Undeath and Taxes (12 page)

6.

By the time Arch came to get us, Krystal had woken up and wandered over, with Albert and Neil joining us about fifteen minutes later. We were in the middle of a spirited game of Hearts when I first picked up the scent of his cigarettes wafting down the hall. When he finally arrived, we’d put the cards away and were on our feet, waiting for him.

Arch lifted one of his eyebrows carefully when he saw our united front. “You all thinking of jumping me?”

“What?” (It is my unfortunate burden to admit that I may have yelped that word just a touch. My already healthy fear of agents had been compounded by Krystal’s assessment of Arch’s abilities.)

“You’re all up, looking like you’re ready to throw down.” Arch took a long drag of his cigarette as he eyed each of us. “Of course, you’d have had to take out Agent Jenkins first, and at least one of you would have been smart enough to ambush me when I came through the door. Wouldn’t have worked, obviously, but it would have been the smart play.”

“Enough,” Krystal said, using the voice she generally reserved for dealing with people she was arresting—and cable companies. “Everyone is playing along real nice, Arch. Don’t push it.”

“Sorry, just thought I’d try to lighten the mood. All right, Weapon Bearer Albert, you’re coming with me. Technically, the contract holder and the necromancer have the right to oversee this, so Agent Jenkins can lead them to the observation area.”

“As the necromancer’s master, I am permitted to follow him anywhere I deem my presence to be needed,” Amy said. I wasn’t sure what she’d taken in the last hour or so, but her hair was shining like long strands of tinsel and there was a soft purple glow around her eyes.

“And Bubba’s coming too,” Krystal added.

“What rule are you invoking for that one?” Arch asked.

“Section fifteen, paragraph twelve. It’s the one titled ‘fuck you; it’s happening because I say so.’ Surprised you didn’t know that one, Arch. Most agents invoke it all the time.”

I could actually see Arch consider pushing back on Krystal, but evidently, he decided he had better ways to spend his energy than slamming it against the brick wall known as arguing with my girlfriend. My regard for his intelligence rose a few more notches.

“Fine, screw it, the whole gang can come.” Arch stubbed out his cigarette and dropped it into the bag at his side, immediately producing a new one. Whatever brand of parahuman he was, I hoped it was one that didn’t make much use of their lungs. “No sense in taking you out of the room to explain things then. Albert, I’m going to lead you down into the testing arena, where you’ll be wielding that sword of yours for a bit. We’ve got it set up with various inanimate objects for you to break, so you’ll have time to get used to the thing. Given that it’s a weapon of destiny, you shouldn’t need more than a couple of swings. Once all of those are broken, you’re going to fight a small chimera.”

“You’re making him fight something?” Neil interrupted.

“Not sure how else you thought we’d  see how the magic affects creatures that aren’t Albert,” Arch said. “Besides, he won’t be in any real danger. We had the thing de-clawed and de-fanged before bringing it over.”

“I . . . I don’t know how I feel about killing something that’s helpless,” Albert said.

“Respectable, but chimeras like this are happier dead,” Arch told him. “They’re creatures formed by mages, bound together from all sorts of animals. If it’s done right, you get some pretty incredible beings. If it’s done wrong, like the one waiting for you was, it just becomes a mass of fear, hunger, and most of all, pain. Weaving flesh isn’t easy. Do it poorly, and you create something that lives in constant agony.”

Albert looked at Neil, who gave a small nod.

“That’s pretty much exactly what Amy taught me about chimeras. It’s also why she doesn’t make them.”

“Still . . . isn’t there some way to help it?”

“If there were, we wouldn’t be doing this,” Arch said. “Thing’s not even truly sentient, just a mass of instincts. And if that doesn’t put you at ease, know that we picked this thing up for a reason. I did mention that they were made of pain
and
hunger.”

“Oh,” Albert said, comprehension dawning.

“Like I said, this thing needs to die no matter what, and it will. While you do all the sword swinging ,we’ll have some Agency mages watching you with their fancy vision, making sure the magic is flowing well. Once everything is done, assuming there are no problems, we’ll talk about the results and you’ll be free to go. Got it? Good. Now keep up.”

