Immortal Protector

by Ursula Bauer

  “Save your lies and half truths. I’m here to warn you. Respect the rules we play by, Seth, or you both may be judged. Once in action, the sword of justice does not stop until the job is complete.” Her tip-tilted nose twitched in annoyance, as if she could smell his real intent. “You say you’re compliant and complacent. Are you sure you’re ready to stand the test of judgment?”

  Atlantis and its splendorous, unspoiled beauty kept him relatively calm. But Bast’s prodding and imperious behavior scraped away that calm. He held his anger in check. It wouldn’t do to stir her up. He knew on some level she wanted him mad, because when he was mad, he made mistakes. It was early yet in this game. He’d only taken a few cautious actions to see where they led. Too early to make mistakes, especially when a fresh soul was promised to him. Fresh, unsullied, one Horus did not know of, one Seth didn’t need to barter or share. Better yet, it was the soul of an innocent. All he had to do was grant a small favor here and there. Not so much to ask of a God when promising such a plum prize in return. Yes, one did not need many followers, if one had followers of such quality who knew how real tribute and commerce with the Gods worked.

  “You ask me if I’m ready?” Seth took a steadying breath and stilled his body. She was so smug in the role of a Tribunal God, so conceited as commander of the creatures that policed the deities of the Covenant and their followers. It bothered him, yes, but, it was something he could throw back at her. “You should be asking yourself a similar question. Is your dog soldier ready for judgment? Can your favored Gideon stand up to the scrutiny, handle the double-edged blade? He’s broken the protocol, I hear. He’s one step away from going rogue.”

  Instead of angering her, Seth’s words had the opposite effect. She seemed pleased by his response, in some unfathomable way. Her eyes glowed like molten gold, and she smiled enigmatically. She linked her sinewy, bare arms behind her and gave him the barest nod of her head. Her jet black, blunt-cut hair swung down like a sharp blade, hiding half of her arrestingly beautiful face. “Don’t worry, Seth. He has until the solstice. Gideon is the thinking man’s soldier. He always gets the job done, and always serves justice in the process.”

  Her visage turned to a brilliant, gilded mist, and she was gone, leaving him alone with his now disturbed thoughts. He had no real idea where this convergence was heading. He was merely dabbling in one aspect of it, assisting a follower. He’d heard it could start up the war again, and he wasn’t certain if he cared. Then again, he didn’t want to sacrifice the comfort he had either. He walked on, plodding now, missing the scenery as he focused on his internal landscape.

  They’d never believe him, of course. The sanctimonious prigs that comprised the Tribunal of Justice always looked on the dark side, always thought the worst. Given the history of Gods and their methods of conflict resolution, he couldn’t really fault them. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground. Ah, but he could taste the freshness of that unsullied young soul: his for the taking, costing him such small, meaningless favors.

  He wasn’t responsible for the actions of a crazed Dedicant, was he? He could make the Tribunal see that, if things went bad. Then again, perhaps things going bad would put him back in a position of true power. What would it be like to live the old days again? To feel so alive, to feel truly Godlike and dispense no mercy nor succor, to be no longer a eunuch relegated to passing out indulgences like sugar candies to grasping, grubby, thankless little children? The forbidden fantasy made his blood thick and hot with desire, with longing. Perhaps he would tread this dangerous ground a little longer and see what he might gain. All he had to do was avoid dirtying his robes.

  He rounded a spit of land and changed course, heading inland to a small outcropping of rock that held a shallow cave. The rock face was arranged with a blind that blocked out the sunlight, and the stone itself was of a mineral that minimized release of magical energy. Atlantis, like all other spots in the realm of the Gods, held many such alcoves, and he knew where most of them were located.

  Before he reached the spot, he dismissed his priests. They were like beacons, and he wanted no one to know where he was, or what he was doing. The cave interior was cool and moist. The shadows closed in around him like old friends, embracing him with a knowing touch. The Atlantean beaches had bleach white sand that blinded the eyes at times, but in the cave, the sand was night black, and an ideal medium for scrying.

