Apotheosis of the Immortal (2 page)

Chapter 2

Elijah awoke to
the unusual feeling of cold stone on his back. Confused, he raised his head and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Then he sat up and slowly looked to his right and then to his left, his neck and back stiff and aching.

He could tell it was morning. The corner of the kitchen table glowed, as it did every morning, from sunlight shining through a small round window in the wall where he now rested his back. It looked almost like the sun had burned a small hole right through the wall.

His hands, which were still rubbing his face awake, suddenly became rigid as the horrible smell of guts and rotting flesh assaulted his nose.

A deep pain lanced through his heart as a hazy memory of his mother’s broken flesh flashed into his mind. After a moment of confusion, he slammed his hands hard against the floor and shot to his feet. Already spotting his mother’s legs on the other side of the table, he hurled himself forward, hoping that what he had seen was a nightmare.

But it was not a dream. The revolting stench of death and a sickening sense of betrayal swallowed him whole and dropped him to his knees. He looked again at his mother’s chest. She had been gutted, ripped wide from her bellybutton to her neck.

Why had they done this? Why the defilement and mutilation?
Why
leave me alive?
Better to die than have to live the rest of my life haunted by this terrible sight.

Did they mean to leave me alive? Maybe they think I’m dead like Mali…
Elijah suddenly remembered how his father’s strong hands had snapped his little brother’s neck. He quickly scrambled to his feet and began to search. But he couldn’t find Malaki anywhere. There was no lifeless little boy lying on the stone floor. A surge of hope gripped him. Could Malaki be alive?

“Malaki!” he shouted, racing through the corridors, through the servants’ quarters, and the storage room. “Malaki!” There was no reply, but he refused to give up hope, not yet. When he threw open the kitchen door, the cool morning breeze lashed against his cheeks. “Malaki, can you hear me?” Still no response. He was losing hope by the moment, but there was still one place to look.

Of course
, he thought, racing back through the kitchen. Guilt raked at his spine as he leapt over his mother’s corpse like she was just another obstacle blocking his path, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside. There was no time to pay niceties to a corpse—Malaki could be lying hurt somewhere, and his mother would want Elijah to make that his first priority.

Continuing up the stairwell, he hoped with every step he would find his brother playing in one of the upstairs rooms. For a moment his mind flooded with a beautiful vision. He saw Malaki, as he had so many times before, hunkered down on the floor with a bit of charcoal and a tiny piece of parchment between his knees.

As he burst through the doorway at the end of the corridor, and into their empty bedroom, the last bit of hope and tenderness drained from his body. Falling to his knees, a crushing hopelessness squeezed his chest. He opened a dresser, pulled out a thin blade, and jammed its sharp point hard into his neck.

As the blade pierced agonizingly through his flesh, on the verge of delivering a mortal wound, he thought about what little effort it would take to penetrate his jugular and ease the throbbing in his throat and the unbearable pain in his belly. He wanted so much to shove just a little harder and thrust the blade through to the other side of his neck. His soul was dead and his will was broken. All he wanted was an end.

Just as he was about to set the blade to its bloody purpose, Elijah thought of his mother lying dead and bloodied at the bottom of the stairs. He thought of Malaki, his body no doubt lying broken in some gulley. And Sara. He didn’t want to imagine what horrors she had faced. If he died now, who would avenge this savagery? Who would exact the retribution his loved ones deserved? From where would vindication find its way?

As these questions rolled round in his head, his spirit was vexed. As much as he longed for death, there was no one else to deal out the vengeance and punishment that were owed. Avenging his family was his responsibility, and he knew he must see it through before reaching after the eternal peace he longed for.

Dropping the small and bloodied blade to the floor, he rose to his feet a different man—one with purpose, a single purpose. All he could feel now was rage, an unfamiliar feeling, but one he would come to know all too well. It would stay with him for ages to come.

Elijah couldn’t imagine why his betrayers had murdered his family, their family. The family they lived with and loved for so long. The children they had protected, their cherished wife and dear mother. But it no longer mattered. From this day forward, the hope of vengeance would be his only respite.

Chapter 3

E
lijah rummaged through
his mother’s room. He was looking for a decent piece of cloth to wrap her body. It didn’t make much difference at this point, but she deserved at least that much effort and much more. Eager to catch up to his father and brother, he moved quickly into his bedroom and grabbed the blanket his mother had made when Malaki was just born. It wasn’t the nicest piece, but it seemed fitting.

Elijah stretched out the woolen cloth on the kitchen floor. Sliding his arms beneath his mother’s shoulders and hips, he gently lifted her. The foul and musty odor of rotting flesh nearly knocked him over as he pulled her close to his chest and then laid her carefully in the middle of the outstretched fabric. He was horrified by her weight; she was far too easy to lift.

Did they remove all of her insides?
The thought sickened him.
What were they doing here last night? What did I miss? Why?
The questions went on and on, but he knew they were pointless; there were no answers available, at least not right now.

As he wrapped her, he noticed a glint at her neck. It was the small, round metal pendant she had worn on a chain for as long as he could remember.

It was etched with a tiny inscription which read,
Everything begins and ends with a will, and a purpose is only as strong as the will that propels it.
Now spattered with blood, the pendant dangled just off her right shoulder. He gently pulled it from around her neck and gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment before fastening it around his own neck.

An elderly lady named Lilith lived just across the valley, in the old cottage Elijah had once called home. She had been the handmaiden of Lord Jeffrey’s mother. Having been Jeffrey’s wet nurse, his nanny, and his teacher, she had practically raised the man. She loved him as her own and greatly appreciated the help Elijah’s family had given in caring for him during his final months.

