Ehyeh-asher-ehyeh (I am that I am)
Yüklə 2,56 Mb.
|
THE CRIMSON SUNSET"And in those days in one place the fathers together with their sons shall be smitten and brothers one with another shall fall in death till the streams flow with their blood." Book of Enoch 100: 1 Apocrypha His Dream possessed him, shaking him like a feather in the wind. Corazón Negro flew up and down, while his soul was sealed inside the timeless sea of his mind. He felt himself placed inside a comfortable and warm gray mist. The fog whirled around him, becoming golden with the light in front of him. The realm of the Dream possessed him. Around his soul, the Spiral of time manifested itself in the calm shape of the universe. The stars shone and blinked in the curtain of the gloom.
like some discarded cloak. He was an astronaut of his psyche, naked and free from gravity, earthly and otherwise, walking to the edge of the world and staring off into the universe.
approached it. The calming voices of the Dream told him that everything was in danger, that no one was safe now. The world was dying.
luminosity did to his soul what the sun did to his flesh every morning. It made him feel alive. However, he was not afraid. Now he was more than a warrior, more than an Aztec. Now he was a Dancer, he was the new Dreamer. Suddenly, the mist seemed to transform into the features of a God wearing a snake's mask. "Son of the Wolf…" said the God in the mask. His figure shone like the sun, and around him, the darkness seemed to disappear. "Hear me calling you…" "Quetzalcóhuatl?" Corazón Negro asked, floating like a feather inside the dimness. "What do you want of me?" The blackness of the Dream surrounded him. He raised his hand trying to catch the apparition in front of him, but the golden mist disappeared, leaving just the soft emptiness while the light became dark one more time. "Look upon me." The force of the words seemed to emanate like the charcoals inside an ancient bonfire.
creature with a body like tar filled his vision. The God's flesh met only at the horizon. Directly beneath him, the figure of a giant woman with the red mane of a lion, the beak of a bird, and the horns of a ram lay fettered in its coils. As Corazón Negro watched, the God in the mask writhed in his trap, his muscles straining until the veins stood sharply up. Quetzalcóhuatl freed one arm, and the ropy limbs of his opponent flailed about him until they found better purchase on his neck. Freeing his neck, Quetzalcóhuatl sacrificed the arm again, and the fight returned to its staring point.
tendrils of the beast. "Stand! You cannot afford to bow to us until the Dream will be free from Lilitu! Look upon us!" Quetzalcóhuatl commanded. Corazón Negro watched. On every side of Quetzalcóhuatl there were other figures. Some, lying quietly but with their eyes open, were nearly free of the creature. Others, equally still, were so covered by the tarry scales that nothing showed of their own bodies; Lilitu had conquered all, and only the shape of the victim remained. A few—very few—wrestled as Lilitu did. "Look now, at what stands behind you," Quetzalcóhuatl spoke again. Corazón Negro turned, and found only the empty darkness he had seen before. "Look, new Dreamer, and understand." And Corazón Negro followed Quetzalcóhuatl's commands, and realized that the night in front of him had a shape. It was a twisted pillar formed from the body of the thing below him, and it rose higher than a mountain into the dull sky. At its peak, wrapped almost entirely in the coils, was a figure the Aztec knew well; she possessed a statue carved as its portrait. Lilitu, the mother of the demons, four-armed and draped with horrendous weapons, glinted in a black and blue sickly sea of substance and color and down the column that served as the she-devil's spinal cord dripped red rivers of blood.
blood of hundreds of thousands of mortals who will die if Lilitu succeeds…" Astonished, Corazón Negro blinked. "Dead on Holy Ground? Help me stop her!" "Find my holy mask," said the God Quetzalcóhuatl. "Only the mask can open the Dream." Corazón Negro turned back to see his master, and as the dream faded, heard the muffled voice of Quetzalcóhuatl shout from beneath the twining body of Lilitu. "Find the mask! Remember! Save the world! Save our souls! Save the Dream!" ==================================== Glenfinnan, Scotland Connor MacLeod's farm March 27, 2013
room over Connor's barn. His eyes moved like a Dreamer's, and his face never relaxed into peaceful sleep.
order to fight against Lilitu. The Aztec took water only when bullied into it, and even then in small sips. Elena looked at her lover with concern; even though she knew why Corazón Negro fasted, she knew that only his Immortality saved him from a hospital stay for dehydration. She pulled him by the shoulders into a sitting position, and then propped him against the wall with mounds of pillows she'd liberated from Connor's linen closet. Corazón Negro showed no reaction. Elena called him by name—softly, lovingly, caressingly, with tenderness in her voice to bait him. She took his hands—he neither resisted nor clasped back. The expression on his face reflected things he saw outside the room.
uncomfortably, as if a painful vision had appeared inside his dream. Elena noticed at once the Aztec's troubled expression. Then Corazón Negro seemed to relax once more and Elena returned to her own feelings, thinking how her world was once more upside down. A strange fear invaded her soul. Lilitu could be unstoppable.
and sounds of horses drifted up to her and made her smile; they made her homesick for Argentina. She sighed. She might never see her home in Argentina again. Meanwhile, oblivious to her worries, he slept fitfully, tossing and softly moaning. Elena turned her face, trying to sleep too. Across the wooden floor she could just make out the mounds of the other sleepers, the MacLeods, Connor and Duncan, and Cassandra. Connor had graciously given his house up to the Ancient Gathering, and now, just as graciously, the Scots and Cassandra lay obviously awake but uncomplaining while Corazón Negro continued to disturb their sleep. But then, the Aztec began to groan and shudder as if in the grip of some horrible nightmare. She came up to her knees beside him. Vaguely she heard one of the others sit up. Corazón Negro awoke from his sleep with a start. Dazed, he looked about him, and then obviously saw, by the light of the moon coming in through the glass windows, Elena's worried expression. "Lilitu is killing Immortals on Holy Ground!" he cried out.
feet. "How do you—no, wait, I know. Your visions," she replied. "Is that her Game?" Connor asked, standing over them, while Duncan spat out, "Dammit!" "I've known such evil before," Cassandra said from her blanket-covered exercise mat. "But not such malevolence and such power combined. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we're in big trouble." In response, Corazón Negro lowered his sad gaze. Elena could feel the sorrow of the world placed upon his shoulders. "¡Que Dios nos guarde!—May God save us from harm!" she said simply. At the mention of God, Corazón Negro put his head in his hands as if trying to avoid the pain that invaded him. Elena held him against her. "What else?" Corazón Negro's mouth was tense, his teeth biting his lips, making them bleed. "Quetzalcóhuatl!" he exclaimed. "The Dream was showing me … a mask! A green mask hidden in a forgotten city! Deep within a cave! A snake mask! Quetzalcóhuatl's mask!"
he lay again back onto the sleeping bag. Elena watched him, trying to decide what to do. Almost unconsciously, her hand caressed his face. Corazón Negro's hand grabbed her. "Are you ok?" she asked. He sighed before answering. "Not quite. The Dream sent me that vision with a purpose. We must go to Mexico." "Why?" Corazón Negro looked at her, his gaze almost lost. "We will need that sacred mask in order to find Lilitu, and later to enter into the realm of the Dream. The mask is in Mexico, in a cave not yet discovered by the scholars, near the village of Texistepec." He made a pause, swallowing hard.
