10-07-2016, 10:41 PM
He couldn't breathe. He sucked in air but choked. His throat spasmed. He tasted the blood and thought for a second he'd broken a tooth. No that made no sense. His chest hurt. He wanted to scream in agony, but the air stuck in his throat. Panic took over. He moved his legs. Pushed against the floor. Why was he on the floor? He reached hard as he could, but there was nothing to grab. He grew dizzy, shivering. Closed his eyes. Footsteps. Yelling.
The peace of the following darkness was most welcome.
***
There was a blanket tucked up under his chin. He grabbed the edge and pulled it high, nuzzling the softness with his cheek. The warmth was soothing. It was like a caress over his skin. Like laying in water, velvety and gentle. He rolled onto his back then, stretching his arms long behind his head. The muscles of his back, worked and cut by a daily swim, rolled over a mattress that creaked when he moved. Odd that, his bed was silent as the grave. This one was different: firmer, narrower. He opened his eyes and found white walls.
He sat up in a gasp. The blanket fell to his waist and his hands pawed quickly across his chest, coming to rest on the area by his heart. His throat went dry.
The Atharim shot me.
He remembered those last few moments underground. Regus had been about to slay Aria, and ropes of power dragged him before Nikolai. The man squirmed at his feet, and then the bang of gunfire.
He looked down at himself. His skin was normal. His chest smooth. No pain. He felt perfect.
Wide eyes searched for answers upward, and landed on the grim face of his Deputy-Consul, Viktor.
The answer tipped his tongue, but he remained quiet, otherwise delayed with awe.
Viktor strode quickly to his side. "Yes, it's a miracle you're alive, but you are not immortal, Nikolai."
Nik's face darkened. Somehow, Viktor held his gaze a few moments before looking aside.
Nik swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was in a hospital, that was obvious. Poles hung nearby, draped with lines he assumed were once attached to him. His feet touched the cold floor, and he stood with little care for modesty, discarding the blanket as he did. It felt good to stretch his legs, even if it was just to put on pants.
He turned to Viktor as he settled the slacks at his waist. They weren't his, but they fit close enough. "Just because I can die does not mean I am not allowed to die. Is that not also immortality?"
Lord of the grievous dead, indeed. Was he not master of death? King? A god?
He turned in a circle, seeking something that was not present. "Where is the Arcus Band?"
Even with spare pants, shirtless and shoeless, it needed to be set upon his crown before anyone else laid eyes on him.
Viktor answered, his voice hesitant, "destroyed. It seems they used some sort of frequency weapon against you. The Arcus is all but melted. Your scalp was burnt-"
he ceased at Nikolai's gesture.
Nikolai closed his eyes. The Arcus band had been his creation, melted down from treasures pilfered from the Imperial Jewels and reforged into a symbol of an emperor. Very well, fate had spoken. The design that ensures his survival would ensure another Band would replace it. One fit for a god.
"Is Regus dead?"
His voice was cool.
"Who?"
Viktor blinked in confusion. "There were three others found with you. One was dead. We don't know his identity yet."
Nikolai frowned, Regus could be that dead man. There had been another Atharim that night. However many nights ago that was. It didn't matter. So long as the empire remained. Viktor wouldn't be here otherwise.
"And the others?"
He asked finally, almost as if the living did not concern him anymore.
"Sigma Marcus and the girl, Aria, live."
Nikolai strode to the door, throwing it open on threads of Aether as he approached. "Take me to her."
He didn't care that he was barely dressed. The cold floor under his bare feet was welcome against the memory of burning alive. He felt eyes watch him as he passed, almost like hands reached up from the abyss to grope at his ankles, but when his gaze swept their faces he saw nothing but subjects. Subjects or corpses. Every face in the world would soon be one or the other. That, he silently swore to himself. But first, Aria.
The door to her room opened on threads of Aether as had the other. His eyes were dark, dead stones when he looked upon her. More threads lashed out, snaking around her body, yanking the bedcovers from her form, throwing aside trays and chairs that blocked his path.
He went to her bedside aware that another body in the room gasped and scrambled out of his way. Viktor did not interfere, but watched warily.
He called sizzling threads of Flame to hover around her skin, but he was careful not to come within arm's reach himself. The threads crackled and spit, a hellish orange glaze cast her body with color. Their heat loomed close. "I am sure you have been intimidated your whole life by very capable men. I am sure you don't care about threats anymore. I am sure you are not afraid of me."
As his eyes dug into hers, the orange barbs of the fires flickered in his. She should be afraid.
