Apotheosis of the Immortal (22 page)

Chapter 45

As dawn broke
they were only a few hours into their march on Baghdad. Elijah and Hassan were on horseback near the rear of the army when the Khan called for a halt. Elijah wondered why they had stopped.

Elijah and Hassan rested near the Khan’s tent. After the previous day’s betrayal, Elijah wanted to keep Hulagu Khan close enough to guarantee his
kopis
easy access to the Khan’s neck.

Elijah called for one of the guards to bring him an empty cup. Upon receiving the cup, Elijah retrieved his dagger and sliced open his arm from wrist to elbow. Holding the wound open so it wouldn’t heal, he filled the cup and handed it to Hassan.

“I can’t drink that.” Hassan pushed it away.

“You must.” Elijah insisted.

“My God would not allow it.” Hassan looked up, as if toward his God. This was an aspect of Hassan Elijah hadn’t missed.

“Would your God not have you live?” Elijah pressed the cup to Hassan’s chest and Hassan grasped it. “You can always die tomorrow if you choose,” Elijah added. Hassan looked at him and shook his head before taking a sip and then gulping the rest down.

“Gratitude.” Hassan laid the cup on the ground and examined Elijah’s new bow. “You are an archer now?”

“I am just trying to find the peace, perfection, unity, and potential the Khan echoes from your fucking lips.” Elijah smiled as he watched Hassan study his bow and then place it back on the ground.

“Elijah.” One of the Khan’s guards walked over. “The Khan would speak with you.”

“About what?” Elijah asked as he rose to his feet.

“The Khan, in his wisdom, does not tell me these things.” The man insisted, before ushering Elijah and Hassan to the Khan’s tent.

“I see you have brought your friend,” the Khan commented as they entered.

“He is my right hand, as I am now yours, my Khan. I go nowhere without him.” Elijah smiled as he opened his hands and bowed. “What is it you would have of me?”

“First of all, one of my guards saw you mutilating yourself to feed your right hand. The vampires drain and store the blood of the dead, so there is no need for that. Second, I have found a place for you among my men.” The Khan rubbed his tired eyes.

“I already have a place, my Khan; I am your second in command.” Elijah bowed once again.

“Desist with this game. You have made your point; the men already fear you as much as they do me, if not more. I would prefer to have you in a position where you would be of real use.” The Khan stood, placed his hands on the table in front of him, and leaned against it, calling Elijah’s attention to the full set of Mongolian armor lying on the table, the kind worn only by their leaders. It was a lamellar cuirass made of hundreds of lacquered rectangular leather pieces, all pierced and laced together. The lamellae were nearly black, the lacing white; it was of fine craftsmanship.

“Where would you have me?” Elijah finally asked after a long pause.

“I need someone strong, someone the vampires would fear and respect, to lead their company. They only fear me because of the hand that guides me, the one pulling the strings. If it weren’t for their fear of William, they would have probably eaten me by now.” He sighed as he wiped his forehead with a rag and then sat back down, looking up at Elijah.

“Are you sure you wish this? I might kill them all myself.” Elijah smiled; the Khan just stared at him, the spark of life somehow dim in his eyes. “Hassan must be my second in command,” he demanded.

The Khan dropped his head for a moment and then looked back up at Elijah. “Fine,” he spat.

“Why not have him lead them ?” Elijah gestured to the silent and burly vampire standing at the Khan’s side. Elijah had spent his nights wondering what was behind that wooden mask, what features surrounded those bright blue eyes.

“He is my personal bodyguard; I require his attendance. Now go; take your place behind your men. They have already been informed of my decision, and we have set up another tent for you there. Just bring your personal items.” Hulagu Khan poured a cup of wine as he gestured for them to leave.

“This is why you stopped the march?” Elijah asked.

“Yes, it is,” the Khan replied. “Now go.” He commanded with a flick of his wrist.

“Wait.” He spoke once more, just as the two were about to exit his tent. Elijah turned back to face him. “You are a commander in my army now. You must look the part.” He opened his hands towards the armor lying on the table. Elijah collected the greaves, cuirass and a pair of leather schynbalds, armor to protect the shins, from the table.

“I don’t need the rest of that, but I will be delighted to have one of those attractive masks,” he said.

“Sorry, the supply was extremely limited.” The Khan reached forward and pushed the other pieces of armor towards Elijah, who quickly grabbed his hand. The Khan tried to jerk back, but Elijah held his hand firmly in place. The masked man stepped forward and Hassan pulled his sword. The Khan quickly motioned for his masked guardian to step back.

“What do you want, Elijah?” The Khan groaned uncomfortably as Elijah squeezed his hand tighter.

“Why does he wear that mask?” Elijah turned his head and shouted at the masked man. “Why do you wear that damn mask? What is my father trying to hide from me?”

“Your father?” The Khan’s eyes grew wide. “Now, that is an interesting development.” He said.