your vision tells you you're supposed to go alone—" "He said 'we' must go to Mexico, Duncan," Connor interrupted. Elena looked at the shadows of the two men, amused by their good-natured, brotherly bickering. A month ago she'd been alone in a convent, with only mostly-silent nuns for companions. Now she couldn't have a single moment of privacy with her Aztec lover. But he seemed worried about the mask, so she asked, "Is there going to be a problem getting to this mask?" "There might be," the Aztec answered. "The cave is protected by forces from the other realm. No one can approach it." "And how are we going to find that cave then?" Elena inquired softly, trying to calm her thoughts. "The Dream showed me the way, my love," Corazón Negro said as he raised his body to hold her. "I know the way." ==================================== Later that morning… Methos walked into the kitchen, where Cassandra was making coffee. She eyed him quickly, and then returned to her work. Methos sighed, knowing very well Cassandra's feelings toward him—and figuring he wasn't going to get his cup of coffee. "I'm glad you're all right," he said, trying to sound polite. "The berserkers, I mean," he said lamely. He'd heard about Cassandra and the MacLeods being attacked by a group of Immortal Viking berserkers, and that only the Ancient Gathering's fortuitous arrival had kept Cassandra and the Scots from being overwhelmed.
shook his head. Cassandra had never been able to fool him. "Look," he began, "if we are going to spend the next days together, maybe we should try—"
know you as well as I do. So, cut the crap. You're not happy to see me. And you know what? Ditto."
her cup with coffee, took a deep swallow and studied him openly over the rim. Methos wanted to leave; instead, he forced himself to sit on one of the kitchen chairs. They were going to be fighting together, by all the gods, and they had to reach some modus vivendi, although he knew that Cassandra was still angry with him, and that right now, she might feel that the only possible solution to their differences was with a sword. It was not a pleasant thought, but she had to get over it, for the moment. They had more important things to do. He started to say so when she startled him with a sudden movement, rather like a slumbering cat instantly propelled into predatory action, and she closed the door to the hall. Methos heard her turn the key.
duel with him now! She began to turn in a circle, humming and throwing back her head. Her bare feet were soundless on the polished wooden kitchen floor.
you doing?" Round and round she spun, her yellow cotton skirt flaring and the cup sloshing coffee into the air. She paid no attention to the spilt liquor, and, slowing her turns only for a moment, she took another sip, then began to turn so fast that her garments slapped against her legs.
face. He had to move to his left to avoid the spray, which still wet his shoulder. "Cassandra!" Methos exclaimed, as a high-pitched wail came out of her clenched teeth and she continued to issue the coffee from her mouth. Once again she began to dance, almost deliberately slapping her feet and murmuring. Methos couldn't catch the language or the words. Her hair was tangled over her face. Again a swallow, again the coffee flying.
between her teeth. "Nothing is forgotten, Kadosh. You're still mine!" The kitchen seemed to shake as she bent her knees and circled, pounding her feet in a loud dance.
her left hand, she slashed a long cut into her right arm. Methos gasped. How could Cassandra have called him Kadosh? What did she mean? And what could he do to stop her? What could he do that wouldn't enrage her? The blood streamed down her arm and she bowed her head, licked at it, drank the coffee, and sprayed the offering on the kitchen once again. Methos could see the blood flowing down her hand, over her knuckles. Her wound was superficial but the amount of blood was awful. Again she lifted the knife. "You are cursed, Kadosh! Remember that!" she screamed.
somehow. Methos resolved to grab hold of her as she went to cut herself again. But at that instant, Cassandra looked at him and all at once he couldn't move.
useless. All he could do was yell at her, try to reach her. "Stop it, Cassia!" She slashed at her arm across the first cut, and again the blood flowed. "Look at me, Kadosh! None of you can kill me! I'm forever!" Cassandra screamed. "For the love of heaven, Cassandra, fight her! Lilitu, let her go!" Methos cried. He wondered why none of the others, the members of the Ancient Gathering, heard anything. "We're in here!" he called out. Unable to watch her slash her arm again, he began to pray frantically. "Give me the power to stop her, give me the power to divert her before she harms herself! We need help!" he cried out again. "Zarach!" He shut his eyes. The floor was trembling beneath him.
facing the door to the outside, which seemed indisputably open, and the shadowy figure that stood with her back to the light. It was a graceful maiden with long tightly curling red hair flowing down to her waist. Her face was veiled in shadow, her glowing green eyes piercing his soul. It was she! It was Lilitu.
tightly around her, trying to protect her, and silently prayed again. No one was going to come to their aid. It was he and Cassandra alone against the evil. And he had no chance. Cassandra was quaking, her body covered in sweat. "Go away! You have no more power over us!" Methos yelled defiantly, straining to move. The figure in the closed doorway appeared as solid as anything Methos had ever beheld. The shadowy face showed no expression, and the green eyes remained fixed. The voice issued from it, low, and full of hatred. "Fool, you never stopped me!" said Lilitu. "Do you think I caused what happened to you both? It was you, Kadosh, you desired it to happen. You couldn't curse me to save your soul!"
his arms were ready to hold her should she fall. "Don't let me go, Methos," Cassandra said in a hoarse whisper that seemed entirely her own. "Don't let me go." "I won't Cassandra," Methos said. "Please, forgive me." "Go to your God to get your forgiveness," came the low voice from the darkened countenance. "Don't come to me." Cassandra shuddered, crying out as if she'd been struck with a lash. Methos could feel the stickiness of her blood coming down over his fingers. Again he prayed, but his words were coming automatically. He was riveted heart and soul by the being in the doorway, who neither moved nor dissolved. "Get down on your knees," said the voice. "Worship me as you did eons before, and you'll be spared, Kadosh." "No," Methos whispered, but it was no use. An immense 'push' forced both of them forward and down to their knees on the floor, which was wet and slippery with blood and spilt coffee. Once again, Methos tried to move, but it was as if both his legs had been nailed to the floorboards. Cassandra's back was to him, but he knew she was pressing her left fingers to the wounds to make them bleed ever more deeply, and he heard Lilitu's shape in the doorway laughing. Cassandra's breaths were coming rapid and hoarse spurts as she squeezed the blood onto the floor.
strength against the figure, but he could not claim that it was his prayers that made the being begin to fade. All at once a horrid scream broke from Lilitu as the door from the hallway crashed open and Aylón entered the kitchen, his huge scimitar in hand.
==================================== Cassandra's cuts were not deep and were healing, though the flood of blood had been substantial. They put her to bed in some sort of daze. The men crowded around, and Elena sat on the edge of Connor's king-size bed, wiping Cassandra's face with a wet cloth.
together. Deep inside, Cassandra still hates Methos," the wizard explained. "Perhaps Lilitu didn't attack anyone else directly because she can't. Zarach was an exception because she caught him totally unprepared days ago. Cassandra's mind is open to these kind of attacks because she is a Priestess, and therefore, more susceptible to Lilitu's influence."
