Aris Reigns (15 page)

CHAPTER 18

T
wenty-five Immortals lined the training floor as Aris and Richard watched Kitsuko teach evasion tactics, spinning and tumbling around the room with ease and precision.

“She really is amazing.” Richard spoke quietly, almost reverently.

“Yes, she truly is.” Aris had been careful not to be alone with the newly promoted captain since their last meeting.

“Do you think we really are going to win this war?”

“Richard, we have no choice but to win. My concern is our losses. And Sarah.”

“Sarah? But she will be safe here in the Catacombs. Henry will watch over her and protect her.”

“I have no worries about her during the battle. My concern is if I am eliminated, what will become of her. I know she can return to the states and continue her life, but what if one of the Spanish coven should follow her. What if Mariska survives the conflict? She would hunt Sarah down and kill her and if DeMarco survives, he would change her regardless of her desire. I am being driven mad by the images of her death.”

Resting his hand on the arm of his friend, Richard spoke with concern. “That will never happen, Aris. We will all make sure that Sarah is safe now and for as long as she lives. As long as there are
Immortals on the earth, she will be protected.”

“And what if there is no more Immortal society?”

As he spoke, the twenty five soldiers leaped as one, twenty feet into the air, spun and landed in the exact same spot where they began. Richard laughed, “With that ball of fire instructing us, I think we may be invincible.”

“I hope you are right my friend.” He glanced at his watch. “Come, let them train without our eyes on them.”

The two Immortals quietly left the pavilion so as not to disturb the concentration of the soldiers.

CHAPTER 19

I
t was Sarah's first time to venture alone through the corridors and streets of the Catacombs. Aris had planned on taking her to see the Master Keeper of Records, but when he was called to meet with his commanders, he had given her explicit directions to find the Catacombs Library without him. The Immortals she passed in the narrow streets nodded and smiled at her. In her pocket rested the communication device Gabriela had given her when she first arrived so that if she needed guidance, she could reach any of her friends. She knew he wouldn't send her alone if he had any fear that she was not absolutely safe, yet she couldn't help but be a bit nervous to walk alone in the labyrinth of the inner city.

Aris had been pleased when she told him she wanted to visit the Master Keeper of Records. She was intrigued by him as much as he was her. Aris told her he had been with Queen Akira since the early sixteenth century. Sarah had been full of questions, but Aris suggested she receive her answers from Henry himself. She was excited to spend time with such a prominent Immortal renowned for his brilliance. When she reached the library, she was struck by the beauty of its wood paneled and enormous interior. She felt for a moment she had entered a movie set. A lovely blond Immortal woman sat at a long table, books and charts covering its dark wood.

Sarah approached her quietly, but before she could speak, the woman lifted her blue eyes questioningly toward the human. “You are Sarah?”

“Yes, I'm looking for Henry.”

“He is expecting you. Aris notified him this morning you would be visiting us.” She rose from the table to lead Sarah between shelves holding the grandest collection of volumes Sarah had ever seen. “I am called Millicent and I assist the Master Keeper in the Records Hall. He is waiting in his study to receive you.” She made no sound as she walked toward a large heavy wooden door at the back of the cavernous room.

She turned the door's handle and it unlatched quietly opening into a softly lit sitting room. Henry sat behind a huge desk covered with papers and books. Again, he was dressed in a black business suit and a tie. His silver hair was tied back from his face with a thin black ribbon, his eyes sparkled in the light from the lamp on his desk. He stood as she entered and moved to take her hands in his.

“Sarah, welcome. I am so glad you came to see me.” Motioning her to sit in a comfortable chair, he spoke. “Would you like some tea?” She noticed a beautiful hand painted tea service on a table next to her chair.

“Yes, thank you.” He poured and handed her a cup. “So, what has brought you to the library today?”

“I want to learn more about the Immortals. More about you, if I may.”

“What can I tell you?”

“Well, it seems each of you has a story to tell of your human life. May I know yours?” She hesitated but a moment before her words began to pour out as if she had no control over them. “What was your life above ground? How long have you been here and how did you become the Master Keeper of Records?”

He laughed. “You certainly are full of questions.”

Sarah blushed. “I am. I'm just so incredibly fascinated by your society, your way of life. It's so foreign from the human world where I come from. There's so much fear and hatred above ground. You have found a peace here that I've never felt before.”

“Ah, my life as a human. What shall I tell you?” He settled into the over-stuffed chair across from her. “I was changed in 1519. I was living in France at that time. I was sixty-seven years old. Quite an old man for that period.”

“Were you born in France?”

“No, I was born in Italy. I lived in Vinci and became quite well known as an artist and a delver into the sciences. Through my work I met many influential people until at one point, I was requested to travel to the Vatican. It was an era of artistic excellence and I held council with other celebrated creative men of that period. My work was appreciated and I flourished. It was during my stay in Rome that I came to know of the Immortals. A priest who befriended me told me of such a society. He was kind and wise and we had many long evenings deep in discussion on a myriad of topics, some religious, some secular, all intriguing.

