The Seeds of Life - Chapter One: The Beginning is Nigh

[Nathan Saniti]

The Seeds of Life - Chapter One: The Beginning is Nigh

The crimson armor plates clanked angrily as War entered the blue flame lit throne room of the being known as Lord Chaos. He stabbed his great sword into the cave floor, causing the room to quake like an injured animal. The master of the domain barely seemed to notice his guest as he slumped in his throne, his chin bone cupped in the forefingers of his clasped hands. Without the benefit of lips, it was difficult to discern Lord Chaos' exact mood, be it grin or grimace.

"My patience is wearing thin, brother," thundered War. "When will your new plan come to fruition?"

"Your patience," hissed Chaos through his teeth, "is of absolutely no concern to me, just as my time table should be of no worry to you. You're an Immortal, not an infant. Behave accordingly."

"My bloodlust boils, and you resort to namecalling?" War stomped towards the throne threateningly.

Blue flames erupted in a volcanic whoosh, knocking the advancing War to his backside. Chaos never moved a single inch. He simply spoke calmly and concisely. "Curb your temper tantrum in my presence, War." Lord Chaos' eyes glowed crimson as a black flame enveloped the head and helmet of his plated brother. War fell to his knees clawing at his head as if it were being consumed by horrific parasites. "This is still my world. Immortal or not, I will be host to your worst nightmares, should you feel the need to cross me."

The black flame died as quickly as it came to be. War fell to all fours, panting deeply from the excruciating event his body just experienced. Slowly, War regained his composure, tilting his head to his tormentor. "Do that again, and I'll bury each of your bones in a different realm."

Lord Chaos chuckled maliciously. "As to your questions, my back-up plan is already underway. I have recruited a rather ambitious man with seven followers. I've given them a world to oversee, and in return, they have begun punishing the Magician for his misdeeds."

"How are you so certain that your plan will work?"

"I have... A vested interest in their collective." He chuckled like a maniac briefly, until his attention was suddenly redirected. Again, Chaos' eyes glowed crimson, but this time, he turned his stare towards one of the winding corridors that lead to his alcove. "Speaking of which..." He returned his gaze to War. "If you'll excuse me, 'brother,' I have a matter to tend to. If you wish us to meet our goal, I must speak with the new blood."

War grudgingly stepped out of the room, grumbling under his breath something about repercussions. Lord Chaos dismounted his throne, gliding over to the western hallway, where he was greeted by a shadowy figure. The silhouette bore a misshapen yet roundish head capped by a pair of equally round, cartoonish protuberances. The guest shuffled like a zombie down the hallway, each move slow and deliberate as he approached his host.

"I take it all went well?" queried Lord Chaos, already aware of the answer he'd be receiving.

"It did," replied the shadow in a gravelly, nearly emotionless voice. "The Magician finally got a taste of what's coming to him. He found out that nothing is sacred. First we redecorated his beloved Witzend, then we crucified and burned him for all of the Faithful to witness." The mysterious figure's voice raised in pitch with glee as he spoke. "Next, we shall target the love of his life."

"Make him suffer greatly."

"Is there anything else you need from us, Master?"

Chaos produces an amulet from his cloak; the very same obsidian star amulet with ivory accents that Nathan himself had used to collect the Seeds of Death, the Seven Deadly Sins. Handing it to his guest, he straightened confidently. "I need you to collect the Wrath from your followers."

The figure examined the trinket carefully, watching the six imperfections swimming mesmerizingly under the surface. His voice became emotionless once again. "Will it harm them?"

"Not at all," Lord Chaos informed his guest. "It may drain them of their energy for a while, but once they return to doing what they do best, they'll feel right as rain." Without another word, the guest pocketed the bauble, spun on his heels, and sauntered back to the recesses from which he came.

*******

Kelli sat beside the hospital bed, coloring absently in a book she'd swiped from the children's wing. Usually, the act brought her great joy, or at the very least distracted her from whatever was bothering her. Today, however, as her love lay hooked up to devices and drips of all flavors, none of which were of the candy variety.

She sighed heavily, scanning her lover's body, stopping at the nail holes on his wrists and feet, the scorching of his skin from the knees down. She couldn't see it, but the bandages didn't hide the fluids leaking from his wounds, nor did it erase the initial images she'd seen once the paramedics began tending to Nathan.