a mage too." "Corazón Negro is now the new Dreamer," Myrddin stated. "I doubt that Lilitu's powers can reach him. As for myself, I'm a member of the Ancient Gathering. Cassandra never was." Zarach interrupted them. "Let's go outside. We need to discuss this further." "Can we leave Cassandra alone?" Elena asked, worried. "Lilitu has done her damage here. She won't return today," Zarach assured them. "But another time…" He let that thought drift as they all filed outside Connor's house. There was a cold breeze coming down from the hills. The soil of the vegetable garden was gray and dry, but here and there were a few signs of the green to come. "Cassandra cannot go with us," Corazón Negro said, repeating what Zarach had told him a few minutes before. "For her own good. We can't expose her to another attack." "Agreed," Methos said. "But we can't leave her alone. Someone must stay with her to protect her." All eyes flew to the Highlanders. Connor shook his head. "Out of the question," he said. "I care deeply for Cassandra, but I won't turn my back to this task. I cannot speak for Duncan." "I agree, cousin," Duncan said. "I love Cassandra, too. But right now, we have more pressing matters at hand." "Then we need to find someone who can take of her," Zarach commented low. He closed his eyes, thinking. "Myrddin," he said. "Use your computer and find Amanda." "Amanda is lost," Duncan announced. "I couldn't find her days ago when I tried to reach her." "She is not lost to me," Myrddin said sitting on the ground and placing his computer on his lap. His fingers flew over the keyboard. "I have hundreds of sources to check out. If she is still alive, I'll find her." The mage looked at Zarach. "Why her?"
answered. "She can hide Cassandra, although I'm not sure if that would make any difference right now. Mother continues her killings all around the world. Hopefully she won't attack the two women, although I cannot predict what Lilitu will do." All of them lowered their heads. They had seen the news on the TV. All around the world, major disasters were occurring. A tsunami in Okinawa, a volcano in Nepal, an earthquake which had destroyed most of the Vatican City and a large chunk of Rome, while Jerusalem had disappeared under a huge sandstorm. Untold thousands had perished, and emergency crews were strained all over the world trying to find survivors.
place, and all in one day! Elena had called to warn Hosokawa, knowing that the samurai was a power for good and that Lilitu would want to destroy him. After the news of the tsunami Elena had called Tokyo again. Ueshiba had confirmed her worst fears—the samurai and his pre-Immortal student, Miyu, had gone to a small island in Okinawa, but apparently Lilitu had found them there and killed another Immortal on Holy Ground. The island had been swallowed up by the giant wave, and thousands had drowned. It seemed Lilitu wanted to destroy the world.
hurting him, though he paid it no mind. Elena took Corazón Negro's hand and squeezed it reassuringly, as though to get strength from the Aztec's touch, as Heru-sa-aset and Aylón remained silent.
yet, now, with Naema's..." he took a deep breath before continuing, "... death, we are only six: Aylón, Heru-sa-aset, Myrddin, Methos, Corazón Negro, myself..." "We're a part of this now," Connor said earnestly. Zarach was momentarily amused and pleased at the young Immortal's willingness. But he shook his head. "Not unless you intend to separate from your clansman. Cassandra said the numbers were important. We must follow the prophecy, and give ourselves every possible advantage." "Right now, Lilitu must be exhausted by her killings on Holy Ground, and she will keep her Headless Children by her side," Myrddin mused. "Perhaps we can find her by tracking these Immortals' whereabouts, where they congregate."
explanation. "I dreamt about an artifact that can see her, and her whereabouts: Quetzalcóhuatl's mask." "Where is it?" Aylón asked. "Mexico. Near the village of Texistepec," Elena spoke for the first time. The silence was protracted as everyone considered the implications. Then everybody turned to look at Elena, who suddenly felt like she was under a microscope. Zarach could see how hard this was on her; nevertheless, she was a part of this, and no one objected, so he said, "Elena Duran, daughter of Roderigo Rubio and of the Mapuche tribe..." But even as he spoke, he could see how she was on the point of—
as strong as I thought," Aylón simply commented. "I've seen you at your worst, and I don't underestimate you," Connor said. Zarach had been told that Elena and the elder MacLeod were always fighting, and this was a left-handed compliment, but praise for her nonetheless.
noticed the glance between them, knowing these two had been lovers at one time, seeing that there was a strong bond still between them. Duncan's touch seemed to give her added strength.
wouldn't have tried to destroy you so ... earnestly." Elena's hand went automatically to her eye patch. She had lost that eye at the hands of Claude Bethel, one of Lilitu's Immortal minions. "But I don't know how—" Elena tried to reply. "You will know when the time comes," Heru-sa-aset encouraged her. Corazón Negro looked at her, love and pride shining in his eyes. "Remember, my love—until the end of time." Elena finally nodded. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I'll do whatever I can," she promised. Zarach spoke again. "Then you are one of us, of the Ancient Gathering. It is done. Corazón Negro," he said, looking at the Aztec. "It is also time for you to take your rightful place in the Ancient Gathering. You are Quetzalcóhuatl's son. You are the new Dreamer. We need your magic. Protect the Black Flower. Cast a spell so Lilitu cannot hurt her." The Aztec nodded, and at that moment, Elena could feel a stillness around Corazón Negro. It was a palpable quiet that began somewhere within him, but radiated from him as well. The Aztec closed his eyes and began to walk around all of them. Connor and Duncan eased off to the opposite side to better watch what Corazón Negro was doing. Corazón Negro stared intently at the infinite. Then he reached into the skin sack he carried draped over one shoulder and pulled out a small pine broom and began to sweep the air, starting in the center and moving in a gradually expanding spiral.
word and few so much as crossed or uncrossed their arms. When he was done, the Aztec placed the pine bough in the center of the yard. Then he casually walked into the forest.
Methos quietly. Methos only shrugged, and then pointed. Corazón Negro was returning. The hushed speculation of the young ones quickly died away. The Aztec carried an armful of sticks and small branches, which he placed near the center of the yard and then began to build into a small bonfire. He worked as silently and as deliberately at his task as he had at his sweeping, and for the two minutes his construction occupied, again, no one spoke or made a sound.
pile of sticks. From his bag he took something, but Elena couldn't see what it was until he moved closer to her and stood before her. In his left hand he held a piece of white chalk—a fat piece, like a child would use to draw on a sidewalk. His hand was open and flat, perfectly still. He began to press down on the chalk with a steady, circular motion. As Elena looked on, he ground the fat piece of chalk into a fine powder using only the pressure of his hands, and not a single speck of white fell to the ground below.
powder, he had been intent on her. His eyes sparkled with love, and Elena's startlement drained away.
turned. He knelt and began to sprinkle the chalk onto the ground, not in a haphazard manner but in a line, and as he edged backward he continued to spread the chalk. Not once did he look over his shoulder to check his direction as he went, but his movements were as sure as the turning of the earth. He circled near the edge of the yard, not stopping or varying his deliberate pace until he came again to his starting point before Elena. He stood, and then reached an open, white hand to her.
the nearly completed circle the Aztec had drawn was perfect in form, and that the bonfire of sticks stood exactly in the center. For a moment, her legs nearly failed her. She could feel the weight of the trees and the sky pressing down at her, and she feared that she might be crushed against the ground. But when Corazón Negro took her hand the feeling passed. She stepped through the opening he had left in the circle, and with the last of the chalk he closed it behind her. Next, Corazón Negro placed his hands upon her cheeks and jaw. His touch was warm, and in his eyes a mirthful fire burned. The silence that had come was thicker now, heavier, although not so heavy as the sky. Elena didn't know if she could speak if she tried, so she merely watched.
yellow line through the air. A five-inch flame leapt to life and pounced almost instantly on the bonfire. The cracking of the sticks filled Elena's ears, and she could smell the wood burning, but she had eyes only for him. The world beyond the circle was black against the dancing fire. Elena vaguely remembered the others there—Zarach, Aylón, Myrddin, Heru-sa-aset, Methos, Connor, and Duncan—but maybe they weren't there any longer. She and Corazón Negro, standing on either side of the fire, were as alone as if they sat on the surface of the moon or at the bottom of the ocean. Elena tried to look into Corazón Negro's kind eyes, but somehow her gaze was drawn to the flames that danced so close to her. She knew she should move back to keep from getting burned, but her fear was numb and weak. She was so tired, her body, her mind… So tired.
