June 15th, 1613
A gentle, drumming knock interrupted Gaius Lloth’s evening nourishment. His gaze broke from the pale-gray, boiled haggis that lay dissected on his porcelain plate to the man who stood silently beside him. With a nod of his head, Gaius sent the man across the room to an oak door that separated the manor’s dining room from the foyer. Jerking the doorknob, he slowly opened it to a chorus of groans from the ungreased hinges. Through the door walked a tall, slender man with salt and pepper hair and aged features. He wore brown britches, a white shirt, leggings, and brown startups, covered in mud. His feet scuffed along the floor at an intolerably languid pace as he approached. The height of his gaze never rose above floor level. He stopped a few feet short of where Gaius dined. “M’lord.”
“What is it now, Brutus?” Gaius wiped at his ginger beard with a dark brown handkerchief, brushing away bits of food that lingered there. He wondered how any human could find such fare delectable. But he had no choice. Though he didn’t need to eat, the meat sack he inhabited needed nourishing and satiation. One downside of possession was being subject to the host’s natural inclinations for food. Though he supplanted their consciousness and essentially their soul, wisps of what made them who they were still lingered. They were essential to assuming their identity, but next time he vowed to select a human host with better hankerings.
“M’lord,” Brutus croaked with a gravelly voice, “a traveler seeks an audience with you.”
Gaius slowly closed his eyes and breathed in deep. With ethereal fingertips his consciousness transcended his human form and reached out. Like an invisible fog he swirled down the leg of the chair, poured across the knotty floorboards, slid beneath the chamber door, and expanded out into the foyer where the supposed traveler awaited. The man wasn’t much to speak of at first blush. But once the demon’s essence closed in around him, he was certain this man was whom he claimed to be. Though he appeared to be a mere twenty or so years old, his body told a different story. Like a mind, a physical form has memories, a record of all the experiences that have come its way. This shell had seen some seventy odd years. And the presence of a chronoperpetua on him sealed the deal. With a jerk, Gaius reeled in his consciousness and opened his eyes. “Bring him to me.”
The manservant nodded deep and fast, his movements indicative of his eagerness to leave Gaius’ presence. He passed through the door without looking back. Seconds later, a young man stepped through the doorway and into the room. From head to toe, this man reeked of confidence. While he wore clothing tailored of the finest cloth and equipped with ample room in the right places, his attire did not portend opulence or even the slightest hint that he appeared in Elizabeth’s court—quite typical of a chronoshifter. They always seemed to possess ample financial means, but their pathetic ilk avoided power and influence, preferring to lurk in the shadows and avoid making marks on history as it unfolded. Where they chose such a life, Gaius had no choice but to hide. He knew from previous run-ins with other shifters that if he made too grand an effort to seize power and means that he would find himself quickly on the run again.
The chronoshifter cast back the hood of his cloak with one deft movement, letting the light of the room fall on his features. His relatively short black hair lay pressed forward and together at the apex of his scalp in a manicured coif. The etched cheekbones, pointed nose, and strong chin game him a smoldering look. Then he adjusted the fall of his cloak lapel to reveal the pommel of a rapier he carried at his hip. A series of elaborate guards, encrusted with silver, gold, and emeralds, encircled the handle.
Gaius narrowed his eyes at the traveler and then stood abruptly, the chair he sat in groaning painfully as it shot out from under him. The young man who stood before him reacted impulsively, dropping his weight into a defensive fighting stance, one hand grasping his rapier and the other the scabbard. The demon laughed haughtily. “Oh, you are a nervous fellow, aren’t you?”
The traveler shook his head and sneered at Gaius. “And you’re too trusting, demon.”
“Quite the contrary, sir. You’re not here to kill me because you can’t. Yes, you’ve come into my home, armed for combat, but only to defend yourself if necessary. Unless of course you’re an utter fool, for you know if you kill this vessel,” Gaius spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, “I’ll walk out of here in your skin. Just think of the damage I could do if I took over one of your kind, freed from the shackles of time.”
“Enough,” the traveler yelled, jerking his hand away from his saber and letting his cloak fall back upon his frame. “You’re right, I’m not here to fight. I’m here to talk.”
“So then tell me your name, traveler, and by all means, talk.” Gaius used a breath of his power, reached out with spectral hands, and drew out a chair for his guest to rest upon. He gestured with his physical form for the young man to take a seat.
“Traveler,” he uttered coldly as he settled himself down upon the oak chair with a quite uncomfortable grimace. “That’s the name you get for now.”
“Fair enough.” Gaius brought his chair back to the table, sat down, and willed a goblet and a bottle of liquor to cross the table toward the man.
“No, thank you,” the traveler refused.
“Have it your way, it’s perfectly good bottle of ale.” Gaius took a mouthful from his own goblet. “So, talk.”
The man appeared pained by the thoughts that swam in his mind. The demon wished to rape his mind of all thoughts and cut to the chase, but it was a power he’d yet to reconstitute since being summoned all those centuries ago. So he waited and watched. He had his suspicions, but he needed to hear this traveler say the words himself.
“I’m here to make a deal.”
“A deal? Of what sort? I’m a simple creature. I find contracts and agreements don’t suit my purposes. I generally just take what I want. But I’ll hear your offer.”
The man closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, and groaned, “I’m tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of watching those I love grow old and die while the rest of us try to find a way to stop you. It’s all useless.”