The monitors beeped rhythmically as Nathan rested. Trauma 191 had been a bittersweet night. His grueling win against a very worthy Non Compos Mentis had not only been interrupted by a set of oddball cartoonish figures aiming veiled threats at him, only to make very good on them post-bell by crucifying him and attempting to burn him at the stake in the middle of the ring.

Nathan slowly moved one of his bandaged wrists, wincing in agony at the movement. Kelli perked, blindly grasping his arm without looking where she grabbed. Nathan yowled, sitting up, wide-eyed. Kelli immediately retracted her hand as if Nathan were on fire. The clamped over her mouth, hiding the mortification of the well intentioned, though absent-minded gesture.

Kelli's eyes filled with tears at the thought of her unintentionally aggravating Nathan's pain. Fresh blood began spotting the gauze on the hand she touched, giving her emotions no relief. "OMIGOD! Nathan!" she wept, "I'm so sorry."

After the lightning flashes of pained nerve endings subsided, Nathan looked at his dearest, sorrow filling his eyes. "It's okay, my love," he soothed as he reached for her painstakingly. "I know you meant no harm." Through determined effort, he cupped her face, bringing her in for a lover's kiss. Passionately, they kissed, through his physical pain, through her emotional trauma, until her anxiety had melted away. They broke, resting their foreheads against one another, breathing each other's breath as if it gave them life.

"I'm worried, Nathan." Kelli reluctantly pulled back into the chair at his bedside.

"About what, my dear?" Nathan held up his arm. "This? Not to sound Python-esquse, but it's merely a flesh wound. Thyme heals all wounds. Would you be a dear and get me some?" Kelli looked at Nathan, perplexed. Nathan chuckled at the near-childlike confusion on her face. "The spice thyme does more than make excellent tomato sauce. The adage got mixed up through the ages dues to illiterate people, and now no one uses it for its most extraordinary ability."

Kelli allowed this to sink in before shaking her head back into focus. "No. What I'm worried about is you." She paused, trying to decide how to word what she was trying to say. "I think you should drop out of the Icemann Tournament."

"Nonsense," Nathan uttered sleepily. "I've made it past Non Compos Mentis. The competition is exhilarating."

"You don't understand, Nathan," she dictated with concern.

"Who am I to face on Trauma 192?"

Kelli's silence was deafening, as her face scrunched up with worry. "Murdoc."

Now it was Nathan's turn for disquiet. He slowly turned his head to stare at the ceiling of his room. He sighed deeply before he spoke. "So it IS all interconnected."

"Hmmm?"

"Murdoc has unfinished business with me, I'm afraid. It was because of my negligence that Miss Eira lost their first child. Had I been where I was needed, the Black Hand would not have been able to perpetrate such a vile attack." Pained tears, filled with the horrible memory, fell down his cheeks. "He blames me to this day, and rightfully so. My uppance has truly come, and in spades."

He hesitated a bit before a smile grew on his face. "I may come out of this a bit scarred, but the competition shall be breathtaking. Tell me, my dear, does he seem rusty from his absence?"

"He won the Last Chance Battle Royal, Nathan!" Kelli's voice almost cracked with concern. "He came in, curb stomped the ever living fuck out of anything in his path and walked away. He's going to do that to YOU, Nathan!" She pounded a fist on his chest as if trying to restart his pulse, hard at first, then weakening with each subsequent pummeling. Her voice softened too. "He's going to do that to..."

As she trailed off, a nurse walked in, clipboard in hand. She and Nathan looked at Kelli, Nathan with thunderstruck worry, the nurse with understanding. "She's been here ever since they brought you in. She hasn't slept in days."

Nathan examined his love with new eyes as she rested, her bosom rising and lowering hypnotically as her head and arm draped across the bed rail. "Is there a way to make her more comfortable?"

The nurse, a robust, yet shapely ebony middle aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair smiled mischievously. "Mmm hmmm. With your injuries and you goin' there?" She wiggled a finger at the shocked and mildly embarrassed Saniti. Finally, she let out a good belly laugh. "I'll see about a rollaway bed, sugar."

The nurse sauntered off after checking her patient's vitals, leaving Nathan and the still sound asleep Kelli alone once again. The word "sugar" kept running through his mind every time he looked at his beloved. Kelli was HIS sugar. She was everything that was good and sweet in his world. Then a dark thought settled in; when would the true bitterness come? With every sweet there was bitter. Balance would be maintained, whether he liked it or not.