flames and the rising smoke. Though he spoke in a low voice—he did little more than mumble under his breath—the sound of his voice reached Elena, but for reasons beyond her grasp, she couldn't untangle the words. They reached her ears but didn't proceed to her brain. She thought at first that he spoke in a foreign tongue, maybe Náhuatl, but she could fix in her mind not a single sound that he muttered. The words dissipated as soon as they touched her awareness, like smoke upon the breeze. Elena had the sense of hearing, but she didn't hear. So intent was Elena on deciphering Corazón Negro's mutterings that she didn't notice at first that he had fallen silent. The words seemed to continue on as if with a life of their own, swirling upon the smoke that now stood hovering close to the ground rather than rising skyward—. She wasn't aware that he was calmly skirting around the fire and heading toward her and dragging his skin sack behind him. The smoke, hanging low, grew thick and carried a heavy stench with it. Elena couldn't see much beyond the chalk circle. She tried to remember exactly what or whom she expected to see beyond the smoke, but her thoughts were as elusive as Corazón Negro's chant. Details of the outside world were less substantial than the gently churning smoke that by now almost formed a wall around the yard.
firelight. He turned his sack upside down, and one after another two small items trickled out onto the ground. An obsidian knife; a snakeskin.
of brown and gray scales was rough against her palm. Corazón Negro placed his half in the flames. Abruptly, Elena did the same with her portion and the skin was quickly consumed.
ceremony or spell he was performing. The Aztec only shrugged and nodded toward the fire as a strange expression crossed his face.
diminishing fire. With the blade, he crushed the few coals he'd gathered that were still red. Soon, the pile consisted purely of black and gray ash. The Aztec continued to stir the ash for some time. Finally, he raised his face and met Elena's gaze, but where before she'd seen love in his eyes, now she saw only sadness.
turn away. "And our road will be a difficult one." Elena's shoulders tensed. His words spread terror through her, not because she understood them, because she did not. But because she felt the truth of what he had said. Corazón Negro set the knife aside and scooped two handfuls of ash. He leaned toward Elena, raised the ash toward her face. She wanted to pull away, to run screaming from this prison of chalk and smoke. She wanted to run back to her previous life, to the way life had been before. But none of those things were possible. She couldn't even close her one good eye as Corazón Negro pressed the handfuls of ash into it.
Immortality, like a volcano, beneath the surface, rising up within her. She could feel how it filled her, how it destroyed every shred of anything else inside her. It roamed free, and it would consume all.
dead.
Thankfully, she found some warmth within the Aztec's arms. But still she could not completely shake the cold that gripped her.
concealed and undone, is whole. The two made one again." After a while, Zarach sighed. "You are the Dreamer, Son of the Wolf," he said looking at the Aztec. "And the Ancient Gathering will follow you. What next?" At that precise moment Myrddin announced, "I found Amanda. She is in Dijon, France." "Contact her and bring her as soon as possible," Corazón Negro said. He looked at Heru-sa-aset. "Tell me, Prince. Is your jet ready?" Heru-sa-aset smiled. "Always." "Good," Corazón Negro nodded. "We are in a hurry." ==================================== Amanda had let her hair grow and colored it a deep burgundy color, which clashed with Cassandra's red mane. Amanda pushed her hair out of her face. "I 'knew' something weird was going on, and that it had to do with Immortals!" she said excitedly. "So all these terrible natural disasters are being caused by Immortals being killed on Holy Ground?"
Myrddin, whom she had met in ancient Britain, Methos and both MacLeods to convince her that this was real. "One lone woman kicking everybody's butt!" she exclaimed, amused, glancing around at the group of Immortals sitting around Connor's fireplace. "How about that! So much for you macho men!"
and left the room angrily. Oblivious, Amanda glanced at Cassandra, who was meekly waiting. "They're just kicking you out and you're not going to contest this?" she asked the witch.
longer a protection." "We hope to keep Lilitu too busy to attack you both. Besides, she will attack us, the Ancient Gathering. We are her main goal. I think you two will be safe," Zarach continued, but his patience was wearing thin. They were all packed and ready to go to Mexico as soon as Amanda and Cassandra left. "I'm also vulnerable to the Voice," Amanda continued. "Cassandra—if you use the Voice against me..."
"Amanda," Duncan MacLeod said in that exasperated voice he used every time Amanda refused to see what he considered to be the reasonable path. "It's very simple, Amanda. Yes or no?" Methos asked directly. "Of course I'll protect my good friend Cassandra," Amanda said, smiling charmingly. "It'll be fun, just the two of us girls. Think of all the trouble we can get into before the world ends—hey, unless you want to join us, Elena."
'scrumptious' gentlemen." Then she came close and hugged both women. "Vayan con Dios," she murmured.
==================================== Moscow, Russia March 27, 2013 Vlad laid back in his chair behind his mammoth desk of cherry wood. His phones were organized again, and while the day before he had sat at this very spot, in irritation receiving phone calls, he was now equally upset at the lack of one.
silent for the last thirty minutes. Eyes closed in contemplation, the Voivode had yet to say a word to either of them. Vlad liked keeping his underlings in suspense, almost as a form of torture. It put them on edge. He preferred his subjects nervous—they were easier to manipulate. Carradine was short and squat, with wide shoulders, dark hair and a swarthy complexion. His flat, unimpressive face disguised the mind of a master schemer. Before becoming an Immortal, he had owned one of Italy's largest banks. Possessing a sardonic sense of humor, he liked telling associates he had been a killer long before he was eternal. On his right was Davanzati. A massive Immortal, nearly seven feet tall and weighing over three hundred pounds, he exuded brute strength. Thick cheekbones, a prominent nose, and a massive forehead made his face appear as if it were cut from granite. The cut of his expensive suit could not hide the huge muscles of his chest and arms. Before his Immortality, Davanzati had been a killer, a mercenary, and a murderer for hire. As a member of the Headless Children, he remained true to his original calling. Both Immortals were extremely dangerous. Each had his own specific strengths and weakness. They served Vlad well. But in the underground of the Voivode's activities, sometimes service was not enough. And Vlad knew it.
massive broadsword hung there. Vlad knew there were rumors among the rank and file of his organization that he had used this weapon during his violent rise to leadership within the Mafia in the Middle East. Some claimed that he was the finest swordsman in the world, a ruthless fighter without mercy or forgiveness. The rumors were all true. He had started many of them himself. While others might rule through cunning or politics, he maintained absolute control of his brood through terror.
indulgence of habit, and partially calculated to irritate his audience. He knew them well, though often he wished them to be different than they usually were.
