War of the Immortals

by Noëlie Frix

  She grit her teeth in mock frustration, “Evidently.”

  “I suggest you rest. Tonight might be your last night in a comfortable bed. I have some nice dungeons below waiting for you.”

  “Why, thank you! It feels good to know you went through the trouble just for me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. There are already plenty of bones to keep you company.”

  “Great! I’ll be having some interesting conversations, then.”

  “I am sure you’ll have no trouble keeping yourself entertained. Your habit of talking to yourself might worsen after a while, though. But as I said, tonight, you get one of my best rooms. Oh, and one more piece of advice: don’t try anything. I have eyes and ears everywhere here.”

  “I won’t. Just keep them out of the bathroom.”

  “What?” he asked confused.

  “I like my privacy.”

  “The bathroom’s all yours,” he smirked, realizing what she meant. “Good night!”

  Heka bent her knees a little, curtsied holding an invisible dress, and somersaulted backwards, landing gracefully in a hand stance, then getting back up on her feet, smiling up at her uncle. Her bonds were on the ground where she had been standing just seconds ago.

  “Good night to you too.”

  “You have got quite a taste for theatrics,” he groaned, as two guards led Heka away from the throne room.

  Chapter 9: Operation Stealth

  The bedroom was indeed really nice. The walls were covered with beautiful tapestries, the bed-frame was made of brown rosewood, and the sheets were blood red. It was more colorful than most of the places she had seen, though her bathroom was the usual obsidian, but mixed with silver rather than gold for once. After making sure she was alone, Heka brought her bag of clothes into the bathroom. She concentrated on her “sixth sense” but did not feel Marcus’s gaze on her.

  She took off her clothes and undid her hair, pulling a hidden pin out of it. She put on a one-piece suit as black as night, tied a leather belt around her midsection, and slipped on a pair of black cloth slippers. Warrior then tied her hair into a bun and hid them under a dark bandanna. The last touch was a pair of gloves which, along with the slippers, had grips that would keep her from sliding when she climbed. She stuck the pin in her hair once more and quickly went to bed.

  Heka only slept for a couple hours then woke up. Using a swift maneuver she had taught herself a long time ago, she slipped out of bed and placed a couple of pillows in her place in one smooth move. The door to her room was locked, but all she had to do was use the pin. After a couple of clicks, the lock gave way. The man who guarded her door never stood a chance; she hit him on the head and propped him up against the wall. As long as she stayed in the shadows, she remained invisible. Unfortunately, the guards who patrolled the halls and the torches along the wall kept her from simply walking to her destination.

  This is where my uncle’s architectural tastes come in handy, she thought. The door to her room was, like most others, topped off by an archway. There were plenty of hand and footholds, but they were treacherous, with sharp edges and rough corners. With a couple of fluid moves, she found herself dangling from the high ceiling, her wrists bent at a painful angle. Warrior turned herself around, threw her legs up, and her feet found a place to hold her up. That was better. Heka instinctively knew where to go—she looked like a human bat, black as night, shuffling along the length of the ceiling, silent as the grave. After making a few turns, she finally arrived in front of the room she wished to visit. Heka let herself fall onto one of the guards and elbowed the other one, knocking both unconscious.

  The door was almost invisible, hidden within the wall and seemingly impenetrable, with no doorknob in sight. Off to the side, she saw a small hole—Maybe…could it…Yes! The pin fit into it and it took less than a minute to break the lock. She was in! The command center. The heart of her uncle’s activities.

  “Impressive security,” she muttered under her breath. “It only took about thirty minutes to get into your most secure center. Arrogance is hubris, Marcus.” She smiled and, after closing the door, scanned the room.

