Apotheosis of the Immortal

by Joshua A. Chaudry

  Just as he was about to set the blade to its bloody purpose, Elijah thought of his mother lying dead and bloodied at the bottom of the stairs. He thought of Malaki, his body no doubt lying broken in some gulley. And Sara. He didn’t want to imagine what horrors she had faced. If he died now, who would avenge this savagery? Who would exact the retribution his loved ones deserved? From where would vindication find its way?

  As these questions rolled round in his head, his spirit was vexed. As much as he longed for death, there was no one else to deal out the vengeance and punishment that were owed. Avenging his family was his responsibility, and he knew he must see it through before reaching after the eternal peace he longed for.

  Dropping the small and bloodied blade to the floor, he rose to his feet a different man—one with purpose, a single purpose. All he could feel now was rage, an unfamiliar feeling, but one he would come to know all too well. It would stay with him for ages to come.

  Elijah couldn’t imagine why his betrayers had murdered his family, their family. The family they lived with and loved for so long. The children they had protected, their cherished wife and dear mother. But it no longer mattered. From this day forward, the hope of vengeance would be his only respite.

  Chapter 3

  Elijah rummaged through his mother’s room. He was looking for a decent piece of cloth to wrap her body. It didn’t make much difference at this point, but she deserved at least that much effort and much more. Eager to catch up to his father and brother, he moved quickly into his bedroom and grabbed the blanket his mother had made when Malaki was just born. It wasn’t the nicest piece, but it seemed fitting.

  Elijah stretched out the woolen cloth on the kitchen floor. Sliding his arms beneath his mother’s shoulders and hips, he gently lifted her. The foul and musty odor of rotting flesh nearly knocked him over as he pulled her close to his chest and then laid her carefully in the middle of the outstretched fabric. He was horrified by her weight; she was far too easy to lift.

  Did they remove all of her insides? The thought sickened him. What were they doing here last night? What did I miss? Why? The questions went on and on, but he knew they were pointless; there were no answers available, at least not right now.

  As he wrapped her, he noticed a glint at her neck. It was the small, round metal pendant she had worn on a chain for as long as he could remember.

  It was etched with a tiny inscription which read, Everything begins and ends with a will, and a purpose is only as strong as the will that propels it. Now spattered with blood, the pendant dangled just off her right shoulder. He gently pulled it from around her neck and gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment before fastening it around his own neck.

  An elderly lady named Lilith lived just across the valley, in the old cottage Elijah had once called home. She had been the handmaiden of Lord Jeffrey’s mother. Having been Jeffrey’s wet nurse, his nanny, and his teacher, she had practically raised the man. She loved him as her own and greatly appreciated the help Elijah’s family had given in caring for him during his final months.

  Once Jeffrey had sent William away, Lilith had been the only servant left to care for Jeffrey. Elijah’s mother had decided to give their old land and cottage to her when they moved into the castle.

  Elijah carried his mother’s body along the worn path that wound alongside the stream and eventually led to the small patch of trees hiding Lilith’s tiny cottage from the main path. The familiar smell of pine greeted him as he cut between the trees. The old cottage appeared in the clearing, and his memories stirred at all the familiar sights and smells of his youth.

  His mother’s small herb garden had grown ragged, but he could still detect the fresh thyme, dill, and basil tangled amidst the weeds. Nostalgia warmed his soul, but he had no tears left to cry. Elijah laid his mother’s wrapped body on a soft patch of grass next to the old garden. His body was surprisingly strong; the trip hadn’t strained his muscles, but his mind was weak with anguish.

  Hearing him approach, the elderly woman came out to meet him.

  “What in God’s name has happened, child?”

  Elijah silently kneeled at his mother’s side and dropped forward, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

  “Is this Esmeralda?” The old lady’s body was strong and her senses were sharp, but any fool could see Elijah was wracked with grief.

  “There, there, child, everything’s gonna be all right. Some wounds never fully heal, and some losses will always be near to us, but it does get a little easier with time—you learn how to deal with it, how to move on.”