declared, finally deciding that the pressure had built to the point he desired. His voice was mellow and easy, betraying no emotion. He wanted the pair to relax, but not too much. "Lilitu is gathering the most powerful Immortals to her side. I go as the leader of the Mafia and as an elder of the Headless Children. The time for the last Gathering has come, so, the Endgame is at hand. As you are well aware, this task is not without risks." Opening his eyes, Vlad let his gaze travel back and forth between his two lieutenants. "Mother has risen to claim her rightful place as the new Goddess. Even as I speak, she is killing the last Immortals who could foil her plans." A sinister smile appeared on his face. "No one is safe now, not even on Holy Ground." He paused, letting the full impact of his words sink in. After him, these two Immortals were the most powerful bosses in his Mafia. They were smart, brutal, and very determined. If he were to be destroyed, one or the other would assume control of his organization. "For millennia, the Ancient Gathering has sought to destroy Lilitu to avenge the death of the original ruler of the Immortals. They are relentless, ruthless and obsessed with her destruction. Lilitu will never have peace until they are wiped out of existence." Vlad smiled. His two assistants, not sure where he was going with this, nodded and smiled as well. "Lilitu has told me about her plans to acquire global control. Fate at long last has delivered her enemies to her. I fully intend to help her in this holy war. I fully intend for them to meet death forever—preferably by my own hands." Vlad laughed; an eerie mocking sound that seemed to fill the room. "Destroying the Ancient Gathering is a pleasure I have anticipated for centuries, since Zarach destroyed my reign 500 years ago. I hope to make his death an extremely painful and extended one. Revenge is sweetest when savored slowly." He saw no reason to mention his own plan to destroy Lilitu afterwards. Vlad was no fool. For some reason, he felt confident that he could destroy first the Son of the Endless Night in a fight. However, he also recognized the fact that the slightest mistake in such a battle could mean his own end. Recently, Naema, a powerful original member of the Ancient Gathering, had underestimated Zarach's skill. It had been her final error.
confronting Lilitu. He planned to let Mother rid the world of the ancient ones first. It was a task that surely would exhaust her. Then Vlad plotted to kill Zarach, and with his powerful Quickening, go against Lilitu. It was a bold plan, indeed, and a very risky one to say the least, but Vlad didn't care. As in Faust, the deal with the devil had been made in blood and was already signed and sealed. It was going to be Kramer against Kramer. But he and Mother were allies, for now. Vlad rose to his feet. "It is possible," he declared solemnly, "though unlikely, that I will not survive this encounter. If so, one of you will rise to the position of Voivode—warlord—of our brotherhood." There was no longer any humor in his voice. It was time to offer the ultimate gift. "Will it be you, Carradine? Or you, Davanzati?" Neither Immortal said a word. They seemed unsure of what their leader expected them to say. Cautious, cunning men, they guarded their inner thoughts carefully. Speaking out of turn was risky and neither Immortal believed in taking unnecessary risks.
devious of the two. He specialized in extortion and blackmail. Davanzati, who often had difficulty controlling his homicidal urges, handled murder and assassination. Both possessed the necessary skills to run the organization. Individually they schemed in secret for such an opportunity, recruiting less powerful members of the brotherhood to their cause. Neither was foolish enough to openly challenge Vlad, who ruled with an iron fist. "Well?" asked Vlad, his voice louder. "Which of you is it? Who will be my successor?" "I—I am the one, my prince," said Davanzati, surprising the Voivode. Vlad had been sure that Carradine would speak first, and Vlad did not like to be surprised. "No," said Carradine immediately. He stared at his greatest rival in disgust. "My name is respected throughout Europe. I deserve to rule." "My name," said Davanzati, turning to face his companion, "is whispered in fear across the continent. Respect means nothing without dread." "You," said Carradine, his lips curling in a sneer, "are an animal and a fool. You cannot control your own desire to kill. Under your rule, the Mafia would cave in and collapses like the husk of the Titanic, a beached whale, a rotting tree."
hate.
he looked to Vlad. "My prince?"
desk. "Before I leave, there must be a clear successor. Fight to the death. Whoever survives is my choice."
other Immortal ducked the oncoming attack from his rival. Carradine's blade hit Davanzati in the back. Hard.
tormentor with him. Carradine had speed but Davanzati knew the tricks of gutter fighting. They scrambled back and forth across the floor, gouging and wrenching, each trying to tear the other apart. Immortality meant nothing. The two were equally matched in offensive and defensive strength. It was a battle of Davanzati's raw strength versus Carradine's speed and skill.
won or lost. The ultimate prize went to the winner. The Voivode had no favorite. Bellowing like a wild animal, Davanzati struggled to his feet. On his back, his blade crusted, was Carradine. The smaller Immortal's legs were locked around his rival's waist, securing his position. If Carradine could snap Davanzati's spine or neck, the fight would be over.
around his waist. Savagely, he tried to mangle the extended limbs of his enemy, but Carradine wrenched away before any damage could be done, taking his blade with him.
with all of his strength, he sent his opponent staggering. Without pause, Carradine lunged upward, butting his head into the small of Davanzati's back. Caught off balance, the huge Immortal crashed face first into the brick fireplace with stunning impact. Davanzati didn't move. Weird babbling noises came from his throat.
mortals were easy. Destroying Immortals was not. With a determined expression on his face, Carradine stepped forward, ready to finish the battle. Stone ground against stone. Davanzati, his eyes glaring madly, whirled around. The big Immortal's nose was broken, squashed flat against his face. His jaw slanted at the wrong angle and a sliver of bone protruded from his left cheek. The strange sounds came from his smashed larynx. It didn't matter. What counted was the heavy sword he held in his hands.
Immortal, unable to change direction, desperately attempted to duck out of the path of the blade. He only partially succeeded. His left shoulder absorbed one blow, but the other block slammed into the right side of his skull with deadly impact. Shrieking in pain, he collapsed to the floor at Davanzati's feet.
front of his enemy. Mouthing guttural noises, he raised the sword high into the air. The action left his neck exposed and unprotected. That was all the time Carradine needed. The short Immortal wrenched his blade with his entire strength into the unguarded flesh. "Die, you bastard!" cried Carradine as he jerked the blade in a fierce ripping motion across the other's throat. Made of the finest steel in the world, the sword sliced easily through skin and bone. There was no escape. Like a piece of rotten fruit, Davanzati's head toppled off his huge body. The big Immortal's eyes were still wide with astonishment and horror when his skull crashed face first onto the floor and the Quickening began.
stood motionless watching the light show. When the Quickening ended, Carradine visibly tired, pushed the decaying corpse of his rival to the side with a curse. Shakily, he climbed to his feet. His right ear was gone, and part of his skull was smashed to a pulp, but it didn't matter. Time healed such wounds. He had survived and Davanzati was in hell. He stood before his master, quivering and exhausted. "A splendid fight," said Vlad smiling. A self-satisfying smile. He had planted the bait and seen them both bite. In his hands rested the massive Toledo broadsword from the rear wall. "I made the correct decision. Leaving you behind in this fortress to plot against me while I traveled to meet with Lilitu would have been a terrible mistake." Carradine's hands were just rising in protest when the blade of Vlad's sword separated his head from his shoulders. "Trust no one," said Vlad, addressing the headless corpses of his two most dangerous assistants as if they could still heed his advice. "Especially beware of those who might thrust a blade in your back."
Carpathians, his life as a warlord against the Ottoman Turks, and he felt the pleasure of torturing innocent people. Very soon, that power would be his again.
assumed I cared who succeeds me as leader of this brotherhood. The Mafia mattered nothing to me. My only concern was ensuring that no potential rivals arose during my absence."
could be repaired or replaced. He went to the headless body of Carradine. Savagely, he kicked the decaying torso of his former lieutenant. He despised stupidity. "A strong leader remains in power by destroying any possible rivals before they become too ambitious. It is a wise philosophy. Over the past centuries, it has served me quite well."
