by Chris Fox
Blair blurred across the tarmac, leaping into the air and landing on top of the cargo plane with a hollow thud. It was much bigger up close, wide enough to hold a tank or a whole lot of troops and long enough to play volleyball inside. Something was clicking from the interior below, something that sounded an awful lot like a larger version of the fuel pump he’d had on his rusted out Pontiac back in high school. Were they getting this thing ready to fly? Of course they were.
The figure Blair had spotted was Steve, prowling the darkness with that midnight fur. He crouched near the far wall, beneath two gigantic doors they would have to open to taxi the aircraft out. Blair needed to leave Steve out there as bait. It was callous, but also smart. Steve would probably approve.
“Complacent,” a smug voice whispered from directly behind him, even as something hot spiked into his back. A glittering golden blade burst from his chest, slick with his own blood. “You perch up here watching the darkness as if you are the predator, but you’ve always been the prey, Ka-Dun. I led you here. I feel you even as you feel me.”
Irakesh. Blair rolled forward, the blade making a wet pop as it slipped from his chest. The wound was excruciating, but he’d grown used to pain like that. What shocked him was the icy chill that passed through him, an almost living thing that stole the warmth from his blood.
Be wary of the weapon, Ka-Dun. It is an ancient thing and very dangerous. Sunsteel leeches your strength, delivering it to your foe.
Blair blurred, leaping from the plane and catching one of the ribbed supports lining the top of the hangar some thirty feet above. It was farther than he’d tried leaping before, but the blur gave him the momentum. He caught the cool metal in one hand, swinging himself on top of it as he scanned the darkness below.
Irakesh was right. The deathless had the advantage here. He’d led Blair all the way from Peru and seemed to hold all the cards. Yet Blair’s allies still fought below. A shape materialized from the darkness behind Steve, but it wasn’t Irakesh. He’d recognize that close-cropped red hair and freckled face anywhere, even with the horribly sharp fangs. Trevor was working for Irakesh.
The deathless planted the barrel of a massive looking revolver at the base of Steve’s skull and pulled the trigger. It roared, barrel bucking as a short gout of flame erupted. Blood spurted as the wound exited Steve’s face in a shower of bone fragments and gore. Steve collapsed, rolling to the ground bonelessly. It would take long moments to recover. Moments Blair knew Trevor wouldn’t give him.
Blair dropped soundlessly from his perch, swinging just a bit to angle towards Trevor as he fell. One former friend about to murder another. Life certainly had a black sense of irony.
He landed heavily on Trevor’s back, bearing the deathless to the ground in a crunch of bone. Trevor’s revolver skittered away across the hangar’s concrete floor, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. Each finger now ended in a thick black fingernail, sharp enough to carve flesh. His fangs were just as lethal, designed to rend just like a shark.
Trevor struggled to dislodge Blair from his back, but Blair drove a knee hard into his spine even as he reached around to tear out the deathless’s throat. It helped to think of him that way and not as the man who’d so recently saved his life, who’d opened his home and risked everything to protect Liz.
“Predictable,” Irakesh’s voice hissed behind his ear. The breath was cold and lifeless. “This is why my kind will always win.”
Blair thought he was ready, already beginning to blur. It wasn’t enough. Irakesh’s golden blade punched through his chest, delivering a wound twin to the one he’d scored moment’s earlier. That one had mostly healed, though Blair could still feel it. Not good.
The wound around the blade was ice and Blair could feel his life slipping into the silvery metal. It horrified him, but he couldn’t pull away. Moving took effort. Blurring seemed impossible. He was going to die.
“Get off of him,” Bridget roared, materializing from the shadows and barreling into Irakesh. She knocked him off Blair, wrenching the awful sword from his back and spilling him to the concrete in a spreading pool of his own blood.
Blair flopped onto his side, struggling weakly to his knees. Trevor disappeared back into the shadows but hopefully was too wounded to attack immediately. Blair focused his attention on Irakesh, smiling despite the agony. Bridget had an arm wrapped around his shoulder and was digging out his entrails with her other hand, ripping the stringy organs out as she bit down on his face.
