Apotheosis of the Immortal (17 page)

“I have…” She paused and looked at him and then at the ancient
kopis
. “I have spent a lot of time in libraries. May I touch it?”

Elijah picked up the sword and handed it to her.

“Was this really Leonidas’s sword?” Ayda smiled and her eyes seemed to glow as she examined it. She looked up at Elijah, who nodded. “I wouldn’t have imagined him carrying a
kopis
. How did you get this?” she asked.

“I am an Assassin… or I was,” he boasted. “How do you think?” Elijah smiled as he retrieved the
kopis
from Ayda’s outstretched hands. “It was a gift from Hassan.” He was reminded of his big friend every time he saw the sword. As he placed it back on the floor next to his bed, he wondered what might come of Hassan now that the entire Assassin network had taken such a huge blow.

“Very well, we will leave it at that.” Ayda smiled. “I know a good man, also. Actually, he is a great man. He is my brother. His name is Khalid. He is stubborn and proud, but, when it counts, he always does what he believes is right for those he loves. I think that makes him a great man.” Ayda moved back to the bed. She pushed Elijah’s hair away from his face and looked into his eyes.

“You remind me of him. You don’t look like him; you just seem similar. That is why I cannot believe you are all bad.” A few moments later, she stood up and walked towards the exit.

“Where is he now? Why are you not with him?” Elijah leaned back on the bed and put his hands under his head.

“He had a family, a wife and a daughter.” She turned back to face him. “When they died, he ran as far away as he could.” She paused. “He wanders in the desert from time to time, but he always comes back to me eventually. Before he made a family, I was all he had, and he was all I had.” When she finished speaking, she quickly turned and exited Elijah’s tent.

The Beginning:

William 1186 AD

His chest flooded with the thrill of power as he held the heart up in the air like a trophy. Not wasting any more time, he sat down on the floor next to the mutilated corpse and began to eat. He devoured the entire thing in minutes and then waited patiently to receive his gift.

Chapter 32

“The time is
fast approaching, William. This year will have great significance in the future. We are on the verge of a discovery that will forever change our stations in life and reserve for us a place in history esteemed beyond all others.” The old man spoke slowly, his words interspersed with dry coughs and small gasps for air.

His voice was raspy and low, muffled by the cloth he held forever over his mouth in an attempt to keep this terrible plague from escaping his already mutilated body. His caretaker knew it was merely a politeness, unlikely to make any real difference. It was like barricading the front door in an attempt to stop the devil himself from making his way inside, while leaving the windows wide open. Regardless, William appreciated the effort.

“This discovery will tear open our minds and with it the very fabric with which this world has been held together.” The old man continued his oratory with great effort, now gasping for breath after every second or third word.

William had been at his lord’s side every day for the last fifteen years, ever since he had been trampled by oxen while working in the fields, and had become unable to work the parcel of land allotted to him by his feudal lord.

Fifteen years later, Lord Jeffrey now lay nearly lifeless before him. William remembered the day after his accident, how he had feared his family would starve. William only had two boys back then, and only one old or strong enough to help in the fields.

Normally, Jeffrey would have taken whatever wealth a family possessed as a final payment for taxes owed and thrown the entire family off of his land. William had been quite relieved to find his situation was a bit special, since William’s mother had grown up with Lord Jeffrey.

She, like her mother before her, had been a servant to the family. Since she was about the same age as Jeffrey, they had become close playmates and Jeffrey had eventually fallen in love with her.

The Castle of Rothber, if you could call it a castle, was nothing more than a rock cellar beneath one small but sturdy tower. It was connected by a small corridor to a large room which had been divided on the inside into a dining hall, a kitchen, a small storage room and the servants’ quarters, where only one servant was permitted to stay each night.

Jeffrey himself was no stranger to hardship; he had spent much time out in the mud and the muck with his servants. His family lived more like peasants than lords, as was quite common among small rural lordships of the time. Jeffrey himself was indifferent to the intricacies of titles and status, so he had been broken-hearted when his parents told him he must marry someone other than William’s mother.

All the money in the world wouldn’t have changed his mind, but it wasn’t his to change. Jeffrey’s mother had come from a wealthier land to the north and could not endure allowing her eldest son to marry a peasant girl, and a personal servant at that. She had been married away to Jeffrey’s father when she was only fourteen, bartered for a return of loyalty, which wasn’t needed, or even of any consequence.

However, she was the youngest of seven sisters and quite homely, so the fact that fate had brought her to this dreadful place did not surprise her in the least. Still, she would do what she could to see her son climb out of it.

“What exactly do you mean, sir?” William asked, uncertain of whether the old man was dreaming or had finally gone mad.

“My journal,” Jeffrey croaked, pointing a bent, arthritic finger toward the chest lying beside his bed. “Bring it to me.”

William opened the chest, paying scant attention to the familiar creaks and musty smell.

Almost daily, since Jeffrey had been sick, he had asked William to retrieve his journal, or a quill, or some other obscure item from the chest. He pulled out the old leather journal with both hands and heaved it onto the bed beside Jeffrey. Pawing at the leather covering, Jeffrey flipped it open and took out an old letter.

“Read it.” His voice was a raspy whisper as he carefully stretched out his arm towards William. William carefully unfolded the letter and read the short message.

“‘It is real’ –Roman.”

William was mystified, but he had learned a great deal of patience while caring for this old man. The name was familiar. Over the last few months Lord Jeffrey had spent much of his time recounting to William stories about a mysterious island, Jeffrey’s own grandfather, and a man named Roman.

