The Game of Empires - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones
Last updated: 02/13/2010 03:54:13 PM

Chapter 5

A shadow fell across him, blanketing him, and Warren rolled away instinctively. Whatever made a shadow like that had to be big. He completed a half barrel roll so that he could look up and found himself staring at a gigantic bird. It looked for all the world like a crow, but it was the size of a small passenger jet. And it was dropping straight toward him, taloned feet extended.

Warren didn’t bother to question the bird’s origin. He wheeled about, sacrificing speed for a change in direction. He gritted his teeth as the strain from the g forces on his wings became painful, then nosed into a steep dive as soon as the sensation lessened. Unfortunately, the bird had the advantage as it plummeted from above. It corrected for his new course with a few twitches of its mighty wings and the distance between them shortened alarmingly.

Warren tried one more desperate maneuver, knowing that it would not be enough. The bird had gotten too close before he saw it. Something hit him with the force of a truck, even as he twisted away. He heard a terrible snap, like a branch breaking, and then a stab of agony that blanked his vision for a moment. He could feel the bird’s talons wrapped viselike around his body, trapping his wings against his sides. He struggled briefly, gasping against the pain, but its grip was like iron.

Betsy! He wasn’t that far from the mansion. Certainly the X-Men would be able to catch up to this monstrosity.

Betsy Braddock was his lover, and though they did not share a rapport as deep as that between Scott and Jean, his cry brought an immediate response.

Warren, what’s wrong? As always, her voice was carefully controlled, but Warren could feel the alarm that underlay her words.

He never got a chance to respond as the bird’s head flashed down toward him. It struck him on the head with the side of its beak, sending him into darkness.

Scott zipped up the suitcase that lay on the bed in front of him, wondering if he looked as uncertain as he felt. It had been hard enough to see the man he loved like a father transformed into Onslaught, and even harder to fight him, there in the streets of New York City. But through it all, Scott had always believed that the Professor was striving for the good. Even if he fell short -- or failed miserably, for that matter -- he was driven by his desire to build peace between humans and mutants.

Now however, Scott was beginning to wonder if he had ever understood what drove the Professor. He wanted to dismiss Jean’s concerns as being overly paranoid, but he couldn’t. They had at least fairly trustworthy evidence that the Professor had been hiding something from them for a long time, perhaps as long as they’d known him. The possibility had sparked Scott’s memory, unearthing a number of little things that the Professor had said or done over the years that had never seemed quite right, and that now raised alarming flags in Scott’s mind.

Why had the Professor insisted on maintaining the mutant database himself? That was the first thing that had struck him. He remembered Hank complaining at one point that he couldn’t get to half of the information he needed to aid his Legacy research without going to the Professor first to have him unlock the files. And it had always been that way. At first, perhaps, it was simply because the rest of them were only high school students and did not have the skills to maintain the complex database of genetic information. Later on, though, the task should have fallen to Hank. There was absolutely no reason for the Professor to have kept the database keyed only to his personal codes unless there was something there that he didn’t want the X-Men to see.

Jean walked out of the bathroom and set her cosmetics bag down beside the suitcase. "I think that’s everything."

Scott nodded and Jean’s expression filled with concern. "Honey, are you all right?"

He shrugged. "I suppose."

She gave him a sympathetic smile and settled on the edge of the bed. "I really hope I’m wrong about this." There was an echo of sadness in her voice, twin to his own feelings.

He sat down beside her and took one of her hands in both of his. "Me too." He sighed. "But we have to know."

Rogue was standing quietly off to the side, watching the other X-Men cavort in the snow under the pretense of building a snowman, when Betsy abruptly stiffened. Her head snapped upward and she scanned the sky, eyes wide in alarm.

"Warren!" Her cry was full of fear, and Rogue felt a rush of adrenaline, mixed with a sense of relief so sharp it was almost painful. Trouble of any kind was a welcome distraction to occupy her mind and distract her from the shadow in her heart. She flew to Betsy’s side in an instant, eager for action.

Betsy’s gaze dropped to scan the X-Men. "He’s under attack!"

"Where, sugah?" Rogue felt a twinge of real concern. She had heard Warren say he was going out to stretch his wings, but that had been almost an hour ago. He could have covered a lot of distance in that time.

Betsy shook her head. "I don’t know. Nearby. I’ve lost contact with him."

Rogue didn’t need to hear any more. If Betsy couldn’t hear him, then Warren was either shielded or unconscious. She refused to think he might be dead. But in any case, the faster the X-Men could get to him, the better.

"Storm, Rogue, Joseph. Get up top an’ see if ya can find him," Logan barked. "Bets, keep us in contact."

Rogue didn’t hear anything else as she powered skyward. If there were more instructions, Psylocke could find her telepathically. Joseph caught up to her after a moment, then passed her, arcing away toward the north in a crackling ball of magnetic energy. Storm was moving roughly west and the turbulence she kicked up as she fought the strong easterly buffeted Rogue.