  Seth got on bended knee and waved a bejeweled hand over a spot of sand. It swirled beneath his palm, rising like a tiny desert storm, then settled again in a spiral pattern that turned in upon itself like a labyrinth without end. The black color changed, became mirror like, then clear. Seth could see the acolyte at his practice. He fought down a sense of giddiness when he realized the mage was scrying. Such fortuitous timing! It was a good omen, one that told him he was wise to continue with his chosen role in this game.

  He furrowed his brow as he struggled to make sense of what information the mage sought. Though this mortal had a great store of power, he’d been using much of it lately. The loss of vital energy took its toll. The message was garbled. Seth used his powers to see into the mind of the mage. It was easier this way. At once the reason for depletion was evident. The mage was binding demons, sending them off to do his bidding. In such a modern age, there were easier ways of accomplishing one’s ends, if that end was a simple abduction.

  Seth smiled to himself as he sent back a message to the mage. It was one couched in suitably cryptic terms. Should it be discovered, it could be taken many ways. At the same time, he planted a seed in the mage, a hint on how to proceed. No more demons. Don’t use your magical energy; use cold, hard cash.

  He wasn’t certain the mage completely understood but the mortal was intelligent. He would figure it out. Seth moved his hand over the sand once more and it reverted back to its former state. He stood and brushed off his robes. He’d stayed within the bounds. He answered the call of a follower, no more, no less. It would be hard to prove his hand guided this next round. Hard, if not impossible.

  Satisfied he was safe, Seth left the cave and abandoned the beach in favor of a visit to his concubines. The lusty thoughts of the old days made him hard and ready. Since he could no longer level cities with his legions to satisfy that particular itch, he’d need to content himself with more visceral, sanctioned pursuits. Perhaps one day soon he’d be able to slip his leash and run free. Only time would tell if this convergence was as dangerous and real as the mystics perceived. Seth had his doubts about their vision and interpretation, though he couldn’t say why. Something didn’t sit right, but, he was getting his fresh soul so he dismissed the troubling thoughts the way one swatted gnats. No matter what transpired, he was confident he would come out ahead of the game.

  ———

  Meg changed quickly into a comfortable pair of worn denim capris, her favorite green T-shirt, and running shoes. Not that she did much running. She was more the leisurely walk in the park kind of girl. As she laced them up, she supposed that was about to change. Gideon forbade a shower, so she made do with a quick five in the bathroom, shoved an assortment of clothes and personal items into a gym bag, and met him downstairs.

  He was still bare-chested, still wearing the biker jacket. He looked rough, sexy, entirely masculine the way he prowled around her living room. She vividly recalled the sensation of his rippling muscles beneath her hands as she tended his wounds. The adrenaline rush of the fear and the fight turned into something far more devastating from that contact. Her need for him rubbed like a burr just beneath her skin. It was an itch she couldn’t seem to scratch, an ache she couldn’t ease.

  Of course, he’d killed her carnal buzz when he informed her about the change. His face had gone all stony, his eyes darkened to void black as she tended his wounds. She was worried she’d hurt him at first. Then he broke the news to her, and it was like someone dipped her in an ice bath. She’d touched the artifact, and was no longer herself. She’d changed. Her touch, not her skills, heale
d. No more safe house. Now they were off to see some wizard, who maybe could help. Or, maybe not. He said it would be okay, but she’d delivered enough similar speeches to recognize the hollow ring. It was sobering to her to be on the receiving end of a platitude, and humbling to face mortality in such an up close and personal way. She’d never realized how much she insulated herself from death, and life.

