The Sorrow Anthology Page 2

  She set about determining the axis of the earth where she could establish laser defence systems. The most logical building material on this planet was rock. The population was way too primitive yet to have factories that could produce the metal or plastics she was accustomed to.

  Drawing a defence grid around the globe, she plotted where she would need to locate the lasers and how high they would need to be in order to criss-cross space efficiently with a network of weaponed lines. It was obvious she was going to need a great many pyramids of rock, and for that, a great many people who could work for her.

  Taking one of the smaller, pod-like silver spacecraft, she packed food and set off for a tour of the major populated centres of the globe.

  Those who met her that day would record her coming, the coming of the Moon Goddess; Gaea, Tiamet, Juno, Hathor – in all languages, in all cultures, the goddess who formed the world.1

  Sorrow squirmed in her liquid prison; the memories were flowing thick and fast now, back and forth through thousands of years of Earth’s history, one minute inside the mind of one God, the next another. Nine Gods, so many memories – so much bloodshed.

  Her stomach was cramping, she worried that the regeneration and forced memories were hurting her unborn child. Surely the time would be up soon, and she would be released from the tank? But the memories continued for hours and hours.

  Finally, as the last God’s memory was transmitted to her mind, Sorrow was lifted from the tank and transported to an apartment in the heart of the city, where she had awoken to find she was still imprisoned, albeit in a house close by the judicial court, rather than a cell.

  Now, resting her head on the sink and thinking over all that she had learned, she breathed in and out, waiting for the painkillers to kick in and the ache to dissipate. She knew she would continue bleeding for much of the day, the amount of blood seemed to be extraordinary, but it would ease off as the hours progressed. And she knew miscarriages were common, part of life some might say, to be expected. But hers was not natural, it was forced, and no amount of rationalisation could erase the loss of her baby and the loss of her husband in the same week. Anhur, lost? Yes, he most definitely was. Sorrow could see in his eyes that he had changed, he no longer cared for her, his eyes held nothing but hatred.

  Hearing her name called she raised her head from the sink and stared at herself in the mirror again.

  “What are you doing in there for so long?” a woman asked.

  “I’m unwell,” Sorrow said quietly, taking a wet facecloth and wiping her eyes.

  “Anhur said not to leave you unattended,” the woman said, a slight whine to her voice, “you need to stay where I can see you until the trial tonight.”

  Sorrow clutched her stomach in pain and bent back over the sink. “I’m not going anywhere, obviously,” she said through clenched teeth. “Find my slave; I want him to fetch me some clothes for court.”

  The woman grunted, and Sorrow heard her footsteps retreating down the hallway.

  It wasn’t long before she heard a gentle tap on the door and Etienne’s soothing French accent.

  “Ma belle, the bitch-slut with the great breasts, said you needed something. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, she had me clipping her lizard-birds’ toenails, a most disgusting job.”

  Sorrow sighed and rose, opening the door and beckoning Etienne inside. He was also technically a prisoner, but his charm and good looks had ensured he was being used in other ways by his captor until the court case started.

  His eyes widened when he saw she was wrapped in a blood-stained towel.

  “Mon Dieu! What has happened? Are you hurt?”

  “No, but I will be,” Sorrow said mournfully. “Etienne the trial is tonight. Anhur is going to recommend I am put to the death for my part in killing Amun. We need to get out of here, fast!”

  “But,” he said, looking down and frowning, “the blood.”

  “A miscarriage,” Sorrow said, straightening her shoulders and breathing out deeply. “The pain is dissipating. I should be able to run shortly.”

  “What did that bastard do?” Etienne asked quietly.

  “He didn’t do anything,” Sorrow whispered, “I think it was the shock of his rejection, the time jump, ‘the mind rejuvenation’ the whole thing, it was just too much.”

  Etienne’s eyes went hard. “Are you alright?”

  “No,” Sorrow said, “but there is no time to think about it.”

  Etienne looked away from her face and up to the ceiling.