I found myself doubting the last part of Arch’s speech, but whether it was something in his tone or just suspicion aroused by Krystal’s theory would be impossible to say. At the moment, my greater concern was for Albert, who still looked quite nervous. As Arch walked out of the room, motioning for us to follow, I made my way over to my dear assistant.

“Holding up okay?” I didn’t try to whisper (pulling that off while following Arch through the stone hallway would have been a fool’s errand), however I did try to keep the discussion as quiet as possible.

Albert looked at me and managed a genuine smile, the sort of thing only he could do in a situation like this. “I’m kind of just ready for it to be over. But I guess it never really will be, will it?”

He rested his hand on the sheath of the sword, and I wondered just how heavy it had already become. I could only imagine the weight it would accumulate as time went on. Perhaps it would have been kinder to lie to him, to ease his burden just a bit, but it wouldn’t have been right. And at that moment, Albert needed clarity about what lay ahead, not words full of hollow comfort.

“No, Albert. It probably will never be over, not how you mean it. For better or worse, drawing that sword changed things, and they’ll never go back to the way they were.”

“I’ve been afraid of that.” Albert’s ever-present cheer seemed to slowly—finally—evaporate.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Albert. I’m saying things won’t be the same anymore, but that isn’t the same thing as saying they’ll be bad.” I let out a sigh and tried not to wince at the subtle irony of my being the one to say what I was about to. “Life, and unlife for that matter, is constantly changing. Sometimes it’s going to be bad, but sometimes it’s going to be good. I understand wanting things to stay the same—I spent the majority of my time alive trying to keep everything stable, balanced, and unchanging—but, Albert, changes comes regardless of what we do. Without change, I never would have been killed getting groceries, and as terrible as that was, it led to me meeting Krystal, and Bubba, and Amy, and you. The place in time you want to go back to didn’t always exist; it came about because of change. Things won’t stay the same, but you may just have some incredible experiences waiting for you over the horizon.”

“Thanks, Fred,” Albert said, looking at me with a strange spark in his eyes. “I needed that.”

“Just the speech I wish someone had given me before I spent most of my twenties being a shut-in,” I told him.

“This is where we part,” Arch announced from up ahead. The stone hallway split off in three directions, and Krystal was already standing in front of one of them. “Albert comes with me, the rest of you go with Agent Jenkins.”

“Good luck,” I whispered to Albert as he began heading toward Arch. He gave me a nod, then stopped in front of Neil. For a moment, the two seemed unsure of what to do, but Albert pushed forward and embraced his best friend in a firm hug. I truly hoped he didn’t do any damage to the young necromancer; zombie strength is nothing to sneeze at. When they finally released the embrace, Albert made his way past the rest of his friends, getting a handshake from Bubba and hugs from Krystal and Amy.

I sidled up to Krystal as Arch and Albert began walking down their hall and slipped my hand around hers. I could still hear them talking as they walked, even if my vampire ears could only barely pick up Arch’s steps.

“You seem pretty composed for someone going into a trial like this,” Arch told him. From the tone of his voice, I felt reasonably sure he meant it as a compliment.

“I’m really scared,” Albert admitted immediately. “It’s all I can do to keep walking right now. But I don’t want to let being afraid stop me. I want to be like my hero.”

He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder, to where Krystal and I were standing. I could hardly fault Albert’s taste in role-models—Krystal was a very impressive person in every regard. She was a great hero for him to have, though I was certainly glad he hadn’t taken that as cause to emulate her more aggressive personality traits.

“Come on, let’s get up there and cheer Albert on,” Krystal said, giving my hand a quick squeeze.

“Damn right,” Bubba agreed.

Neil was clearly too nervous to talk, and Amy seemed to be mentally preoccupied. That wasn’t strange in itself, in fact, it was closer to the norm. What struck me as odd was the subject of her preoccupation. While the rest of us had been focused almost entirely on Albert, she’d had a different concentration point.