Rogue quickly outran the turbulence and, as she hit smoother air, began a wide spiral that would allow her to search most effectively. The wind was deliciously chill, but she focused her thoughts on Warren as she scanned the sky. It suddenly struck her that they had never been close friends. She wasn’t exactly certain why, but she and Warren had never connected at anything beyond the surface level. Rogue pushed the thoughts away. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to care.

She turned south and almost immediately spotted a dark spec in the sky in front of her. She added speed, feeling the lurch that meant she was passing the mach boundary. The black dot swelled rapidly, becoming the most gigantic bird she’d ever seen. Warren hung limp in its talons, his form bouncing with each sweep of the huge wings.

Sugah, ya ain’t gonna believe this, she told Psylocke as she relayed the image.

She felt the telepath’s surprise, but there was no emotion in her mental voice as she replied, Cannonball is on his way. Storm and Joseph will be a little behind him.

Rogue didn’t bother to answer as the bird craned its head to look over its shoulder. It spied her instantly and Rogue cursed her luck. She was outracing the sound of her own flight. There was no way it could have heard her coming, and only blind bad luck could have made it turn its head at that particular time.

The bird screeched, an awful, ear shattering sound, while Rogue was still two miles away. As she watching in shock, it seemed to flatten and elongate, becoming oddly two-dimensional. Then, it simply... folded. Over and over on itself until it was nothing but a tiny dot, and then it winked out. Rogue flew through the space where it had been only a second before, her mind numb. Warren was gone.

Renee jumped up in alarm as the door to her room was thrown open. The small harp she was vainly attempting to draw a single clear note from tumbled out of her lap, landing on the rug with a discordant twang. One of the guards rushed in. He stopped in front of her and bowed, his breath hissing between pointed teeth. She could see his chest heaving as he gulped in air, and she wondered where he had come from. Unfortunately, if the cat men spoke any language at all, it was not one she understood.

"What is it?" she asked, knowing that the creature would remain bowed before her indefinitely unless she recognized him.

The guard straightened at her words and gestured urgently toward the door, as if to indicate that Renee should go with him. Both curious and apprehensive, Renee nodded and grabbed her cloak from the back of the chair. Her dress might be appropriate to an Egyptian noblewoman, but the air inside the mountain was far cooler than that of the Nile delta, and, after asking Shala several times in her fractured Egyptian, she had finally been given the cloak. She wrapped it around herself, then followed the distressed guard to the door.

Another of the cat men waited silently outside. Renee could tell by his earrings that this was the one who normally stood beside her door. He nodded to the first guard and fell in behind Renee as they left.

The cat man led Renee through familiar rooms and halls that she had explored when the confines of her chamber became unbearable. Renee had no idea what instructions the guards had been given regarding her, but they seemed content to allow her access to a large portion of the mountain. The residential portion, at least. Renee had yet to find a kitchen or storeroom, or even a hint of any kind of machinery except for the lights. Common sense told her that there had to be such things, but she could not find them. The guards would simply step forward and bar her way to any area she was not allowed to enter. Renee had found three of those so far, but could not guess what might lay beyond them. Occasionally, she could feel the stone floor beneath her vibrating ever so slightly, a mechanical hum that convinced her that there was far more to Apocalypse’s domain than she had seen.

They reached a tall arched doorway that led to one of the areas Renee was not allowed access to. The guards who flanked the door, however, did not twitch an ear as she passed by them with her escort. Renee felt her curiosity growing. Until now, her routine under Apocalypse had been very orderly, as if Apocalypse wanted to demonstrate to her that he could control every aspect of her life despite his illness. This was something different. Something big enough to disturb Apocalypse in his own home.

They passed through the door and into a plain, rough-hewn tunnel. Renee was startled. She had gotten so used to the ornate carvings and tapestries that covered the walls that the sudden shift was dramatic. It was exciting as well, because she had not seen a passage like this since the one that Ozymandias had taken her through on their way into the mountain. The passage ended at a staircase seemed to be carved into a natural tunnel in the stone. A lava tube? Renee wondered, but she didn’t even know if there were volcanoes in Egypt, extinct or otherwise. The staircase stretched both up and down from her location, disappearing quickly into darkness in the down direction. The way up was lit, and Renee was unsurprised when her guide turned and began to climb.

After a while, Renee gave up counting stairs. There had not been a single break in the staircase save for the landing where they had entered, though the tunnel they followed had made occasional jinks and turns. They seemed to climb forever, until her thighs burned and her feet felt like lead. She had been able to keep up a minimal exercise routine for the sake of her sanity, since no one seemed to care how she behaved in her own room, but the climb made it patently obvious that she had lost some of her physical tone.

She was just about to ask the guards for a short rest when she spied a point of bright light well above them on the stairs. It had to be a door, but for a moment, she couldn’t figure out where the intense white light was coming from. Then she realized that it was sunlight. An almost childish eagerness filled her. She forgot about the pain in her legs as she climbed the last yards to where the bright, warm light spilled in through a square doorway cut in the stone. Renee was forced to shade her eyes even before she reached the top of the stairs. Her red-on-black eyes were abnormally sensitive to light anyway, and, by her estimation, she had not seen the sun for at least a month.