“Were you with my father when he slaughtered my family?” Elijah shouted as he squeezed even harder, threatening to crush the Khan’s hand.

“I do not know Elijah and I cannot speak for him; but I do know he would let you kill me before he would remove it. Even I have never seen his face.” Elijah stared back and forth between the two men.

“Perhaps we should test that theory.” With his free hand Elijah pulled the ancient
kopis
from it’s leather holster—that Elijah had fashioned to wear on his back—and pressed it to the Khan’s neck. Roman lurched forward threateningly, but paused when the
kopis
drew blood from the Khan’s neck. “Take it off!” Elijah shouted. Roman’s eyes burned bright beneath the mask as he stared at Elijah.

“I told you he will not!” the Khan groaned with pain. Elijah stared fiercely at the vampire’s glowing eyes for a moment more before letting go of the Khan’s hand and throwing his armor to Hassan.

“Let’s go,” he snapped. “I will see that mask ripped from your face one day soon, and then I will know.” Before exiting the Khan’s tent, he stepped to within inches of the big man and stared up at the now-darkened slits in his mask. “And your fate will be sealed.”

Chapter 46

“I don’t trust
him.” Hassan burst out as they entered Elijah’s tent.

“And you think I do? After all he has done?” Elijah threw up his hands in frustration. “But there is nothing we can do about it right now.” The two gathered up their weapons and other belongings and headed to the front of the encampment to take their place among the immortals.

There was a new, large tent set up at the rear of the vampire camp; guards were in position blocking the front entrance, but quickly parted so Elijah and Hassan could enter. Elijah gave little thought to the hundreds of menacing glances they had received on their way in. Everything in the new tent was identical to his old one, down to the bowl of fruit and wine on the table.

“What do you think?” Elijah tossed the cuirass to Hassan for inspection.

“Well, it’s fancy, but you are becoming a fancy man.” Hassan smiled and tossed it back.

“A means to an end, my friend, a means to an end.” Elijah slid into the cuirass and laced it. He twisted his body to test the armor’s flexibility, then quickly drew a sword and sheathed it once again. “It’s really not that bad. It’s not silk, but it’s not that bad.”

“I like it.” Ayda appeared at the entrance of the tent.

“How did you get in here?” Elijah narrowed his eyes as he continued to twist in an effort to break in his new armor.

“Well, you do own me,” Ayda said as she walked further into the tent.

“What?” Hassan’s head snapped towards Elijah.

“Relax, Hassan. It’s a long story, and it isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds.” Elijah smiled and walked outside. He surveyed the landscape, the men, if one could call them that, and approached a group of twelve vampires sitting together and filling their cups from a medium sized barrel of blood.

“Where is the blood stored?” Elijah addressed the group as a whole.

“Foder unha cabra!”
A vampire sitting with his back towards Elijah piped up, and the rest of the group roared with laughter. Elijah pretended he didn’t understand the comment, but since he grew up on the Iberian Peninsula, Elijah could understand Galician very well.

“He tells you to go fuck a goat.” Another vampire sitting across looked up towards Elijah as he explained. Elijah took a couple steps closer to the man who first spoke and quickly snapped his neck. A few of the other men stood up, but the other vampire who had spoken quickly pressed for them to sit.

“Your friend here will heal from this injury, as you know.” Elijah knelt beside the unconscious vampire lying at his feet and pried his mouth open. “But when he does, he won’t have a tongue to speak with.” Elijah forced his hand into the man’s mouth and, grabbing his tongue, pulled back and ripped it from his throat just as the man’s eyes were opening. Blood spewed from his mouth like a fountain. He was conscious now as he screamed and thrashed with pain, but he still couldn’t move because his neck hadn’t yet healed.

“I am your leader!” Elijah shouted, as he held the vampire’s tongue high above his head. “You will show me respect and do as I command. When you address me, you will speak in either the Mongolian or the Persian tongue. If you disobey me, I will take you apart one piece at a time.” Elijah slung the man’s tongue down on top of his chest and lifted an unopened barrel of blood from the ground before returning to his tent.

“Here.” Elijah dropped the barrel at Hassan’s feet before sitting beside him at the table.

“Elijah, what are you doing?” Hassan lifted the barrel and sat it next to him. His face was stark.

“What do you mean?” Elijah jerked off the cuirass and wiped his hands on a rag lying next to his things.

“I have known for a long time you aren’t the same man I met on the road all those years ago, Elijah, but you are slipping into a dark abyss, one from which I fear you will never return.”

Elijah looked down at the blood still staining his body and then at Hassan, who was sitting with his head clasped in his hands. Through a split in his fingers Elijah could see the veins, swollen and throbbing, around his eyes.

“I didn’t fall; I was pushed,” he retorted.

Hassan raised his head and turned to him, revealing the hellish face of the dark nature Elijah had forced upon him.

