by Chris Fox
It was Trevor who finally broke the silence.
“Listen, everyone. I know that there’s no way you can forgive me for everything that happened. I know what you have to do,” he said, staggering over to Blair and dropping to his knees. “Before you end it, just know that I’m sorry. For everything. I wish it could have been another way, that I could have fought with you.”
“Quit being such a little bitch, Trevor,” Liz said, giving an exaggerated eye roll as she slugged her brother in the arm. It made her smile, just a hint of the camaraderie they’d shared during their trip to Peru not so very long ago.
75
Bad News
Jordan allowed himself a smug smile as the thick bronze bars flowed from the ceiling, trapping Irakesh and Steve in the same cell. Energy crackled between the bars, little arcs of unfriendly blue and white lightning. He turned toward the others, all of them clad in shimmering white clothing. That had been a neat trick. Blair had simply willed their old clothes out of existence, and had replaced them with garments similar to those Irakesh wore. It made him feel like an extra in The Mummy, but damn if they weren’t comfortable.
“You’re sure you want to leave them alive?” Jordan asked, turning to glance at their prisoners. Steve stared sullenly at them, but Irakesh had already slumped against one wall and refused to look at them.
“They’re not getting off that easily,” Blair said, offering a satisfied smile. “I’m certain the Mother is going to want to have a word with each of them. Besides, their combined knowledge could be really useful. The Ark gives me a lot more power than I had before. I should be able to delve them easily enough, and I have a feeling we’re going to need what they can teach us.”
“If it’s knowledge of the past you want, couldn’t you get it from the pair upstairs?” Liz asked, leaning against the wall next to the cell. That sword was really starting to look as if it belonged over her shoulder.
“She’s got a point,” Trevor added, folding his arms. Jordan still didn’t trust the deathless, but knew telling the others that would be useless. “Can you touch their minds while they’re sleeping?”
“Probably,” Blair replied, scrubbing at his hair as he considered. “Honestly though, I’d rather wait. I can use the Ark to contact the Mother before we decide anything. It would be nice having her here before we rush to any decisions.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Liz conceded with a shrug. “How soon do you think she’ll arrive?”
“Now that this Ark is active we should be able to light walk to her almost instantly,” Blair replied. It was mind-boggling that they could cover thousands of miles in seconds. That kind of tactical advantage would be critical in the days to come. “I figure we head down there, explain the situation and then come back after she’s weighed in.”
“All right, but I still think killing them both is the smart thing to do,” Jordan said. “A dead enemy is no threat. A live enemy has a chance to become one.”
“Liz?” Blair asked, turning to the copper-haired woman.
Jordan liked that she’d stepped so seamlessly into a leadership role. They definitely needed one. Democratic discussion got people killed.
“It’s a risk, but I think you’re right, Blair. It’s a minimal one. I think we’ll be okay until the Mother arrives to deal with them,” she said, rising from the wall and eyeing the prisoners. Steve had sat down on the far side of the cell from Irakesh. He too was ignoring them now.
Beep, beep. Beep, Beep.
Jordan tensed, hand shooting to his breast pocket. He removed the smart phone Yuri had given him just after they’d escaped Mohn. Incoming call, number unknown. He answered it, blinking when he saw the Director’s face appear on the tiny screen. The phone was at an awkward angle, as if his hands were bound and he were propping the phone against a leg.
“I don’t have long,” the Director said, glancing over his shoulder. “I still have a few people loyal to me, but that’s not going to save me.”
Jordan went cold as the implications set in. “You’re a prisoner?”
“The Old Man had me arrested. I’m being transported to London to meet his 'master.' Someone he calls Usir,” the Director explained, shooting another glance over his shoulder. He turned back to his phone. “I don’t know who or what he serves, but whatever it is this thing controls Mohn Corp. through the Old Man. Something big is going down in London, and I have no idea what.”
“We’re not in a position to launch any sort of rescue,” Jordan replied, still reeling with the news. He was aware of the others clustered around him, totally silent as they listened to the conversation.
“I’m not expecting you to. Apparently, this master is something called a draugr. It can control minds, and I don’t expect to be myself for much longer,” the Director replied. His face went grim. “From here on out, you need to consider me and Mohn as a whole the enemy.”
“Acknowledged,” was all Jordan could muster.
“One last thing. Other Arks have returned. The one in Egypt is the largest, and it’s also the center of a lot of activity. Whoever controls it is gathering a massive army of the dead,” he continued.
There was the rustling of fabric, then the phone canted at a crazy angle. It tumbled to a metal floor, and went black for a moment before it was picked up again. When it stopped moving it showed a different face. A familiar face. “Ahh, Commander. I’m so pleased to see you survived your encounter with Irakesh.”
“Mohn,” he growled, eyes narrowing at the triumphant smile on the Old Man’s face.
“Mark is indisposed at the moment. You’ll have to try again in a few hours, after I’ve introduced him to…an old friend,” the Old Man said. His eyes twinkled, then the phone went dead.
Jordan turned to the others. There was a moment of silence before Blair spoke. “Usir is a name I know. It’s ancient Egyptian, a synonym for the god of the underworld. Most people know him as Osiris.”