  “Your mother is going to kill me. She said I was to look after you – look, just look how well I have managed in one short week. We get arrested, separated, you lose your baby, I get turned into a lowly slave. Now things take an even worse turn, there are guards everywhere, the city is in turmoil,” he shook his head, “I don’t understand, they prepare for some kind of attack?”

  Sorrow nodded. She and Etienne had not had a chance before today to properly talk. They had been held for the past three days in the home of one of Anhur’s supporters close to the city centre, but had only seen each other briefly. Prior to that, they had been held captive, separately, in jail. She took a deep breath and prepared to update her friend in a nutshell.

  “When we arrived through the gate, I didn’t expect Anhur to know we had even been gone. I left word with my slaves that I was going for a day-trip to Mum’s old fortress. But Etienne, I hadn’t anticipated two things, firstly; Seth. Anhur was waiting for me, with guards. He said Seth had broadcast to the Earthborn an image of himself holding Amun’s head and a declaration that all abominations, all half Gods, would be hunted to the end of the galaxy and destroyed. His first target is Heaven, home to the Original Sin, where Amun first diluted his sacred blood and where he has been sending us, his half-human children, for thousands of years. Seth plans to kill all the Earthborn who have settled here, and presumably on other planets too, if there are any.”

  “With what?”

  “I don’t know, an army I am guessing, an army perhaps formed and waiting on another of the 12 planets the Gods rule.”

  “That’s why there are so many people walking around congratulating each other? They believe an attack has been averted?”

  “Yes, the gates have closed – there was no attack. Now they will celebrate, but first; my execution.”

  “But, how did your husband know you were involved in killing Amun?” Etienne frowned.

  “I have no idea,” Sorrow shrugged. “But the moment I went back to the apartments Anhur had me arrested on the charge of ‘the ultimate murder’. That was why he made me, well, never mind; I have heaps to tell you and the other immortals when we get out of here. But that is not the main thing, Etienne, although I was only on Earth for a month, ten years have passed here. Something, something I don’t understand, happened in time when we jumped back through the portal.”

  “Fuck,” Etienne said shaking his head in bewilderment.

  “Exactly,” Sorrow sighed. “So now, before I am put to the death in this trial, you and I need to get the hell out of here and figure out how to get home and let Mum and the other immortals know that something strange is happening with the portals – time is bending, or changing, or something.”

  “Wait,” Etienne said, “Am I also going to trial?”

  “No. You are going to be put to The Games.”

  Sorrow shuddered as she said this. The games, much like the Roman gladiatorial fights of old, featured humans and other captured beings battling creatures from all over the galaxy. Her husband and the other Earthborn loved the blood sports. Sorrow had spent many an afternoon accompanying him to the arena, only to bury her head in a bucket and vomit at the violence and destruction.

  “Oh, that is bad,” Etienne said, hearing her warning and shaking his head, “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  Sorrow laughed. “So much for you coming with me and cutting a swathe through the lonely hearts of the Earthborn ladies.”

  “Let’s not
be hasty,” the Frenchman smirked, “we will escape, and no doubt, wherever we go, there will be some lovelies in need of attention.”

  Sorrow grimaced and gripped her stomach.

  “Listen,” she said, all joking aside, “on the roof of Anhur’s house,” she swallowed hard, keenly aware that it was once her house too, “he keeps his small ship parked. One of my loyal human slaves, Tansy, has already loaded it with supplies ready for us to escape.”

  “Tansy?” Etienne frowned, “the one who delivered your robes?”

  “Yes, she is going to escape with us.”

  “Can we trust her?”

  “Yes,” Sorrow smiled, “she is lovely, we have always got on well; she is desperate to return to Earth, to her children. I had planned to help her get back when I got the chance. But it looks like this might be our only hope now. She is to put into the pod everything we brought with us from Earth and then some. I am going to kick up a fuss in a minute and demand I am taken back there to confess something to my husband that I have yet to tell him, something important. You need to be on the roof and waiting for me when I get there.”