==================================== Island of Nod Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean March 27, 2013
her right hand trailed along the surface of the roughhewn table as she went. The touch was reassuring.
been brought in, at considerable expense, from a private collection in Macedon. It was undoubtedly a forgery, but it was a forgery with a history. And that made all the difference. Like its legendary predecessor, this round table was intended to forestall the endless posturing and power that might otherwise arise in such an assembly of proud, arrogant, conceited and temperamental Headless Children as each vied for a place of honor at or near the table's head. Livia smiled at the thought. It was not only that the table had no head. It was the whole damnable assembly. She was aware that only Lilitu's power had compelled the factious Headless leaders to follow this Game. Livia herself had spent a good deal of her energy and efforts in planning this event simply to ensure that she would not be among those torn to pieces during Mother's rebirth. The gathered Headless Children, however, were an even greater uncertainty. Drawn from all ages, these mercenaries gave allegiance to none and feared only Lilitu—the one who had earned such respect and such reverence through trials of fire, brawn and sword.
of the most ruthless tyrants, oppressors, marauders, predators, fanatics, Mafiosi, serial killers, warlords and murderers who had been gathered in one place since—well, probably since the onset of the First Crusade. Livia's thoughts only reluctantly returned to the present century. This ultimate assemblage would be convening those chosen and handpicked by Lilitu herself, the pride of the Headless Children— the elite of the elite. All those who could command a following of at least a six Immortals would be on hand to strike a blow against the hated Ancient Gathering. Livia surveyed the board with a hint of satisfaction. A vibrant red apple atop a decorative fruit bowl immediately arrested her gaze. Aside from the candle flame, it was the only spot of color in the room. All else was decked in subtle and varied shades of gray.
quite true. Surely it will not be necessary for my guests to keep up the appearance of eating on such a grand occasion."
appearance of Lilitu. One moment she was not there, the next she was—speaking, taking, touching. Her ethereal appearance gave her an almost ghost-like quality.
her chair. The sensation was not unlike sawing through bone. Livia disengaged her arm as politely as she could manage and took her place at the table. "No, more likely the apple conceals some weapon or perhaps even an incendiary device." "Ah…" Lilitu replied with escalating interest. There was a flutter of a breeze and a shadow seemed to break away and stretch toward the apple. Suddenly, a brilliant flash illuminated the room. Tatters of shadow streaked in all directions and then fell to the floor in a gentle rain of scorched confetti. The explosion of light and its aftermath were accompanied by a complete and unsettling silence.
around. She resigned herself to wait, as she had learned to do while still a mortal, while still Caesar's wife.
fled. She was disappointed as the form materialized directly before her, standing atop the table. What Livia saw was the vivid image of Venus.
generations to come. If we don't all kill each other first." "You won't kill each other first. Trust me," Lilitu's shade replied. An uncomfortable silence fell in the shadowy room. It was Lilitu who broke the stillness. "You fear that my Headless Children will not put aside their differences, that they will not follow my lead."
ravaged the Headless Children." "Ah, but you have gone to such great pains to ensure that this does not happen," Lilitu soothed. "Look around you. All is in order. Everything is in its proper place." The figure cast an admiring eye over the precise arrangements. It paused, its shadowy hand eclipsing Livia's face. "Death to the mortal world," the shadow commented ruefully. There was a sudden dank chill in the air, which might have been a sigh.
could not resist taking one last long look over the room. Then, with mingled satisfaction and resignation, she reached out a sure hand toward the table and took a single step sideways into darkness. A world filled with shadow and with moonlight with the trappings of Lilitu's Endgame. ==================================== After breaking mental contact with Livia, the most powerful Immortal ever to walk the earth moved inside the huge cave beneath the ground of the island of Nod. This labyrinth would be her home for the next days. Thousands of years before, under her guidance, her followers had built it according to her own specifications.
the moment. It didn't matter. Soon or later, she would find them. Lilitu had long since digested the Ancient Gathering's habits, abilities and resources, and had stepped out into the darkness to clear her mind before planning this final and fateful operation. Under other circumstances, she might have indulged herself, but she needed a clear head tonight. Her Headless Children were arriving at the island, and she didn't trust any of them. Not that any could destroy her, not with her powers at full capacity. However, they would be important tools in her plans. Lilitu prided herself on being able to move among mortals without them noticing anything untoward or unusual about her. Most Immortals were in a tremendous hurry to acquire an aura of danger that would set them apart from the herd, while the older ones acquired that same air unconsciously. As soon as one stepped into a room, humankind knew that there was a wolf in the flock, and reacted accordingly. A sense of panic and fear would invade the air. For that reason, humans sometimes made excellent early warning systems against incursions by the Immortals. As the new Goddess, Lilitu could blend into any crowd, however, and it made her that much more dangerous. She could still be detected for what she was, of course, but only if someone knew to look for her. And now, she was the master of the Dream. Very soon, her plans would be fulfilled. The hours were completely tangled with the darkness. The black tendrils twisted and writhed in snake-like forms resembling Medusa's hair. They distorted the minutes and seconds, creating wrinkles in time, perverting the laws of physics and the universe. They would prod viciously at the instant and the moment, picking them apart and rearranging them into different forms and shapes. It was like witnessing something gone terribly awry. That frightful moment when something gets stuck in a machine that is running at full force, hearing that desperate wrenching and oxidized groaning sound that comes from its guts, feeling the heat that starts building up at an alarming speed, seeing it start to shake furiously as if battling a demon inside it. Those last moments as you watch in dread, impotence and horror before it explodes into a million pieces.
was a master of shadow, and there was too much of the Dream here for her to manipulate it at her leisure. However, she was happy.
of mountains and rocks, the segments of the ground, and the black and squeamish air, all around. Lilitu's feet moved forward in strong, determinate steps. The passageways did not confound her. Ever so strong, something she saw sparked memories: tunnels of oppressive stone closing in to crush her; chambers where every inch of every wall were covered with unholy icons, small wooded plaques, the colors as faded as any memory of the hands that had carved and painted them, long dead and forgotten, rough-hewn passages leading down to hell; massive iron gates embedded in bedrock; halls lined with statues and carvings. Her mortal kingdom. The wasted lands. A mounted firebrand that burned but gave no light like a torch, burned out for centuries stood here. Amidst the darkness, Lilitu was sure which memories were of the present, and which from a millennia ago. Although she had blocked them out so well—so well that she'd thought she could come back to this place without revisiting them. The tunnels led onward, and she followed with sure steps. Instinctively, she called upon her occult abilities to enable her to look through the veil between worlds.
who had watched the rise and fall of a score of civilizations! This was simply another in a long line of rises and falls of her enemies.
