Origin: Eternity's End

by Uneeb Qureshi

  “Hello Warrior-God, if that is what you call yourself.” It was the chieftain’s heavy baritone voice. “You seemed the greatest among your companions when we first found you many moons ago… but you’ve begun to disappoint me as of late.”

  His words grew unintelligible, Sheppard had picked up the native dialect but not to a degree of proficiency to keep up translation with a concussion.

  “I’ve seen your power and cannot let you stand in my way…”

  He nodded to his sons who immediately grabbed Sheppard and bound him with thick twine.

  “The Goddess,” He finished, “Will join you after tonight.”

  Another swift bludgeon to the head, blood obscured his vision now. He probably would not live to see the end of it, they continued to drag him as his vision slowly disappeared.

  A breath of second wind. He gasped for air wildly, unable to see anything. His body was catatonic, emerging from a dormant state was painful if not impossible for most.

  But Sheppard was not a normal person.

  His vision returned in spots, a deep burning sensation in his eyes revitalized his sight. He could see in shades of gray first but soon color returned.

  By the time Sheppard returned to a suitable level of conscious-ness he could see the sun above him beginning to decline. He must have been out for nearly a few hours. He groggily tried to fix his bearings.

  He was in lying flat, bound to a rocky slab looking into the sky.

  The scene was quiet. For the time he was laying there he heard no signs of life, animal or otherwise. The metallic taste in his mouth told him he had swallowed quite a bit of blood as well.

  Did they leave me here thinking I would die from bleeding?

  He tried to break the rope through brute strength. The fibers began to unwind from the enormous force of his arms and chest but did not break. His arms were too outstretched to provide any noticeable force.

  He looked to his left and saw the rope on his wrist. The thin twine was abrasive, every attempt to break it lacerated his skin as well in the process. He was beginning to think his escape was futile.

  The sun was shining directly into his eyes. It irritated him more than disheartening him.

  His sense of touch returned as he felt the heat of the stone slab touching his back, he was getting burned slowly from underneath.

  Sheppard began to struggle harder. He stretched his chest as far as he could before attempting another brute feat of strength. Suddenly a piece of rock broke off under him, the rope slacked a few centimeters.

  The slack was enough to let him shimmy toward the edge. Little by little his body snaked forward while maneuvering around any other crags underneath him. He looked up and saw a thin layer of rock curve upward from his slab. He was almost free.

  He grunted heavily, he could not see very far with the sun beating directly above him.

  By the time he reached the sloping natural archway behind him he was stuck again. It was time to try strength again. The ledge was thin enough that he could use his weight to help break the ledge. He could not see how high he was, but he only hoped it was a short fall.

  He planted his feet firmly on the ground below him, ready to push. Count to three, he told himself. He needed time to make this count, lest he run out of energy to do so.

  …Three.

  His entire body arched upward, he unleashed screams of agony as his quadriceps fully contracted. His shoulders slowly raised into a military press. At this point he could only hope either the rock or the twine would break.

  The sound of stone cracking told him the former was giving way. He grunted louder as he applied more force, it was now or never he told himself. He would not be able to pull off such a maneuver again anytime soon. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably as his body wildly contracted, begging for rest.

  There was silence for a moment. A firm ringing in his ears told him his body was pushing itself to the limits. Sheppard could not feel his arms any longer, the nerves in his arms deadened from the pain. Suddenly he felt his arm bob in the air before instinctively returning to their normal position. The ledge below him had finally given way.

  He sat up. His back felt the wind coolly kissing his burnt back as he rested for another moment. He peeked in between the crags of the stone slab he was bound by. Sheppard was much higher than he previously anticipated.

  He rubbed his swollen shoulders and grabbed his elbows in an attempt to relocate his flimsy joints. Two loud pops and a sharp searing pain told him he would be fine…for now.

  He swung his arms around, he was free from the ledge but his arms were still bound. As he stood up the ledge teetered on the edge of another breaking point. He paused, kneeling on the slab. It seems his escape would be much trickier now.

  I don’t have time for this… Sheppard told himself as he aimlessly wandered the cliffs.

  He had no idea where he was, much less where he was heading.

  The silence of the valley coupled with his injuries and the unusually warm and humid weather sent him into an illusory state. He stopped, sat down, and stared in front of him. His eyes fell heavy and he submitted to closing them.

  I guess this is how I’m supposed to die… I came into this world an orphan… and I will be leaving it as one…

  He let his body sway in the breeze as it passed. Locks of his hair bounced off of his forehead like barbs of feathers brushing against his skin.

  It was not long before a voice was heard.

  “What are you doing?” A young girl said.

  Sheppard knew the voice, as he tried to move his lips to speak his voice changed. In his mind he spoke like a young version of himself. He opened his eyes and imagined he was in the old lands again, with Maije.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” He began in a childish tone, “Nobody likes me, I have no friends and everyone thinks I’m trouble.” He remembered throwing a pebble at the girl’s general direction, “And I am trouble.”

  A young bronze-skinned girl with raven hair stood to his left, her back was turned to him but she continued to talk.