  The old woman had suffered much loss of her own and Elijah knew it, but that knowledge didn’t help him right now.

  “What happened, son? Where’s the rest—where are your brothers, I mean?” As she asked, the old lady gently touched Elijah on the shoulder.

  He remained silent; he had no idea what to say or where to begin. The entire night seemed surreal.

  “Well, bring her on in. I’ll put a blanket on the hearth and light some candles. You can lay her down and take whatever time you need to mourn your loss.” Her tone was inviting; she was a kind and gentle soul.

  Although he still couldn’t bring himself to speak, he was a bit comforted by Lilith’s kindness and warmth. He was grateful not to be alone. Picking up his mother’s body, Elijah followed the old woman through the open doorway and waited while she retrieved a thick woolen blanket from a small cupboard and carefully covered the hearth. He laid his mother’s corpse on the blanket while Lilith lit a few candles and placed them around her. The strong smell of incense filled the small room as she waved the smoke across Esmeralda’s body.

  “Sit down for a moment.” Both her voice and hands were shaky as she pulled over a small wooden stool and shoved it towards Elijah. He dropped hard onto the stool and, putting his head into his hands, he rubbed his eyes vigorously.

  “Oh! Are you hurt son?” Lilith quickly wet a rag and began rubbing vigorously at Elijah’s neck. “There’s no wound, so it must have been your mother’s blood.”

  What? Elijah rubbed his fingers across his neck where he had jabbed the thin blade. Lilith was right, there was no wound. How is this possible? But his thoughts were quickly buried by the stench of his mother’s corpse that penetrated his nostrils and swamped his mind.

  “It was my father, and Solomon.” Elijah finally offered hoarsely, after a long silence.

  “What do you mean? Are they okay?” Lilith didn’t understand.

  “They killed her, and Malaki.” Elijah declared while staring blankly at the floor.

  “Your father, William, and Solomon did this?” Her voice rose sharply with shock. “How? Why? Are you sure?” She was staring at Elijah in disbelief.

  “I don’t know. Father just showed up last night, after I had gone to bed. I must have somehow slept through it when they killed Mother. Malaki’s screams woke me up. A large man was carrying him tossed over his shoulder and was running down the stairwell. I tried to rush down to help him, but the stairwell was covered with Mother’s blood. Before I could make it to the bottom step, I hit the banister and tumbled down the steps, ending up next to Mother’s mutilated corpse.” He paused for a moment, overcome.

  “I stood up just in time to see Father break Malaki’s neck with his bare hands, like it was nothing, like he was nothing.” Elijah’s voice was steady now. Tears were streaming down his face, but he didn’t notice. “I tried to get to Father. I wanted to kill him for what he had done, but Solomon cracked me on the head with a log and I must have been unconscious before I hit the floor.” Elijah spoke while gently rubbing his neck in disbelief.

  “Your father and Solomon… well, I just can’t believe that. Your father is such a gentle man. And Solomon, well he’s just as fine a boy as I’ve ever met.” Her tone was somewhat challenging. Elijah was sure she knew he was no liar, but he also knew his story didn’t make any sense. Still, she couldn’t ignore the lifeless body lying on her hearth.

  Elij
ah rubbed his head and stared down at the floor. He didn’t say a word. He wasn’t even listening; he was lost.

  “We don’t have much time before your mother starts to stink. You’ll have to get her in the ground soon.” She was being kind; the stench of dead flesh was already overtaking the sweet smell of burning incense and making it hard for Elijah to breathe.

  “There’s a large stone just up the hill,” he said. “It’s where we played as children and mother used to tell us stories.” The old lady was already nodding before Elijah had finished speaking.

  “Yes, I think that would be perfect. You go put your mother to rest, and I’ll put on some supper. After you’ve eaten, I’ll help you clean off the rest of that blood, make you a bit more presentable.”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Elijah didn’t feel hungry; he was still too upset to keep anything down. Besides, the old lady had done enough.

