How Gods Bleed

by Shane Porteous

  Chapter 23

  As Rojohitshe fell to the ground, never to rise again it was doubtful that Cada Varl had even heard him. The power had consumed him utterly turning him to a creature that was now struggling with its own existence. Cada Varl fell to his knees and even this simple movement appeared violent and painful. The sounds he was making now were more like gasping than anything else as with every strange breath he took his body convulsed like it was trying to deal with the world’s most powerful poison. A battle was raging inside of him for control over his being and it was clear what had the advantage. Whatever was left of what he once was it was the equivalent of a single soldier trying to defeat a thousand legions of monstrosities.

  As he continued convulsing and gasping his hands began to claw at the scorched earth before him. The action seemed mindless as if his body was moving on its own accord. Or maybe as the battle within raged on, his limbs were simply ensuring that they could still move. Moments passed with the speed of a mountain as Cada Varl continued gasping horribly. The light in his eyes grew in intensity, an indication that whatever this power was it was winning the battle. His tongue began to squirm inside of his mouth as if trying to escape the violence of the inner conflict. The convulsions of his body now were becoming so violent they seemed powerful enough to break bones. The ancient energy was not only winning the fight it was on the brink of victory as his hands continued to claw into the ground before him.

  Then his eyes were drawn upward to something in the sky. It was not the sun that he saw but the faint vision of the moon, it was a rare sight to see during the day but not unheard of. Even though it could barely be seen Cada Varl fixated upon it and slowly but surely his breathing quieted. The moon had been the very thing that had reminded him of his humanity all those thousands of years ago. His body still convulsed violently but he paid no attention to it thinking about nothing but the moon and what it had once meant to him.

  As he stared into the sky something else came into view, a bird whose sheer size must have been enormous for it could be seen clearly in spite of how high it was flying. Apart from its size there seemed nothing special about the bird and yet it reminded Cada Varl of something important. The bird he was looking at was a Serrube, a bird normally only found in Gatavoi, his home country. He watched as the bird passed over head into the light of the sun surveying the destruction Cada Varl and Rojohitshe had caused. His body stopped convulsing and he became very still as memory gained control of his mind. He was once human, once a proud soldier of Gatavoi. This thought repeated itself over and over in his mind causing the memory of his humanity to grow strong inside of him.

  He became peaceful for a moment but then just when the light in his eyes was about to fade they burned brightly once more and Cada Varl quickly sat up grasping his hands around his sides. His skin may have still been red and his hair purple but now he was acknowledging the pain and trying to deal with it. The ancient power inside of him would not go quietly and he could feel the battle inside intensify. After moments that felt too long to comprehend Cada Varl threw his hands out to either side of him as a scream boomed from his mouth. The scream was that loud even the gods would have heard it.

  He screamed for what seemed an age but slowly the red of his skin began to shrink back inside of him returning from whence it came. His hair then changed back to what it once was. Now the ancient power seemed to be making its last stand inside of his eyes. His scream grew louder as he demanded that control of his own body be given back to him. Then the scream stopped and the red light faded from his eyes.

  Cada Varl had regained control of himself once again, he continued to breath heavily but it was no longer violent, like his body was just ensuring that it had returned to normal. He looked down upon himself taking note of the many cuts and gashes that continued to pour blood across his face and body. He looked back up into the sky and was bewildered that he could no longer see the moon or the bird of Gatavoi. He then wondered if he had actually seen them or they had been some kind of illusion forged by his own mind in an attempt to wrestle back control. Ultimately it mattered not whether they were illusions or truth because the end result was the same.

  Cada Varl stood up as new deposits of pain filled him while blood dripped from every limb and even down his face. When he turned around his eyes were drawn to the corpse of Rojohitshe who lay motionless with the sword still in his hand. Cada Varl took the painful steps necessary to be standing over him. The Immortal looked down into the dead eyes of Rojohitshe and was struck by their colour. No longer were they red but a very human green. Even though he had killed Imbaka Cada Varl could feel no anger towards Rojohitshe. Everything he had done was ultimately because of the Immortal and Cada Varl would be lying if he said he blamed him for any of this. “May your mother find you in the world beyond this one,” Cada Varl said gently. With that he took one longer look at Rojohitshe before peering around the valley.