For some reason, Amy had scarcely taken her eyes off Neil.

7.

Though I’d only seen gladiatorial arenas in movies and documentaries, I immediately recognized Albert’s testing area as one. True, it was carved of stone like the rest of the underground base (as was the viewing platform we stood on fifty feet above him), and all the light came from those same cheap yellow bulbs instead of from the sun, but it was an arena all the same. Round and wide, with a floor composed of loose dirt atop what was likely more stone, each end held a single gated entrance. Albert came in from what I took to be the southern one, based solely on my viewing position. The northern one still had its gate down, though I could hear sounds of strained movement coming from the shadows behind it. I tried to ignore such disconcerting noises as I watched Albert wander through the arena.

Around him were various minor obstacles—small stacks of boards, a few panes of glass, and even a metal rod or two. I was reasonably certain that no normal sword or wielder could be expected to slice through metal; however, given Albert’s undead strength and the presumed power of a weapon of destiny, it might actually be a manageable, if difficult, challenge.

Albert seemed at a loss for what to do, merely wandering around and inspecting each of the different things he seemed expected to cut. A pair of what I presumed to be mages sat on either side of the viewing arena, opposite from our group’s position, watching without comment as he stood around. Clearly, their job was simply to witness, not instruct.

“What’s he doing?” I whispered to Krystal.

“Probably waiting for some kind of signal,” she said, not bothering to whisper in the slightest. “I’d bet Arch is doing a quick tour to make sure there’s no one near Albert, and then getting clear himself. Safety first, and all that shit.”

“I wish they’d just get on with it,” Neil muttered, staring down at his friend. Amy reached over and rested a comforting hand on her apprentice’s shoulder.

For once, Neil and I were on the same page. Albert looked so small, so lonely down there all by himself. Our group had been through some rough situations before, but we’d always been together. Albert having to face a challenge like this alone just seemed . . . wrong.

“Everyone is now clear. Whenever you’re ready, Weapon Bearer.” Arch’s voice boomed through the stone coliseum as he jogged up behind us, emerging from the entrance tunnel. To have dropped off Albert and then run back up to meet us was no mean feat, yet Arch didn’t even seem to be out of breath. In fact, he pulled out a new cigarette as soon as he came to a stop. I found myself wondering once more what on earth Arch was. He didn’t seem to have the mystical appearance mages favored, he lacked the bulk and presence of a therian, and he was too well-tanned to be an undead. My best bet was that he was like Krystal, hiding a supernatural power that only manifested under certain conditions. Curious as he was, I quickly turned my attention back where it belonged—on Albert.

In spite of the fifty foot difference, I could still hear the ringing echo as Albert unsheathed The Blade of the Unlikely Champion. From the looks on the others’ faces, I doubted it had anything to do with my enhanced hearing either. There was something magical about that note, as if the sword wanted everyone nearby to know that it was out, and that they should beware.

The stacks of boards were the first objects that fell victim to Albert’s new weapon. He approached one tentatively, holding the sword away from his body like he was afraid it might suddenly light him on fire, which was actually a fair concern since he was testing for unexpected magical reactions. Lifting it all the way over his head, Albert brought the blade down in a deliberate arc that focused on precision rather than power. Whether it was the sword, the zombie strength, or a combination of the two, the steel slid easily through each plank in succession, tumbling off their perches into the dust below.

“That’s one sharp pig-sticker,” Bubba noted as Albert turned to another stack and repeated his trick.

“The Blade of the Unlikely Champion is more than just sharp,” Arch told him. “It’s damn near woven entirely out of magic. Makes it incredibly powerful, and just as finicky. Most weapons find wielders every couple of decades or so, but that one hasn’t left its scabbard for over a century.”

Another clattering filled the air as more wood fell to the ground. This time, instead of attacking another stack of boards, Albert turned his attention the panes of glass that had been hung in the air. Sticking the sword out, tilted on its side, he slowly moved it over until it made contact with the edge of the glass. If the clear material put up any resistance, we couldn’t see it, as the blade moved easily through the glass without causing so much as a single crack. The sheared off section fell into the dirt, breaking into several pieces as it did.