  Meg’s steps slowed as she entered the living room. He told her things would be wrapped up in a week or two. What if that was all the time she had left? Every doctor heard stories about patients, that when given terminal news, took what life they had left and lived it to the hilt, sucking the marrow out of every second they still breathed. She’d become one of them. Just like her patients, she had no control over what was happening to her. Just like her patients, she was facing death. Gideon turned in her direction, his intense gaze sweeping over her like a summer heat wave. She knew then, what she was going to do in those two weeks. She was going to live, embrace the edge and dance on its razor sharp line for all she was worth. If she went down, it would be fighting to her last breath.

  He hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his leather pants. The movement caused his powerful chest to flex and opened the jacket more, treating her to a glorious display of hard body and washboard abs. “You ready, Doc?”

  She felt a thrill spark through her body followed by a sense of purpose and an eerie dead calm. “Ready.”

  She stepped out of her ruined home into the sunlight, and squinted at the glare. A white panel van was pulling up curbside. The signage read Mammett’s Cleaning Service. “Gideon?”

  He loomed up behind her. “They’ll take care of the mess. Fix the door. When they’re done, no one will know what went down here.”

  “My house is trashed, right down to the floorboards.”

  “When we get back, it will be just fine.”

  It might look fine, she thought, but it wouldn’t be the same. The safety she thought she had was all an illusion, and now that she knew it, she had a different view on life and reality. She couldn’t close her eyes, she couldn’t click her heels and return home.

  Gideon took her bag and tossed it in the back of the SUV. From a duffle, he removed another black T-shirt and took a moment to put it on. Instead of turning away, Meg watched every movement he made. When he held the door for her, she brushed against him and didn’t pull back from the electric contact. Instead she let it run through her and enjoyed the moment of stolen pleasure.

  “Tell me about the game, Gideon,” she said, the minute they hit the interstate. “I want to know everything.”

  “Everything, Doc?” He gunned the accelerator and moved into the fast lane, passing the flow of normal traffic. “The game’s been going on for ages. That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  “We’re driving to Vegas. We have time.” He’d put his dark glasses on again, but she could tell without seeing his eyes that her questions made him uncomfortable. His square jaw tightened imperceptibly, his wide hands held the steering wheel a little tighter. She realized she was using her doctor voice with him, that imperious MD-means-Most-Devine approach designed to communicate her authority. She usually reserved it for dealing with difficult, corporate bean counters involved in the pharmaceutical studies. She shifted gears, and dialed down the personality a bit. “Start with the highlights.”

  “You sure you want to know? It may make you feel worse.”

  “I’m a doctor, Gideon. We’re control freaks. We need to know things, and when we don’t it drives us crazy.” If she could understand, get the facts, maybe she could find a way to help, instead of sitting idly like Rapunzel in a tower, waiting for rescue. “Please. I can’t stand being in the dark, helpless.”

  “You didn’t look too helpless back in the kitchen hosing down the Keeper. How’d you come up with the idea to use the fire extinguisher?”

  “Ash made me think of fire which made me think of the extinguisher. Then I figured even though it’s something magical, it’s still breathing. If it can’t breathe, it can’t fight. The foam expands. It was a no brainer.”

  “See.” He glanced her way and flashed a quick, heart stopping grin. “You’re a fighter, Doc. Most men would be wetting their pants and crying for mama in the middle of that kind of dust-up. You walk in, kicking ass, taking names, like you’ve been doing it your whole life. You’re not helpless.”

  His words were sincere, and they made her feel a little better. But she needed more. And he was changing the topic. “The more I know, the better I can fight.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out as a hard sigh. “Fine. You know mythology?”

  “Some. Which myth system?”

  “Any. All. Doesn’t matter.” He eased the big SUV into a sharp turn. “They’re true. All those different Gods and Goddesses really are running around, screwing with the mortal world.”

  Not a comforting thought. “How does that impact the game?”

  “It’s the thing that started the game. The Gods were fooling with the natural order so much, between wars, plagues, and backward time travel, they started to fragment the integrity of the dimensional timeline.”

  She heard the words but the sense of them eluded her. “Time travel?”