Once Jeffrey had sent William away, Lilith had been the only servant left to care for Jeffrey. Elijah’s mother had decided to give their old land and cottage to her when they moved into the castle.

Elijah carried his mother’s body along the worn path that wound alongside the stream and eventually led to the small patch of trees hiding Lilith’s tiny cottage from the main path. The familiar smell of pine greeted him as he cut between the trees. The old cottage appeared in the clearing, and his memories stirred at all the familiar sights and smells of his youth.

His mother’s small herb garden had grown ragged, but he could still detect the fresh thyme, dill, and basil tangled amidst the weeds. Nostalgia warmed his soul, but he had no tears left to cry. Elijah laid his mother’s wrapped body on a soft patch of grass next to the old garden. His body was surprisingly strong; the trip hadn’t strained his muscles, but his mind was weak with anguish.

Hearing him approach, the elderly woman came out to meet him.

“What in God’s name has happened, child?”

Elijah silently kneeled at his mother’s side and dropped forward, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

“Is this Esmeralda?” The old lady’s body was strong and her senses were sharp, but any fool could see Elijah was wracked with grief.

“There, there, child, everything’s gonna be all right. Some wounds never fully heal, and some losses will always be near to us, but it does get a little easier with time—you learn how to deal with it, how to move on.”

The old woman had suffered much loss of her own and Elijah knew it, but that knowledge didn’t help him right now.

“What happened, son? Where’s the rest—where are your brothers, I mean?” As she asked, the old lady gently touched Elijah on the shoulder.

He remained silent; he had no idea what to say or where to begin. The entire night seemed surreal.

“Well, bring her on in. I’ll put a blanket on the hearth and light some candles. You can lay her down and take whatever time you need to mourn your loss.” Her tone was inviting; she was a kind and gentle soul.

Although he still couldn’t bring himself to speak, he was a bit comforted by Lilith’s kindness and warmth. He was grateful not to be alone. Picking up his mother’s body, Elijah followed the old woman through the open doorway and waited while she retrieved a thick woolen blanket from a small cupboard and carefully covered the hearth. He laid his mother’s corpse on the blanket while Lilith lit a few candles and placed them around her. The strong smell of incense filled the small room as she waved the smoke across Esmeralda’s body.

“Sit down for a moment.” Both her voice and hands were shaky as she pulled over a small wooden stool and shoved it towards Elijah. He dropped hard onto the stool and, putting his head into his hands, he rubbed his eyes vigorously.

“Oh! Are you hurt son?” Lilith quickly wet a rag and began rubbing vigorously at Elijah’s neck. “There’s no wound, so it must have been your mother’s blood.”

What?
Elijah rubbed his fingers across his neck where he had jabbed the thin blade. Lilith was right, there was no wound.
How is this possible?
But his thoughts were quickly buried by the stench of his mother’s corpse that penetrated his nostrils and swamped his mind.

“It was my father, and Solomon.” Elijah finally offered hoarsely, after a long silence.

“What do you mean? Are they okay?” Lilith didn’t understand.

“They killed her, and Malaki.” Elijah declared while staring blankly at the floor.

“Your father, William, and Solomon did this?” Her voice rose sharply with shock. “How? Why? Are you sure?” She was staring at Elijah in disbelief.

“I don’t know. Father just showed up last night, after I had gone to bed. I must have somehow slept through it when they killed Mother. Malaki’s screams woke me up. A large man was carrying him tossed over his shoulder and was running down the stairwell. I tried to rush down to help him, but the stairwell was covered with Mother’s blood. Before I could make it to the bottom step, I hit the banister and tumbled down the steps, ending up next to Mother’s mutilated corpse.” He paused for a moment, overcome.

“I stood up just in time to see Father break Malaki’s neck with his bare hands, like it was nothing, like
he
was nothing.” Elijah’s voice was steady now. Tears were streaming down his face, but he didn’t notice. “I tried to get to Father. I wanted to kill him for what he had done, but Solomon cracked me on the head with a log and I must have been unconscious before I hit the floor.” Elijah spoke while gently rubbing his neck in disbelief.

“Your father and Solomon… well, I just can’t believe that. Your father is such a gentle man. And Solomon, well he’s just as fine a boy as I’ve ever met.” Her tone was somewhat challenging. Elijah was sure she knew he was no liar, but he also knew his story didn’t make any sense. Still, she couldn’t ignore the lifeless body lying on her hearth.

Elijah rubbed his head and stared down at the floor. He didn’t say a word. He wasn’t even listening; he was lost.

“We don’t have much time before your mother starts to stink. You’ll have to get her in the ground soon.” She was being kind; the stench of dead flesh was already overtaking the sweet smell of burning incense and making it hard for Elijah to breathe.

“There’s a large stone just up the hill,” he said. “It’s where we played as children and mother used to tell us stories.” The old lady was already nodding before Elijah had finished speaking.

“Yes, I think that would be perfect. You go put your mother to rest, and I’ll put on some supper. After you’ve eaten, I’ll help you clean off the rest of that blood, make you a bit more presentable.”

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Elijah didn’t feel hungry; he was still too upset to keep anything down. Besides, the old lady had done enough.

“What’ll you do?” she asked, seeming more curious than concerned.

“I’m going to find them, and I need to hurry.” Elijah gently swept his mother’s wrapped body up in his arms and headed for the door.

“What’ll you do when you find them?” she shouted as Elijah walked out the door.

“I’m going to kill them.” His grit and determination were growing by the moment. His hate grew with every step he took carrying his mother up the steep hill. He was no longer a man. He was a purpose, a cause; he had nothing else, and nothing else mattered.