  There was a round table in the center where an oil lamp burned dimly. The walls were lined with books and artifacts, trophies of war and weapons, though the majority of the space was taken up by maps and lists. On one of the shelves, on a square of red velvet, she saw something that made her smile and cringe at once. The Crystal Egg. It was a thick and grotesque piece of white stone that looked a bit like quartz. Luckily, it obviously wasn’t a good one. It should have been a perfect polished egg; instead, it was roughly cut, with fissures, cracks and nicks all over. She guessed the reason he hadn’t fixed it was because it would break otherwise. Perfect. She walked over, picked it up, and used it to look at her uncle. Though the image was blurry, she could tell he was sound asleep; since she could not hear anything, it meant her uncle did not know what their plans were, just that they had formed an alliance. Good.

  She brought the Egg over to the table with her to keep an eye on Marcus. The dark mahogany was barely visible underneath the stacks of books and papers that littered the surface.

  “Holy crap!” she breathed. What she saw was alarming. There was a long list of names, human warlords for the most part, that Marcus was intending to use. He would toy with them, prod them to go to war, and they would never be able to resist. There were plans of battlefields too. Heka smirked when she realized that, like her, Marcus had titled his documents “War of the Immortals”. I guess, for some things, we are alike, she thought bitterly. Warrior spent hours studying and memorizing every detail of everything she read. The maps, the Immortals and humans he was going to recruit, the weapons he planned on using, the time of their attacks. Once she was certain she knew it all by heart, she placed everything exactly the way it was.

  She had only one dilemma left. The Egg. She couldn’t let her uncle keep it, for fear he would use it to see what their next moves would be. But if she took it, he might change all his plans.

  “I guess I could crack the Egg’s shell a bit,” she reasoned. Warrior grabbed her dagger and, on the bottom, created a discreet, yet effective, fissure. Now all she could see was a foggy, indistinguishable image, and she could hear no sound. “As long as he simply checks to make sure it’s here and doesn’t actually use it, this’ll work. It’s not too far-fetched, he’d be impatient to see me fight…” I’m glad I did this, she thought, his cooking really is horrid—I don’t want to risk being forced to eat his omelet.

  The trip back to her room was harder, as her arms and legs felt the strain of fatigue. She slipped into her room unnoticed and went back to bed. The next morning, three men would wake up with bad headaches and no recollection of what had happened the night before, for she knew how to confuse their memory. All things considered, it had been fairly easy; Heka went to lie down, knowing she would soon be awakened.

  “Sembor,” she called quietly before falling asleep. He appeared at her side.

  I can’t stay long, he communicated, he’s put nasty protective spells.

  “Alright. Tomorrow, be on guard, I’ll probably call on you,” she kissed his nose and he vanished.

  Chapter 10: Free Falling to Freedom

  Heka woke up as someone pushed open the door to her room. She felt two men approach her bedside and sat up. “What time is it?” she yawned ostensibly.

  “Early,” one replied derisively.

  “That’s precise,” Heka groaned.

  “Lord War is waiting. Get ready.”

  “Fine,” she threw off the covers, walked to the bathroom, and got dressed, missing the weight of her swords on her back; her uncle was not an adversary to take lightly.

  They took her once more to the throne room where her uncle sat, looking at her expectantly. Her slightly curved swords, which were shorter and lighter than his, though they looked just as sharp and dangerous as the one Marcus’s hand was resting on, were placed at his feet. She stood in the cente
r of the room.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked condescendingly.

  “Alright, thank you for asking. Though I do not appreciate being woken up this early.”

  “Too bad,” Marcus shrugged. “Time for you to fight.”

  “Will you hand me my swords, then?”

  “Not just yet,” he gestured to two men standing along the walls, and they flanked Heka. “You are quite versatile, so I would like to see you fight without weapons first.”

  “Of course,” she whipped around, side kicking one in the guts and palm punching the other. They had no time to act and crumpled to the ground. “Am I done?”

  “No. You took them by surprise. On my count next time.”