  The amount of destruction and decay their battle had caused seemed like terrain plucked from the darkest of nightmares. In their battle they had destroyed almost everything, almost. Cada Varl could see the underground chamber clearly, which was no longer underground. The passageway and the original entrance may have been no more but the inner chamber, the one that held the blood of the goddess still stood strong. It was proof of the power of the gods that the inner chamber had remained completely intact. Cada Varl knew what he had to do now there was nothing left to stand in his way.

  As he walked towards it he discovered his steps were not only painful but heavy as the reality of what he was about to do consumed his mind. A new struggle played out inside of him. Imbaka had been right; coming face to face with his own destruction was not an easy thing to endure. He did his best to block out these thoughts as a wind swept through the valley. It sounded almost like it was whispering something important, but speaking such secrets in a language the Immortal did not understand. He felt alone in the world, a feeling that was always fresh in his memory but now it felt so heavy upon his shoulders.

  As he stood in front of the inner chamber he gently ran his hands across its engravings as if his touch could reveal what his sight could not. He admired it for a moment knowing he was doing nothing but delaying what had to be done.

  “Samudendi,” he said softly and watched as the chamber silently opened before him.

  Inside the chamber the walls had been built close together, forming a kind of circle around a stand made from a material Cada Varl did not recognize. He could see upon the stand what he had traveled so far to obtain. The blood of the goddess was inside a long clear jar that glowed a very faint yet powerful blue. As he stepped inside of the chamber he could tell just how fresh its air was, pure and flawless. He looked down upon the jar and soon realized that it was in fact clear and the strange blue light was coming from the blue liquid. Slowly he picked it up and could feel the weight of it in his hands, its size did not match its sheer weight. There was nothing stopping him now, the journey had come full circle. Yet in that moment he wanted something to stop him, some reason for him to stay within this world. He looked back through his own memory, it had been the only thing that had still served him for over forty centuries. Through all that time he could not find a single reason. He was alone, surrounded by the destruction that he had caused.

  The lid of the jar offered little resistance as he pushed it off using only his thumb. He placed it under his nose if only to delay the action further. He was sure that it must have smelled but his memory could offer no answers. In doing so his memory served as the ultimate reminder of the very reason why he was in this place. He did not think about all the lives that had been destroyed by him but all the lives that were going to be saved by this action. He thought about the Helluvans, those brave human beings who all had made great sacrifices just so he could complete this moment.

  He was about to bring the jar to his lips when his eyes were drawn to the world outside. There standing only several feet away from the en
trance to the chamber was a group of werewolves, each clad in the armor and colours of a warlord the Immortal didn’t know. Though it was unexpected to see this group of ten werewolves it was hardly surprising. The devastation of Cada Varl’s battles with both Gosfear and Rojohitshe would have been seen for at least a hundred miles in any direction. Cada Varl looked at each of them, studying their hideous features. His eyes rested upon the eyes of the closest of them that stared back at the Immortal with great bewilderment.

  “How fitting to meet my end in the company of that which I have created,” Cada Varl said simply. Before any of the werewolves had any time to respond Cada Varl jammed the jar into his mouth and drank all of the blood in one gulp. He did not bother to savor it in his mouth; he swallowed it entirely before he looked back into the eyes of the werewolf. At first nothing happened and if for a split second there was doubt in his mind that would have any effect at all.

  Then his head suddenly snapped back as if he had been struck by something powerful. His hand clenched around the jar so tightly that it soon shattered, cutting bloodily into his skin. Sounds of pain came from his mouth as a strange blue light filled his eyes, one more powerful than the red ever was.

  Cautiously the werewolves took a collective step back but dared not to take their eyes off of the Immortal. He fell to his knees as every kind of pain imaginable filled him. The light that had consumed his eyes now could be seen within his mouth as the sounds of pain turned to screams of agony. The blue light covered him from under his skin like some kind of infection that was as terrible as it was swift. His muscles began to twitch in ways muscles weren’t suppose to be able to before a loud cracking sound came from him. The cracking sound was like something powerful had snapped his back like a twig as a series of similar cracks haunted the air. He continued screaming as his muscles and flesh violently began to rip apart and shrink like they were being eaten by something inside of him. He could no longer see or hear anything, trapped inside a world of silence and darkness.

