Chapter 351 - The Body Politic part 9

Were it not for the storm, it would have been full daylight by the time I returned to the Aerie. Even with the lowering clouds, it was still bright enough to dazzle my eyes, but I decided to climb the face of the mountain anyway, rather than taking the less precipitous path up the north side of the peak. I was determined to master this new body, regardless of the difficulty. It was not just a matter of pride. If Khronos should attack before I was fully restored, I had to be able to defend myself, and to protect the people I loved. I would not allow myself to be a liability. So I climbed, eyes bleeding, shifting carefully from one handhold to the next, moving my new limbs with as much precision as I could manage, and completed the ascent with but one minor slip.

Near the top, with the entrance of our lair just meters above my head, the sun peeked out of the clouds for a moment and a brilliant shaft of sunshine blinded me. I misjudged the length of my right arm, missed the handhold I was reaching for, and plummeted about two hundred meters before I could catch myself.

I collided into a stone outcrop hard enough to fissure the flesh of my ribcage, snapping a couple of bones in the process, but somehow I managed to pivot my body on the rebound and snatched ahold of the ledge before I could fall any farther. Trembling at the pain and shock, I held on while the Living Blood repaired my injuries. When I had fully healed, which took only moments, I blew my hair out of my eyes and began the arduous climb back up, taking care to test each hold before I released my grip with the other hand.

And you think you have any chance of defeating the God King? Yul snorted in the back of my skull. Ha! You are more of a fool than I thought!

I ignored my psychic hanger-on, grimly making my way up the face of the mountain. What was the point of replying? Talking to the revenant was like talking to an echo. He was not real. He was not even a ghost, not in the classical sense. More like a child's imaginary friend. I had absorbed his memories from the blood, even some faint imprint of his personality, but it was my mind that gave him life, like a hand operating a sock puppet. He was an echo of an echo.

Yul's response was a surly silence.

Good riddance!

I made it to the top with no further incidents. Pausing at the entrance of the Aerie, I wiped the blood from my eyes and walked shakily inside. It was blessed dark and cool inside. The torches were out, the hearth dead ash. Zenzele stirred at my approach. Eyes glimmering in the shadows, she stretched her arms above her head and said in a sleepy voice, "Finally give it up?"

"It is day," I said, lowering to our sleeping furs beside her. "Everyone has given it up." She held up the covers for me and then slipped into her accustomed place beneath my arm, cheek to my chest.

We did not converse after that, though volumes passed between us in that silence, as so often seems the case with two that share a heart as we did, and still do. Zenzele snuggled against me and I stared at the roof of the cave, idly stroking her shoulder until exhaustion weighed down my eyelids. She did not question who I had coupled with or what sexual acts I had engaged in. If that seems strange to you, my mortal friends, consider this: jealousy is inspired by two things, the needs of reproduction and the chance that one's partner might be stolen away by a more pleasing lover. Both, in their essence, are really just a matter of resources. When mortals are jealous, they are simply defending their assets. But vampires do not procreate. Not as mortal men and women do. Our immortal offspring do not require the vast resources that mortal children require: food and protection, housing, clothing, training. And Zenzele knew my soul through our sharing of blood. She knew I would never forsake her for another, not for very long, and so she was not jealous. She has always indulged me without fear or jealousy, and it has only made me love her all the more. It might be different if she tried to possess me. I'm certain I would chafe. Your modern notions of marriage seem very oppressive to me. It is as if you hold one another hostage. The bonds may be comforting, but they are still bonds, and it is only human instinct to fight against restraint. Yes, I know I would resist it. Fortunately, I did not have to.

I turned my head to plant a kiss on the smooth, cool dome of her forehead, and then oblivion claimed my thoughts.

