“You could have at least let me keep my MP3 player,” Gabriel growled up at the sky. He had no idea if the Northern Sage could hear him.
In frustration and anger Gabriel screamed out that most horrible of curse words, the one beginning with fornication, and ending with king.
Chapter 2: The Apostle is Born
The knife glittered point first in the sand halfway between Subject 32 and Subject 27. It meant death for one of them and life for the other. It meant freedom, revenge, hatred, slavery, and sorrow. With it, Subject 32 had killed twenty-five other Subjects in combat. She had one more to kill.
The arena was small, cold and dark, like the cell she was locked into while not training or giving devotion to Cain, the one true god. Subject 32 did not resent the arena, or that her comrades tried their hardest to kill her in it. She did not resent the fact that she had never, not once in her life, been the recipient of a single act of love or kindness. She did resent the single knife, and what it represented.
The Council of the World Closest to Perdition demanded proof of their faith and training. Only two Subjects remained of one hundred. The blood of the others stained the sand of the arena. Only fifty returned from the first round of one-on-one duels, and twenty-five after the second. Subject 32 proved herself to be the most skilled of the survivors, and was then forced to fight duels with the remaining twenty-four other Subjects. Had she been defeated, the victor would have gone on in her place.
A chill ran down Subject 32’s spine, causing her to shudder from the tips of her wolflike ears to the end of her wolflike tail. Despite the cold, nervous sweat beaded on her skin in anticipation of the horror she was about to commit. The single ray of hope in her miserable life was that she only had to kill one more of her own to earn her freedom and the title of Apostle.
Once she was free she would have vengeance. In the cold, dark nights when she had nothing but her own sobs to keep her warm, the fires of rage built in her heart and kept her going ever onward. She would become the Apostle, and then would come what she’d dreamt about since she was young. She’d take that knife and ram it down every Council Member’s throat.
Subject 32’s sweat began to freeze on her mostly bare skin, causing another shiver to run through her. She wore only short shorts and a tattered sports bra. Both were stained, full of holes despite many patches, and nearly worn away to nothing. It was the only clothing she’d ever owned, earned with the blood of her fellow Subjects. Before that time she’d known little of modesty, unashamed of her nudity, and unaware that she should be ashamed. Now she clung to what she had, not wanting to be seen naked by anyone ever again.
Across the arena, Subject 27’s eyes seemed to gather and reflect the dim
illumination of the single neon light hanging above them. Her own eyes would appear to glow as well. He was nearly twice her body mass, and physically much stronger than she. His shorts were stretched tight over the bulk of his muscles. His catlike tail swished lazily as his gaze moved between her and the knife, waiting for the command to begin.
Shifting her feet, callused by a lifetime of never having worn shoes, Subject 32 let her gaze wander. The circle of bloody sand was surrounded by twelve Centuries, large, hulking, metal monstrosities that could nearly match a Subject for physical ability. The Centuries kept the Subjects in line, delivering electric shocks to stun any that became unruly. The bones of Subjects were made of metal, and even a light shock could be completely incapacitating, perhaps even fatal.
Above each of the Centuries was a large window from which Council Members
watched the duels. A dim light far from the glass lit each from within, but Subject 32 had never even seen so much as a shadow in any of them. She was certain that she could snatch the knife from the middle of the arena, calculate the trajectories needed to break the glass and bounce the blade off of the wall and into the caster of a shadow. She was sure that she could do it before the Centuries reached her. Unfortunately, she never saw any proof that any of the rooms were even occupied.
“Today we choose an Apostle,” a red light flashed above one of the windows as
one of the Council Members spoke.
“This two-hundred year experiment has yielded two candidates,” another red light flashed above a different window.
“There can be only one Apostle of Cain.”
“This day was foretold by Cain.”
“You were created to fight each other this day.”
Subject 32 tensed, eyes flitting from the single knife, to 27 across the arena from her.
Involuntarily, her lips curled back from her wickedly sharp teeth in a snarl. She hated the Council. She hated them with every fiber of her being for what they’d forced her to do.
“You may begin.”
Subject 32 did not hesitate. If she died here, it would make the deaths of the other Subjects meaningless. She did not want to kill 27, but he was a zealot, believing in everything that the Council had force-fed him his entire life without question of morality.
He would never turn on them. To win her freedom and seek her vengeance he had to die.
She would avenge no one dead, and she could not live without killing him.
Racing forward with every shred of speed she possessed, Subject 32 was much
faster and far more agile than Subject 27. She’d done little else in life but study how to use her strengths and weaknesses against those of others. Unfortunately he’d received the same training.
Subject 32 dove for the knife, grabbing it a split second before Subject 27 was upon her. Rolling on her shoulder, she threw her legs into 27’s with all her strength and momentum, knocking him off his feet. Twisting as he fell, 27 landed in a crouch as 32
leapt to her feet and charged at him. Her only chance was to defeat him before he knew what was happening.
Subject 32’s vision began to tint red with her rage as it flowed through her, not quite strongly enough to extinguish the anguish gripping her heart. Flying at her opponent with knife raised, she tried to ignore the hateful sneer on his face.
Ducking under his fist, she spilled his guts with a slash across the belly. With a twist she brought the knife around to sever the tendons in his right arm with surgical precision. In the moment of shock her lightning quick cuts caused him, she spun around 27 and drove her knife into his kidney. Stiffening, he rose to his tiptoes as if doing so might allow him to escape the killing wound. Wheezing, he stumbled, but no other sound escaped him as he slumped, falling off of the knife and leaving a bloody mess on 32’s hands and belly.
“Very good Subject 32,” a red light flashed over one of the windows.
“Subject 32 is no more,” she gripped her knife as she looked up at the window.
Just one shadow, that was all she’d need to begin her vengeance. “I am the Apostle of Cain.”
“So you are.”
“Your duties are as such.”
“This world is closest to the prison that our god is trapped within.”
“We have been tasked with destroying that prison.”
“How is this possible,” the Apostle asked.
“You will use this,” there was a flash of light and a purple crystal on a leather cord appeared floating in the air before her.
Tossing the hated knife aside, the Apostle took it in one bloody hand, examining it. It seemed as though she could see the depths of eternity within its facets.
“It is a shard of the Gate, a doorway that links all worlds together. It will allow you to travel from world to world ”
“You will travel to many worlds and preach the words of Cain.”