Immortality's Touchstone

by Mark Tufo

  We were ready to go, but Mathieu made sure to come and grab us for breakfast; he was not in such a rush for us to leave.

  “There is a place for you all here. You would be welcome.”

  “I know that, Mathieu, and I appreciate it,” I told him honestly. “But I’ve already been around people far too much. This isn’t the end, my friend. I just need some time to get right in the head.”

  “So then this is the end?” He couldn’t contain himself as he started laughing.

  “I love you like a brother,” I told him as I hugged him. “We will visit; we’ll be back in the spring for your wedding.”

  “And then again for the birth of your child,” Azile said.

  “What?” Mathieu was looking at Azile. “Birth of my child?”

  “Well, I mean, in the future...when it should happen.” She couldn’t have looked any more busted than if she had been told to not eat anything before dinner and came to the table with chocolate smeared all over her face.

  “Good save,” I told her. “Smooth.”

  “Lana is pregnant?” Mathieu would have hit the floor if I hadn’t shoved a chair under his ass. “I thought it was my cooking that was making her sick.”

  “Well, now that you bring it up, those crêpes were a little undercooked.” I was holding my stomach. “Shit, woman, can’t you do a spell and make him forget the last couple of minutes? Look at him, he looks like he ate his own food.” Mathieu was indeed looking a little ashen. “You would think someone so good at brewing beer would understand the dynamic of mixing ingredients together for edible substances.”

  “I can’t believe I said that! Lana is going to be so upset.” Azile had her hand up by her mouth. I’m thinking she was trying to figure out if she did have anything up her sleeve that would help her out of this situation.

  “What will I be so mad about?” Lana was standing in the doorway, taking in what was happening. I made sure to back away slowly from all the guilty parties—Azile for blabbing and Mathieu for giving her something to blab about.

  “She did it.” I pointed to Azile, and as if my finger were somehow attached to the town bell, it began to peal. It sounded the quick bursts of an emergency, not the slow, mournful bongs of a remembrance.

  “What could it possibly be now?” Lana turned to head for the source; we were all quickly behind her, though I had to tell Mathieu we needed to go.

  “Werewolves!” came the cry. I figured at some point Lunos would rally—just wasn’t expecting it to be quite this quickly. The only cure for something like Lunos was to kill him. There was no lesson he would learn that would be severe enough to dissuade him from doing asinine things. Shit, I was proof of that idiom.

  “Lycan!” came from another. I mistakenly assumed they were talking about spotting Lunos. When I finally got my ass up on the parapet I realized my mistake. Werewolves were running full tilt for our walls. At first I thought it was a charge, but it was more of a fleeing—they were being herded. I saw a perfect opportunity that others had not quite grasped. I shoved a magazine in the magazine well, pulled back the charging handle.

  “Only the werewolves!” I shouted as loud as I could. To make my orders even clearer, I added: “Do not shoot Lycan!”

  When that was done, I started exacting a measure of revenge that felt oh-so-sweet each and every time I pulled that trigger. It wasn’t long before I was surrounded by others of like-mind. The werewolves were more scared of those that pursued them than those that shot them. They just kept coming into our hail of bullets, falling by the dozen. Whatever had happened out there in the wild had been severe. Their numbers were hardly a third of what they had been and the survivors looked like they’d been beaten and on the run since they departed here. Azile was now standing next to me. I told her to take a break from whatever spell she was about to perform.

  “We can handle it for now.”

  She actually let me get away with that, which let me know just how far to the edge she had pushed it with whatever magical disciplinary committee was out there. The few werewolves that did finally make it to the wall seemed to plead for us to let them in. There was only one gate I was planning on opening for them. There’s a part of me that wishes I could have stopped and felt bad for the creatures we were absolutely slaughtering out there. But all of us, each and every one of us, had lost so much and these beasts were the reason why; whether or not they’d chosen that role. The field was coated in fur, something had fundamentally changed in these werewolves that they did not even revert to their original form with their deaths.