Renee stepped through the doorway and found herself at the edge of a wide expanse of stone that appeared to be the top of a butte. All around her she could see the tops of other mountains. They were small as far as mountains went, having been worn down by the passage of time. Their age showed in their rounded peaks, which reminded her of nothing so much as a herd of sleeping camels. Nothing living grew anywhere that Renee could see. Everything was shaded in rose and salmon and tan, and the wind whispered past her, carrying with it a mournful rattle of pebbles clattering down the stone faces. The sunlight that beamed down on everything was starkly white, but the warmth on her skin was delicious.

Then her gaze pulled inward, withdrawing from the incredible wide panorama around her to focus on her immediate surroundings. The guard was already halfway across the top of the butte and gesturing urgently to her when she realized that there was a crumpled figure lying near the far edge. Sudden dread filled her as she picked up her skirts once again and forced herself into a trot. Apocalypse lay on his back as if he had simply collapsed. The skin of his face had turned a chalky color, and instinct told her that she was seeing the effect of too much exposure to the sun on his skin.

Renee knelt beside him and leaned down to lay her ear against his chest. She heard his heart immediately, a strong, steady pulse, and felt the gentle rise and fall as he breathed.

Must have simply collapsed from exhaustion, she decided. I wonder what possessed him to come all the way up here, let alone how he managed to do it. She shook her head and reached for the laces of his shirt. The guards watched as she pulled the shirt open and laid her hands on the exposed skin at the base of his throat. Renee closed her eyes, concentrating, as the entire world narrowed to encompass only the tingle of her powers in the palms of her hands, and the throbbing of Apocalypse’s pulse beneath her thumbs.

She didn’t know what he had done, but he had somehow pushed his body’s meager energy reserves to their limits and then beyond. The massive drain had caused his body to fall on itself for the needed energy, devouring its own cells simply for sustenance. The disease that she was slowly eradicating had begun to spread again, further weakening his system. And to top it all off, he’d managed to crack his skull on the rock when he fell. Renee healed that immediately, knitting the bone back together and attending to the concussion. She was just about to start on the virus again when he stirred, blinking slowly against the harsh light. Renee pulled her hands back before she lost control of her power, then watched as Apocalypse raised a hand to shield his eyes. He turned his head to look at her, his expression unreadable.

"You are not permitted here." The incredibly resonant voice was scratchy and dry.

Renee stared at him, amazed by his arrogance. She doubted that he could stand without help and yet everything about his carriage suggested utter confidence that he could back up his statement.

Apocalypse turned to look over at the two guards, who bowed their heads humbly. "I will not tolerate such disobedience."

Before Renee realized what he was doing, Apocalypse raised one hand and pointed at the guards. A spear of energy leapt from him, sizzling with the fury of a lightning bolt. It split as it left his fingers, and one lance pierced each of the cat men through the chest.

"No!" Renee leapt to her feet in horror as the two fell. She knew before she reached them that they were dead, but she knelt between their bodies anyway, one arm held across her mouth to ward off the stench of burnt flesh and fur. She examined them both, then gently closed the blue eyes. She could not claim that she had felt any real affection for either of the strange creatures, but they held a place in her heart for the simple fact that they had stood guard at her door, protecting her. And because they had died for no reason.

Renee turned to Apocalypse, her fear of him eclipsed by anger. He had managed to roll onto his side and prop himself up on one elbow, and was now in the process of sitting up. It stunned her that he could be so weak and yet still so dangerous. No one had ever known the complete extent of Apocalypse’s powers, and Renee was not so foolish as to think that she could retaliate for the guards and hope to survive.

"Why did you kill them?" The question was both a plea and a demand.

"They were weak." Apocalypse stared at her and the two dead guards that flanked her with indifference.

"Because they disobeyed you?" Renee wasn’t certain why she dared to challenge him, save that her heart demanded an answer for what she had just seen.

"Yes."

Renee pulled her cloak tight around her. "They were just trying to protect you." Their deaths were all the more tragic for that fact, and she felt the anger inside her sharpening into a fine, hard point. "You had no right to kill them."

Apocalypse’s gaze narrowed. "You try my patience, Healer."

Renee felt a wash of terror and dropped her eyes. In her peripheral vision, she could see him gingerly shifting his position on the hard rock of the butte. It took her a moment to realize that he was trying to find a way to get to his feet, but his physical weakness kept sabotaging the effort. Head still bowed, she smiled grimly. The Shadow King had taught her that outright resistance against his kind of power was useless. But that didn’t mean she had to accept it.

Wondering if she would die in the next few moments, Renee bowed deeply and tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "As you said, I am not permitted here." Without looking at him, she turned and walked back to the head of the stairs. The spot between her shoulder blades itched with every step, anticipating a strike that never came. She forced herself to a measured pace on the stairs until she knew she was out of sight, and then she began to run.