I woke at sunset to find our bed empty, but there was a lively conversation going on in the adjoining chamber. Bhorg and Drago were addressing Zenzele. I listened for a while before rising. It seemed that one of their underlings had absconded, and persuaded his battalion to join him in desertion. You didn't need refined vampire senses to tell they were outraged. Drago wanted permission to hunt the deserters down. He thought we should put them to death, make an example out of the traitors. I rose with a scowl and went searching for some breeches.

"Have they gone over to our enemies?" I asked, padding around the bend in the cave. "Changed allegiance to the God King?"

They both looked up at me, their white faces knuckled with emotion.

"Ducat hates the God King," Bhorg answered. "He would not throw his lot in with Khronos. The Uroborans enslaved his people. He was the last of his tribe."

I sat at the hearth beside Zenzele. "Then why was he dissatisfied?" I asked.

"Impatience," Drago said. "He grew tired of waiting for us to wage war on the God King." Drago had made no secret of his own eagerness to make war, and there was a note of sympathy for the deserter in his voice, but only a little. Mostly he was angry. Angry and disgusted. If Drago could have gotten his hands on Ducat right then, he'd likely tear off the fellow's head.

"Rather than tell you the reason for our delay, I ask you a question," I said. "Do we have enough warriors to defeat the God King?"

"Directly?" Drago asked. He exchanged a look with Bhorg. "In short, no. Khronos still has more warriors than us. More importantly, he has more Eternals. We are strong enough now that he does not attack us at his whim, but we would not prevail if we launched a direct assault on Uroboros. Not without the help of the gods, and I learned long ago not to depend on the charity of the gods."

"I wonder," I mused, "just how many of his people will betray him when we attack."

Drago perked at my talk of war. It was the first time I had spoken of our war against the God King since my return. In more than just generalities, I mean. "How so?" Drago asked, leaning toward me expectantly.

"When I was displayed on the wall of the city," I said, "I spent much of my time observing the people of Uroboros. When I was not half-mad with the pain, that is. I spied on them, knowing the intelligence I gathered would prove useful when I was finally rescued from the wall. I knew that I would be delivered. My father's spirit came to me in a vision and told me it would be so. I'm not sure if it was truly his spirit or if I was only dreaming him. I suppose it doesn't matter, really. But the point is, several cycles of the moon before Irema came to free me, there was an uprising in the Shol. The God King's slaves rose up against their T'Sukuru masters. I'm sure they knew their cause was hopeless, but they rose up anyway. Took up arms and stormed the mountain. Khronos put the rebellion down easily, of course. He massacred half the city, and forced the survivors to wear the entrails of their brothers-in-arms as punishment. But if we should infiltrate the city, send agents among the slave population, incite them to rebellion again…?"

"Khronos would only massacre them as he did before," Drago said.

"Not if we gave them the Blood," I said. "Instructed their leaders to share it as quickly and widely as possible."

"Then they would have the strength to battle their captors!" Drago said, grinning fiercely. "They could join their strength to ours! It would nearly double our numbers!" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. I could tell that my idea excited him.

"You forget the Eye," Zenzele said. "Khronos would know if we attempted such a thing."

"Khronos does not see Irema," I said. "She is invisible to the God King's Eye. She and those under the protection of her talent, correct? That is how she snuck into the city in the first place."

Zenzele nodded. She seemed annoyed that she had not thought of it herself.

"We must tempt Khronos from his lair," I said. "Get him to commit all of his forces against us. If we launch a full-on assault, he will send his entire army to meet us in battle. He will think we are making a mistake, that we are attacking too soon, before our army is large enough to defeat his. He will be overconfident, careless. And once his forces are away from the city…"

"We could catch his army between ours and his own rebel slaves," Bhorg finished, smacking a fist into his palm.

"The timing would have to be perfect," I said. "But we could communicate with Irema through her sister Aioa. Tell her when to begin the sharing of the Blood. The twins are able to read each other's thoughts. I have seen Irema do it."

"There is still the matter of the Uroboran Masters," Drago said. "It is the Eternals who will determine the outcome of the battle."