  There weren’t more than ten or twelve werewolves out on that field when the shooting began to taper off. A Lycan in the distance had his arm up in the air. I’m pretty sure it was Mikota, and who he was pushing forward was unmistakable. It was Lunos.

  “I have something for Michael Talbot!” Mikota said. He pushed Lunos into the ground. “I do not wish to sully my paws with this filth!”

  “Where are you going?” Azile asked as I headed to the steps.

  “Where do you think?”

  “Up until yesterday, you could barely walk on your own.”

  “That was yesterday.” I was down the stairs before we could continue an argument I had no chance of winning. “Open the gate.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” the guard asked.

  I guess the look I gave him was sufficient. In another fifteen seconds I was picking my way through bodies, sometimes stepping right over them. I could see the shock in Lunos’ eyes as I approached. He had believed I was dead.

  “Miss me?” I asked as I lined up my boot with his nose and tried to score a goal from fifty yards out. Hearing him yelp in pain might singularly be the most satisfactory auditory experience I had ever had. He had a defiant cowering going on as I placed the barrel of my weapon against his head.

  Mikota chuffed.

  “There a problem with me blowing this fucker’s brains out?”

  “He is the lowest of our low. What he deserves is a beating so severe that he dies from it.”

  “What took you so long?” I asked of the Lycan.

  “It was no small feat to unite the clans since our experience with Xavier. The only reason they came together was because this was his litter mate and until the problem was dealt with in finality, there would always be a chance the mistake of his sibling would be revisited. We learned of your capture and brought Lunos here so that you might take back your honor.”

  “Honor is lost from capture? Sounds like a Japanese feudal thing to me, but whatever. I relish the opportunity. What do you think Lunos? Would you rather I blew open your rotting skull with this high-powered rifle?” I made sure to painfully push it into his head and twist. “Or would you rather me, the one you tortured without mercy, did you in by hand? I promise I will make it as painful as I possibly can.”

  Lunos looked behind him at Mikota. “If I should triumph and kill the Old One, I would like to claim the right of chendesering.”

  “What the hell is checkering?” I asked.

  “You had better not lose,” was all Mikota would answer me.

  “I am getting up; I would appreciate you not shooting me.” I stepped back as Lunos stood and dusted himself off.

  “We will do battle, you and I, Michael. When I beat an Old One in one-on-one combat I will be allowed to claim a position of power and respect within our hierarchy. That is a chendesering. It is a way one low-born can improve his place within our society.”

  “Was kind of hoping you would go for the bullet. The Red Witch is going to be pretty pissed at me for messing up these clothes.” I became acutely aware, as I was putting down my rifle, that I was alone, amidst a sea of my enemies, facing a gigantic foe who had nearly sliced me to pieces and was in significantly better shape than I was. Again, a hastily taken action without any thought of consequence. There was no announcing of competitors, no obligatory bows, no fist bumps to signify mutual respect. Lunos attacked the moment he saw an advantage, which was when I’
d put my rifle down and was just standing back up. I was slightly turned away from him.

  The only thing that saved me was that he had struck so hard I was propelled away from his reach. Agreed, it is a strange thing to be thankful for. Every previous injury I had ever suffered, took affront at the jarring blow I had just absorbed. There was very little of me that did not ache; all my barely healed injuries seemed to reopen with the hit; whatever pain dulling medication still at work abandoned ship. Did a little threading of the needle when I flew in between two tall trees. How the hell I missed slamming my head on the oak as I passed, had to be some sort of divine intervention. The trees worked out in my favor, though, as they slowed Lunos’ approach.

  “Round one might be yours,” I told him as I stood, “but it’s going to be a long fight.” I wiped blood from the corner of my mouth. He let forth a savage roar.

  “That’s right, you get all mad. I’m just going to get even.”

