Never Say Die (3/8)

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When he fell silent two hours later, Andrew's heart was
racing.

//Immortals.

God in heaven, Immortals!//

An ancient, mysterious race. All of them foundlings, all
of them sterile. After their first death--always the result
of accident or violence, because nothing else could kill
them--they stopped aging, and injuries healed super-
quickly. They could only be killed permanently by
beheading.

Those lucky enough to find teachers became expert
swordsmen. In the modern era, they had to master laser
weapons as well.

Quickenings. The Game. The prophecy of the
Gathering: "In the end, there can be only one." The
ever-elusive Prize.

//All of them foundlings.

I've never had any kin but Adam!//

***

He closed his eyes. In his imagination, undreamed-of
vistas opened before him. Hundreds, thousands of years
to travel, explore, seek out the secrets of the universe!
With Adam at his side. For surely they *were* brothers,
in a much more real sense than the physical.

He opened his eyes to find the older man watching him,
a quizzical smile on his lips.

"I think I know the rest of it," Andrew said, in a voice
that trembled only slightly. "I'm one of those pre-
Immortals you mentioned. You spotted me somewhere
when I was a toddler, right? *Sensed* me. So you
decided to adopt me."

"Uh, no." Adam's expression was unreadable. "There's
something I haven't told you yet.

"The Gathering has already taken place. It's all over.
I won."

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