  As his body began to disintegrate with shocking speed and violence memories flashed through his mind, beginning from the night where he had regained his memory through thousands of years, right up to this very moment. One last look over an existence that he had never wanted. He knew then it was finally over, that this horrid existence was coming to a swift end for he suddenly stopped screaming, making the world outside as silent as the world inside. His final thought however was not about this world, but the world beyond it and whether or not there would be a place for him there, he was about to find out.

  The blue light that had devoured him now changed, becoming a solid shape transforming yet again into a mist that was so thick it looked like blue tainted clouds. Cada Varl was no more every piece of him disappeared from the earth as the blue mist now moved out from the chamber. The werewolves outside had been so bewildered by what they were witnessing that they made no movement as the mist fell over the first of them. The werewolf barely had time to sniff it before it suddenly began convulsing violently as its limbs began to flail to the point of breaking. The werewolf opened its mouth wide as if howling yet no sound came out. It was able to turn and show the others what it had become before its horrid flesh and fur began to fall off of the bone. Even in the eyes of a monster it was a disgusting thing to look upon and the other werewolves were clearly terrified by what they saw. But the mist was moving so swiftly that most of them were caught by it before they could do anything, suffering the same horrible fate as the first.

  The farthest werewolf from the chamber had enough instinct to turn and flee, rushing down on all fours and running as fast as its legs could take it. The mist continued to grow and ascended into the sky as the running werewolf was suddenly caught by it and forced to stop as it met a terrible end.

  In a shard of a moment the sky was covered by the blue mist, which showed no sign of stopping. In only a matter of minutes it had grown so large that it covered every inch of sky in the west of the continent. Every single werewolf whether they were on the battle field or in some dark cave could not escape the effect of the mist as they died horribly in the tens of millions. It was an apocalypse as swift as it was brutal.

  The mist covered so much of the sky that it could be seen even in the furthest reaches of the east. Everyone from beggar to king now stood outside watching the mist in the distance as it stopped right at the border between the two halves of the continent. Even the dark king Granzool could not hide the awe in his expression as he stood in a courtyard looking upon the eerie mist.

  “It is finished,” he said coldly.

  Epilogue

  Granzool was not alone in staring up at the sky; the two guards that were always at his side and the rest of Helluv were doing the same. The guards were utterly mesmerized by the mist for it was more impressive than anything they had ever seen or heard of before.

  Slowly Granzool looked away from the sky his thoughts elsewhere as he slowly moved through the courtyard. Even at such an historically important moment the guards did not forget their duty and followed their king as he went in doors.

  Even though it was day out the castle remained dark and gloomy, the way the Helluvan king liked it. They walked in silence as they made their way down to the underground dungeon. Without so much as a single word but a hand gesture Granzool ordered the guards to open the door to Yakarzin’s prison. The king waited in silence as the four guards opened the door revealing Yakarzin. Like every other werewolf he was not immune to the effects of the goddess’ blood. The once proud prince now was little more than a steaming pile of flesh.

  As all the guards gasped Granzool looked upon such a sight with a twisted smile.

  “What happened?” one of the dungeon keepers gasped out, unable to control himself.

  “The best thing ever to happen to Helluv,” with those words he slowly turned and took a single step when he was stopped by the words of one of his guards

  “My lord,” he said clearly. Granzool simply looked upon him but said nothing. “Do you think any of the Helluvans that went into the west survived?”

  “It is my sincere hope,” Granzool said genuinely. “But if they didn’t then they died better than any of us will….”

  “My lord may I suggest we hold some kind of celebration for what they have done for Helluv?”

  a guard asked cautiously.

  Granzool nodded and closed his eyes for a moment before he said, “Of course, anything less would be an insult to what they have achieved.”

  A tense silence fell across the chamber as each one of them realized just how radically their lives were going to change.

  “What now?” one of the guards gasped, so consumed by his thoughts that he forgot his place. Granzool quickly looked over to him before slowly looking towards the rotten remains of Yakarzin.

  A smile even more twisted appeared on his face as he said, “We shall reclaim the west.” With those words he left the underground chamber, his smile remaining, as visions of empire played out in his mind.

  The End