The Undying God (18 page)

“I don’t understand what affection is.
Perhaps you can explain it to me when you are feeling
better?”

“Okay...” Again, she smiled at the
awkward exchange. “How do you know what a kiss is?”

“I confess that I don’t know what it
means. I have heard others call this gesture a kiss.”

“I’m surprised you can recognize the
expression of sadness,” she finally said.

“Sometimes I can sense other people’s
emotions if I train myself to study their behavior.”

“Have you been studying me?”

“Yes, you and Hrioshango. Although, his
expression seldom changes. He always looks happy.”

“You mean mischievous and insane.
That’s what you see,” Nishka laughed.

“When I see you smile, am I to assume
you are mischievous and insane?”

“Insane, no.
Mischievous
…?” she
smiled. “You never know.” Her voice rippled with laughter and she
sat down next to him. “You need help regaining your emotions, Arxu.
I’m astonished you’ve lasted this long without them... How long
have you been this way?”

“I’m not sure. I scarcely know how much
time has passed. Every day seems a replica of yesterday, thus I do
not know anymore.”

“Which is why you feel nothing when you
take another person’s life.”

“I would rather my feelings not
interfere with my survival. If you are suggesting I am socially
impaired—then yes, I am. However, my lack of feeling also places me
at an advantage in combat. I can outlast my opponents and kill them
with efficiency.”

“You don’t even sound human when you
talk about defending yourself,” Nishka said, her voice thick with
concern. She turned away to look out the window. Arxu’s reflection
in the glass looked surreal, his expression so serious and tame.
She wished she could help Arxu. She couldn’t imagine how painful it
must be to feel nothing.

Perhaps he didn’t mind feeling nothing
at all, content with apathy. After all, he didn’t feel sadness… yet
he was denied joy. Still, that didn’t excuse him from the callous
way he described killing. She starkly remembered that Arxu had been
murdered himself.

“You know what it feels like to
have—”

Arxu was not there.

The place he occupied by her bed was
empty. She wished he had stayed a moment longer. He brought her a
measure of comfort in this strange city. As she considered the late
hour, she leaned toward the candle glowing near her bed.

A single breath from her glossy lips
extinguished it.

Chapter 18

Daylight leaped across the city as the
streets reawakened. The Gaelithean patrols were strangely absent,
mercifully allowing a measure of freedom to its citizens. One man
in particular walked the streets, hovering at the edge of the
populace. He couldn’t be more thankful for the guards’ absence.
Margzor skirted the crowd as he searched for his
destination.

Anxiety twinged inside him as he
considered the many witnesses that may be observing him. Part of
him wondered if they knew what he would soon commit, the atrocities
he had yet to unleash. He did not look into their eyes as they
passed by, nor did he try to conceal himself. He walked openly in
public, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. They did not even qualify
as human beings in his eyes.

He slowly looked down at his hip,
trying not to appear obvious as he observed his sword. The sight of
his weapon comforted him. He wondered when he would require it to
defend himself. It would not be long now, only minutes before he
purged the temple. His eyes settled on the white sanctum enthroned
in the south.

He noticed the aesthetic contrast
between this temple and the previous ones. The colors were less
bright and its design was not quite as visually stimulating. It
seemed the temple was conceived with more practicality in mind and
less glamor. Nonetheless, it was a spectacle of raw power, both
refined and bold.

He entered the temple with his sword
clasped in hand. The cleric within his vicinity immediately sensed
something wrong but it was too late. His chest exploded against
steel with such speed he didn’t even receive a chance to scream.
Margzor walked through the corridor as though nothing took place,
let alone an execution.

He emerged into the hall to the
astonishment of several disciples. Men and women paled at the sight
of the armor encasing his body. Their eyes fixed on the blade
clutched in his hand.

Blood salivated from the hungry
sword.

One woman erupted in a horrendous
scream and the guards closed in fast. Margzor’s blade cut across,
catching a sword. His weapon snaked around the guard’s blade and
bit his wrist like an adder. Margzor’s elbow snapped into his jaw
and the guard’s head collided with a nearby pillar. He spun around
and raked his sword against the other guard’s blade.

Defeating the blow, Margzor parried
several more cuts and thrust ahead. The guard was agile enough to
evade the strikes, but he couldn’t hold out forever. Margzor would
find a flaw in his defenses. He feigned to his right and the guard
fell for the ruse. A fist struck him in the head, and the sentry
was defenseless against the killing blow. Margzor quickly turned
his attention to the disciples.

Concealing shadows floated across the
desecrated haven, caressing the walls and pooling on the floor. He
didn’t mind the darkness at all. The eerie chambers filled him with
excitement. This temple assault was just another chapter in his
existence.

He soundlessly walked through halls
inset with arched windows, the first kiss of dawn slipping through.
The temple was so quiet he feared he was the only one there. He
couldn’t let his prey escape.

The faint echo of chanting drifted to
his ears, luring him down a dim corridor. His eyes fell on a
frightened man cowering on his knees, praying in vain.

Margzor’s hand jutted out and thrust
his head into a cleansing pool, turning a device of spiritual
healing into a weapon. The grim irony was not lost on Margzor. His
grip became a vice, holding the man still, feeling him go limp with
weakness.

A blow slammed into Margzor’s
abdominals, catching him completely off guard. He staggered back as
a guard swung his polearm, bashing him in the chest. The impact
knocked Margzor off his feet and he collided with a stained glass
window. The jeweled glass shattered in a dazzling display and
cascaded over him. Sunlight streamed through the frame like an aura
hanging over the mass murderer. He took a step forward and his heel
split a shard of glass.