  “Sure, cause that’s totally how it works in battle,” she cringed while three new men formed a circle around her. They attacked, but she paid them little attention, talking to her uncle all the while, even as the assaults intensified and others joined the struggle. All combatants ended up on the ground, groaning. “You know, I wonder why you surround yourself with humans,” she said as she ax kicked someone on the shoulder. “Most Immortals don’t trust them.”

  “I can keep them in check. I surround myself with them because they are useful. I like certain traits they possess. Cupidity, selfishness, a quest for power, a certain thirst for blood. They have started more wars in their short lives than we, Immortals, have in all our time on this planet. Something to admire.”

  The fight had stopped. Heka stood alone, surrounded by twenty bodies or so.

  “Impressive, I have to admit,” he gestured toward one of his servants who brought the swords over to Heka. “Try not to kill them, dear. I know you are capable of injuring without necessarily taking their lives.”

  “Of course, your Highness. I will try not to damage your toys too much,” she felt a surge of power and confidence as she tightly gripped her swords.

  The few that were still standing included War, some servants, Heka, and several armed soldiers. The battle began, and though Heka had to concentrate a little more in order not to kill them, she still managed to converse with her uncle.

  “Humans have some flaws for you though. They are aware of their actions. Weak in comparison to us.”

  “They can be trained. Plus, they reproduce like rabbits, so if quality does not suffice, quantity will do the trick.”

  “I meant weaknesses such as their search for peace and integrity,” she replied as her sword traced a burning line across someone’s chest and the other blocked a spear.

  “Bah, I keep away from those types of humans. They’re quite pathetic.”

  “Keep them out of this conflict, Marcus.”

  “But then, where will I get my wars from? Sure, Immortals put up a good fight, but usually we stick to fighting each other. And many of us take soooo much time to think before taking part in any conflict. Seems like humans have not yet mastered the art of thinking things through. So keeping them out of this conflict is out of the question, since it would hinder me in my quest for power.”

  “You want to rule like a god. But we are not gods. You know this very well.”

  “True. But humans seem to think we are.”

  “But we’re not!” she disarmed a man and threw his knife at another who was effectively pinned to the wall.

  “No? What is the definition of a god?” Marcus raised his eyebrow. “Humans create gods to explain things they can’t understand. Storms, nature, droughts…Or to blame someone. They don’t like to be held responsible for their actions, so they can have a god for war.”

  “You’re hopeless. The only god that might have once existed created us. Now it’s gone. You cannot rule over the human race like one,” she said as she dodged a knife and the last man standing fell to his knees.

  “Actually, I can. And I will,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “You’re horrible.”

  “That,” War replied, “is a matter of opinion.”

  Heka wiped the blood off her swords.

  “I do believe I learned quite a bit, though your constant chatter was pretty distracting. I will need to interrogate you, next. About your team’s plans.”

  “No thanks, torture-slash-interrogation is not on my to-do list.”

  She jumped forward, her weapons ready to strike. But before she reached him, War slammed his sword against the ground, and a wave of energy threw Heka back. She hit the wall at full speed but recovered quickly. Marcus and his niece faced off in the center of the room, the only ones left standing.

  “Nice try,” his sword connected with Heka’s.

  “Come now, uncle, you know you are no match for me!” she twisted her swords, forcing Marcus to jump back.

  “We shall see.”

  “You are right, we shall. But not today. Our epic battle will take place at the same time as that of the other Immortals.”

  She ran full tilt for the window.

  “See you soon,” Heka said, throwing herself through the stained-glass window. Her swords went first, shattering the glass; she tucked herself into a ball in order to offer a smaller surface and not to expose her face to the glass. She was free falling from several stories high. The air rushed past her ears, and her breath caught in the wind. Warrior tried to angle herself so she would be parallel to the ground. She might not die, but at this speed and from this height, if Heka hit the ground, she would crush every bone in her body and would then be taken back to her uncle.

  “This is gonna hurt,” she groaned but did not hear herself for the wind carried her words away.

