The Unborn God, Chapter II

Alain blinked his dry eyes. There was no air in his lungs; he felt like he was drowning. He struggled to pull in a breath, clamping his throat with both hands as he tossed on the floor in desperation. Finally, after rolling on his side, he was able to take in one wheezing breath. Then another. Each time he inhaled it felt like a knife was driving into his chest. He clambered to his hands and knees and hung his head low as he hacked up blood.

Once his fit of coughing had passed, and Alain no longer believed that he would succumb to asphyxiation, he brought himself to his feet. His shirt tugged at his skin with every expansion of his chest. When he glanced down, he noticed that dried blood cascaded down his front leaving a trail of crusty fabric plastered to him in its wake.

Keeping his wits about him, Alain scanned the Hall of Ceremony for the Maiden of Life. He had helped her, and wanted to make sure that she had escaped when he had told her to. However unsettling it may have been, Alain had to consider the possibility that the beautiful Maiden hadn't made it out. There was no sign of the dagger, either. Nothing seemed out of place in the room except for him: a man standing in his own blood wearing a crimson streaked shirt would be likely to attract attention.

Alain considered it odd that he should have survived his bloody encounter. Upon examining himself, he was shocked to discover that he had no visual wounds, and appeared untouched, save for his clothing.

He passed from the Hall of Ceremony into its entrance hall and came to an abrupt halt. A body was slumped against the stone wall. Another man was dead on the floor, a pool of blood puddled around his head and neck. Alain had no recollection of the bodies that were splayed before him. What troubled him more was that he couldn't remember ever entering the Hall of Ceremony. He shuttered. Alain didn't even know where he was.

Footsteps echoed down the wide passageway. If Alain tried to scramble back into the Hall of Ceremony, the sound of the heavy doors slamming shut would certainly alert any passersby. His only chance of hiding himself was in among the shadows, and that wouldn't be good enough. Not knowing what else to do, Alain flopped to the ground, mimicking the bodies of the dead.

A palace patrolman lifted his torch as he strode by and paused. Alain overheard two men whispering to each other.

“Blessed Gods, is that-” The patrolman who had held out his torch stuttered, “is that the Emperor?”

The other patrolman scrambled over to the cadaver to get a closer glimpse, his nose crinkled by the fresh scent of death. “Regil, to the Gods, he's been murdered.”

“What should we do, Gregory? We're not prepared for these sorts of situations,” Regil said in a panic. He shined his light farther into the passage and spotted two more bodies. “By Ziro!” Regil recoiled. “Two more men were slain here.”

Gregory stepped over the Emperor's body to see to the other corpses. “This is odd, Regil.”

“Huh?”

“There are pools of blood around the Emperor and this man,” he pointed to the fallen advisor, “but the floor around that other man is dry.”

“Maybe he was dragged there,” Regil suggested.

Gregory studied the surface of the floor and then spoke up, “I don't think so, there are no tracks or streaks of blood around him. If he were dragged or carried, there would have to be some blood on the floor.”

Regil shifted his helm and scratched his head. “Strange, what do you make of it?”

Gregory's brow furrowed. “I'm not sure, Reg, it just doesn't seem right.”

“Look, it doesn't matter right now. We've got to get these bodies out of here immediately,” Regil asserted. “The rest of the Palace Guard need to be informed that there is a killer skulking about Gyr.” Sweat formed on his face like fresh dew. “I can't begin to think about how we're going to announce the Emperor's death to the Maiden.”

Gregory's face looked perplexed. “The Maiden is in line to be executed for treason as per the Emperor's chief advisor. I told you that earlier, remember?”

“Sorry, Greg, I forgot- mustn't have really been listening.” Regil frowned. “Anyway, let's get going so we can notify Advisor Marx before the perpetrator escapes these walls.”

Alain wanted to shout that the Maiden was innocent. He couldn't. He could barely risk taking a breath. She must be terrified, the poor woman. Alain felt somewhat responsible for her situation. If he had been able to put Calvin down when he was given the opportunity, none of this would be happening right now.

“We can't recover all three of these bodies at once.” Gregory squatted down next to the Emperor. “I'll take the Emperor, you take one of the others.”

“We're going to leave one here?”

Greg looked over his shoulder at Regil. “We'll have to come back for it. Just pick one and take it.”

Never a man who enjoyed having dirt under his nails, let alone blood on his uniform, Regil swept Alain's dry, limp body up over his shoulder. Alain thought that Regil seemed the less intelligent of the two men, but he doubted that he would have trouble realizing that a corpse with a pounding heart is not a corpse at all. He couldn't calm his heart as it raced out of control, anxious adrenaline pumping through his veins. Surely, Regil would take notice. If he was found out, he'd have to fight. They would suspect him of killing the Emperor. There would be no other escape.