"We are not as invulnerable as we hold ourselves to be," I said, and motioned to Yul's body. "But, yes, we still need more Eternals."

"Irema believes there are a few among the Uroborans who could be persuaded to join us," Zenzele said.

"And there would certainly be a few more who would change their allegiance if they thought the battle was going badly for the God King," Drago said.

"I believe you are right, but we cannot rely on the treachery of his chieftains," I said. "When we attack Uroboros, our forces must be the equal of the God King's army. We must be able to defeat the Uroborans, with or without the support of his traitorous Masters. Besides, they are just as likely to betray us if it seems the tide has turned a second time. No, I will not trust in the loyalty of cowards. They do not care for the greater good, only what is in their best interest at the moment. Let them fight at our sides, but we will not trust them with our backs."

"That is wise," Drago conceded, and Zenzele nodded in agreement.

Yul spoke up in my mind then, reminding me gleefully that all three of my comrades were traitors. Zenzele had defied the God King out of her love for me, and Bhorg had defied Khronos out of his love for Zenzele. Drago had challenged Khronos for the love of his woman, and losing that challenge and the woman he loved, now thought only of the God King's destruction. It was all that he lived for.

They rebelled for love, I said to the spirit. Not out of cowardice. Not for selfish gain.

Yul did not respond. I felt his consciousness subside within my own, like a crocodile sinking beneath the surface of a murky pool. He had tried, and failed, to sow doubt in my mind, but I trusted these three without reservation. And two of them I loved. Bhorg had become as a brother to me, and Zenzele… well, Zenzele was my soul's mate. Yul's seed would find no purchase in the soil of my heart. Not when it came to those two!

Irena and Tapas joined us then. They had risen a little later than the rest of us, or perhaps they had lingered in bed for a while, enjoying some time alone. It was none of my business really, but they did seem especially cheerful tonight. They sat at the hearth across from me, snuggling while we recapped the discussion we'd just had. Irema, who was just as impetuous as her father had been, agreed to return to Uroboros without hesitation. She thought my plan brilliant, and was eager to be our invisible agitator. Tapas scowled at his wife but did not object. The young woman was breathless at the prospect of another adventure, didn't even think of the danger it posed for her. I did. I think we all did, especially Tapas, but it was too great an opportunity to pass up.

"I made contact with two Masters while I was in Uroboros," Irema said. "The leader of the rebels sent me to parley with them. Their names were Druas and Wen. They claimed to be sympathetic to our cause, though I was never quite certain I could trust them at their word. Even so, they hid me from the God King's spies. They told me they had helped to incite the slave rebellion you spoke of. They could not act openly lest Khronos have them Divided, but they encouraged the revolt through their agents in the Arth. They were very excited when they found out the God King could not see me. They asked if they could come with us when we stole you from the wall. But our plans were discovered before we could finish with our negotiations. I believe they were betrayed by one of their agents in the Arth. I do not know what became of them. It is possible that Khronos had them Divided, or perhaps they managed to escape from Uroboros."

"I know Druas and Wen," Zenzele said. "They are powerful eternals, but they are not of the warrior caste. Druas is a builder. He is cunning but would be no help in battle. Wen has the form of a young woman. She is immensely powerful, but has a timid nature. She has never shed her mortal instincts."

"But they are two less Masters we must face in battle," I said.

"There is another thing as well," Irema said. A troubled look had come upon her waif-like features.

"What is that?"

"I can usually sense my sister, Aioa," Irema said. "I know when she is safe and I know when she is in danger. Sometimes I can even see where she is. I catch glimpses of the land around her. I can see hills or forest or mountains in the distance, swathed in clouds. It is as though I am looking through her eyes, but I cannot send my thoughts to her at will, nor can she send her thoughts to me. Her mind only speaks to mine when she is fearful or excited, or if something shocks her terribly. It is not a power we can exercise at our whim."

