Anne Winchell - The Last War

“We are gods, Atheus,” Soren had whispered. “We will never be merely human. We can be immortal—”

Medane had thrown the bomb just then and the world exploded into darkness. When Atheus and Medane regained consciousness and learned that the humans had finally discovered a way to kill díamonts, Soren’s words echoed in his mind. Immortal. Atheus was kind to Lethe, of course. They all wanted to rid the world of Soren. And Lethe had returned the kindness by refusing to kill Atheus and Medane and choosing instead to let them live in peace. Once Atheus realized that he would survive the Last War, Soren’s words became stronger and more appealing. The díamonts were gods, after all. The humans had created them to be exactly that: nonhumans with incredible powers. How dare the humans presume to destroy the gods they had created?

Atheus glanced at the clock next to the monitor. They would be landing in less than an hour. Medane would be furious, he knew. Atheus couldn’t keep back a smile at the thought of his friend pacing in his NeoLondon office, helpless to prevent his precious Raven from being returned to the Western World. About time, too. Kaela was in prime childbearing years and the superhuman genome must continue. So far Kaela had refused the men Atheus deemed appropriate. Atheus would not allow over a century of work isolating and strengthening the human genome to be thrown aside, certainly not because his subjects were unwilling to reproduce.

Kaela’s children, and Raven’s, if he had any, would be useful, but the combination of the two made Atheus shiver. It would be a perfect human, capable of the superhuman feats of both its parents, human enough to rule the world openly. Under Atheus’ control, of course. As a díamont, he was prevented from an open position of power. The díamonts were weapons, not politicians, and they were universally feared after the Last War. But a child produced by Kaela and Raven would be accepted, and once Atheus had both of them under his control, raising the child would be no problem.

Except for Medane, Atheus thought angrily. Medane would interfere the way he had with Raven. Under Medane’s control, Raven had become headstrong and independent, capable of thinking for himself and choosing his own future. Unacceptable. Atheus had done a far better job with Kaela. He glanced at the woman seated across from him. Kaela was pale and hadn’t spoken a word. She knew she was in trouble and she was probably just hoping to escape with her life. Exactly the type of obedience Atheus wanted. She would have no thoughts of running away, he knew. She would try to prove her loyalty in an attempt to save herself, and in doing so she would become an even more valuable servant.

Raven’s head pounded against his ears, pulsing white starry pain in his eyes as the sound blocked out all other perceptions. Bitter vinegar filled his mouth and nose and he couldn’t feel his body. Raven tried to calm his racing thoughts. He could sense people around him, vague shapes of heat and whispering. Something cold landed on his lips and they opened instinctively. He felt his body swallow liquid and wondered if it were poison.

His brain felt as though it were swelling up and about to explode and his ears were about to burst. So much pressure, but it was hurting less. The throbbing headache was almost reassuring; the only part of his body he could feel and control. Raven tried to open his eyes. It took several tries before he remembered how to lift the eyelids, and long minutes before he recognized outlines in the blur before his eyes and could make sense of his vision.

He was lying down in a vehicle. There was a man sitting across from him. The man had a thick purple scar where his eye must have once been. He looked familiar but Raven couldn’t place him. The man noticed Raven looking around and his scarred face twisted into something that could have been a grimace or a grin.

“Good morning,” the man said. His voice was familiar, too, but Raven couldn’t keep his mind focused long enough to remember. It hurt too much to think.

Another voice came from above his head, maybe the front of the vehicle. It felt like an airship—there was some turbulence but nothing like cars. And the constant pressure in his head could be due to high elevation, Raven thought.

“We don’t want him awake yet,” the second, female voice said.

It also sounded familiar.

“He can’t do anything.”

“I don’t want to take chances.”

The man across from Raven laughed. He leaned forward until his face was inches from Raven’s, leering down at him. Lower Africa, Raven remembered. Botswana. The man was one of the black-clothed elite allowed to kill, but he had slipped poison into a river providing drinking water for thousands. Medane had forbidden Raven from killing the man—he had too many powerful allies—but Raven had taken his eye in return for the innocent lives this man had needlessly taken. Raven couldn’t move, trapped on his back with no sense of his body. He couldn’t fight or protect himself. He could only hope the pain that enveloped his mind with each heartbeat would eventually leave and he would be able to move again.

The man pressed a hand on Raven’s cheek. He barely felt it and wondered what drug they had given him. The man’s thumb lowered over Raven’s right eye, closing the lid. Raven couldn’t feel if he were pressing or not. He couldn’t feel anything except the pressure in his head.

“He’s safe enough,” the man said smugly, taking his hand away.

Raven wondered what the man had done. Surely he would feel pain if the man had damaged his eye, Raven thought. But he couldn’t see out of it, and couldn’t remember how to open it again. His open eye watered, not with pain but with frustration at his complete helplessness. The man moved back across the vehicle and ignored him.

Time passed. Minutes. Hours. Raven couldn’t tell. He managed to shut both eyes, and open them. His right eye was fine. The man occasionally reached out to hit his arm. Lightly, just testing if Raven could feel it. Raven was careful to remain motionless even after sensation returned in his arms, his legs, his torso. His head was still on the verge of exploding but the pain seemed to be getting less as his body regained its strength. He didn’t move, kept his eyes and face blank, and waited until he could get the upper hand.

They were definitely on a plane, Raven decided as the vehicle dipped downward. They would be landing soon and that was when he needed to move. The scarred man seemed to be taking some pleasure in seeing Raven helpless like this, so perhaps he would continue ignoring his partner’s advice and leave Raven unbound. He wondered who the woman was. Her voice was familiar, but he knew she wasn’t from either African state.

“Is he awake?” she called from the front.

“He can’t do anything,” the man reassured her, punching Raven hard.

It took all of Raven’s discipline to allow the man to punch him. He needed the man to think he was still helpless, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to escape. The pressure in his head was easing as they continued the descent and Raven did his best to remain limp when they touched down. He still had no idea where they were or what kind of plane this was, but it seemed like a small plane and the runway was bumpy as they slowed, so it probably wasn’t a major airport.

The plane stopped and the man stood up, checking Raven with another punch. A woman appeared near Raven’s head; the pilot. She wore khaki slacks and a black vest and Raven didn’t need to hear her speak again to recognize her. One of the assassins from the Chinese state. She used to be sanctioned by the government until Raven had exposed a plot of hers to eliminate a group of monks living in the mountains. The monks had peacefully declined to be in the Chinese state, preferring instead to remain outside the world governments’ control. Normally Raven would have approved of forcing resisters to join the government, but the monks were an exception. They were pacifists and only had limited communication with the outside world. When this woman had tried to kill them, Raven had stepped in and she was exiled. He hadn’t seen or heard of her again, until now.