Alain could feel the muscles in between Regil's back knot up. “Gregory, drop the Emperor and get over here,” his voice quivered.

“What is it Regil?”

Regil loosened his grip and Alain plummeted to the ground, finally smashing the crown of his head on the floor. “This man's still alive,” Regil smirked. “Well, maybe not anymore. I think I heard his neck snap.”

Alain opened his eyes and surveyed the granite floor around him. Shards of granite surrounded the indentation his skull had chipped into the floor.

“Why don't you get a closer look, Reg?” Gregory said, still with the Emperor slung over his shoulder.

Regil leaned over, grabbed a fistful of Alain's dark hair and jerked Alain's head up level with his eyes.

“Let go of me,” Alain's hand shot up to Regil's neck. “Let me go now, or you and your fellow, here, won't survive to report anything to your wonderful Advisor Marx.”

Regil's face went scarlet as he clawed at Alain's ever-constricting hand. Gregory decided that it was finally a good time to drop the Emperor and rushed to Regil's aide. Alain jumped up to his feet and cast Regil, sending him careening into Gregory. The two patrolmen groaned as their bodies smacked against the floor.

Alain couldn't believe what he had just done. He should be dead, but instead he was able to overpower two men who were much more imposing than he.

“Please,” Regil sobbed, “don't kill us. We were just doing our job.” He shielded his face as Alain stalked toward him and Gregory, expecting to be struck. Gregory could do no more than moan underneath Regil's massive body.

“I don't plan on killing you, I just wasn't going to let you bring me to Advisor Marx so he could put me to death.”

“Death?” Regil coughed. “You sure you really can die? That fall should have mashed your brains up nice and good, but instead you ended up doing more damage to the floor. I bet you a guillotine would bend right around your neck.”

“That's a theory I really don't care to test out.” Alain said, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe you should roll off your friend so he can breathe, I'm sure he'd appreciate it.”

Regil eased himself off of his friend. “You okay, Greg?”

“I think so,” Gregory sputtered. “You stayed on top of me long enough, you oaf.”

These men seemed rather harmless. Alain believed that they wouldn't cause him any issues. He reached down, clasped Regil's wrist, and wrenched him up, then did the same for Greg.

“You didn't kill the Emperor, then?” Regil asked, looking Alain up and down. Alain shook his head. “How'd you get all that blood on you?”

“I was trying to protect someone.” Alain wasn't about to say that he was trying to protect the Maiden of Life. “Someone sliced me up quite a bit in the process, and I must have passed out and been left for dead.”

“Maybe it was the same person who killed the Emperor,” Gregory interjected, rubbing the back of his head where it had tapped the ground.

Alain nodded in agreement. “That's probably a safe bet. It's not often that two important people are attacked in the same day.”

“Two important people?” Regil tilted his head, perplexed.

Alain bit his tongue. “Yes, the Maiden of Life was attacked also- at least that's who she told me she was. I'd never seen her before.”

Regil considered what Alain had just said. “Tell us about her.”

“I can't really recall her exact features, my memory's a bit fuzzy. I remember that she seemed disconnected from the entire situation. Honestly, I don't think she really cared whether she lived or died. It was heart-breaking, as if she'd already given up on life. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't recollect what happened before I jumped down from the altar to face her attacker.”

“You were in there when this happened?” Gregory pointed to the entrance to the Hall of Ceremony.

“Yes. That's where I woke up, too.”

“Well,” Regil said, pacing. “That likely could have been the Maiden, she spends a great deal of her time praying to Ziro in that hall.”

Alain's eyes lit up. “Take me to her.”

“Sorry, but neither of us can help you there, she's being held for execution.” Gregory shrugged.

“Held where?”

“In The Deeps. Nasty place. That's where all those in line for execution wait out the rest of their days. That's where she'd be, and that's why we can't help you.”

Alain's expression dimmed as he stared blankly at the wall in thought. He believed he could help her. He felt like he might be able to do a great many things, but was uncertain why he felt so. There was something different about him. Why couldn't he remember anything from before the attack? How was he still alive? The Maiden might have the answers for him.

“Take me to him.” Alain mumbled, his gaze still transfixed on the wall.

“To whom?” Regil asked.

“Advisor Marx.”

Regil grunted. “Boy, if I thought I could knock some sense into you, I sure as the Gods would. That man'll have you dangling from the gallows by sunset tomorrow.” Regil nudged his helm a little to the side to scratch his head once more.

Alain grinned. “I think I may have a plan.”