them, she had now been reduced into a mere myth. A legend of female embodiment, of malevolence and wickedness. Her once-powerful lineage had crippled itself millennia before, and now suffered a similar fate. It was ironic really! The ignominy! To think of it! When with just a look, she could crumble any of her enemies to dust, and yet they hunt her in packs, harrying her like hounds. Hate and disgust boiled in Lilitu's veins, the blood within them hot with the stillness of its odium, burning with impotent fury. To once have reached such heights! To have walked with every ancient God and His dark angels! To have held the lives of thousands in her grasp! And now, to basely fight a band of incestuous rogues armed with the brutality of ambition. She had been vain, even careless. She had looked far ahead and allowed these enemies to creep into her ranks. Why didn't they listen? Zarach and Aylón both knew. But of course, the hope in them martyred wisdom. They were fools. However, Lilitu had not been a fool in planning her counterattack. Certainly, a few of her Headless Children might have fallen. Minimum loses. The darkness parted for a moment and Lilitu smiled as she remembered her beloved Immortal son, Zarach Bal-Tagh, stripped naked to the waist, and herself drinking his life's nectar, suckling greedily. The hair of his pubis tickled her face, caught between her lips. Zarach's moans of ecstasy covered his silent spasms of praise to the heavens. And then, she remembered how they had mated. Gently cloaked by the open night under the moonlight they would indulge in the pleasures of ardent desire. It was a time of simplicity, discovery and passionate play. Those had been the times when Zarach had been hers. In the time before the Ancient Gathering. In the time before her Game. Lilitu felt the darkness flowing within her, making her stronger, tying her to this place, and closing in about her, and then parting again. She awoke to bliss, gentle fingers, and a fine-toothed comb passing through her red hair. Her hair had always been beautiful. Thick and silky, flowing down like a stream of blood. But the path she had chosen was narrow, constricted, and solitary. She was the materialization of death, even when her body was forever young. A new Goddess. The only Goddess left. Suddenly, she raised her arms feeling the swirling shadows move sharply around her. "I am that I am," she hissed. Her feet were coated with the dirt and dust of countless centuries. Her fingers too, for she had leaned against the stonework and the carvings as she walked. For as long as she could remember, she had been fueled with hatred, and now the cold fire was stronger than ever before. She was tired from her killings on Holy Ground, and from the anger. All that was left was emptiness. Zarach had betrayed her, but it was not her will he coveted most highly, she knew. They were joined by the past, connected by the essence of what once was. Even if she could, she wouldn't hold him against his will. Lilitu wanted Zarach to come freely, uncompelled. She would use all her wiles to lure him, tempt him, and bait him. Only then she would reveal to him her darkest secret. Not before. A last strike against the Son of the Endless Night. As Lilitu walked, fingers trailing along the stone that was hidden from the light, she came to another of the colossal gates that, at intervals along different routes, had blocked the way. She sensed its presence before she saw it, as one might sense the great void of a chasm before stepping into it. The stone was cold like a winter gravestone, immovable as the earth. She opened it with her will. Beyond, the passage curved to the left and upward. There was also a tunnel branching off to the right. From the left, Lilitu smelled air that was not quite so stale, not so totally saturated with the blackness from the soul of her being. From the side tunnel came a rumbling growl and movement of shadows like a slowly rising tide. Neither path was open, just as neither of the paths that she or Zarach would follow could ever be opened. She knew she would never surrender willingly to him, and he would never stop hunting her. They had come to an impassable portal, had reached it thousands of years ago, and never would they cross the threshold. Yet they were bound together by their very souls. The only possible solution for Lilitu lay elsewhere, in the death of Zarach or her own insanity. But first, for this to be achieved, she must kill the New Dreamer, the Aztec known as Corazón Negro; Quetzalcóhuatl's Immortal son, and every other member in the Ancient Gathering. Those were her thoughts as she prepared herself for the coming battle. But one thing was sure. Time was on her side. This time, the Ancient Gathering would lose.
Time was on her side. Fighting was her only choice—fight to stab at the vile Ancient Gathering during the days yet to be seen. Now she would gather around her Headless Children, taking their will as she wished and sharpening her blade for use against the throats of the bastards that once had hunted her kind to the brink of extinction.
remaining moments until their arrival. And from there, the new Goddess could bring the full weight of her eons of hatred to bear on the jackals that so desperately deserved it. And to a creature who had walked in God's shadow, who had kissed the face of the Goddess, what were a few more hours?
vindication of a millennia. As she raised her hand and the gate opened, joyfully clutching at her heart, the darkness rushed after her. ====================================
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean March 27, 2013
the Dark Ages. We don't want to be in that period again. And I'm getting just a little bit tired of hearing about it. If I wanted things to run like they did back then, you'd be the first to know."
He leaned far out over the conference table to do so, as if it were the only thing holding him back from physically assaulting his counterpart. Seeing that his antagonist was losing composure, Vlad pressed on more aggressively. "I'd call you up myself. I'd say 'Inquisition'! What we really need around here is a little more, you know, than the Church. So, in the meantime, why don't you just take your sorry old face and your obese body and shut up next to your telephone—at the very center of the known universe—and wait for my call, all right?" Torquemada fumed. Liquid rage seeped from his fists, which were wound tightly around the arms of his chair. From over his shoulder, his shadow unfurled silently like a bird of prey perched menacingly atop his seatback. "Why, you misbegotten and ungrateful bastard," he began, rising from his seat. "Gentlemen!" Rasputin's voice cut through the building tension. "We are not here to give vent to our differences, but rather to lay them aside. There is important work at hand. Glorious work!" At his first word, all eyes turned toward the monk. He held their attention, not with his gaze, but with his immaculate and predatory smile. "There will be ample opportunity to demonstrate your prowess upon our common enemies."
threshold of a glorious victory. Before we have parted company, we will strike a mighty blow—a blow from which the mortal world shall not recover."
can be little doubt of what awaits us beyond the doorway." "This is the Endgame, gentlemen, nothing less," Cartiphilus said as he chose to ignore this slight show of defiance. He pitched his voice so that it carried across the entire room. "But his Holiness here raises a good point. However, we don't need to be afraid. We are the Headless Children. The word is out that the Ancient Gathering is making ready for a fight. Others have fought them in the past, but they didn't have the power, the experience or the balls to carry out that fight successfully. Not like us." A roar and a riotous cheer went up from the Headless Children, and even Vlad was on his feet. Gaius, known in history as Caligula, sitting to Torquemada's left, brandished a fist high up in the air in which no fewer that three wicked knives, each blade as long as the man's forearm, danced in agreement. The venerable Torquemada raised a hand for silence and the crowd gradually began to quite back down enough so that individual voices could be heard once more. It was Livia's voice that cut through the clamor. "Honorable Inquisitor," the sound of the woman's voice had an appreciable effect upon the table. Attention turned toward her. "Honorable Inquisitor, we are pleased by your presence here as guest of this council." Then she turned her gaze toward Gaius. "We have come at Lilitu's behest, to offer what good council we might. We have come in good faith and in accordance with the terms sent forth by Mother in her invitation. We have come with the clear understanding that there were to be no weapons of any sort allowed within these chambers. Isn't that so, my dear great-grandson?"
pretended not to have observed his gesturing retort. "Yes, the sound of drawn steel. I heard it quite unmistakably," Cartiphilus mused aloud. "If any here have weapons about their persons, set them aside now," he ordered, staring straight at Gaius. Nobody moved. "Caligula…" Torquemada prompted. "My name is Gaius Caesar Germanicus. You may call me Gaius, or even Caesar, if you like. As for getting rid of the blades, no way. No fucking way. Not even if great-grandmother asks me. I'm not giving my blades to some bunch of—"
Vlad rose. Gaius cursed under his breath. "So is this how it's going to be?" he tried to push past him, but Vlad put a hand on his chest. Gaius' hands were at his sides, but an unmistakable ring of metal told Vlad that they were no longer empty. The Roman spoke slowly and softly. "Why don't you do everyone here a favor and just get the hell out of my way?"
making an ass out of yourself. That contract's been written in blood. Nobody walks out. One in blood, one in body. Now, put the blades on the table," Vlad ordered.
and shut manner in nervous agitation. "But when it comes down to it… Where were you at the end of the Dark Ages?"
a cordon-like oval around the two disaccording parties. Vlad didn't even glance aside to weight where the support was lining up. He just smiled and reached out a hand. "The blades."