The two couldn’t be connected, could they?
William thought. Roman had died more than eighty years ago, and this letter wasn’t nearly that old. Besides, William knew Jeffrey’s stories were just that, stories and fanciful tales. Jeffrey had told him Roman died on one of his expeditions with Jeffrey’s grandfather while they searched a secret island that supposedly held “untold power” and ”immortality”.

“My grandfather received this letter just months before he died.” Jeffrey began; no doubt able to see William’s confusion as he scratched at his beard. “I am a dead man, William. I was already bedridden by the time I discovered this message in some of my father’s old things. Nothing can save me now, nor do I want to be saved.” His voice was growing forceful.

“I have no children or family of my own. You are the closest thing I have to a son,” he said simply. Jeffrey’s late wife had lost three children during childbirth and one to fever a few months after. “Whether you believe it or not, I loved your mother, and that is the reason I have been telling you about the island and about my grandfather. It
is
real, all of it. It is the answer for you and your family; it’s the answer to this plague that has ravaged me. If you can find the island, you can save your family from the deadly curses of life,” Jeffrey said with desperation.

“Wait, wait, Lord Jeffrey. With all due respect, sir, you are talking nonsense; magic islands, powers, freedom from plagues, this can’t be real. You told me yourself that your grandfather saw Roman die. How could this letter be from him?” William’s curiosity was growing, but he was still hesitant to believe such a farfetched tale.

“Listen, my son,” Jeffrey’s voice was weakening with exhaustion, but he continued to press; his tired voice relentless. “My father wasn’t very old when my grandfather died. He remembered my grandfather went mad about a week before he died, just after a middle-aged man came to the castle with a message for Grandfather. They spoke privately for only a moment, and the stranger left quickly. For the next week, until he died, my grandfather insisted the man who had visited him was Roman. It never occurred to me it could have been true until I found that letter.”

“Even if you are right, what would you have me do?”
Had Jeffrey gone mad?
William was just a simple peasant; what could he do? Still, he respected the old man enough to wish him to feel at ease in his final days, even if William privately thought him mad.

“I want you to find the island, or find Roman, and save your family from this curse. I will pass land and title to you to this end alone. You must promise me. Your family will never again want for anything. Promise me.” His old frame had hardened and he was speaking with a newfound strength, as if he was mustering all he had for this final act. He stretched out his arm and opened his hand to William.

“I will do as you wish,” William said, although still not convinced. He could not believe in such fairy tales, but if granting this final request from his lord would help his family, he knew he must. William clasped the old man’s bony hand in his own. “I promise,” he said, completely unprepared for the trials and horrors that lay ahead.

Chapter 33

William was a
simple man. He was not easily given to adventures or throes of passion and imagination. He had never been absent from his family for very long, either. The only time he had been separated from them was while he was busy caring for Lord Jeffrey.

His body was ripe with motion sickness when he stepped off the small ship onto a rocky shore. He vowed to never leave home again—if he ever made it back. He thought this entire quest was a joke, but if it meant a better life for his family, as Jeffrey had promised, then he would stay the course. This was the fifteenth island he had scoured in the Mediterranean. He found nothing on the others, and he was sure this one would be no different.

As he watched the small vessel push back out to sea, he thought of his family and how much he loved them. Mostly, he thought of his lovely wife Esmeralda. He could count the days and hours since he had last seen her warm smile, and even if he could see it again tomorrow, it wouldn’t be soon enough. She meant the world to him.

For a moment he thought about just getting back on the boat and sailing home. Jeffrey was probably dead by now and the castle his; no one would be the wiser. Still, he was a man of his word, and he owed it to Jeffrey to finish the task.

Jeffrey had told William that Roman and his grandfather, Caius, had been exploring a small island they called Shiria in the Mediterranean Sea, off the coast of Turkey. His grandfather had told him of the monolithic stones the ancients had placed in intricate designs, stones so large they could not have been carved or carried by mortal men. He had also left Jeffrey a map, which seemed useless to William.

Caius and Roman had believed the natives on this island had a secret that could free men from death and give them unimaginable power. There were stories of the island passed down from ancient times, but they were scarce now. It was said the island was guarded by a dense fog and illusionary magic. There were also stories of men who had lived hundreds of years, men who had gathered those monoliths single-handedly, and even men who could turn into ferocious beasts at will. Most people who had heard of the island steered clear of the area; they believed it to be cursed.

Some said it was the home of the gods. Then there were those like Caius and Roman, who didn’t care. They just wanted power, at any cost. Caius had said they had been exploring one of the ancient sites, a circle of huge, freestanding stones on the edge of a giant cliff. He said Roman had stumbled and fallen over the edge of the cliff onto the jagged rocks below. Caius took Roman’s death as a bad omen and gave up the search. He left the island that same day—never to return.

And here I am,
William grumbled to himself,
following in the footsteps of two old fools.
He looked around, but the island seemed deserted. About a hundred yards down the beach he spied a small path disappearing behind the tree line and decided to see where it led. After walking for hours, he finally came to a small hut tucked discreetly off the path.

He walked through a thicket of trees and bushes before finally arriving at what seemed like a small dirt moat surrounding the hut. His curiosity was piqued when he heard the steady clank of chisel against rock. The clanking stopped when he walked a few steps around the hut.

William was shocked to see a huge man with nearly solid-black skin. He was carrying a massive stone, at least twice as long as a man and nearly half that in width and depth. William was dumbfounded. The stories were actually true! He watched as the man laid the enormous, unfinished stone down, next to another that had been chiseled with astonishing precision to create a perfectly rectangular monolith, larger than anything William had imagined possible.