"Perhaps, while we await her return, you can try to develop this gift," I suggested. "Attempt to contact her. Send your thoughts to her. See if you can strengthen your connection. Your link to your sister may be vital to our cause."

"I will try," she said, but I could tell that she was skeptical. I am sure my granddaughters had already tried to master this strange ability. Probably had from the moment they discovered they possessed it. It was an awesome gift. But perhaps, with my encouragement, they might make some sort of breakthrough. Perhaps they could learn to mingle their thoughts at will.

Shame gripped my heart then, and squeezed it near to bursting. Shame that I was placing her in mortal danger once again. And then I looked at Irema and saw through her to her mother Priss, and through Priss to her mother, and her mother's mother. Back and back and back, from generation to generation. It was as if my mind were passing through a tunnel. That tunnel was Time, and it led my imagination further and further into the past, back through the age of ice, which came and went as I floated like a babe in a cold white glacial tomb, senseless and undreaming, back to the valley of my birth, to the People of the River, to my own mortal children and their mothers. And then on through them to their mothers and their mother's mothers and their mother's mother's mothers, further and further, deeper and deeper into the past.

That well was deep. Mind-bogglingly deep. I was, at the time, roughly seven thousand years old, give or take a few hundred years, but even I was stunned by my sudden comprehension.

"Did you have children, Irema?" I asked. "Before you gave up the sun?"

It seemed very important suddenly to know this.

"Yes, two sons," Irema said. "Albon and Tor. They are with their uncle. We left them behind when we came here in search of you."

"And your sister?"

"A daughter. Meegan."

It pained her to think of her sons. Tapas stroked her shoulder comfortingly.

"I miss them terribly," Irema said. "Leaving them behind was the hardest thing I've ever done. But this, what we do now, is far more important. We fight for them, and for all their children, and their children's children. To live."

"And to live freely," Tapas put in.

She looked up at him and nodded. Tapas was near to weeping. She smiled and caressed his cheek.

To live and to live freely, I thought.

And to make that dream a reality, I must use all of these, these whom I held the most dear in the world. I must make fists of them, use them to wage war on my enemies.

Our enemies!

I looked at the five immortals gathered around the fire with me—Zenzele, Bhorg, Drago, Tapas and Irema—and I wondered which of them would survive this war we waged on Khronos. Zenzele and Drago were true immortals, like me. They could not be destroyed. But the others did not share our inhuman invincibility. They could be hurt. They could be killed. I could lose them, as I had lost Goro and so many others. But for the sake of the world, I must place them all in harm's way. I had no choice. The alternative was death. The death and destruction of all we held dear. I had seen it in the God King's blood, seen it in his soul. He was pregnant with the doom of all mankind, and if I did not find some way to stop him, some way to stop the birth, he would deliver that dark child unto us all. It was inevitable.

Our impromptu war council came to an end. There was nothing else to discuss, as the bulk of our strategies depended on making more vampires, finding more allies and gathering together enough Eternals to challenge the God King and his minions. As we rose and said our good byes, Drago asked me to come down to the military camps. He wanted me to review the troops. They needed to see me, he said. My visit would inspire them. Also, our soldiers would be training tonight, as they did most nights, and he wanted my opinion of their fighting prowess. "You have Shared with Khronos," he said. "You may have some insights that would better prepare us for battle with the Uroborans."

"I will come down as soon as I have dressed."

"And what of Ducat?" he asked.

"Let him go," I said. "Khronos would have a deserter hunted down and destroyed, but I am not Khronos. The people of Asharoth are not my slaves. If they wish to follow me, they should do so because our cause is righteous. I will not become the monster I have sworn to destroy. All men are free here, and that means they may come and go as they please, without fear of retribution."

Drago bowed his head and departed. Bhorg followed.

"They are hungry for war," Zenzele said, looking after them.

"All men hunger for war," I replied. "The gods must be vampires."