  There was a time when my youngest, Travis, was into Parkour, that French running around and jumping up, over, and off things, thing. Don’t get me wrong—what those people did was all sorts of athletic, I just always thought it was an injury waiting to happen. I cannot tell you how many shin scrapes, toe-stubs, bruises, and boo-boos my kid suffered practicing this sport—which made what I did next all that much stranger. I ran at the large oak tree, jumped up, then pushed off so that I was propelled to the other, only higher. I did this two more times before careening at Lunos. I’d even gone a little too high as I’d launched from the better part of ten feet off the ground. I had to twist my body mid-flight to make sure I didn’t soar harmlessly overhead.

  Lunos’ reaction was about half a second behind my action. I watched as his head turned and as he brought his claws up in defense; it was going to be close, but I was confident I’d get by before he could strike. I had been hoping to sink my fangs into his face. Ended up just reaching down and grabbing that giant ear.

  I had not been expecting it to sound like plastic ripping as I tore it completely off. His arm, which had been getting dangerously close, pulled back in and went to cover his new wound. The scream that came from him could have broken glass. He still had not turned to face me, even after I tucked, landed, rolled, and came back up. A good amount of blood was streaming down the back and side of his head, matting his fur down in a thick glistening mess. I’d done a lot of things to piss off a lot of Lycan, never once had I seen the face of pure savagery that Lunos directed at me as he finally collected himself enough to turn. His paws were now halfway up his body and held out to the side. His chest was expanding and collapsing rapidly; blood flowed freely down his forehead and around his eye, giving him a distinct war-paint look.

  “Yeah, that’s the stuff of nightmares right there.” I hoped I didn’t say it loud enough for him to hear. I’d been expecting an attack fueled by erratic rage. I should have known better. Lunos was too smart to run blindly into a dangerous situation. He was calculating, deciding on the best course of action.

  “Brothers, sisters,” Lunos started. “We have in our midst an Old One. Sworn enemy of our kind. They have hunted us for generations.”

  Out of my peripheral vision, I could see some of the Lycan looking around wondering where this was going.

  “He is alone, and at his most vulnerable....”

  He did not get a chance to finish that thought as Mikota spoke up. “If he is so alone and so vulnerable, perhaps you should finish him off like the chendesering demands. Since you requested one I would think you would be familiar with the rules. Either one emerges victorious or both are lost. Your decision, Lunos. We will kill the Old One, but you will die as well. The honor you seek will be post-mortem for giving up your life for that of an Old One.”

  It was easy enough to see that Lunos wasn’t too keen on giving himself up for the greater good.

  “There will be no offerings made today.” It was Azile, and I was happy to note she’d pretty much brought an army with her. Lunos turned his head to the distraction, I did not hesitate. I was on the move. With my right hand I pulled the axe free. I went to the opposite side he was looking towards to get as close as possible before he saw me. I wanted to strike before he was even aware I’d attacked. It was close; I nearly got away with it. Maybe if I had completely regained my strength I could have pulled it off. I was able to strike with my blade above his right kneecap. Whether he acted on instinct or he had just caught me out of the corner of his eye, didn’t really matter—the result was the same. I got punched square in the face with a closed paw that was as big as my head.

  My nose was broken, again, maybe my left orbital socket, and for the moment everything, in addition to being blurry, was being displayed in triplicate. One Lunos was quite enough; he did not need to be cloned. If he hadn’t been in so much pain he could have finished me off as I drunk-staggered back. Blood poured from my nose and got hung up in my mustache and beard, large clots of it occasionally flew into my mouth as I pulled in ragged breaths. I was shaking my head attempting to knock free the bats that were taking up residency in my belfry. I was more than a little curious as to why Lunos hadn’t lopped my head off yet.

  He was down on one knee; looked like I had taken one of his legs out of the equation. There was a large bulge of material curled up inside his thigh. I had severed something significant. He’d taken a page from his brother’s playbook and was going to switch forms. The moment I saw the transformation begin I knew he was at his most exposed. My next chop crushed his left kneecap; his leg was split to the bone. Only the meniscus and the muscle in the back held it to his torso. He could change all he wanted but he’d still be dragging his ass on the ground like a cur with worms. He realized the futility of his morph-maneuver and stayed in his current form, where not only was his mouth lethal, but so were his powerful arms and paws. He was panting heavily from the pain he was in. I’m not usually one for stepping back and admiring my handiwork, but fuck him. He’d tortured me for days.