Gaius cocked a curious eyebrow at him. “Useless you say? I think you’re order has done a fair job of keeping me in check all these years. You must have seen something, something to make you question your piety.” It leaned toward him, a hunger brewing within to hear the traveler pour forth his deepest pain and secrets. The demon fed on hurtful emotions and agony, more so than any morsel of mortal sustenance it could ingest physically. And when such succulent fare was freely divulged, its taste brought pure ecstasy. Gaius sensed the human vessel it inhabited struggling to maintain shape and contour against its hideous form, eager to break free and devour its victim. Bringing itself under control, it drew a sleeve across the gaping human mouth to wipe away a tendril of spittle seeping from within. “What did you see?” it rasped eerily.
The traveler seemed taken aback by the feral persona that peered from behind the demon’s mask of flesh. He sneered and replied, “No matter what we do in the end, you win. Every action we take, every time we think we’ve stopped you, the end result doesn’t change. When you’re immortal as long as we are, you forget what happens when time catches up to you. I had to watch someone very close to me grow old and die. I’ve had enough of being on the losing side.”
Gaius leaned back in his chair, narrowed his eyes, and took measure of the man before him. Everything about the traveler—his stench, his demeanor, his resigned calm—spoke to the demon’s instincts. There was no attempt to deceive. It made the negative energy pool generated by the man all the more succulent. Gaius simmered in the sauce, quietly gleeful; this time it was careful to not show its intent. Cooly, clamly, Gaius inquired, “So what is your bargain?”
His eyes locked on some knot or other detail in the woodwork of the table, though they didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. His fingers drummed uncomfortably. He looked like a man struggling with the words he wanted to say. For several seconds he sat silent, before he spoke. “There are others, like me, who want out of the Order.”
“How many?”
“Enough to swell your ranks,” the man answered quickly, snidely. He sneered at the demon and spoke with deliberate emphasis. “Enough to put an end to the Order. And they’ll agree to join you in exchange for something only you can grant.”
The demon cocked his brows with intrigue. “And just what is that?”
“Immortality.”
Gaius guffawed, “You’ve already got that, traveler,” and took a swig of ale.
“No, not truly immortal. Our lives can still be taken. We’re still mortal, flesh and blood, unlike you. In the meantime, we lose track of time and the passage of years, and before we know it, time catches up to us. And then we start to age, while the rest of our loved ones have to watch us grow more fragile and helpless until we die. We want immortality that doesn’t come with a caveat. If you want our help, it’s the price you must pay. A small sacrifice of your power.”
A small bell lay on the table next to the demon’s hand. He lifted it and shook it, letting out a high pitched cacophony. A door behind Gaius, much like the one that the traveler entered by, creaked open and another servant came in from the kitchen. He lifted the half-eaten plate of food from the table and quickly ducked away. The door clunked shut behind the servant. Gaius rose from his seat, walked the length of the table opposite its guest and stopped across from where he sat. He leaned over the table, hands supporting his weight, and responded, “But you do know that’s a power I can’t grant in my current state.”
“We’re well aware of that.” The traveler reached into his waistcoat and removed a crisp piece of parchment. He unfolded it and slid it across the table to Gaius. “We can get you the object of power you need, if you will give us what we ask.”
Gaius lifted the parchment and examined under the flickering candlelight. It was a drawing of a sword, an ancient sword, Celtic in origin. Below the sketch, a cypher comprised of numbers, letters, and symbols lay written in black ink; none of it sense to the demon. “What is this?”
“A promise,” the man snickered. “That’s the object you need. The encryption below it is its location. But without my help, you never find it.”
“Making me jump through hoops will only delay your prize. Tell me its location and I’ll give you what you want tonight.”
“I could, but it would also leave me no bargaining chip. And frankly, if I told you how to break the cypher, you’d have no use for me. I’d prefer to walk out of here alive when our business is completed.”
Gaius, recognizing the sound strategy of his unlikely visitor, nodded respectfully. “Very good.”
The traveler rose from his seat and pulled a pair of black riding gloves from his cloak. He swung the pair with his right hand into his left palm with a clap. “To be honest, the encryption has yet to be solved. I’m not sure where the object is yet. But I’ll have it soon.” The man locked eyes with Gaius as he tugged the gloves over his fingers.
“So why should I trust you?” the demon inquired reservedly. “Other than a boastful claim that you can help me find one of the objects of power, tell me why I shouldn’t have you torn limb from limb right now?”
The traveler crossed his arms and leered at the demon. “Because we can also help you blend in and hide from the Order. You’ll be able to move about freely and reconstitute all your power without their interference. It truly is a win-win situation for everyone.”
“An interesting bargain.” Gaius nodded, thinking over the proposal. “I’ll agree to your terms, but you must do something for me first. We demons aren’t the trusting sort. You don’t appear dishonest, but this sack of meat I’m trapped in prevents me from properly reading you. I require proof that you’re what you say.”
“What kind of proof?” he asked, his body posture and attitude were aloof, confident.
Gaius smiled menacingly. “The next generation. I want them eradicated.”
The smugness that hung on the man’s shoulders crumbled away. He looked visibly shaken, perhaps unprepared to accept such a term of agreement. His voice cracked, “Why?”
“The prophesy. If there’s even the slightest possibility one of those progeny are the foretold deliverer, I want them wiped out.”
“But there’s no proof that any of them are the deliverer. No twins have been born of our Order.”
The demon shook his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in protest. “You’re beginning to sound like a man whose bluff has been called.”
“No,” the traveler gestured with a pointed finger at Gaius, “not at all. It’s just that what you ask is no easy task, Gaius. There are hundreds of thousands of permutations of each of them living throughout time, and only one true, living version of each.”
“I know you have ways of finding them. Bring me their heads, and I’ll promise you what you seek. Betray me and watching your loved ones grow old will be the least of your worries.”
“Alright,” he nodded with worried eyes, “It’ll take some time.”
Gaius laughed warmly. The irony, it thought. “What else have we got?
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