by Kaden Reed
“Since you all seem to think you can still move at your own lazy pace, I have an idea,” Jax’s smile looked wicked as it crept across his face, “let’s make this journey, educational. I run - you follow. If you fail to keep pace, I will stab you.” His hands blurred and a short sword suddenly appeared in his grasp. Once he was satisfied that all three of us got the hint, he took a step toward us and disappeared.
Looking around at the empty corridor, we were all startled when he called loudly from behind us, “keep up!” Turning around, I was able to make out the swiftly diminishing form of our diminutive leader sprinting down the hall.
“I hate running,” I groaned in dismay.
“You are normal Afton. I don’t trust anyone that actually likes running,” Marty said in disgust.
“Did ya see the way he was fondling that sword of his?” Glazmir frowned after Jax’s still retreating form, “I think he really be wanting to stab us.”
“Yeah, he probably does,” Marty sighed in agreement with the dwarf.
Even though I have only known the man for a handful of minutes, I was already developing an irrational hatred for him. Before I could find out if Jax meant what he said, I started running after him, “I’m not going to be the one that lets him have that satisfaction.”
“This is going to be a long day,” Marty sighed shortly before I could hear him and Glazmir shuffling after me.
I couldn’t agree with my friend more. I just hoped it would only be a long day, but I was afraid that this was just the beginning of what is coming.
Chapter Eight
The Truth
The only city that I have found that rivals Vashire in splendor, is the city of Nadeena, the home city of the Dungeon Amorak. Unlike its royal cousin Vashire, Nadeena is built upon rolling hills that surround the confluence of the rivers Sanguine and Ashfolk near the geographical center of Ashon. Due to its prime location, Nadeena has a rich history of river trading. Their trading network reaches all the way to the Laidir dwarfs in their mountain strongholds to the north.
- Excerpt from The Three Nations, by Raine Royce, University of Glasden Historian
“Argh!” Glazmir hopped in a weird side shuffle, trying to continue his forward momentum while grabbing his buttocks protectively, “for all the gold in me pa’s coffers, quit poking me you ruddy wee man!”
It became obvious from the beginning of our run, our enhanced bodies allowed us to reach a level of physical prowess that none of us would ever have achieved in our old lives. We were able to catch up to Jax in short order, but soon learned there were limitations to this gift.
The wheeze of my labored breathing was the only thing that my oxygen starved mind was able to focus on as I deliriously put one foot in front of the other, in something approximating a run. The sound seemed to reverberate off the confines of the bare hallway we were running through. All three of us were bleeding from multiple wounds, but Glazmir was definitely getting singled out for extra attention by Jax. His stocky frame had him at a disadvantage when trying to maintain the brutal pace our tormentor was setting.
Surprisingly, Marty was handling it the easiest. I would have thought his shorter legs would have seen him struggling to keep up with Glaz, but he was leading the way. From behind him, I couldn’t tell if he was even getting winded yet.
“Keep up dwarf,” a bright flash ahead of us and Jax was back in front of the group, “you are slowing us all down.”
Glaz muttered in between panting breaths, “the holes in me arse don’t help me to keep pace, you dolt!”
It felt like we continued running for another hour before Jax raised his hand and called, “halt.”
I really did try to come to a gradual stop. Maybe even walk around a bit because I heard that your muscles would cramp after a long run if you didn’t ease them down. However, in my haste to stop running, the signal from my brain that formulated this magnificent plan told my feet, “hey it’s time to stop running, so-.”
By this point, my feet were so enthusiastic about this course of action they didn’t bother to wait for the rest of the instructions to come. They immediately agreed and planted themselves, refusing to go another inch. Which left the rest of me with an awful lot of momentum and nowhere to disperse it.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as I began my ill-fated flight. I heard my brain yelling at my feet for not waiting for the rest of the plan. To which my feet simply shrugged and said, “seems like it’s your problem, not ours. We don’t care.”
