Koschei.
That was his name. He knew that. His name was Koschei, and he was Deathless.
Deathless. He liked the sound of that.
He slowly sat up, brushing concrete dust and bits of rubble off his cloak. Blood splattered his shirt, here and there among the rips and tears. Near to the right he saw a hand, unmoving beneath a chunk of concrete.
Koschei studied his shirt again. There was a tear the size of his hand near the front, crusted with blood. I'll need to find a new one soon.
No wounds that he could see. The evidence was there, but his skin was free of scars.
Deathless. Yes. That was right.
Koschei stood, amazed at the pounding in his skull. If he was Deathless, why did his head ache? If he had died and risen, shouldn't an aching head be one of the first wounds to heal?
He tried to ponder it. Tried to work through the implications, but the pain in his head became too much to bear. So he stopped.
And the pain subsided.
Koschei frowned, but when he tried to consider what this meant, the pain returned. So he pushed those thoughts aside in favor of his surroundings.
A building—an observatory, from the looks of it—had collapsed. Shards of broken glass littered the floor and made strange, metallic crunching sounds as he walked. Swivel chairs and desks lay upside down, on their sides, and, in one case, in splinters against the remains of a wall, as if a giant had thrown it against the wall in a rage.
A giant….or an Epic.
Epic. Yes. That was right. That was what he was.
A moan from across the room drew his attention. Koschei followed it, squinted through the dust, and spied a foot pinned beneath an overturned desk. He moved toward it.
Deathless. The word played like a song in his head. Deathless. Deathless. You are Deathless.
Glass crunched as he approached, and a small bank of rubble rose up after a few steps. Koschei climbed it, pausing to cast a glance at where he had stood.
Rubble rose around a three-foot circle like earth around a crater. The observatory had crashed around him, but he had stood protected.
Another moan.
Koschei clasped the hand.
It gripped his weakly at first, strengthening as its owner gasped. Koschei tugged, the survivor righted herself, and a woman in torn office clothes stood from the remains of her desk. One look at him and what had passed for a smile fell. "Thank you," she said without certainty. As though she would have rather died than live to see him.
Anger surged through his veins. She was unworthy of healing.
She gasped as blood seeped through her shirt, her hand moving to cover the wound.
Koschei grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. "Don't ever speak so ungratefully again."
She nodded, eyes wide.
"Now tell me where I am, or I'll let those wounds of yours run their course."
"Calamityville."
"Calamityville." He tested the unfamiliar name. "See that crater? That is where I rose. Why was I protected?"
"I…" She drew a strained breath, and Koschei reluctantly sealed her wound. "You're an Epic."
"I know that."
"That's why. As near as I can figure, that's why. Please…." She waited, but for what Koschei didn't know. "I've never seen you before."
She had never seen him before, which meant he must be from elsewhere. The thought of where elsewhere might be sent another shaft of pain through his head. "Who rules this place?"
"Mobius. Queen—Mobius."
"Take me to her."
She pressed her lips together, but reconsidered her argument. "Yes…."
"Koschei."
"Yes, Koschei. I'll help you find her."
"You'll help me do nothing. You will lead me to her, or I'll bring you to death's door until you do." He released her and got to his feet. The ruined observatory opened to an inky sky, dark save for the crimson rays of a single star.
Calamity.
Yes. Calamity. Calamity had made him Deathless. The eerie red light was comforting. No—not comforting. Something else. Something stronger.
Empowering.
Koschei smiled at the star. Calamity had empowered him. Elevated him above the woman who dusted rubble from her skirt. Above the dead. Above death itself. He was in Calamityville for a purpose.
He was there to meet the Queen.