  “You’re so strange!” She motioned to turn around but did not. “Don’t you think I want to be your friend? All the other boys are weirder than you.”

  Sheppard wanted to move but he was too tired and disoriented in the illusion to act. At first he was speechless.

  The vision took a turn for the worst. He blinked and suddenly his entire world was covered in blood. The young girl, now a woman, was lying dead on the ground, ritualistically murdered. Her face now smothered by her long hair.

  His veins swelled in anger, his heart began to beat so fast he could hear it. His muscles tensed as he saw a figure emerge over her fallen body, it was the village chieftain.

  The chieftain stood up from his kneeling position over the woman’s body, and smiled toward Sheppard as if taunting him. Blood and spit filled the apparition’s bushy red beard.

  Before long another young woman appeared at the chieftain’s side. She was just a child but she looked down emotionless at the corpse on the ground, her raven hair and emotionless countenance reminded him instantly, it was Jo.

  Though her skin was not as dark as her mother’s she resembled her eerily, she looked at Sheppard in the eyes and mouthed unintelligible words to him.

  Sheppard jumped as the illusion of the chieftain suddenly grabbed her by the neck. Sheppard let out a fierce cry in blind rage.

  He charged the illusion but stopped when it took the form of a young man, bloodied and beaten. It was no longer an illusion, just meters ahead of him was an injured boy hobbling for help. Sheppard recognized him as a child from Jo’s village.

  Behind the boy was a trail of blood that collected into pools over the rocks of the ravines.

  The dried, bloodied sand from the ground eventually blew into the evening winds. The wispy trails brushed past Sheppard’s cheeks leaving streaks of blood upon his skin.

  Sheppard rushed to his aid and kneeled at the boy’s side. His arms and
chest were severely lacerated and his face burned to the extent that the boy was unidentifiable.

  The boy could not be saved. He eventually passed into the next world right in Sheppard’s arms. No words spoken, no feelings shared.

  Sheppard could not help but imagine that he would have ended up like this boy thousands of years ago in his homelands. He paused only a moment to pray for the boy’s soul.

  After laying the child to rest he investigated the bloody trail left in the sands of the cliffs. It was clear enough sign, his brothers had begun their plan.

  Night had fallen eventually. Using the bloody trail, Sheppard was able to navigate his way back to the village eventually. He cared little if he was stepping on stones or desert insects as he entered the village. Everything had delved into chaos.

  The chieftain’s loyalists mercilessly slaughtered the villagers in the distance without discrimination. Women and children fled toward the peaceful valleys below.

  Further up the settlement Solb and Arnael eventually regrouped the village families to the center to help them flee to safety. They helped fend off the chieftain’s onslaught, buying everyone enough time to escape.

  Sheppard ran for saucers that were undisturbed during the massacre. Some were filled with water while others contained fruits that were now scattered the ground, trampled and rotten. He quickly drank as much water as he could and crawled through the village’s debris as not to arouse suspicion.

  Arnael found him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

  They snuck around the village exterior to a small encampment that overlooked the valley. Solb ordered the villagers to retreat to the valley, the battle would be left to Sheppard and them now.

  “Who is late to their own plan now?” Solb said.

  Sheppard grinned. “I’m back aren’t I?”

  Arnael urged them to delay this conversation for later; they still had to find out where Jo was taken. As Sheppard entered the main village fear and confusion struck the chieftain’s men, many remembered seeing him die in the mountains.

  The few that did not give in to fear and confusion rushed toward Sheppard only to be subdued.

  The main village tent was dead silent, the fires around it crackled alive with embers but could not alleviate the air of silence that emanated from the area ahead.

  Sheppard’s heart sank and he prayed to whatever god or spirit that would return Jo to him alive.

  He waded through the myriad of draperies hanging from the tent’s roofs. The others soon realized there was no light emanating from the inside, they continued with caution.

  Two faint silhouettes appeared from the darkness. The smaller of the two figures was straddled on top of the other holding a knife above its lifeless and immobile victim. The figure on top continued to stab wildly into the corpse.

  Sheppard did not move. As another villager brought in a torch the scene only became more grisly.

  Blood streaked across the cloth and animal skinned drapery of the tent. The figure lying on the floor was the village chieftain, his body mangled and stabbed repeatedly. His clothing was sprawled over his torso. When the light finally revealed Jo’s face they could see she was covered in his blood.

  She did not say a word. She looked into the sky as if something else was inside her, controlling her. In the darkness her eyes emitted an unmistakable blue hue, it made her look more like a demon than a person.

  Sheppard and the others stared at her as she waved the dagger ritualistically through the air. It hung over the body for an instant.

  Sheppard stepped forward hoping she would come to her senses but it was futile. She swung her head down to the body and resumed stabbing the corpse.

  The corpse jerked violently as the chieftain coughed and spat out his blood involuntarily, he was still alive, but dying. His lungs were slowly filling with his own blood.

  Sheppard handed the torch to a fellow villager and ran toward Jo. He grabbed her by her hands and hugged the blade to her chest as he locked her from behind.