  Metal bars jutted out along the wall, some from the flying buttresses, others poles meant to hold flags or torches. Those were the only things that would allow her to slow her descent. She extended her arms forward, reaching for the first upcoming bar, tensed her wrists as much as possible and grabbed on. Heka let go as soon as she touched it, but was now falling feet first. The next bar was coming up fast. She managed to tumble through the air so that her feet caught it. Warrior proceeded this way to the bottom, and gradually, she felt her fall begin to slow—the air wasn’t moving as fast around her.

  “SEMBOR!” she yelled as the ground neared.

  He appeared in a flash of black-striped orange. The guards waiting for her at the bottom were reduced to bits and pieces. She grabbed on to the last bar, held on longer than for any of the others…and fell. Right on top of her companion. Run, she thought at him. He took off towards the harbor. A few men atop horses tried to stop them, but none was fast enough. The few who managed to get in their way were met with either a sharp blade or fangs and claws. A few arrows did reach her, painfully piercing her flesh.

  Heka cut the line holding the ship to the deck; Sembor jumped on board. The vines immediately went to work and a fortunate gust of wind blew them away from War’s Fortress.

  Chapter 11: Wind

  Heka slid off her tiger’s back and let out a shaky breath. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was trembling all over and could start feeling the pain. Her ankles and wrists were probably sprained and she had at least fifty minor cuts and bruises.

  Warrior pulled out the protruding arrows, then felt a sharp pain in her calf and looked. There was a piece of glass deeply sunk into it. It was only about half a centimeter thick, but at least ten centimeters wide. She sighed, pulled on it a little and gritted her teeth. Slowly, the stained glass came out, and blood flowed freely from her wound. Heka leaned on Sembor on the way to her room. The vines were bringing her to Nature’s island.

  Heka got to her room and sat on her bed, exhausted, watching the skin around her wounds stitch itself back together. After drinking a tall glass of water, she got up, knelt beside her bed, removed one of the floorboards and uncovered all her good weapons: her bow and quiver full of arrows, her knives and daggers. Once she was sure everything was accounted for, and once she had placed things where they belonged, Warrior finally went to sleep.

  *****

  A cold breeze blew through the open wind
ow. Heka woke, sat up abruptly, and her sword found…nothing. She looked about, puzzled, certain she had felt someone at the foot of her bed; Warrior had meant to point the sword at the person’s throat. Something seemed to form in front of her eyes. Winds from all different directions coagulated in one place and, despite herself, Heka let her sword slide down. A ghostly woman appeared at the foot of the bed. Her white hair flew around her face, she had gray eyes, high cheekbones and thin lips. The stranger’s body and face seemed slightly transparent. If Heka focused, she could actually see through her. The woman wore a short white dress with leaves, flowers and tornadoes blowing around. Literally. The pictures on her dress were moving, as though blown in the wind.

  “Who are you?” Heka was curious and just a little startled.

  The woman smiled kindly. A light of recognition shone in Warrior’s eyes.

  “Wind?”

  “Yes, child.”

  “But…you’re real?!”

  A humorous glimmer lit the newcomer’s gray gaze, “It seems I am.”

  “You are one of the Elemental Immortals?”

  “Yes. One of the first and oldest of our kind. My name is Venthae,” her voice was soft and light, calming.

  “You pushed my boat from the harbor,” Heka realized.

  “Indeed. I wanted to help you get away, though I now doubt that you truly needed it.”

  “Thank you. Why help me, though?”

  “I listened to you and your uncle talking and agree with you. War is repulsive and needs to be stopped.”

  “My uncle or the actual thing?”

  “Both,” Venthae chuckled. “Though war with a small w is worse.” Heka disagreed with that as they were equally detestable to her. But she knew Marcus better than anyone else. War and war were the same thing to her.

  “So, will you help us?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was about to ask if I could offer my services.”

  “Of course! Thanks you. We need all the help we can get.”