Aeternitas by M Mixson (free ereaders txt) 📖

dull black. He moved on past the entryway and into the main hall. He looked around and peered in and out of rooms, his curiosity spiked.

He found his ways to the wide stairway that curled up towards the second floor. He dragged his hands along the railing as he stepped over the rotten portions of the steps. When he reached the top he turned to the right and looked into the first room. This room had belonged to his sister, and it was still the way she had left it when she had left to go to the medical center. It had hardly even been that, Zese realized. He’d been away at the time when the plague had started and for some reason it had completely skipped over him. The center wasn’t even really medical, it was just a place for people to go die in. His mouth curled downwards in a frown as he gazed round the room. His boot crashed through the floor and he swore softly. He made his way to the last room: the one that had once been his. Planting his hands on the far left wall of his room he pushed. All of a sudden the wall collapsed in on itself and revealed a large box which he pulled from the wall and set on the floor.

He hacked it open with his sword and inside was another sword. One that was beautiful – a mirror image of one that a Prince of the Royal family would carry. It had been in Zese’s family for as long as he could remember.

Picking it up Zese hefted it for a few minutes in his hand before leaving.

Weeks later he arrived at Boisson’s estate. But the estate was nothing like he’d ever known. It was pure chaos, and Zese almost didn’t know how to react. He managed to block a blow that would have split his head in two if he hadn’t raised his sword. He spun around on the heel of his foot and struck at his attacker. He cut him down with ease before turning and hacking his way through two more men. He found Boisson fifty feet away defending against three rather large men. He knocked one to the ground while Boisson finished off the second. The third they dealt with together. Boisson turned to him. “Glad you could join us, it’s been getting messy here.” He pointed across the field. “Apparently we’ve got some problems. We don’t have enough medics here. People are dying more quickly than we can conscript or heal them. Somehow the other guys are putting them back out onto the field like nothing else. They seem to be immortal.”

“Immortal?” Zese queried.

“Immortal. They keep coming it never stops. One of the men here, oh, here he comes, has some sort of magic.”

“He can do magic?”

“Not do it,” the man said as he approached, “I can feel it. Sense it when it’s used.”

“The person using it is extremely powerful and extremely talented.”

“Why do you day that?”

“His Source manifests so clearly. The more clearly a Source is seen the more powerful a User is.”

“Have you met him?”

“I wish, I wish I could learn from him, but my job is to see if I can kill him. To win this battle we must eliminate him.”

“How long have you been fighting?”

“Three days so far…three very long days.”

Zese rubbed his hands against his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took more than a month to get here. I went home first.” His lips twisted. “I’d like to think that it was a good choice.”

“You had to do what you had to do,” Boisson told him. Then they departed to fight their battles.

Sweat ran into his eyes as Zese fought his way out of an ambush. For the past six months it had been nonstop fighting, nonstop loss and pain and hatred.

Jiliy was right – the User who healed these men was exceedingly quick. And Zese knew it personally. He had felt such strong pain when he’d met his opponent. It had nearly knocked him breathless and apparently it had knocked Eian breathless too by the shocked look on his face.

Zese dodged the attack that was launched at him and he blocked the next one. Finally he managed to get a swipe in. The swipe chopped off the man’s head and Zese left him there as he turned to the next man in line. Line was not a correct word, mob would have been a better word. The battlefield was chaos – the mercenaries constantly switching the sides never remembering or knowing who to attack. They killed each other off more often than they killed the soldiers they had been commissioned to kill off. Many had vendettas against each other and they took this chance to try and off each other. The lords soon learned that this had been a great mistake. One that couldn’t seem to remedy. Now that they had gotten mercenaries involved they didn’t want to leave. They liked the adrenaline rush, the kill, the sweat, the blood, the pace. They loved war and chaos and death. There was nothing and nobody that could stop them. They had become a law unto themselves. All over the country the same phenomenon was happening. The Royal family who had been killed between war and plague was no longer around to stop the bloodshed. They also could not find relations to the crown so the throne was left empty. What was once a war for resources had quickly turned into a war for the throne. The thinking was still that whoever found Venicia would become the next King of Aniatea. Zese knew Boisson dreamed of that day. He wanted to be king and Zese also knew he was being used to make that dream come true.