  She struggled violently, completely lost to her now demented carnal instincts. Sheppard knew this was not her. She was lost in rage, and it brought out strength that every immortal summoned under extreme duress.

  But Jo’s rage had turned to insanity as she spit and screamed at Sheppard. He summoned as much strength as was required to hold her.

  He controlled his instincts knowing he had shamed himself and the daughter of his old friend. He gained leverage over Jo’s wildly flailing limbs and held her against the ground hoping she would stop.

  “Calm yourself!” He commanded her.

  She continued to speak in the ancient immortal tongue, swearing at everything around her. By the time she recognized Sheppard she stopped resisting, he released her.

  “Is this what you wanted?” He asked her, “Wanton acts of death and destruction?”

  She ignored his words and pulled her body upright screaming to the sky, he held her wrists to the floor. She squirmed out of his grasp and rushed at him again plunging the dagger into the center of his chest. He stood resolute not wavering to her rage. His face looked at her sternly as she held the blade in his chest.

  “Then kill me too, because I will have failed you and your mother.” He whispered to her.

  Solb and Arnael rushed to help him but Sheppard motioned for them not to interfere.

  “If this is what she wants.” He coughed as his bronchial tubes slowly filled with blood. “Then this is what she will get.”

  Her face was contorted in rage until she looked him in the eyes. He returned the stare with an emotionless glare. His abs began to contract uncontrollably as they tried to keep him upright with the blade lodged in his torso.

  “Thank you.” She whispered as she came to her senses.

  She fell onto her knees and her lips quivered. She was free from everything; the pain, the suffering. She was finally free to live.

  She hung her head before him and fell unconscious. Arnael and the others helped carry her out of the forsaken tent.

  Sheppard felt the blood from his chest slow to a halt as his skin healed. The blade only pierced his chest, it missed his vital organs. The pressure in his chest soon returned to normal.

  The chieftain eventually pulled his body toward Sheppard when the others left. He grabbed onto Sheppard’s leg and stared at him. No words were spoken. The chieftain was slowly dying.

  May the Earth… curse you for eternity. The chieftain mouthed the words in the immortal tongue as he held onto Sheppard’s ankle.

  The chieftain hoped the words would haunt him beyond the grave but Sheppard paid no heed, he was the stronger. Though he kept mouthing those words Sheppard shrugged his hands off of his legs and exited the tent.

  As the new day broke Jo awoke to Sheppard carrying her on his back. Solb and Arnael followed close behind as they guided the villagers. They salvaged what they could from the now destroyed village and made their way toward the horizon, to start anew.

  The sun had yet to rise but the company awoke early to cross the plains before the blistering sun set high. Jo awoke to the movement and held Sheppard tighter. She moved to whisper in his ear.

  “What time is it?”

  “The sun is about to rise, the day is young,” He turned to smile at her, “have you slept well?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He laughed for a moment. “You know I used to carry your mother around like this a long time ago, she was quite clumsy.”

  Jo smiled back, “Yes she was.”

  They were silent for a moment as they continued to cross the plains. Jo understood what was on his mind and knew she had to say something to ease his mind.

  “Sheppard, I am not my mother.” She said.

  “I know.” A childish grin cut across his face. “But this is what she would have wanted. You’re her daughter, and therefore as much a friend to us as she was.”

  Her tired heart beat faster. She hugged his neck tightly as she closed her eyes.

  �
��And I’ll always be yours.”

  Solb saw her awake and signaled for Arnael to catch up.

  “Hey!” They said with smiles.

  “Hello.” She was happy for once to be accepted as an equal, “Thank you, all of you. For everything…”

  “Don’t thank us, your mother would have cursed us from the spirit world had we just left you there, it was as much an honor for us to free you.”

  Sheppard let her down. She was capable of walking on her own.

  “I never dreamt that I would have left that village, they kept me like a slave my whole life… I nearly killed myself each night but my mother always stopped me, she said…” She choked on her words for a second as she thought of the words to say, “She told me that it would all be over soon and that you would come for us… no matter how long it took. She said only the best of you Sheppard.”

  He did not reply. Sheppard stared into the distance as they continued their journey. He could finally rest knowing that he had saved his old friend’s daughter from her mother’s fate.

  “And of me?” Solb interjected.

  “She mentioned you once…or twice.”

  “Only?”

  “She said you were the stupid one.” A smile cut across her face.

  Solb was hurt for a moment.

  “But you were the funniest one.” She chuckled.

  He was relieved. “Sounds like her.”

  Sheppard wrapped his arms around all of their shoulders as light broke on the horizon, all of them stood still taking in the sunrise.

  “Tomorrow will bring new memories,” Arnael added, “we will soon be back to our homelands.”

  Jo nodded and continued with the caravan as it travelled deep into their Western lands.

  Chapter 10

  Converting the Fallen

  Immortal Docking Station, Southern Pacific Terminal

  Mekias had fallen asleep from the long flight. Monica sat there speechless, absorbing all the information she heard of the ancient immortal landscapes and settlements in the tale. She enjoyed every minute of the tale and conversed incessantly with Avi about it.