Irakesh struggled to free himself, but Bridget was far stronger. His sword was still clutched weakly in one hand, while the other clawed ineffectually at her wrist. Then Trevor appeared again, apparently having recovered his revolver. He unloaded three quick shots, each belching a round into Bridget’s head from close range. The stench of gunpowder battled the rich tang of blood, the blend overpowering in his weakened state.
Bridget shrieked, releasing Irakesh and leaping away. She left a trail of blood behind her, but there was no sign of her as she vanished into the shadow’s waiting embrace. Irakesh did the same, as did Trevor. Only he and Steve were still there, struggling to rise.
You must feed Ka-Dun, and soon. Your strength wanes.
I don’t have time. He thought back, staggering to his feet. He couldn’t recall having felt this weak even before he’d become a werewolf.
He didn’t dare waste energy blurring, choosing instead to lope towards the plane he knew Irakesh would have to leave in. At least he knew his nemesis’s destination, though stopping him from taking what he wanted was another matter.
The press of zombies had receded, so many had been cut down during the early fighting. There were still dozens remaining, though Blair paid them no mind. He could easily avoid them. They all could, assuming they weren’t so wounded they couldn’t move.
Blair skidded to a halt next to Steve, sliding an arm under his shoulders and hoisting him to his feet, “Hang in there, Steve. I’ve got you. You’re damn hard to kill. I thought for sure you’d gone down for the last time when Trevor shot you in the head.’
“You know him?” Steve looked shocked and more than a bit groggy. He held his hand to his forehead, which still leaked blood. He must be weak if his wounds were no longer fully healing.
“Yeah, long story. He’s Liz’s brother. We have no idea how he ended up with Irakesh, but that’s bad for us. He was lethal before. Now? I’m not sure we can stop him,” Blair admitted, scanning the darkness. There was no sign of anyone near them.
He did hear fighting on the far side of the hangar, knock-down, drag-out brawl from the sound of it. It was probably Liz, though who or what she was fighting remained a mystery. He couldn’t focus on that right now.
“We’re being hunted. Trevor and Irakesh can both hide in the shadows, that’s the bad news,” Blair said, helping Steve towards the aircraft. If they were on board Irakesh would have to kill them before taking off.
“You’re implying there’s good news,” Steve said, pushing Blair gently away. “I can manage, I think. My head is starting to clear.”
“There is good news, at least a little,” Blair said, scanning the darkness as they approached the long metal ramp leading into the cargo area of the plane. “Bridget is still out there, too. That’s the only thing keeping Irakesh and Trevor from killing us.”
“Lovely,” Steve growled, eyes a bit more focused now. He too scanned the darkness. “So we’re out here as bait, basically. They attack us, she attacks them.”
“Something like that. Irakesh will have to make a move soon. He can’t let us get into the pla- ,” Blair began. He was interrupted as Trevor materialized from the darkness, barrel aimed at Blair’s face. Blair blurred, ducking even as his friend’s finger stroked the trigger.
It boomed, a round whizzing through the space his head had just occupied. Then a much larger shape burst from the darkness. Bridget. She tackled Trevor, the pair rolling through the darkness like feral dogs. They snapped and clawed at each other, nothing hu
man in either face.
Blair had a split second to consider. He knew Irakesh would appear any second now that Bridget was occupied. Use your mind, Ka-Dun. He cannot shape as you do. He can fool the eye, but you can fool the mind.
That was it. Blair had invaded Liz’s mind. He’d plucked thoughts from other people. Ahiga had even invaded his mind. So why couldn’t he invade Irakesh’s? If he understood the deathless, they lacked the ability to either attack or defend on that front. It might be the one advantage he possessed.
“So stupid,” Irakesh roared, appearing in front of Blair. He rammed his blade through Blair’s throat in a shower of hot pain and wet sticky blood. Blair sagged to his knees, clutching weakly at the sword lodged in his neck. The pain was a living thing, eating at his vision like a cancer. “You should never have come, Ka-Dun. I’d have preferred not to kill you. I’d have preferred a truce. Yet you are forcing my hand. I cannot have you dogging my every step. I have work to do, so if you are so determined to harry me you must be put down like a rabid animal.”
