Gods of Death

2 : Emma

"Take my arm." It was not a request. One held out a bony appendage and Victor placed his hand on it obediently, gripping the sword in his other. Now was not the time to get pissy over a simple request.

The scenery blurred and Victor's stomach heaved. Sheer force of will kept him from depositing whatever was in his stomach on to his feet. What was in his stomach anyway? He couldn't remember the last thing he had eaten. Great; a last supper and it was so uneventful as to have been forgotten straight away.

Victor blinked twice, his eyes adjusting to the new level of light. It was dawn and it was cold; for a brief moment he wished himself back in Hell.

"Where are we?"

"Look around; do you not know? Don't they educate you?"

Victor did as he was bidden and laughed. Tall stone slabs dominated his view. "Stonehenge?" he asked.

One nodded. "As good a training ground as any."

"Training?"

"Victor, you have no idea how to use that thing. If you are going to stand any chance in our contest, you are going to need to train. You are going to need to work hard, because time is short - relatively speaking - and so we don't have time for you to be a lazy fucktard. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very."

"Good." One disappeared.

Victor looked at the space where the old God had been standing. Was that it? 'Go train' and absolutely no help beyond that. What was he meant to do? Smash the stones with the sword?

He took a look at the weapon in the growing daylight. It really was magnificent; he wished he'd taken the time to hear about its lineage. He had no scabbard to sheath it and didn't want to get it dirty, so held it aloft.

"I look like a big t**t," he commented to himself.

"Yes." The lilting voice came from behind him. Victor spun, waving the sword in front of him involuntarily as he did so.

"Who said that?"

On top of one of the mammoth stones sat a small humanoid creature. It smiled, flexed its leathery and bat-like wings and took to the air. Seconds later it was hovering in front of his face, the constant flap of the wings making a soft 'thump thump' sound in the air.

"What the f**k?" said Victor.

"I'm Emma," said the imp. She smiled a toothy grin.

"You have got to be f*****g kidding. What is this, a Disney cartoon?"

Emma shrugged.

"You’re here to train me?"

"Yes."

Victor shook his head. He was too old for this s**t; fantasy had never been his thing. Swords, demons and little imps belonged in tales for small children and his mum hadn't been the kind of woman who let little boys be children for long. Victor had been playing his part in the household by the time he was six, and by eight had full on responsibilities. He hadn't seen a cartoon for a decade and a half. He dropped the sword on the wet grass.

"f**k this," he said and turned to walk from the ring of standing stones. Wasn't there meant to be a fence to keep out tourists? And tourists?

"I don't think so," Emma commented. She whipped her tail round to catch him on his face. A sharp barb cut through his skin and wet his cheek with blood. "The next one will actually hurt."

"That one f*****g hurt."

She shrugged again, obviously unapologetic.

"Emma, right?"

Emma nodded.

"No meanness to you, but this isn't my scene. I can't use a sword, I'm not really into killing people anyway, and I don't think going toe-to-toe with a bat is going to give me the skill-set I need for this mission, contest or quest, whatever it is. So, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a break from it all and see if I can forget this nightmare. It's not far to a road, I know there's one close to Stonehenge because you can see it from a car."

Emma looked at him for a few seconds before answering. "No meanness to you, Victor," she started, "but I couldn't give a s**t about your feelings. I am compelled to teach you to use that thing and to get you ready for what comes next and I'm going to complete my task even if you do everything in your power to try to stop me. This isn't really Stonehenge anyway; you are still in Hell, and there's not going to be a passing driver to save you and take you off to a nearby town. Now stop being a baby, and do what I tell you to."

Victor looked at her in slight shock. "You're meaner than Jiminy Cricket," he said.

"A lot," she agreed.

Victor picked up the sword. "Fine, what do you want me to do?"

"You're not fighting me? Not arguing?"

"I'm not stupid. Those three old arseholes weren't going to dump me back in the real world for my training and the lack of fence tells me this isn't really Stonehenge. I can't see a road either. Your little tail whip told me everything I need to know about pissing you off and despite it being freezing out here, I'm not actually that cold and I'm in a t-shirt, so it's all a little off. Your explanation is as good as any."

"Well aren't you the reasonable human being?"

"Just tell me what to do."

Emma laughed. "OK, let's get started."

There was a flash of lightning and a Roman soldier appeared on the grass a few feet to the left of Victor. "He's as real as anything out here, and he's about to attack you," said Emma. "I suggest defending yourself at least."

Victor breathed out an exasperated curse and turned to face the approaching legionnaire, sword raised in front of him in his best stance. He was going to die, he reasoned.

The Roman ran at him, the regulation short-sword a much smaller weapon that was now dancing skilfully in the sunlight. There was a clash of steel as Victor's frantic blow was parried and then the burning feeling of pain in his left side. Victor screamed and looked down to see blood gushing from a deep s***h in his belly. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the earth.

The solider ran him through without hesitation.