Old Gods

Chapter 14: Alliances and Expectations

>>>>>

I hate cold, Heka thought miserably as she slithered down another narrow, filthy alleyway. She was a creature of hotter climes and sunny lands; this chilly, wet weather was not to her liking. Skulking through nasty back alleys was also not to her liking. She preferred warm sand. Now, she was unlikely to ever see the warmth and sun of her native Egypt.

She left him. And she doubted he had even noticed her gone yet.

In all her millennia of life, she had been a pawn, a tool in some conjuror's possession as nothing more than an enhancer to their own gifts. Her existence had been spent as a channel and key to unlock and focus another's energies.

Never again.

She was powerful in her own right, more powerful than any of her former masters ever gave her credit for and would have been more than capable of taking care of herself out in the world had she ever learned for herself how to properly control her powers. She needed proper teaching, something her old masters never bothered with. Why would they? She was merely a staff to them, no different than their scrolls or wands.

Heka was alone now, and she was miserable. She left him. She missed him.

Or, more accurately, she missed who he once was. Scarab had always seemed different from her other wielders and he had been for a long time after he first acquired her. It was not until power and immortality became his all-encompassing goal that he became just like all the others. Why did humans always wish for such things? Both led inevitably to heartache.

There was a time when she almost loved him, almost gave him her heart, but that had been long ago. He had been young and handsome and full of promise then. Watching the long centuries pass in that living tomb with only Scarab and his ever-growing madness had made her see things in a different light, and had given her time to think. It was all she could do in that dark, dusty crypt.

Heka realized now that she should have left him when the seal on the stone door was broken. It was something she knew now with hindsight. Gods, if only she had known then.

Now she was alone on the streets in the cold, wet San Francisco winter and had no idea where to find her destination. She felt it imperative that she find and warn the guardians of Scarab's latest scheme. There was a breaking point to everything and this last plan was hers. If he were allowed to see it through, the world would collapse into darkness and evil.

She had to get them to listen to her first for there was every possibility they would simply attack her as soon as they saw her. Given the bitter history between them, she really would not blame them.

Was there any way to approach the mummies safely? As a creature of pure, ancient magic her serpentine form was quite mutable. She had, in fact, on one occasion― quite by accident― managed to change into something that looked almost human. It had not lasted long for at her fright at suddenly finding herself bipedal, she had changed back to her favoured form an eye-blink later.

Idly, as she slithered farther down the alley towards what looked like a busy street, the serpent wondered if she could do the transformation again.

If she looked more human, it would speed her travels through the crowded streets and she would be able to ask for information and directions to guide her steps. It would also mean she would not be chased by either animal control or the police and people would not automatically run screaming from her.

Time was not on her side. She needed to find them and warn them of the disaster Scarab was bringing upon them.

So, she stilled all movement, curling into herself, and concentrated. After five minutes of nothing except the realization that she was hungry, Heka was just about to open her crimson eyes and struggle onwards when it happened. The change was quick, happening between one heartbeat and the next.

At first she was uncertain if anything had indeed happened until she opened her eyes and looked down.

Wow, she thought as she saw hands and arms, her hands and arms, the same golden honey colour as her true form. It glistened slightly in the dim, dirty light. Thick black, braided hair spilled across her shoulders and a dark red dress shrouded her body as sandals covered her feet. She even had jewellery and other such decorations of gold, lapis lazuli, and azure adorning her form. It was a style of dress and ornamentation seen long ago in her native Egypt.

Unsteadily the cobra-turned-woman stood upon her new legs and took her first steps. She staggered drunkenly and fell gracelessly back against the damp brick of the building behind her.

Hm, this is harder than the humans make it look, she thought with a grunt of displeasure.

Hand braced against the wall to steady herself, she walked the length of the alleyway several times until she thought she could traverse the streets without the embarrassment of falling. However, upon stepping out into the light of the open streets, she was met with stares and whispers.

It was not, she assumed, an everyday occurrence for a golden-skinned woman to wander the streets. Even in San Francisco.

Another day passed before she spotted either the guardians or the old warriors. It was the youngest of the old Gods of War, Zarg, she found, stopped at a red light on the motorcycle he had taken that very first day he had gone out into the modern world.

"Zarg!" She shouted in relief, stumbling as she began running towards him. "Zarg, over here. I must speak with you."

The young looking man actually did a double take when he saw her.

"Whoa," she heard him mutter even over the roar of the bike's powerful engine. "Who are you?" He asked more loudly.

"I will tell you but please, I need to speak with all of you."

Confusion and defensiveness shone in his green eyes and she mentally cursed herself. She might have just said the wrong thing. He could very well drive off and leave her now.

The angry bleating of a small, silver automobile and the impatient voice of its owner caused both of them to jump. Zarg flicked his alert gaze to it before resting it on her. She gulped despite herself.

"Hop on," he said simply, motioning behind him.

She complied quickly and soon found herself clutching his narrow waist for dear life as the motorcycle roared through the hilly streets at what must have been higher than posted speeds. She still could not believe her luck. He was taking her with him!

Until he took a turn and she felt like getting off. Or screaming. This was the first time she had ridden on one of these two-wheeled contraptions, and she most strenuously decided she did not like it.

When he went over a hill so fast the bike left the ground, she did scream.

>>>>>>>

Well, there's chapter 14, how'd you like it?

And I should have been doing this since day one (bad author!) but I would like to most deeply thank everyone who has ever read, reviewed, or even just looked at this story and smirked. It's one of the biggest reasons that I continue to write (when the evil that is writer's block stays at bay and the greater evil that is plot bunnies takes over). So, thank you and great big hugs to everyone.