Gyr was the size of a large city. It marked the very center of the Alean Empire, and the greatest marvels of human achievement. People bustled about the merchant stands and trade shops that lined the halls of Gyr's business district, browsing for trinkets for their loved ones, or selecting a specific cut of meat for their stews. The constant hum of voices reverberated off the polished granite walls and the lengths of the cathedral ceilings.

“You sure you're all right with this, Alain?” Gregory asked, his hand tightly gripping Alain's bicep.

“Is there any other way for me to get to her?” Alain adjusted his other arm under Regil's firm palm.

“No, there isn't.”

People gawked at the three of them as they marched past; some of whom quickly went onto gossip once they saw the body bag slung over Regil's shoulder and Alain's blood spattered shirt. All the attention made Alain uneasy.

“You're a servant, I take it?” Gregory asked, noting Alain's clothing.

“I can't really say.” Alain mumbled.

“It's a big secret then, huh? You're in a disguise or something.” Regil gave Alain a hopeful grin.

Alain chuckled. “I don't think that's so, but maybe. I don't really remember, to be honest.”

“You don't remember? How can that be?”

“That's one of the reasons I have to get to the Maiden. I'm hoping she can give me some answers.”

“I'd like her to answer some of my questions, too.” Regil said, winking at Alain. “Not too often do you see one as pretty as she is.”

“For Ziro's sake, Regil, You're talking about the Maiden!” Gregory chortled.



The journey had dragged on for nearly an hour before Regil and Gregory ceased bickering and assumed the visage of palace guards.

“We're about there,” Regil whispered in Alain's ear. “Look scared.”

Alain had no trouble appearing scared, his anxiety already fluttered in his stomach. Time to meet the Advisor Marx. Time to go to The Deeps.

“You don't have to do this, Alain,” Gregory uttered in his other ear. “We can turn back now, and you can go back to doing, well, whatever it is that you do.”

The group took a left into a narrow hall that most people would likely take no notice of if they were walking past. At the other end of the short hallway, low steps led up to a set of stained doors. The two guards paused, hoping that Alain would change his mind and turn back. He nodded. Gregory knocked on the doors with his giant hand. Not a second passed before the entrance swung open, a guard stationed inside the hall.

“What business have you here?” The guard inspected the group.

“We must speak with Advisor Marx.” Gregory's voice sounded astonishingly official. “We found the Emperor dead, this man was standing over his body.”

The guard's face went pale. He said nothing. Regil and Gregory pushed through, Alain squeezed tightly between them.



The expression on Calvin Marx's face nearly made Alain smile. The man looked like he had just seen Vra himself. Before Marx could say anything, Gregory started recounting the details of the crime. “He was standing over the body with a face of sick satisfaction. He didn't even hear us coming, didn't notice the light of our torches. When we seized him by his arms, he didn't say a thing, just kept his eyes welded to the sight of his heinous deed. He hasn't said a word yet. We don't know if he's too nervous, or if he's gone mad. My guess is the latter. With the Emperor dead and the Maiden confessed to have committed treason, that puts you in charge Advisor; so we decided we'd report here, to your office.”

Calvin, still startled by the sight of Alain, finally let a scornful smirk touch his lips. He could finish Alain off again, this time making sure to follow through with the act. How the servant had lived was beyond him; it didn't matter now, though. Calvin Marx would kill this man again, and in doing so, also tie the Emperor's murder around his neck. “You have done the Empire a great service, men.” He bowed his head and looked down at his folded hands on his desk. “As stricken as I am from hearing of the death of our great Emperor, it is to my great relief that you men have apprehended his assassin.”

He opened his desk drawer and rummaged through it. “Certainly this is payment enough for your work.”

Both Gregory and Regil glanced down at what Calvin held in his hand. Papers of Imperial status. They were to become noblemen.

“Reluctantly,” Calvin sighed, “I will have to assume the position of Emperor – temporarily, of course.”

Regil and Gregory both bowed. “It is a great service you do for the Empire, Emperor Marx,” Regil said, making certain to use the title, 'Emperor'. “What shall we do with this weed?” Alain was pushed once again to the forefront of conversation.

“My guards will take him to The Deeps, where he will bide the rest of his miserable existence until the day of his execution. An execution, I assure you, that will do the former Emperor's death justice.” He tugged at his beard. “Perhaps, though, he may yet have some unwarranted amusement with the lovely Maiden.”

At a snap of his fingers, Imperial guards rushed to his side. “Take this slime,” Marx flung his hand at Alain, “to The Deeps.” He returned his attention to the two patrolmen, “You are dismissed.”

To The Deeps.