at least a few friendly faces in the throng. He turned to Vlad with renewed determination. "This is the big time, tough guy. What are you going to do? These bastards here," he gestured to the conference table where the rest of the assembly looked on with alternating distaste and detached curiosity. "You think these guys are going to stand with you when they see how you pay back the folks who helped you get where you are now? Come off it. We are the real deal. Hell, we are the Headless Children, the folks that make things happen. You're not dealing with a bunch of low-life drug dealers any more. You think we are sitting around waiting for someone to come along and tell us what to do and how to do it?"
gives a damn about the Endgame? He is one weird mother. And I know that he's been doing that same twisted shit since long before, well, since before Dr. Frankenstein was a glimmer in Mary Shelley's eye. And he'll be doing it long after you and I have bought a worm farm—really bought it, I mean."
back on the entire treacherous assembly in order to face him. "Don't be an idiot," Gaius' menacing whisper cut through the air. "You're unarmed. I'll cut you down where you stand, before you can even lay a hand on me." "Listen, I don't want to kill you and my guess is that you don't want to die," Vlad said in a tone one might take in addressing an idiot child. "Although I wouldn't want to have to prove it with only the evidence of the last few minutes. If you want to do this thing, take your shot. Otherwise, give me the blades and sit down, because we have a war to plan and some Ancient Gathering bastards to hunt down and make plead for their pitiful lives, and you are holding up the show." The Voivode moved closer. "So, what's going to be? You take a cut at me and you won't walk out here. You know it. Look at these bastards. Go ahead, look at them. These guys will eat your sorry carcass for lunch. You think we're playing around? Indeed, this is the big show. So let's do it like you mean it. One blood …"
effort to sidestep the oncoming blade. He held Gaius's eyes unflinchingly. The swirling knife cut hard, backing out and down. The second knife, immediately following the first, slammed home into the table with a resounding chunk and stood there trembling. "… One body." Gaius snapped up the remaining blade and purposefully turned his back on Vlad. He took three steps toward the table. With each step, he could feel the muscles between his shoulders tense in anticipation of the retaliatory strike. One. Two. Three. Nothing.
disdainfully, across the great circular table. They clattered to rest near its center, well out of reach of any of the Headless Children seated around the perimeter. Without a sideward glance, Gaius took his seat. "You'll pardon, venerable Torquemada. I believe my gracious great-grandmother of Rome had the floor."
just recently occupied. His side still burned like hell, but he couldn't spare it much attention as yet, as the eyes around the table turned once again to Livia. Caligula would pay later, of course. And keep paying, the smug bastard. Vlad had seen the gleam of triumph in Caligula's eyes just before he had turned his back. The Voivode would make a point of remembering that look, so that he could arrange Caligula's face in just that same expression after he impaled him. Stepping toward the table now, he stoically pulled the Roman's blade from his side and slid it, as it left a bloody trace, to the center of the table, to join the others. "We are satisfied, thank you, my child," Livia waved dismissively toward the blades, as if she would brush them from sight. "But I," Torquemada countered, "am not satisfied." Wary eyes regarded him once again. "We are the maximum power on this earth, and we are jealous of our hard-won freedom," Torquemada continued. "For many of us present at this assembly, perhaps, the excesses—even the cruelties—of Lilitu are not the stuff of distant legend, but rather of all-too recent memory, yes? So, where is she?" There were a few mutterings of assent from around the table, but the rumbling undertone was dangerous rather than affirming. "It is nothing with which you need concern yourself, Inquisitor." Livia answered. Her voice was icy. "The fact of the matter is, that we are justifiably wary of the convoluted Game of dominance our holy Mother wants to play."
moral there somewhere. No, that's a fable." He seemed lost in thought. He drummed the tips of his fingers together distractedly. The nails clacking together on the wooden surface of the table sounded like the rattle of machine-gun fire in the silent chamber. The entire assembly seemed to hold its breath. "Do any of you know that Mother…" Cartiphilus began. "No, never mind, you wouldn't know." After a moment, Torquemada spoke again. "We can't deny, that our precious Mother has taken an all-too-personal interest in the future of the humankind."
assembly, but his veneer of aloof composure was wearing him. "Mother has made no secret of the fact that she is very interested in ruling the world."
mention the Ancient Gathering—have learned of the presence of Mother involved in the decapitations on Holy Ground all around the world. Honestly, I don't know what her plan is …"
affectation, or it may have been intended to cover the fact that those seated nearest him had begun to edge away warily. "Perhaps I should rather say what is foremost in the minds of all those here assembled. I shall speak plainly, lady and gentlemen. As even you must be aware by now, our very presence here compromises our position."
grant that yours is the more intimate knowledge of compromising positions," he began, warming up to the challenge at hand, "you must in turn admit that, of all here, I have more seasons of war campaigns to my credit. And I, for one, know that very soon we will receive reinforcements." "It is not the reinforcements that worry me," Torquemada was nearly shouting. "It is the cost of that reinforcement. We are not as wet behind the ears as you would have it, Voivode. I too, led armies in the name of Jesus. Do you think that the significance of Mother's ambitions will be lost on this astute assembly …?" The resounding of great blows of thunder upon the chamber interrupted the pitched argument. A strange wind that came from nowhere invaded the room. The entire assembly felt the darkness outside their minds press harder upon them, and their dream images slipped away. It was an almost palpable thing, and with a start they realized the probable source of the danger just as a deep and resonant voice called out. The sound was distorted.
in the name of Lilitu, Gatekeeper of the Dream, Guardian of Shadows! The new Goddess!" They felt the inky mass of darkness begin to press its way into their orifices, and the mindless, horrific plasmic mass did not discriminate. Despite their centuries and experience, despite their own great powers, the Headless Children were afraid. But the darkness did not relent. However, it did slowly part. Disembodied voices rose from the shadows, indistinct, muffling screams, overlapping each other. The moaning souls of hundred of beings opened the Dream. Above the table, a figure appeared. Every one saw a different representation of Mother. For Livia, it was Venus. For Cartiphilus, the rock-Goddess from Petra. For Torquemada, the Virgin Mary. Vlad saw a winged woman. Gaius saw a Phoenix emerging from hell. Rasputin gazed upon a black angel.
All around the table, Headless Children began to stand—some of them much more quickly than others.
"you're dead. If you fail me, it's over for you! The next time I have to remind all of you who is in command, it's just over! Understood?"
being.
Receiving the homage of her Headless Children, framed by the spectacle of the terror she inflicted by her mere presence, the new Goddess was clearly in her element. Her figure addressed the assembly. "Thank you for coming, my Children. I sense a certain exhilarating expectancy in the air of this room—a premonition, if you will, that greatness and glory are close at hand."
you have had to make in order to be with me on this momentous occasion. You have crossed vast distances and braved great danger to reach this meeting place, isolated deep behind enemy lines."
and the challenges that you are called upon to meet in these coming days, will give humankind cause to tremble." She waited patiently for this words to sink in.
Shall we push forward our preparations for the siege over the human world?" Lilitu's shape laughed, a demonic sound that filled the chamber. "But that is exactly what I have been attempting to relate to you, my Children," she said in polite disagreement. "There is not going to be any siege. This is the end! I have come to help humankind perish by mutual slaughter, and then sow the earth with a better seed. Only my believers will survive. I'm talking about genocide. It happens, now and then. I have come to help human race do the one thing their kind excels at … dying!"
Yüklə 2,56 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
|