Epilogue
Steve waited until Blair and the other fools had stridden up the corridor before turning his attention to Irakesh. He studied the deathless, an unassuming black man about an inch shorter than he was. Well, unassuming if you didn’t count the razored teeth or glowing eyes.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to be here when Isis arrives,” Steve said, rising to his feet. The deathless didn’t answer. He paused for a long moment, then continued. “I’m not eager to be here, either. So I’m leaving. You’re welcome to join me, for a price.”
That got his attention. Irakesh’s head came up, eyes narrowing as he stared hard at Steve. “How exactly do you propose to do that? We’re locked behind a stasis field. Any energy directed at it will simply rebound back at us. There’s no way to escape.”
“No way that you know of,” Steve shot back. He crossed to the bars, raising a hand to within inches of the crackling energy that surrounded them. “Humor me. Let’s just say that I had a way to get past the bars. Would you be willing to help me escape?”
“Very well, I’ll indulge this folly,” Irakesh said, rising to his feet. He stalked to the bars, folding his arms as he stared up at Steve. “Let us say you have a way to open the bars. How would you escape the Ark? We’d be crushed by the ocean if we sought escape.”
“Are you familiar with an ability called light walking?” Steve asked, giving Irakesh a sly smile. The deathless's eyes widened.
“I know it, but only Ark Lords possess the ability. How do you even know of it? No one in this age should,” Irakesh asked, eyes narrowing again as he eyed Steve with a calculating gaze.
“I am an Ark Lord, thanks to Blair,” Steve said. “I delved the mind of Isis while she slept, and learned a great many things. Blair is new and untrained. He has locked us in this cell, but if we light walk, then the bars won’t matter. We can bypass the stasis field.”
“Why would you bring me? We’re enemies, you and I,” Irakesh replied, but his expression had softened. He was curious.
What you suggest is madn
ess, Ka-Dun. Repent, and the Mother will spare you. Continue with your mad plan, and she will hunt you to the last corner of the world. There will be no escape, his beast rumbled. Steve ignored it, as he often did. The creature was noble, possessed of a morality he simply didn’t share.
“We were enemies,” Steve replied, smiling. “Now we are allies, like it or not. As you can see, Blair and the others are no friends of mine. Nor do I wish to be here when Isis arrives. I’m willing to take you with me, but as I said, there is a price.”
The deathless was silent for a long moment before speaking. “Name it.”
“Your mother rules the Ark of the Cradle in Egypt, does she not?” Steve asked. He knew the answer, of course, but Irakesh would be less reticent if he felt on equal footing.
“She does, and I begin to grasp your plan,” Irakesh said, finally smiling. “You wish me to accompany you, so that my mother will not slay you upon our arrival.”
“Precisely,” Steve replied, giving his most devious smile. It felt good not having to hide it. “This new world is a far different place than the one you came from. There is much I can offer the mighty Ra, not least of which is the key to the Mother’s Ark.”
Irakesh blinked once, then extended a hand. Steve shook it. Blair thought he’d won this little encounter, but he was about to find out how wrong he’d been. Steve reached deep into his well of energy, and willed the two of them away from the Ark of the Redwood.
Vampires Don’t Sparkle
Deathless Book 3
The Old Gods
There are quite a few gods mentioned in this book, more so than either of the previous two. I’ve created a lexicon to explain who each one is, and how they relate to each other. Hopefully this will make it a little less confusing. Those readers familiar with Egyptian lore should see a lot of familiar names.
Anubis- Also known as the Jackal. Husband of Anput, servant of Ra.
Anput- Husband of Anubis, daughter of Osiris.
Hades- Greek god of the underworld, companion to Vulcan.
Horus- Eldest son of Isis and Osiris.
Irakesh- Youngest son of Ra, and all around pain in the ass.
Isis- Also known as the Mother. Wife of Osiris, mother to Horus.
Nephthys- Wife of Set.
Osiris- Husband of Isis. Father of Anput.
Ra / Sekhmet- Mother of Irakesh, once a near-sister to Isis.
Set- Brother of Osiris. Father of Wepwawet.
Vulcan- Roman god of the forge, companion to Hades.
Wepwawet- Son of Set, servant of Ra.
Prologue
Osiris Locked Out
11,000 BCE
Osiris surveyed the assembled druids as he strode down the path and into the stone circle. Eleven of the most powerful men and women in his domain, each tending to one of the tribes. They were unperturbed by the steady drizzle, a near constant that had developed over the last few decades. It was one more sign the world was changing.
The assembled figures encircled the raised dais as he stepped atop it, kneeling in unison as they’d done many times. The cowls of their hoods shrouded their faces in shadow, but he didn’t need to see them to know who they were. He’d selected each during their childhood for their talent in shaping, and he knew them as intimately as he did his own limbs.
“The time has arrived at last,” he began, a rare note of sadness running counterpoint to the rain. “I must leave you, to slumber away the gulf between ages.”