Blair glanced at Steve. Or rather at where Steve had been. Evidently he’d blurred away, because there was no sign of him now. Blair wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t force himself. He didn’t blame Steve for fleeing. There was nothing he could have done to help, only get himself killed. If Blair were to survive he’d have to save himself. He had one chance. If it worked he’d get the drop on Irakesh for once. If not, he’d be dead and it wouldn’t matter.
“Why are you smiling?” Irakesh demanded, eyes smoldering as he yanked his weapon from Blair’s throat.
Blair honed his will into a spike. It came easily now, even with the agony and exhaustion. He had almost no strength left, but Mother willing it would be enough.
“Because,” Blair rasped through his ruined throat, gaze locking with Irakesh. “I’m in your head.”
Then he struck, sliding past the deathless’s defenses with surprising ease.
Chapter 41- Deceived
Irakesh was escorted into the throne room, a cavernous chamber in the very heart of the Ark. A narrow red carpet stretched the length of the chamber, four massive glow bulbs hovering above. Each blazed like a miniature sun, though their soft ivory light left shadows in the corners. None of the brightly clothed sycophants lining either side of the carpet were careless enough to let their booted feet touch the plush velvet. Doing so would have been a gross breach of etiquette, one they may not survive.
He strode boldly up that carpet, knowing he stood far above them all in position if not experience or age. It was a crowning moment, yet a disquieted part of his mind whispered that this was all somehow wrong. How was that possible? He was where he’d always been meant to be, the Ark of the Cradle. His mother, the goddess Ra herself, was resplendent in a bejeweled headdress and a shimmering white robe that plunged at the neckline. She lounged in opulence atop her golden throne on the raised dais. One bronzed leg was thrown carelessly over the side as she swirled the contents of her goblet. She surveyed the small army of cloaked sycophants, every last one scheming for a coveted rejuvenator when the Age of the Lion ended in a handful of weeks. She didn’t appear to have noticed Irakesh, though he knew that was an act. She’d sensed his approach hours ago, the moment he first reached her city.
“What merit could such a strike possibly possess?” Ra asked, her melodic voice sweet but eyes glittering hard like diamonds. They promised a swift but merciful death, should the answer displease her.
“What merit? We could overwhelm Isis now, right at the end. If nothing else, damage her Ark so that she cannot slumber away the millennia and live to fight us in the next age,” a bold-faced deathless explained, as if to a doddering idiot. His ill-chosen tone had likely signed his death warrant, though he seemed oblivious to his own mounting peril.
Unsurprising. Irakesh thought it a minor miracle that Khonsu had lived this long. Even his fashion sense was lacking. A tightly bound side-lock of black hair dangled down the side of his face. His silver robes had gone out of fashion when Isis had departed centuries ago, yet he’d stubbornly clung to them because of his love for the moon.
Khonsu plunged boldly ahead, hands clasped before him in something that was probably meant to be supplication. “You could assail her with lightning and death as a prelude to an assault, providing a distraction. The rest of your warriors could storm the central chamber and destroy the obelisks.”
“Galu, how old are you?” Ra called as if Khonsu hadn’t spoken. She turned towards the diminutive figure perched in a high backed chair a mere two steps below the throne. Irakesh almost never noticed the child, as was intended. She so cleverly faded into the background unless Ra brought attention to her as she had today.
“I have seen five cycles, most holy,” Galu said, voice so soft only their enhanced senses allowed them to perceive it. She gave a reverent nod, screening her face with dark curls that had no doubt taken her thralls hours to perfect. Her ivory robe was twin to Ra's.
“Why do I keep you in my company at all times, Galu?” Ra asked, placidly. Irakesh stopped, not yet wanting to be the subject of his mother’s attention. Khonsu was doomed and he didn’t want even a passing association with such an event.
“To ensure that any flaw a child could spot will be corrected before a plan is implemented,” the child answered, eyes low. She looked so tiny in that monster of a chair.