  “Did it ever occur to you it could end like this?” I asked, letting the head of the axe slap into my left palm.

  He growled his response.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this day, of the payback, I mean. I fully believe in karma, Lunos. Do you know what that is?”

  He growled again.

  “I’ll explain it to you. It’s when...”

  “This is a fight to the death, Old One. There is no time for talking,” Mikota said.

  “I will fucking do what I fucking want to do, Mikota! This piece of shit, tortured me, insulted me, and had me tied up and beaten like a fucking hog. If I want to take my time and literally pull him apart piece by fucking piece I will do so. If you have a fucking problem with that maybe you should take his place and you and I can finish what we agreed to do!” I stared at him a full fifteen seconds before he turned away.

  “As I was saying before I was so fucking rudely interrupted, karma is receiving back what you have put forth, whether it is good or bad. And you, my furry friend, have a shitload of bad karma coming your way. I’m going to kill you like I did your mangy brother, but at no time would I have ever dragged it out for the length of time you did for me. See, right now, I know you are in the kind of pain that makes rational thought highly unlikely, impossible, even. You’re just busy trying to figure out if you can even move your legs. But every time you send a signal down there for them to jump there is no connection made. You’re pretty much screwed.”

  “Come closer, Michael, and I will show you just how screwed one can be.”

  “I could, for the most part, stand right here for the next twenty minutes, possibly a half hour, and you’ll just bleed out all over the ground, getting weaker and weaker by the minute. That anger you’re burning through will be the first thing to go, then a serious case of panic will take its place. Then you’re just going to get tired and fade away into obscurity. Assholes like you hardly even generate a footnote in history. Sure, there were some world class assholes and they should be neve
r forgotten, you’re just the weaker brother of one. You couldn’t even pull off being a fuck face well enough to be remembered past next Tuesday...which just so happens to be the day I plan on bringing back tacos. Too bad you’re not going to be around for them.”

  Even on his knees he was taller than I was, at least we were on somewhat more even terrain. I kept talking, always keeping a vigilant eye on him. At first, his eyes stayed on me as they desperately tried to burn a hole into my being. When I saw his head dip I moved, maybe he was playing possum because he recovered quickly, too quickly. I was able to move my head enough to avoid the hit, but his claws dragged down my back and shredded my clothes, ripping through my skin, reopening part of a barely healed wound, and even lodging a claw into the rear of my rib. The pain was immense and would have hardly been worth it if not for the cracking sound as the flat of my blade struck him on the side of the mouth, shattering most of the teeth on that side.

  His keening shriek was unlike anything I have heard in my entire life. Sounded like a woman being murdered in the most horrendous way possible. I wanted him to stop, the noise was grating to my nerves. My back was on fire, he’d ripped open all of the scar tissue and exposed a fair portion of me to the elements. I swung my axe backward, cracking the rear of his skull. I’d hit him with enough force, and he was weak enough, that his head went all the way to the ground. He put his hands by his side but as of yet had not pushed back up. I wasn’t sure if he had the capability to do so. I was going to wait a few seconds; I couldn’t afford to find out if he was sandbagging again or not. If he hit me with another strike like the last one, we would both find ourselves on the ground. The only winner in that scenario became Mikota, and on some level, I think he would be sad to lose the chance to take his crack at me. Blood cascaded from the back of Lunos’ head.

  “You hear that? That low mournful sound is for you, Lunos. It’s Death come to take you away. Do Lycan have a special place for those that failed their species? Because that’s where you’re headed.” The Lycan looked around at each other; I’d definitely touched on something there. Even Lunos stirred as if he were going to give it one more try in an attempt to stay away from their version of hell.