That afternoon the fighting was wilder than usual so the medics were also out on the field attending to the wounded. It was there he nearly tripped over the young man healing a man who was bleeding due to a severe wound. He raised his sword to make the kill and realized his hands trembled. The young man looking up at him was as shocked as he was.

“Eian…” he’d whispered. “Eian…” and to his horror he felt himself putting down his sword.

Eian moved to stand saying, “Zese, what –”

He was cut off. “Stay here until I leave. Then go back to your side and stay there. I will have to kill you if you come back to the battlefield.”

Eian’s temper flared because he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t have the chance as Zese slid a sword through the belly of a soldier on his own side.

“Go,” he hissed. “I can’t do this again!”

He watched as Eian fled across the battlefield and he felt sadness overwhelm him yet again.

He stood on the top of the hill as he surveyed the current damage. He shook his head and moved to the next battle spot. In the distance he could see the fight still raged on. He wondered if this war would ever end.

Chapter 23: A War Torn Future

Perhaps the world had heard his prayer, Eian thought to himself as he looked up through the war torn field. On one of the rolling hills Zese stood fighting. Somewhere along the way he’d taken a slash to the back that had torn his shirt open and left a long wound across his back. His sword arm was hacking through the current unfortunate soldiers who happened to get in his way.

He licked his lips as he went back to tending to the injured in front of him. The same men that Zese was currently killing and injuring.

Across the way at the back of the battle there was a sudden cry. The earth was moving! And as it shook Eian barely had time to catch his balance as it split open. The battle had come to a complete stop and everybody was staring in shock, but as soon as the shock wore off they were back at each other’s throats.

That meant Eian didn’t have any time to laze about and watch the battle. He had soldiers to look after.

The man he was tending to suddenly gasped as if he were having trouble breathing. And he instantly saw why. There was a large gash in his throat that was seeping blood and he felt true horror for the first time. This man was still alive but in so much pain. He felt for the magic inside of him but it wasn’t there. He was drained and besides he didn’t think that he could heal this man. He didn’t know enough about healing throat wounds to even attempt it. Eian didn’t want him to die though. It was a conundrum. He leaned over and attempted to use his magic but found that the little reserves he had thought he had were in fact all gone.

He tried to breathe through the pain that tightened his body from his attempt to use his magic.

Suddenly Isia was there besides him. He tried to open his eyes but he couldn’t. “Can you give me the power to save this one last man?”

Isia looked down at him. “You’ve never used your magic for harm, but only for the good of others.” She stopped speaking as she waited for Eian to respond.

“And?” he croaked a little shocked that she could now speak in a mostly solid form.

“I will grant you this wish.”

She leaned down and placed her hands upon his head. Carefully she fed her own magic through Eian who fed it into the dying man. He watched as the man’s throat finished healing and he felt relief at having saved one more man.

And it happened so suddenly neither Eian nor Isia had seen it coming. The dying man had opened his eyes, dark blue eyes that seemed to gaze into the soul and smiled.

He spoke softly, “Thank you…thank you for saving my life.”

“It’s my job,” Eian replied.

The formerly dying man smiled and closed his eyes. He sighed and turned his head to the side just as Isia gave a small startled gasp.

“Isia? Isia? What’s wrong Isia?”

She made a small pained sound and Eian turned. His eyes grew wide as he looked around at his Source. He could see the sharp end of a sword blade peeking out from her breast, dying her white cloth a vibrant crimson. The only thing that could kill a Source, a sword.

“ISIA!” he cried out in shock as he reached up to catch her falling body. But at that moment something unexpected happened.

His body convulsed and pain tore through him. It felt like a knife in his breastbone. Knife in his breastbone? Then he realized. A Source and a User after a certain amount of time became connected, so connected that at times at the Source’s death the User would die as well. The pain sliced through him again and he couldn’t help but scream in pain. It kept coming and coming and coming. He tried curling up into a little ball but nothing helped. It was an onslaught. He could hear Isia’s voice softly calling to him. “Eian, Eian, stop, stop screaming,” she pleaded but he