In shock at the sudden turn of events, my delirious mind tried desperately to rally some support from any other part of my body. But having nothing to do with the work boss that they blamed for this mistreatment, they went on strike and elected a leader to negotiate on their behalf. The leader promptly informed my brain that they were exercising their collective bargaining rights and refused to cross the picket line until their demands were met.
About halfway through my unceremonious belly flop onto the floor, my brain started gibbering in panic and tried to reason with my uncooperative body, “that is hard stone you morons! It’s going to hurt! A lot!”
Nodding at that salient point, the union leader took the information back to the strike members. After deliberating about it, he returned, “between me and you, I understand your point of view. However, my constituents are less sympathetic. I mean, you did create this hostile work environment. So, here is the message they wanted me to pass along.” As if acting of their own accord, both of my hands stretched out in front of me, pointing directly at Marty and Jax, with middle fingers extended.
Raging at this insubordination, my brain decided it had enough of this. Surprising the union head, it pounced on it like it was the last beer in a bar full of thirsty men. Fighting back in the only way it knew how, a stream of nonsense spewed out of my mouth as I crashed face first into the ground. My body limply sliding a few feet before coming to a stop.
As I laid there unmoving, the various parts of my rebellious anatomy slowly separated themselves from the internal brawl. Feeling ashamed at their actions, they all apologized, shook hands, and unanimously decided to never talk of this embarrassing turn of events again.
“Are you okay man?” I felt a hand shaking my shoulder and then slowly turn me onto my back, “were you having a seizure or something? I swear you just flipped us all off before trying to dive into the stone floor.”
Looking up at the blurred outline of both of the Martys that were standing above me, I tried to raise an arm to push him off me, but nothing was cooperating. All I could do was keep sucking in air, until my stomach started convulsing which forced me to curl into the fetal position. I just wanted to be left alone on this section of cold stone that I had claimed for the great nation of Afton.
“By the Dungeons!” Marty leapt away from me at the first signs of dry heaving, “hey, fearless leader, they are both down. Can you help them?”
“They are idiots,” Jax’s dismissive voice rang through the hallway, “I see that you picked it up. Them though? I can’t fix stupid.”
“Come on Jax,” Marty had a note of incredulity in his voice, “you are supposed to be teaching us.”
Grumbling sounds came from somewhere out of sight before Jax relented, “fine! You two lousy good-for-nothing Kits, listen up!” Jax continued in a tone like he was reiterating what should have been obvious, “I know Eli taught you both how to find your center. That is the second lesson every Kit learns. Tap into it right now. Find that center and then circulate the energy throughout your body.”
I remembered the lesson and sank within myself, feeling the mana course through me. Within moments I felt like I had been out for a light walk rather than a torturous run, “so we have to actively circulate the energy. I thought that happened naturally.”
“Of course, it doesn’t happen naturally,” Jax was shaking his head as I slowly sat up, “the entire point of this exercise is to get you to be able to reflexively circulate your mana. That way you won’t have
to think about it again.”
“You could’ve mentioned that before we started all the blasted running,” Glazmir sounded annoyed as he got to his feet.
“Marty got it without me having to tell him,” Jax nodded at the gnome.
“I’m not called Marty the Magnificent for nothing,” he proudly declared.
“The only person who calls you magnificent is yourself,” I scoffed, “how did you know to do that?”
“I didn’t know it would do that, but come on Afton,” Marty shook his head, sounding a little exasperated, “I’ve been wanting nothing more than to work with magic for my entire life. I’ve been living in my center ever since Eli taught me how to find it.”
Jax continued as if our banter hadn’t occurred, “consider this little episode an incentive for you to keep practicing. We have a long way still to go. Let’s get moving.”
All three of us started running after Jax as he sped down the hallway. After a few minutes of us not showing any signs of lagging behind, Jax increased the speed.
“How large is this Dungeon,” I asked in exasperation, seeing nothing but more apparently endless drab gray stone corridors.