“And what about me, Elijah; did I fall or was I pushed?” he asked. Elijah shifted his eyes and looked away. “Look at me!” Hassan shouted. “You sold my soul for just a whisper of the possibility of satisfying your passion.”

“What are men, if not ruled by the passions that drive us?” Elijah spoke quietly as he turned to look again at Hassan. Sharp pangs of guilt ran throughout his body and softened his eyes as he dropped his head, staring at the rug.

“Men do not have to be ruled by their passions. They may not win every battle, but they can choose to fight. That is a lesson I have tried for too long to instill in you.” Hassan reached for the barrel of blood lying next to him and pulled it to his chest. After staring at it for several minutes he ripped opened the top and consumed all it held. Wiping the blood from his lips, he looked up at Elijah, who looked back. Hassan’s eyes were wet and shone like glass.

“Only the damned are ruled by their passions. Men always have a choice,” he whispered. He stood up and dropped the barrel on his way to exit the tent.

“And what of a man who rules his passions?” Elijah asked. He looked at the ground and spoke with his back towards Hassan.

“Well, those aren’t men at all, are they? They are gods,” Hassan replied. He paused for a moment before looking back at Elijah.

“Do we… you and I… not now stand as gods among men?” Elijah asked, still unwilling to face him.

“No, we are something much different; we are both slaves. We may have different masters, but we are both slaves, Elijah. The main difference between us now is that you don’t have to be. You choose your shackles.” Hassan paused for another moment and then left the tent.

Elijah reflected for a few moments on Hassan’s words. He thought of the life he had now forced upon him, how he had betrayed the only real friend he had made since becoming the thing he now was. He was a slave to his lust for vengeance; Hassan was correct, and that made him hate his father even more.

Still standing motionless since Hassan had left the tent, he let the fury build within him. He looked down and saw the barrel Hassan had dropped to the ground, saw a drop of blood still glistening along its rim. The sight overwhelmed him, and he screamed out, his guilt and frustration bursting forth. He kicked the barrel, and it scattered in splinters all around the tent.

Looking up, he saw Ayda still standing in the corner. He didn’t know why he did what he did next—perhaps he needed a distraction from his fury and guilt, or perhaps he just gave in to the passion that had sparked the moment he first saw her.

He walked towards her with purpose. When he reached her, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto a table sitting in the corner of his tent. Leaning forward, he began to kiss her, first her lips and then her neck and chest.

“Elijah, stop, I can’t do this.” Ayda whispered as her fingernails sank into his back like claws. Elijah continued; he picked her up again and threw her onto the bed. “Elijah,” she whispered.

“Shhhh,” he interrupted, on top of her before she hit the bed. He lifted her dress and pushed her farther up on the bed. Her body was soft and smooth; he kissed her stomach and then moved lower as he removed his clothes.

“Please Elijah, stop.” As she spoke, Elijah maneuvered between her legs; he moved up, kissing her gently as he went. He kissed around her collarbone and her neck. Ayda’s breathing grew harder until he finally kissed her lips and entered into her. She moaned softly for a moment and then arched her back as she wailed out.

Elijah looked into her eyes and saw them begin to glow a bright red. Seconds later, razor sharp claws raked against his back. As she pulled him closer, her hands slid to his side, shredding the flesh around his ribs. He healed instantly. Ayda held his side for a moment before falling back and sinking into the soft bed beneath her.

Warmth built suddenly behind Elijah’s eyes. It sizzled and burned as it trickled into the sockets and filled them to nearly bursting.

“What is happening?” Elijah asked, dumbfounded. He pushed to his feet and covered his eyes with his hands. The heat spread to his fingers and palms. “Ohhh!” he sighed, as he fell to his knees.

Then a deep, aching pain seared his bones and teeth for a moment, as if they were compacting, or solidifying. The muscles throughout his body began to burn like his eyes. He noticed a slight change in his hands; they looked larger, as if the muscle and bone had expanded. As he rose to his feet, he examined his body. Everything had changed; he was more ridged and defined. He looked at Ayda, to find her eyes had stopped glowing, but were wide with shock.

“I told you to stop!” Ayda screamed before she raced out of the tent.

“Wait!” Elijah shouted, but she was gone. He stumbled forward to go after her, but the ache in his bones grew so fierce he staggered to his knees before he could even reach the exit. His bones were about to explode. His eyes and muscles smoldered like they were on fire. The pain continued to grow until he could no longer see, and kept intensifying until, blessedly, he tumbled into unconsciousness.

Elijah awoke naked on the floor of the tent the next morning. Remembering what had happened, he jumped to his feet and examined his body. Everything was back to normal; there was no more pain. He immediately went out and tried to find Ayda, instructing the guards standing outside to find her tent, but they returned to report it was empty.

He continued looking for her over the next couple of weeks, but she was nowhere to be found. No one, not even the Khan, had seen her.