“Master,” Alaunus said, rising to his feet and throwing back his cowl. His long fiery hair was bound with a leather cord, not so very different from Osiris’s own. “My visions have failed me. I see little of the coming days. I do not know the way. What is to become of us?”
The distress in his voice pained Osiris, but there was nothing he could do to forestall it. He owed them honesty, particularly Alaunus. The man had the sight more strongly than any servant Osiris had met in the last nine thousand years. “You will age and die. The power you draw from the sun is fading, and in a matter of hours it will vanish entirely.”
No one spoke, save the rain. Osiris couldn’t blame them. How would he react to such news? Even having known it for so long, it still shocked him to his core. He possessed a link to the First Ark. He would continue on, slumbering away during the dark time, until the sun’s strength returned in the Age of Aquarius.
“Is there nothing to be done?” Britannia’s clear voice rang out as she too rose to her feet. She raised delicate hands to remove her cowl, dark hair spilling down her shoulders as she met Osiris’s gaze.
“The cycle turns,” Osiris said, wishing it were otherwise. “But all is not lost. Many places of power remain. These Sources will contain energy for a dozen generations. Hundreds, if they are not tapped too heavily. Some part of your power will survive with them, if you husband it. So too will artifacts survive.”
He illustrated the latter by sliding the tooled leather sheath from his shoulder and offering his sword, hilt first, to Britannia. Her mouth fell open as she stared at the golden hilt, and shocked whispers broke out from many cowls. The weapon was Sunsteel, one of only a handful in the world. Its power was incalculable, and Osiris had wielded this one longer than these people’s civilization had existed.
“My lord, I am not worthy of this. None of us are,” Britannia protested, yet she took the hilt reverently. She slung the scabbard over her shoulder, tears in her eyes.
His gift made it all real to them. He was departing their world, and by leaving the weapon he was passing his stewardship to another. “The weapon’s strength is incredible. It may well last your descendants until the next age. Teach them. Let it become a symbol, a remembrance of the great power their ancestors wielded, and that they will one day wield again.”
“As you say, my Lord,” Britannia replied, dropping to her knees and wrapping a protective hand over the golden hilt.
“There is much you must prepare, and precious little time to—” Osiris began, but broke off as unexpected power stirred within him.
It began as a low buzz, but quickly built to a crescendo of gathering energy. He lurched forward, barely aware of Alaunus as he rushed in to catch him. Power gathered within Osiris, much as it did whenever he shaped. Yet this wasn’t his doing, wasn’t his command. Whatever was happening was beyond his control, the strange power bubbling within him like a cauldron about to boil. Then silver light burst from his eyes and mouth, the fire of the universe searing his very consciousness as it departed.
This cannot be, his Risen whispered, an odd mix of awe and shock.
Osiris shuddered as the access key left his body, bereft of the Ark’s incredible power for the first time in many millennia. He lay against Alaunus’s chest, shivering in the rain as he struggled to understand what had just befallen him. There was only one explanation. Someone had bound the First Ark using a Primary Access Key. It should be impossible, but the proof was undeniable.
“A terrible calamity has just befallen the world,” he said, forcing himself to his feet. The assembled druids watched him in silence, their expressions horrified. “The First Ark has been stolen. I must reclaim it, or I too will perish along with all of you. The thief will take its power into the next age, and the other Ark Lords will be unprepared when next they awaken.”
No one spoke. What could they say? Osiris didn’t wait. He gathered himself, blurring north with all the speed and fury he could muster. The wind and rain whipped at his cloak as he bounded over hills and through valleys. He ran for long minutes, crossing the land he knew so well, faster than it had ever been crossed.
At long last he arrived at the Valley of Hidden Voices, the place he and his companions had discovered so many millennia ago. Back during the last ice age when the world had been frozen and harsh. He stared up at the massive black pyramid, the First Ark. Its sleek surface was untouched by the rain, untouched by time itself. It hadn’t changed in any way since the first time he’d laid eyes on it, though the land itself was different no
w.
A low thrum of power resonated through the land around Osiris. The Ark itself vibrated, then the structure began to sink, descending into the earth with alarming finality. Osiris understood what he was seeing, but he could scarcely believe it. Whoever had stolen the Ark was putting it into stasis, preparing for an age bereft of power.
It was exactly what Osiris had been planning to do, but now he was trapped outside with no way to reach the safety of the rejuvenators. No sanctuary to weather the ravages of time.
There was only one god who could have orchestrated this, could have found some loophole that allowed him to break Osiris’s bond with the Ark. Set. His treacherous brother had returned, and now controlled the most powerful of the great Arks.
Did he know of the Well? What if he opened it? He could doom them all, and even if he did not he would possess an advantage over every other Ark Lord. The rest would slumber away the gulf of time, but Set would be able to wake periodically, to use the vast reserve of power to sustain his life. The others would have to husband their reserves, gambling that it would carry them forward to a day when the sun would again sustain the Arks.
Not so Set. He would emerge more powerful than ever, and this time Osiris would not be there to oppose him. Could not be, for no matter how clever he was there was simply no way to survive for thirteen millennia without the aid of an Ark.
1
Angel Island