“One evening after several meetings, he brought up the tale of the Immortal life. At first, he was timid. He felt I would be frightened at the thought of the undead. Rather than frightening, I found the subject captivating. I wanted to learn more. Over time, he told me all he could about the life underground.

“You must remember, I was a scientist. The more he told me, the more I wanted to meet and speak with an Immortal. At long last, he admitted to me that he was one of the undead. I begged to be taken to the Catacombs; to visit the city underground was my most intense desire. Alas, he would not even tell me where the court lay. Not even the country that housed it. Yet, I continued to ask questions, hoping he would change his mind.” He reached forward to refresh the tea in Sarah's cup.

Having refilled it, he leaned back in his chair against the cushions as he spoke. “King Francis had just recaptured Milan and was visiting the Pope. It was then, in 1516, that I met him. The King commissioned me to create a full-sized metal lion for him that could walk. It was a challenge from which I could not turn. I packed my studio and my life to move to France to begin my work on the great beast.

“The priest from the Vatican and I continued our correspondence through letters, yet I regretfully felt unable to question him further about the Catacombs. It was too much of a risk. One of the couriers might read the letter and we would most certainly be tried for witch craft. Only in person could I find out more about the idyllic society he described to me. Obsessed with thoughts of the Immortals, I begged him to visit me until, at last, he agreed.

“He arrived, lodging with me in the manor house provided by Francis I. We spent many nights over wine and candles discussing philosophy, religion and the Immortal life. Still he refused to tell me the location of the court. When time came for him to return to Rome, my mind refused to cease questioning such a Utopian existence. I longed for more discussion, more information. I missed my friend, our conversation, his intelligence and his sense of humor. Our written correspondence continued, but without the freedom to fully express our thoughts.

“In the next year, it seemed my age began to show itself. My joints became stiff. My powerful stride was reduced to a slow shuffle. My hands became arthritic. I could no longer manage my brushes and colors. I sunk into the depths of despondency.

“Again, I wrote my friend asking him to come. I knew my death was near. I prayed it was. To my artist's soul, losing the use of my hands, no longer able to paint, to create, was worse than losing my life. I felt death was soon upon me and not sure what the afterlife might actually bring, I decided to take a precaution just in case
heaven and hell might be a true possibility. It became my desire that none other than my dear friend perform the last rites as I breathed my last breath. I begged him to come.

“He came immediately. His presence gave me a brief moment of hope, brought me out of my despair, yet even as I gained strength and was again able to rise from my bed, I knew the end was yet upon me.

“Days passed as I lingered in my decrepitude. We spoke of the Catacombs, of eternal life. As I grew more weak, knowing it was but hours that I had left of my mortal life, I knew of only one way to outsmart death. I begged the priest to give me the gift of Immortality. He refused.

“It seemed there were laws in the Catacombs as to how and when a human could be changed. I wept cold tears of despair as I grew more and more weak.

“King Francis had grown to love me as a true friend. He visited daily to encourage me to heal, yet even he could see that I would not live more than a short time. He shed tears of remorse at the loss of my friendship and my talent. He was a true comrade.

“When I again became too weak to rise and my death was imminent, my dear priest decided I had too much to give to the Immortal race to allow me to die. He told me all of the Catacombs he had kept hidden and offered me the rite of change. I accepted.

“He performed the ritual in my chamber, sending my attendants out of the room each time he worked in the pretense of prayer for the dying. While they were absent, he exchanged my blood, little by little, for his venom. The change took three days and my servants and the King's physicians mistook my agony of changing for death throes.

“As I drew my last breath there was no one in the room save the priest and King Francis. The King held my head in his lap as I succumbed.”

Sarah had not moved an inch since Henry began his story. As he spoke his long, white fingers gestured in the air, resembling the wings
on a white bird soaring above the earth. To her eyes, he was beautiful.

“In my new state, I was able to lie still through the burial ritual. I was glad for the time to adjust to my new self. My mind, which had always been vast, now had no boundaries. I knew the Creation and the End Times. I knew all the past and all the future. I was almost sad when my friend came for me to take me to the Catacombs to meet the Council. While I lay in state, he had prepared them for my coming. And so, dear Sarah, that is how I came to be what you see before you. Henry, Master Keeper of Records in the Catacombs of King Khansu and Queen Akira.”

“You said you were an artist. Would I know your human name if you told me what it was?”

“I believe you just might.”

“Are you able to tell me?”

“Yes, Sarah.” He smiled a slow mischievous smile. “My human name was Leonardo.”

“Leonardo? From Italy?”

“Yes, Vinci, Italy.”

An unthinkable thought exploded in Sarah's head. “
Leonard of Vinci? Leonardo da Vinci. No, impossible!”

“Henry, when did you say you were changed?”

Still he smiled, his eyes sparkling like a naughty child. “I was changed in the fifth month of 1519.”

Her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest. She, Sarah Hagan of Chicago, was in the presence of one of the greatest men of all time.

“How could you not tell me who he actually is? How could you let me go there and question him as if he were a mere mortal?” Sarah's tone was accusatory as she sat next to Aris on the sofa in her sitting room.

He laughed. “He is not a ‘mere mortal'. He is actually Henry, the Master Keeper of Records.”