  “Mon Dieu,” Etienne sighed, “I don’t believe I am built for this life of danger and intrigue.”

  Sorrow smirked, “intrigue is your middle name Etienne, now run and tell the bitch-slut with the supposedly great breasts that I’m dying and I want to see my husband one last time. Tell her he will be mighty pissed if he doesn’t get to hear my last confession.”

  Etienne, grimacing, nodded and left to do as he was bid.

  2

  Anhur stared down at her, arms crossed, eyes cold. From her vantage point laying on the stretcher, looking up at him, he looked like a giant and more alien than she had ever seen him before.

  “They say you have something you wish to confess before you die,” he said, his voice devoid of all emotion.

  “Yes,” Sorrow whispered. She looked at his face, studying his strong jawline, his fine blonde hair. How often had she run her fingers through those silken locks, kissed that jaw, worshipped that body? She saw now that it was all superficial. Underneath that golden exterior lay a dark void. How could he have told her so often he loved her, and yet in the blink of an eye have that love turn to hate? How could he, he who had shown her what it was to lay with a man with such gentleness, such tender joy, coldly demand her death and that of their child?

  “Speak then,” he demanded, “I have no time for the words of a deceptive whore.”

  Sorrow beckoned him to lean closer.

  “I,” she said, in a breathless whisper. “I would like to confess in private Anhur, please, it is the last thing I will ever ask of you.”

  He growled in frustration and signalled for the slaves who had carried her stretcher to leave. When the door closed behind them, he bent down, close to her face.

  “Speak,” he said, through gritted teeth.

  “You killed our child,” Sorrow said quietly. “When you had me arrested and mind raped, the shock of your rejection, the forced memories, you murdered our baby.”

  Anhur blinked but recovered himself and shrugged. “You expect me to believe that I fathered whatever filth you carried in your womb, if indeed that is true? You have been gone ten years, Sorrow.”

  “No,” she gulped and cleared her throat, “I had only been on Earth a month Anhur, something happened when I jumped back through the portal – I don’t know how ten years passed here. I returned to you because I loved you, love you still, and I wanted to be with you and our child more than anything.”

  “Our child,” he spat, “and why would I want to share a child with you?” he whispered, his tone deadly “why would I want a child who would carry the blood of a traitor?”

  “Was it all a lie?” Sorrow asked, tears slipping from her eyes. “Did you ever love me, Anhur?”

  He leaned over and gripped her chin forcefully, pinching it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I loved you, woman. That is why your betrayal stings. I trusted you as I trusted no other and yet from behind you would thrust a dagger into my hearts. Now say your last words, looking at your face makes me sick.”

  “You never even asked me if I did it?” she whispered. “How can you say you loved me when you convicted me without even giving me the benefit of the doubt?”

  “I knew you did it,” he said, clenching his teeth and breathing hard through his nose.

  “I loved you,” Sorrow said, shaking her head mournfully, “this is for our baby.” She raised the laser from under her blankets and pressed the button, a red line shooting out instantaneously across his neck.

  His head hit the floor with a thud as she rose and, on unsteady legs, wobbled towards the door. She took a moment to consider his face. He would be rejuvenated of course, but she had a 70-day head start on him. It would take 70 days for the tank to fully repair the damage the laser had done.

  “Goodbye, husband,” she whispered, as she turned to the door. Outside, waiting for her, the loyal slave Tansy who had given her the laser, put her arms around her waist and propelled her up the stairs to the rooftop.

  Sorrow cast one last mournful look through the doorway at the body of her husband as she left. The wound was cauterised, none of his blood blemished the pristine white of the apartment floor or his robes. But small red droplets, a tragic reminder of the love they once shared, left a trail behind her as she staggered up the stairs.

  Etienne, hopping from one foot to the other in agitation, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her step into the rooftop garden.

  “Quickly,” Sorrow said, as she swayed towards the spaceship, supported by Tansy, “get in Etienne.”

  “I don’t know how,” he said, fear making his accent more marked than usual.