"Have you ever burned alive from the inside-out, Aria? I have. And you brought such weapons to my door without warning me about them. I have been merciful beyond imagining with you and yet again I extend my mercy. I'm giving you another chance to explain because you saved my life. Thus I am fair."
"What. happened. to. me."
The peace of the following darkness was most welcome.
***
There was a blanket tucked up under his chin. He grabbed the edge and pulled it high, nuzzling the softness with his cheek. The warmth was soothing. It was like a caress over his skin. Like laying in water, velvety and gentle. He rolled onto his back then, stretching his arms long behind his head. The muscles of his back, worked and cut by a daily swim, rolled over a mattress that creaked when he moved. Odd that, his bed was silent as the grave. This one was different: firmer, narrower. He opened his eyes and found white walls.
He sat up in a gasp. The blanket fell to his waist and his hands pawed quickly across his chest, coming to rest on the area by his heart. His throat went dry.
The Atharim shot me.
He remembered those last few moments underground. Regus had been about to slay Aria, and ropes of power dragged him before Nikolai. The man squirmed at his feet, and then the bang of gunfire.
He looked down at himself. His skin was normal. His chest smooth. No pain. He felt perfect.
Wide eyes searched for answers upward, and landed on the grim face of his Deputy-Consul, Viktor.
The answer tipped his tongue, but he remained quiet, otherwise delayed with awe.
Viktor strode quickly to his side. "Yes, it's a miracle you're alive, but you are not immortal, Nikolai."
Nik's face darkened. Somehow, Viktor held his gaze a few moments before looking aside.
Nik swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was in a hospital, that was obvious. Poles hung nearby, draped with lines he assumed were once attached to him. His feet touched the cold floor, and he stood with little care for modesty, discarding the blanket as he did. It felt good to stretch his legs, even if it was just to put on pants.
He turned to Viktor as he settled the slacks at his waist. They weren't his, but they fit close enough. "Just because I can die does not mean I am not allowed to die. Is that not also immortality?"
Lord of the grievous dead, indeed. Was he not master of death? King? A god?
He turned in a circle, seeking something that was not present. "Where is the Arcus Band?"
Even with spare pants, shirtless and shoeless, it needed to be set upon his crown before anyone else laid eyes on him.
Viktor answered, his voice hesitant, "destroyed. It seems they used some sort of frequency weapon against you. The Arcus is all but melted. Your scalp was burnt-"
he ceased at Nikolai's gesture.
Nikolai closed his eyes. The Arcus band had been his creation, melted down from treasures pilfered from the Imperial Jewels and reforged into a symbol of an emperor. Very well, fate had spoken. The design that ensures his survival would ensure another Band would replace it. One fit for a god.
"Is Regus dead?"
His voice was cool.
"Who?"
Viktor blinked in confusion. "There were three others found with you. One was dead. We don't know his identity yet."
Nikolai frowned, Regus could be that dead man. There had been another Atharim that night. However many nights ago that was. It didn't matter. So long as the empire remained. Viktor wouldn't be here otherwise.
"And the others?"
He asked finally, almost as if the living did not concern him anymore.
"Sigma Marcus and the girl, Aria, live."
Nikolai strode to the door, throwing it open on threads of Aether as he approached. "Take me to her."
He didn't care that he was barely dressed. The cold floor under his bare feet was welcome against the memory of burning alive. He felt eyes watch him as he passed, almost like hands reached up from the abyss to grope at his ankles, but when his gaze swept their faces he saw nothing but subjects. Subjects or corpses. Every face in the world would soon be one or the other. That, he silently swore to himself. But first, Aria.
The door to her room opened on threads of Aether as had the other. His eyes were dark, dead stones when he looked upon her. More threads lashed out, snaking around her body, yanking the bedcovers from her form, throwing aside trays and chairs that blocked his path.
He went to her bedside aware that another body in the room gasped and scrambled out of his way. Viktor did not interfere, but watched warily.
He called sizzling threads of Flame to hover around her skin, but he was careful not to come within arm's reach himself. The threads crackled and spit, a hellish orange glaze cast her body with color. Their heat loomed close. "I am sure you have been intimidated your whole life by very capable men. I am sure you don't care about threats anymore. I am sure you are not afraid of me."
As his eyes dug into hers, the orange barbs of the fires flickered in his. She should be afraid.
"Have you ever burned alive from the inside-out, Aria? I have. And you brought such weapons to my door without warning me about them. I have been merciful beyond imagining with you and yet again I extend my mercy. I'm giving you another chance to explain because you saved my life. Thus I am fair."
"What. happened. to. me."