  “What’ll you do?” she asked, seeming more curious than concerned.

  “I’m going to find them, and I need to hurry.” Elijah gently swept his mother’s wrapped body up in his arms and headed for the door.

  “What’ll you do when you find them?” she shouted as Elijah walked out the door.

  “I’m going to kill them.” His grit and determination were growing by the moment. His hate grew with every step he took carrying his mother up the steep hill. He was no longer a man. He was a purpose, a cause; he had nothing else, and nothing else mattered.

  Chapter 4

  He dug a deep grave next to the stone and placed his mother inside as gently as he could. The smell of sod and wet dirt was comfortingly familiar. When he looked over at the huge pile of dirt, it seemed to be climbing its way to the top of the stone, the way he and his brothers used to. Their mother would sit on the stone and tell stories or sing songs while he and his brothers climbed all over her.

  She told them wonderful tales of courage and love, heroes and villains, stories that had fired his imagination. He realized now they hadn’t just been stories. Now Elijah had seen villainy and known the deepest of evils, but he was no hero, nor did he want to be. He had no desire for justice or peace. He would not seek recompense or to balance the scales. Nothing could restore what had been taken. So he would bring punishment; he would bring balance; he would bring death.

  A nice enough place. She loved it here. He knew his mother would have approved of her eternal home.

  After filling in the grave, he said his tearful goodbyes and started walking. He knew he would never see this place again, nor did he want to. It was too late in the day to make it very far before dark, but he didn’t want to stay another night in this place, and oddly, he wasn’t at all tired from the digging.

  A small stream stretched both east and west of the small cottage where he grew up. Sara still lived with her parents in a cottage much like the one he had known for so long. It was only about an hour’s walk through the dense forest, following the stream to the east. His steps were quick and light. He wasn’t running, but he moved with an ease and speed that astonished him.

  He initially dismissed it as excitement, but he couldn’t explain it away when he saw the small cottage off in the distance in barely half the time it should have taken him to get there.

  He could tell it was dark, but he could see with a startling acuity, much deeper into the night than ever before. Staring once again towards the cottage, he noticed something was different. Curiosity and concern set his feet in motion, and he took off at a full sprint. His feet pushed from the ground as if he were weightless; he launched himself forward with every step.

  What is going on? How can I be moving this fast? He made it up the steep hill to the cottage with amazingly little effort; he wasn’t even breathing hard. He was barely even breathing at all, actually. Still, his body was stronger than ever! Am I losing my mind? Am I dying? He was frightened and exhilarated at the same time.

  The far end of the cottage had been destroyed. The roof and logs were all in ashes, and only a pile of rocks remained. The smell of burnt wood and thatching filled the small clearing. There was also another smell, one Elijah didn’t recognize, but the sickening feeling that stole over him filled him with dread. When he rushed over to look at the destruction left behind, seared flesh and bone sticking from the ashes confirmed his horrified suspicion.

  “Sara!” he exclaimed. “Sara!” There was no response. Dead silence. Though it had been buried deep, he had hoped his brother might somehow have been wrong, and she might still be alive. That hope was now completely crushed. Clearly she had died with the rest of her family.

  Slumping to the ground, he leaned his back against what was left of the stone foundation and wept. Why would they do this to Sara and her family? It makes no sense!

  He didn’t know how he could keep going after this, but as his thoughts drifted away from his precious Sara and towards his father and Solomon, hate drove him to his feet. Yes, hate would keep him moving towards his purpose.

  He thought briefly about burying what he could find of the bodies in the house, but decided it wouldn’t make any difference. It would only slow him down. The only difference he could make now, for anyone, was to find and kill the ones responsible, those who remained of his family.

  Chapter 5

  Elijah had never been far from home. He knew there was a small town somewhere on the river to the east; he had been there with his father when he was younger. He couldn’t remember exactly how far the town was, only that it hadn’t taken more than a few days to get there. He didn’t know how yet, but he needed to stock up on some supplies.