“It is about three times the size of the City of Glasden horizontally,” Jax remarked offhandedly, “I have no comparison for how deep it is though. Suffice it to say, you will likely only see the barest fraction of this Dungeon as a Khanri. Only the one that we are going to see has seen it all.”
All of our textbooks indicated that Akashi was smaller than the city proper. Staggered by the revelation of the sheer magnitude of the Akashi Dungeon, I continued the journey in silence.
The group passed several branching hallways and occasionally Jax would lead us down one. A long while later, Jax raised his arm again to signal a halt in the middle of the gray stone hallway.
By the end of the run, I felt like I had found the trick to circulating my mana. Although, I don’t think I could manage it without focusing on it yet.
Raising his arm to the blank wall, a door slid aside to reveal a spacious room with several open doorways leading from it. Gesturing for us to go inside, we walked in and saw that there were plush rugs on the floor and a couple of couches arranged around what looked like a large caster-stone.
I couldn’t help myself from blurting out, “is this someone’s living room?”
“This is Thorn’s apartment. You won’t touch anything,” he looked around at us three, “and you will remain silent unless directly asked a question by Thorn or myself.” When he was satisfied that we understood he continued, “stay here,” and walked through one of the doorways leading out of the room.
After seeing nothing but bare gray walls and cold floors, I was entranced by the sheer opulence of the apartment I was in. There were several paintings on the walls showing people and scenery. A couple of the figures I recognized as famous Khanri. Most of them had either long since retired or passed away.
A large painting, that was arranged so it was visible from any seat in the room, depicted a man, with long black hair that hung well passed his shoulders, striding determinedly away from the burning thatch roofed hut at his back. Dressed in dark leathers with a short sword in his hand and a bow strung over a shoulder, his face was covered in perpetual shadow. A chill ran up my spine as I shivered involuntarily at the menacing feeling that I sensed emanating from the painting. Somehow, I got the impression that he could see me standing there looking at him.
Hearing footsteps getting closer, I shook myself out of the trance that had started to overcome me in time to see a lithe woman, about a head shorter than me, walk into the room. The hair on the back of my neck began to stand up, the closer she got to me. She was wearing a simple form-fitting tunic and pants with her black hair, tied up out of the way in a serviceable bun. I could feel the air seem to vibrate in her presence as she crossed the room to stop in front of Marty and myself. Although there was no denying Thorn was stunningly beautiful, there were no visible indications that she was what Eli was talking about when he mentioned the most powerful Khanri.
Looking us both up and down for a handful of seconds, her hands reached out and grabbed Marty by the head. Marty gasped in pain as his body went rigid in her grip. Nodding silently to herself, she let him go and he crumpled in a heap on the ground. Turning to me, I flinched away from her hands as they snaked up to grab my head. Smiling at me in obvious amusement, she made a gesture and I felt my body go rigid. Not able to move, I watched in terror as her hands grabbed both sides of my head and felt a jolt rocket down my spine to my toes. The only thing that kept me on my feet when she released me was whatever spell she had used to paralyze me.
Gasping in pain from the sudden assault, it took me several attempts to focus passed it and hear what she was saying, “it is good you brought these two to me Jax. That one,” she gestured at Marty as he was pushing himself off the floor. “I haven’t seen the like in a couple of centuries. He is a Thaumaturge. They heal but also harm their enemies. Masters of the mind, as well as the body. Quite unique to see Akashi resurrecting such an old class.”
“What can they do?” Marty asked her.
“I told you not to speak Kit,” Jax kicked Marty as he was getting to his feet, causing him to call out in pain and crumple back to the ground.