“Tell me, Galu, what flaws do you detect in minister Khonsu’s plan?” she asked, eyes growing a malevolent green as her attention settled on the subject of her wrath.
“Such a strike has little chance of success,” Galu said, watching the minister as his long face purpled. Were it not for Ra's protection Irakesh was certain the fool would have attacked. It underscored how truly foolish the man was. “We have no knowledge regarding Isis’s defenses. Even if we did, such a strike would deplete our Ark, draining precious power. This power will be needed to preserve those of us who accompany Ra to the next age. If we use it now, we risk running out before we have arrived.”
“Such a gamble is unlikely to use a significant amount of- ,” Khonsu began, face twisted in rage.
“Silence,” Ra roared, rising from her throne and taking a step towards Khonsu. Gold flowed from her palm, coalescing into a long staff with a scarab head. A giant sapphire set in the middle of the beetle’s thorax pulsed with power. The sight of the legendary weapon invoked even more fear than Ra’s thunderous expression. Khonsu quailed before her, shrinking into his voluminous black cloak as if its shadowy folds could offer protection.
“I could burn you to ash in a heartbeat and none would so much as note your absence. Yet such is my disgust that I will not soil my hands with your filthy flesh. Instead, I name you anathema. You are no longer welcome at this court, Khonsu. In fact, any who participate in your death will be named a friend of the gods,” she said, robe swishing as she swayed forward. She swept down the stairs, past the frenzied mob that formed around poor Khonsu. The man’s screams were quickly choked off as they began to feed. Her gaze fell on Irakesh, turning his bowels to water. “Attend me, my son. I would walk the gardens.”
A silver shape lingered in the corner of his vision, but when Irakesh spun to face it directly, whatever he’d seen was gone. His eyes narrowed. Had it been a Ka-Ken spy? It wasn’t like their ancient enemies to make such a mistake. A Ka-Ken was never seen unless she wanted to be. So what had he just witnessed? Should he mention it to his mother? Surely if something were there, she’d have already detected it. She was the undisputed master of this place.
“Irakesh, did you not hear me?” Ra called, the faintest note of disapproval creeping into her voice. Irakesh hurried after, following her down a wide marble corridor that led to the terraced gardens along the outer edge of the Ark.
She glanced at him over a bare shoulder exposed by her robe. By design, of course. Ra had lost none of the allure that had led to her being declared the most beautiful woman in the world, her auburn locks flowing down perfect shoulders like
a waterfall. Her face a pristine oval, eyes like glittering emeralds. Many deathless still harbored a very human lust for her, despite supposedly being removed from such mortal passions. She wielded that lust with the potent skill of one bred to manipulate. A skill he very much envied.
“My apologies, mother. I thought I saw something. I’m sure I must have been mistaken,” he said, inclining his head respectfully. He avoided looking directly at her. It was safer that way.
They strode down the corridor for several moments, a pair of seekers hanging respectfully back, but ready to spring into combat should a threat present itself. They were the very best death merchants in the entire Cradle and their reputation for lethality was well earned.
“Tell me what you saw, my son. You are my direct progeny and must learn to assert yourself, even with me,” Ra said, the rebuke delivered with a rare smile. She paused to face him. Now he had no choice but to meet her gaze. She arched a delicate auburn eyebrow. “Show me.”
“Very well,” Irakesh said, scanning his own memory for what he’d seen. “It was quite curious. It looked like a Ka-Dun, but vanished so suddenly it must have been a Ka-Ken.” He gestured to the hall ahead of them, concentrating as he drew the energy necessary to shape.
A wavering illusion appeared, a silver-furred werewolf with amber eyes. It was majestic and powerful, but not nearly so powerful as a female. The Ka-Dun’s face was maddeningly familiar, but Irakesh had no idea why. Where could he possibly know it from? He’d never even met a real Ka-Dun, though he’d been in a battle and seen one die. At a distance.
“You saw this one? A moment ago while we were speaking?” his mother asked, more surprised than he’d ever seen her.