  “Time is fairly linear for a dimension. You can go back and rewrite it, but you can’t move forward beyond your start point.” He pulled out into the middle lane and passed a slower vehicle on the right. “Picture a long, straight branch from a flexible bush. That’s your dimensional line. Off of that you have leaves and berries, and those are all different realms. A dimension can have any number, some you can access off the line, others are closed, but, they all belong to that one line. If you start monkeying around too much with the branch, keep bending it the wrong way or pull too much stuff off, it can break.”

  He was being so matter of fact about such outrageous things. Meg told herself she was prepared for the truth of this expanded reality, but now she wasn’t so sure. “And breaking is bad.”

  “Very bad. All the realms ride the dimensional line. There are an infinite number of alternate dimensions all with their own lines. If you crack one, fracture the integrity, you can open it to an alternate. That invites potential encroachment, or invasion. And, you risk collapse. Collapse a line, and all the realms, including those of the Gods, disappear. No more. That’s all she wrote. The end.”

  Meg digested this for a few minutes. “So the actions of these Gods risked fracture.”

  “Once some of them realized what was at stake, they gathered together and formed the Eternity Covenant. The Gods that joined agreed to ease up on the throttle and play by a unified set of rules that limited power. For the most part they corralled their actions on the mortal plane, and they made a stab at keeping followers in line. Only, mankind has free will, so that makes things messy.”

  It was weird, but making more sense. All she had to do was accept possibilities and then it all sort of hung together with unified principals. Meg felt herself getting sea legs, using her scientific reasoning skills to reframe the reality change. “This Covenant sounds like a league of nations.”

  Gideon nodded. “The Covenant also set up a branch to deal with infractions. The Tribunal of Justice. Only a few Gods hold places on the Tribunal. I work for one of them. Operative word is work. If you’re on the Tribunal, you can’t follow the Gods because you need to police them.”

  “If you police the Gods, why are you here with me? I’m just a mortal.”

  He chuckled at her comment. “You’re a deviation point, Meg. In addition to the Tribunal, there’s a group called the Council of Wardens. Their mystics spend time in meditation studying all activity along our dimensional timeline. The Gods still get out of line, only they have some latitude and they always test the boundaries. The real troublemakers are often the followers. The mystics watch for negative convergences that can lead to fracture, then they find a deviation point that can be used to divert destiny prior to the negative event. The War
dens determine how best to exploit the deviation point.”

  “And that deviation point would be me?” She mulled this over for a moment. “Isn’t there another one, or do they all boil down to a single point?”

  “Most times, there are a series of points where you can disrupt a convergence. Sometimes it appears the universe has a certain destiny in mind and that’s harder to disrupt. Sometimes, there is only one point to jump the track. Right now, you’re the one point. If we don’t jump tracks, the mystics have seen an old war between Seth and Horus waking back up. That leads to massive fracture, and directly to collapse.”

  It was just like the human body, striving to maintain homeostasis. Any threat to that would result in the body’s reaction, and sometimes, that could be a series of negative reactions that drove the body into deeper trouble, and often death. She understood, now. Heaven help her she understood. “I know a bit about Egyptian myth. I learned it when I was in Cairo helping with a humanitarian aide project. Don’t Seth and Horus fight for the souls of man in some kind of apocalyptic battle?”

  Again, the curt nod. “You can see why everyone’s all hot and bothered over this vision.”

  They may be hot and bothered but right now her blood ran cold as an ice flow. She shivered as she considered the consequences. A world at war with itself, good and evil destroying everything they touched in a battle for supremacy. “This goes on all the time? Throughout the centuries?”

  “In one form or another, yes. It helped that for a long time, only a few Gods had die hard followers. The less in number, or the less dedicated, the less power a God can wield. Of course, sometimes that makes them desperate and stupid. Usually, though, they play things on a much smaller scale. No one benefits from a line collapse. Even the Gods get that.”