  Sorrow pressed a button, and a small ramp unfolded from the side of the pod-like craft.

  Etienne took her by the arm, and he and the slave half lifted her into the craft. She sagged against the console, her brow slick with sweat, and pressed the lift-off sequence with a tremoring hand.

  “What happened?” he asked, as the craft ascended swiftly and zipped East.

  “She killed the master,” the slave responded, pushing Sorrow’s hair off her face, sticky with sweat, and looking worriedly at her expression. “Cut off his head. She needs to lie down.”

  “No, no,” Sorrow said quietly, shaking her head, “I’m OK, just get me a drink of water, please.”

  “Cut off his head? Etienne gasped, his eyes wide. “How very French of you, ma belle.”

  Sorrow shuddered. She knew Anhur would be regenerated, but she would never forget the hatred she had seen in his eyes or the sight of his head toppling off his shoulders.

  “By the way, where are we going?” Etienne asked, changing the subject and noting the craft was working on automatic pilot.

  “To Mum’s old fortress,” Sorrow said, taking a sip of her drink, “we can hopefully hide there until the portal reopens next year. Which reminds me; we have to warn the Immortal Chortles on Earth that Seth is on the warpath.” She dialled Ship 1 on the intercom and waited for her mother to answer.

  “Sorrow? Love, you made it, I expected you to message me as soon as you got there,” Megan said answering the call, her voice tinged with remonstration and delight.

  “Slight problem, Megan,” Etienne butted in, “call the cavalry, Seth has declared war.”

  “What do you mean?” Megan frowned.

  “Seth put in a broadcast call to Heaven. He said now that Amun is dead he is going to wipe out all the Earthborn,” Sorrow sighed, “I thought we had better warn you, in case, you know, he starts with a local attack and moves on from there. And Mum, something went wrong when I time-jumped back to Heaven from Earth – ten years have passed here. I was only gone for a month, but a decade went by here.”

  Megan was silent for a minute.

  “So how did Anhur take this?” she asked quietly.

  “Not well,” Etienne cut in again, “he assaulted your
daughter, you could say he lost his head completely,” he let out a guffaw at his own pun.

  No one else laughed.

  “Sorrow, sweetheart, are you alright? What did he do?”

  “Never mind, Mum, you have enough to worry about. I’m fine.”

  Megan switched the intercom to visual and gasped when she saw her daughter, her white gown stained with blood.

  “What is it? Is it serious?”

  Sorrow laughed bitterly. “No, in the great scheme of things it isn’t serious Mum. I’ve miscarried. I need some time to process and to recover.”

  Megan shook her head.

  “Sweetheart, sweetheart, come home. Come back as soon as the portal opens next February,” she said, as her own tears began to fall.

  Sorrow nodded her head and reached out to touch the screen. The portal only opened once a year – and right now, a year seemed a long time before she could feel safe in the arms of her mother again. Megan leaned close and held her hand up to the camera as Sorrow rested her hand against the screen; their palms appeared to be pressed together. They stayed like that until Sorrow’s sobbing abated.

  The fortress had not changed much from when Sorrow had visited last with her mother, despite a decade having flashed by. The main change was the filth and the number of people within its walls.

  She landed the pod near the base of the tower and looked out of the craft’s heavily darkened windows. The human inhabitants had scattered inside a number of ramshackle timber buildings and slammed their doors.

  “I don’t see anyone I recognise, Etienne,” she said quietly. “It might be better if you and Tansy go out first, you are both human, see if someone will take you to Joella or Newto, or even their daughter Jess, they will know me.”

  “Are you sure they are even here?” Etienne mused, frowning as he looked out the window.

  “No, I can’t be sure of anything now,” Sorrow groaned. “If ten years have really passed since Mum and I left they could have been captured and enslaved again by the Earthborn or eaten by the Sin – anything could have happened to them. But the fortress looks like it is still standing strong, Mum built it well. I can see evidence of habitation. I just have to hope that Mum’s friends are still here.”