“No, Jax,” she rested a hand on Jax’s forearm, “it is okay. He will need to know.” She waited for Marty to climb to his feet before continuing, “one of the skills you have is the ability to create illusions. At first, they will be simple tricks to confuse an enemy. When you are stronger, your illusions will be so perfect that the enemy will think them real. So real in fact, that any damage caused by them will hurt them. It may even kill them. However, your primary skill is not the ability to cause pain, it is the ability to heal.” ‘
Marty stood a little straighter as she continued, “your healing spells will be second to none. A Mender can cast a spell that will regenerate tissue, bind wounds and cure diseases of the mind and body, but they are limited to only what they can do for their patients. A Thaumaturge will be able to cast any of those healing spells with one notable difference. As a master of the mind, they can separate the conscious from the subconscious mind. Bending a comrade’s conscious mind away from the wound, a strong Thaumaturge can force an ally to push past injuries that would cripple someone. All while directing the subconscious mind towards healing and regeneration, thus reinforcing your spell with their own energy. This is a far more efficient way to heal injuries and it increases the potency of your spells by an order of magnitude.”
Marty looked around at everyone in the room, “see you guys, I told you I was Marty the Magnificent!”
Smiling at the gnome, Thorn slowly nodded, “you have a long way to go, but you will be a powerful Khanri one day.” She reached out her hand and poked Marty in between his eyes, “but not today little Kit.”
Everyone chuckled as Marty seemed to deflate.
I took an involuntary step back when Thorn directed her full attention at me. I could feel waves of restrained power enveloping me. Steeling myself against the reflex to run when face-to-face with a supremely powerful being, I stood up straighter and met her gaze.
As if recognizing the internal struggle that had played itself out, she slowly nodded at me. Staring into her almond shaped eyes, I wasn’t able to tell what color they were, as they seemed to shift from one color to the next every second. The barely detectable rings of dark circles that radiated down her tan cheeks, spoke of sleepless nights. I couldn’t help but wonder at what could stir such a powerful Khanri to restlessness.
“You,” she paused briefly as she searched my face, “are an Enigma.” The way she spoke put a heavy emphasis on the last word.
I waited in silence for a long moment, thinking that she would continue. As the quiet dragged on, I broke the silence, “how am I an Enigma?”
She absently tapped a finger on her cheek while she thought, the mannerism managed to give her the appearance of a regular person
, “there have only ever been a handful of Khanri that have been a mixture of three classes. Each one of them have been unique, with no one before, or after, able to attain that specific combination of classes. Because of this, we call them Enigmas.”
The intensity of her gaze was electrifying as she continued, “there are only two of us that are currently alive. Well, I suppose I should say three now.” Her smile sent set my pulse pounding in my ears, “I am what is called a Reaver, which is a combination of a Bulwark, a Guardian and a Berserker. As you can probably guess, I love getting close enough to taste the blood of my enemies as I hack them down.” Her voice, bordering on ecstasy, intensified as she spoke and a soft glow of hunger lit in her eyes, letting slip some of the restraint on her power.
The ambient energy in the room thickened and pushed all four of us onlookers to the ground. Falling into a kneeling position around her, we struggled to stay upright among the onslaught, but all succumbed in seconds. Gasping in pain as the immense weight increased on my back, flattening me to the floor. I could hear the loud pops of exploding cartilage that were accompanied by the screams of the helpless victims calling desperately for her to have mercy.
Eventually I felt the pressure gradually lessen, as if someone had pulled the plug out of a tub and let the water drain away. Huddling on the ground, every joint ached and I could feel something wet leaking from my ears and my nose.
Thorn’s chagrined voice sounded like it was far, far away, “by the Dungeons, I get a little carried away when I think about battle. It has been too long since I have let loose on our enemies.” I could barely hear the sound of her feet slowly padding into another room over the soft moans of agony coming from the bodies arrayed around me, “hold on, I will be right back.”
I laid on the ground for what felt like an eternity before she returned. She went from person to person, pouring something into their mouths. When she got to me, I flinched away from her touch as she reached out to me. Frowning slightly, she picked up my head and held it while pouring a sweet tasting liquid into my mouth, “drink.” After swallowing, she abruptly let my head fall to the floor with a thud.