  Pushing himself up from the broken cottage wall Elijah thought he noticed movement coming from within, beneath the ash and rubble. Maneuvering closer, he spotted a foot sticking out from beneath some thatching. Sara? Could she be alive? His heart leapt as he climbed inside to investigate.

  As he lifted the thatching he was aghast at what lay revealed at his feet. Sara wasn’t moving; her withered body looked like a corpse. Elijah kneeled down beside her and wiped the blood and ash-stained hair from her face. She was still beautiful.

  Suddenly, a cloud of ash flew into the air as Sara’s body convulsed furiously. She heaved and coughed, and then her body became still once more. How can she still be alive? The thought sent Elijah into a panic; he had to keep her alive, but didn’t know how. Sliding his arms under her, he shoved to his feet, cradling her frail body as he rushed to the riverbank.

  Desperate and unprepared, he tilted her head back and poured a handful of water down her throat. There was no response. Elijah searched for signs of life, but found none. She wasn’t breathing, and he couldn’t feel her heart beating.

  Unsure of what to do next, he decided to carry her to town, hoping someone there would know what to do for her. It was dark, but Elijah felt there wasn’t much time. He still wasn’t tired, and he urgently needed to get help for Sara.

  He ran as hard as he could, never getting tired or weak. He was impossibly fast. What had happened to him? What was the source of this new power? How long would he have it? He didn’t know, but thought his father might.

  Elijah was still running towards town when Sara’s body suddenly convulsed again, jerking against his arms as she gasped for air. Looking down, he saw her eyes open for just a moment. His heart practically leapt out of his chest with joy. It was the first time he had seen her beautiful eyes in nearly three years, the first time since his father had decreed that Solomon would be the one to marry her.

  He rushed to the nearest tree and placed her gently on the ground beneath it. He propped her head and back against a large, protruding knot. Her breathing was shallow, but pressing the side of his face against her chest, he could feel it gently rise and fall with each gasp for air. Thrilled, he ran back down the path and retrieved another handful of water from the river. This time, as he poured it into her mouth she gagged violently and spewed it back out. That worried him, and he found himself praying for the first time in years, and to god
s he no longer believed in. Then he stopped, reminding himself that if the gods did exist, they had already forsaken him.

  “Sara. Sara.” He spoke softly, but received no response. Although he was still unsure what to do, each breath she took was cause for hope. Elijah decided to let her rest awhile beneath the thick canopy of leaves that provided a bastion against the breaking dawn.

  Hopefully she would regain consciousness soon. Elijah was anxious to learn exactly what had happened to her and how she was still alive. As the hours passed, he discovered that, although his body was now stronger than ever, his mind was beginning to drift and lose focus.

  Perhaps it was a reaction to the tragedies of the past night and day, or something else he didn’t understand, but his mind was somehow undone. He decided to lie down next to Sara. The idea of getting some sleep comforted him, although he knew his gripping concern for Sara would probably make sleep impossible.

  He lay there with his eyes closed for what seemed like hours. He thought about his entire life. But brutal images of his mother and Malaki continued to surface, even when he tried to concentrate on something pleasant. There were moments when the clouds seemed to part and he could see his mother’s beautiful face and hear her voice, but those images would soon fade and be replaced by the gruesome scene that had confronted him at the bottom of his stairwell.

  Elijah had no idea how much time had gone by when he began to hear voices. Sitting up, he saw five men walking along the river path from the east. His only thought was to hide Sara; he feared what they might do to her.

  But there was no time to conceal her, so he decided to try to draw them away. One of the men caught sight of him just as he stepped into the road.

  “Hey you, boy, what are you doing over there?” As the man spoke, he lurched closer, lifting his chin belligerently and narrowing his eyes. The other men followed; they were all approaching fast. Elijah could now tell from their look and manner that their intentions were as vile as their stench.