His sword seemed a river of hot metal,
and its brilliance was only intensified by the sunlight that
slipped through the window. In fury, he engaged the knight. The
guard countered swiftly with the halberd. Margzor struck out twice
to parry the blade. He went on the offensive and tried to twist the
guard’s limb, but he tactically evaded. The halberd swept across
and arched toward Margzor’s head.

He raised his sword to block and his
fingers lost all sensation. Both blades locked together, trapping
both men in a stalemate. Margzor retracted his blade and darted to
the right. He breathed heavily and turned a vile expression on the
impetuous guard.

Suddenly, a curved blade hooked around
his ankle and swept him to the floor. Margzor scrambled to his feet
as the halberd fell like a death sentence. He swung his sword in an
uppercut and cut across to the right. The guard masterfully
defended against the attack but Margzor’s blade still sliced his
fingers. A single digit fell to the floor.

Margzor admired his ability to
withstand pain, but he wondered how much more he could endure. His
blade lunged, eager to find out.

The halberd almost tore the sword from
his hands. Margzor floundered back as his opponent furiously bore
down. He dodged as the polearm came within an inch of his face. His
next breath came out in a gasp and he clumsily recoiled. Margzor
had underestimated his opponent.

The guard thrust the
poleaxe.

Margzor twisted to his left, flinging
himself out of its path. Its tip pierced his ribs, injecting shock
and agony. He couldn’t believe that someone had pierced his
defenses. His surprise melted away to anger.

Margzor cried out and whipped his sword
across, severing the polearm. Part of it remained embedded in his
side like a metal thorn. Another sound of rage erupted from Margzor
as he moved with astonishing speed and agility. The guard’s entire
world was snuffed out in an instant, his heart exploding beneath
steel. Margzor breathed arduously and staggered away from the
corpse.

He stumbled and dropped his sword.
Through the gap in his armor, he could see the damage inflicted.
Rivulets of blood crisscrossed the wounded skin, flowing like a
scarlet cascade. Margzor raised his fingers to touch the steel
embedded there, shaking in pain. He gritted his teeth and scooped
up his sword.

Desperation boiling in his heart,
Margzor sought escape. He ran out of the temple and nearly lost his
balance on the steps. He clawed against the wound in his ribs as if
he could tear out the source of his pain. He suppressed a scream
and reached for the straps on his breastplate to remove it.
Twisting his ankle, he plummeted into the dark alley.

His arm lunged out, barely catching
himself. He breathed heavily as intense pain bristled under his
skin. He did not know for how much longer he could endure remaining
alive.

Suddenly, agony washed through him and
his strength failed. In a second, his face grazed against the hard
surface upon which he lay. But he didn’t feel the pain because
everything faded away. For all he knew, he was still falling,
plunging deeper into his emotional hell.

* * *

Their worried expressions captivated
his attention. Men and women were traveling the streets in large
numbers as if they were afraid to be alone. Their lips moved
rapidly, perpetuating a conversation about the killings and the
bodies.

Some of them spoke loud enough for Arxu
to hear. He keenly listened to fragments about “slaughter” and “the
temple.”
Ten people dead… Why weren’t the city guards patrolling
the temple? Now I can’t walk down that street without feeling
watched. What if someone is targeting virgins for his sick,
murderous pleasure?

It sounded eerily similar to the
murders described in Sepulzer and Azia-Nocti. He glanced at Nishka,
oblivious to the morbid rumors making their way across the plaza.
She turned to regard a group of approaching customers, bringing a
spark to her eyes. Immediately, Arxu slipped away from the
market.

He moved briskly through the streets,
darting into an alley before Nishka could detect his escape. The
shady backstreet was host to suspicious-looking vendors shielding
their faces behind veils. Cloaked figures watched as the
Nightwalker treaded on their territory.

Arxu could only imagine what illicit
materials passed between their hands. He scanned the alley for any
sign of guards and picked up his pace. Suddenly, a man with a
malformed face intercepted Arxu.

“What are you doing here?” he rasped.
Not bothering to reply, Arxu shoved past him and continued. He
spotted several poorly clothed women mingling among the depraved
men. They smiled seductively at the males, preying on their innate
weakness. The women whispered into the recipients’ ears, and their
delicate fingers played with the hideous contours of the men’s
faces. Several others were exchanging vials containing
drugs.

Is this humanity distilled to its
basest nature?
Arxu wondered.
What if I was like them before
I died?

“Guards!” The warning sent Arxu’s pulse
skyrocketing. Almost immediately, the criminals scrambled for
escape. Several hurried to gather up the coins they dropped while
others collapsed to the ground and feigned diseased victims. The
women scattered at the word and vanished into the tentacled
shadows.

Arxu carved his escape through the
alley, the screams of criminals only propelling him forward. For a
moment, he believed he would be apprehended. With a burst of speed,
he sprawled out of the alley. He turned the corner and huddled
behind an abandoned cart. He was about to catch his breath when the
sight before him took it away.

The presence of the Gaelithean patrol
confirmed that he had indeed located the temple. His eyes lingered
on the guards oblivious to his presence. They were speaking quietly
to each other, occasionally peering over their shoulders at the
temple. They were clearly on edge. Whatever they had seen inside
rattled even the merciless guards of Gaelithea.

Arxu sucked in a deep breath and
circled the temple, using merchant wagons and booths as cover.
There was no telling how the guards would overstep their boundaries
if they discovered him. He was violating quarantine. That was
enough to warrant an execution.

Arxu couldn’t explain why he was doing
this. Something drove him to seek answers to these grisly crimes.
Perhaps it was Nishka’s dismay picking away at his curiosity.
Inching closer, he eavesdropped on the guards.