian sighed and reluctantly made the decision to force his eyes open, hoping beyond hope that Blake was simply dreaming and had not, in fact, brought another girl home with him. Groggily squinting through half-opened lids, Lucian could see a dim light flickering in the darkness, which was at first confusing for him.

  “NO!” Blake cried out suddenly, startling Lucian as he was still attempting to wake up. Snapping his eyes open in alarm, Lucian sat up in bed and looked over at his roommate.

  Blake was lying there facing the ceiling, but, instead of being on the bed, his entire body was elevated nearly a foot in the air. All around him, twisting tendrils of dark energy issued forth, giving off a dull, pulsating glow. The floating boy shook his head back and forth, clearly in a state of mental turmoil.

  “Run!” Blake cried out again into the shadows that danced around the room.

  “Blake!” Lucian said loudly, swinging his legs out over the side of his bed so that he was sitting on the edge. “Blake, wake up!”

  But Lucian’s verbal attempts to free Blake from this nightmarish state were in vain; he still remained levitating, engulfed in an aura of writhing darkness.

  Before he could even consider the folly of it, Lucian jumped up off of his bed, quickly crossing the mere six foot gap between them, and laid his hands on Blake’s arm. Immediately, a flash of blinding white light erupted from Lucian’s palms. With a BANG, Blake’s body was jettisoned sideways, slamming against the bare wall next to him, and Lucian flew backwards, landing hard against the wooden edge of his bed. From outside the window, a dog could now be heard barking and howling wildly at this loud disturbance, although the rooms around them all remained quiet.

  “Ow, dammit!” cried out Blake, rolling over on his bed while rubbing his smashed shoulder. “What the Hell!?”

  Lucian painfully sat up on his bed. His hip had collided most forcefully with one of the wooden support beams, and it was now throbbing.

  “Blake…, you were…,” Lucian stammered.

  “What!?” Blake questioned forcefully, clearly upset by being awoken in such a manner.

  “There was some kind of dark energy,” Lucian said, trying to piece together an explanation for what had occurred. “All around you. And you were saying things. And floating!”

  Blake let out a sigh as he shifted his body back into the center of the bed. “Damn,” he whispered, more as a confirmation of fears than genuine surprise.

  “What?” Lucian asked, bewildered. “Did you know about this?”

  Blake looked up at his roommate from across the space between them. “Kinda,” he replied reluctantly with a grimace. The dog had finally quieted down outside, and the two boys now sat in still blackness. “Sometimes, I have these nightmares about being Zagan again, and I’ll wake up with a crash against my bed like I fell down
from the air or something. Sometimes, my hands’ll start glowing and stuff. But I don’t know why. I can’t control the weird bursts of light, and I’m just, like, angry all the time now. Even at stupid, little things…. It’s just like I hate everything now. I don’t know, man…, crazy stuff.”

  Lucian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why didn’t you tell me about that before?” he asked his roommate through the darkness. “I could’ve helped or tried to do something to figure out what’s going on.”

  Blake shook his head. “I don’t think there’s really anything to do,” he said disappointedly. “I’m just a freak now. A total weirdo. Zagan ruined me….” He paused for a moment, as if lost in his own thoughts.

  “Do you have any idea how much I was benching at the gym the other day?” he suddenly asked Lucian.

  Lucian shook his head wordlessly. It seemed like a particularly unimportant, off-topic detail, but it in no way surprised him that Blake would want to brag about his strength at any given opportunity.

  “500 pounds,” Blake stated seriously. Lucian’s eyes widened. “Couldn’t get enough weight on. I just had to stop. Everyone was staring. That ain’t normal….”

  “You’ve been like this ever since Zagan possessed you?” Lucian asked.

  “Yeah,” Blake responded. “Well, I mean, not at first. Not for the first few days in the hospital. But then, slowly, some weird things started happening. It wasn’t often to start, but then it started happening more and more, like it’s getting worse. It’s like…, when he got ripped out of me…, a piece of him still stayed behind. Like a disease or something. I can still feel it, like, inside me….”

  Lucian let out a sigh. He was at a loss for how he might be able to help his roommate recover from this, but he knew he had to try somehow.

  “I don’t know what we can do, but we’ll find some way to make you better,” Lucian stated resolutely.