“Interesting,” Arch muttered, eyes fixed on the shards embedded in the dirt.

“Don’t be an ass, Arch. If you know something, then share it with the rest of the class,” Krystal demanded.

“My apologies. It’s just impressive, is all. The last Weapon Bearer to hold that sword would have shattered the glass as soon as it made contact.”

“Wait, so Albert’s a better swordsman than the last guy?” Neil asked.

“Not at all, or at least, not yet. The Blade of the Unlikely Champion responds to the soul of the person wielding it, and its capabilities change based on that. Its last owner was a temperamental man who preferred to solve situations with swift aggression. That made the blade’s destructive power shoot way up, to the point that simply touching it to most materials would cause them to crack and break.”

“You seem to know a lot about someone who lived over a century ago,” I said.

“I damn well ought to. I helped train him,” Arch replied.

A new ringing filled the arena, different than the sound of the sword being drawn and resulting from Albert easily chopping through one of the metal pipes that had been set up for him. With each broken object, his confidence was growing. Already, he held the blade with far more certainty and comfort. Arch was clearly right; it had taken little effort to acclimate to wielding a weapon of destiny. And, best of all, no unexpected reactions had occurred so far. If Albert could make it through his battle with the chimera, he would be home free, and we’d all be able to leave.

The last of the obstacles were taken down quickly, as the speed of Albert’s strikes increased. Though he was growing faster, he seemed to be losing nothing in the way of precision. It made me wonder if he was even aware he was picking up speed, or if, to him, it all seemed as slow and controlled as it had with the first overhead blow.

“Weapon Bearer, the time has come for your final trial,” Arch announced. “Slay the chimera, put it out of its misery, and let us test the effect of your sword on creatures nearby.”

Albert gave a nod, visible even from where we were standing, and Arch turned toward one of the mages.

“Tell them to open the gate,” Arch ordered.

The mage made no reaction, but almost immediately, the squeaking of ancient hinges grated against our ears as the gate slowly began to rise.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” I said. “How is this supposed to test the effect Albert and sword have on nearby creatures? Isn’t he just going to kill it with the first swing?”

“Chimeras don’t go down that easy,” Bubba told me. “Damn things can heal quicker than a therian. Even with a magic sword and zombie strength, it’s going to take him several blows to put it down for good.”

“If they heal that fast, then how did you take away its fangs and claws?” I asked, turning to Arch.

“Healing doesn’t replace what’s lost. That requires regeneration, and only certain chimeras have that. Specifically, ones with lizard spliced in.” The squeaking of the gate was getting louder, and I could hear the creature behind it snapping and stomping in excitement. “The one Albert is facing is a mix of panther, boar, and scorpion, so it shouldn’t have any kind of regenerative magic.”

“Well . . . if you’re sure,” I said, my hesitation apparent. It seemed like a big risk to take, but he was a professional, after all. Surely they had ways of detecting what sort of animals a chimera was composed of.

“I’m dead sure,” Arch assured me. The gate finally stopped squeaking when it reach its apex, and heavy footsteps thudded from within the shadows as the creature inside drew closer to the front. “And honestly, it’s not like it matters, anyway,” he continued.

“Why is th—” My words escaped me as the creature came into view. It was massive, easily as big as Richard in his lion form, and Richard was an alpha, the largest type of therian. It was sleek and black, with the large, feline head of a panther, though the pair of large tusks sticking out its mouth spoke to its boar genetics, as did the hooves on its feet. The scorpion aspect shone through in the chitinous armor along its back and the massive, stinger-tipped tail extending from its rear. The chimera let out a mighty roar, showing us the inside of its mouth—a mouth filled with rows of bright white, glistening sharp teeth.

“Because I was lying about it being harmless in the first place,” Arch said, graciously answering the question I’d been unable to finish.