Akashi's Will

by Kaden Reed

  I interrupted, “but Thorn said that we don’t have any natural mana. That is why the people on the surface haven’t been hunted to extinction by the Dungeons. We aren’t a tempting enough target for them.”

  “Thorn has managed to divine a lot of the secret knowledge of my world,” he continued, “but she is wrong about a few of them. The sapient races have the most precious mana of all. Some scholars refer to it ambiguously as the spark of life. Dungeons call it arcane mana. However, you would likely recognize it if I called it soul mana.”

  I stopped walking for a moment as the implications ran through my mind, “that is what you were talking about when you said that you made me by using the remnants from the bonds of the fallen Khanri. You used their soul mana.”

  “And that takes me to the third law,” he said, “the use of soul mana is forbidden.”

  I was confused at this, “I don’t understand.”

  He sighed, “although a Dungeon collects and uses all different types of mana, what you would call our bodies is entirely arcane, or soul mana.” He paused, letting me digest this before continuing, “not many of my kind understand why the law was put in place. After I created you though, I came to understand the magnitude of what I have inadvertently set in motion.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I knew that you would be able to truly kill other Khanri. I even created you with that specific purpose in mind,” he said, “however, in my ignorance I didn’t realize that a weapon designed to kill soul mana could be used to harm or kill a Dungeon as well.”

  I felt like a man drowning in a pool of water until finding a strand of logic that allowed me to pull myself back up to air, “but don’t you war with each other all the time? Are you saying you can’t be killed?”

  “Yes,” he said matter of factly, “as far as I know, not a single Dungeon has been destroyed since they were created. Although, at only a handful of millennia old, I am considered young for my kind. So, there might be a few that have passed on before my time.”

  Shaking my head slowly, “and how am I supposed to kill something that doesn’t even have a body?”

  Chuckling, “oh we have bodies of a sort.” I got the impression he was gesturing at the walls and floor around me, “look in mana sight.”

  Blinking into it, I looked around the hallway. Noting all the crisscross patterns of different colored mana running through the stones, it dawned on me that I never stopped to appreciate how beautiful this hidden world was. It was so much more alive than the drab gray that I saw all the time.

  “Look closely at the stone under your feet,” he instructed me.

  Glancing down, I searched it. I saw channels of mana and noted them off like a checklist for Akashi’s benefit, “the brown of earth, the blue of water and even the purple of dark.”

  “Look closer,” he sounded impatient.

  Staring intently, a subtle color change in the brown channel caught my eye. Staring at it more intently, I watched as it ebbed and flowed, changing from a light to dark brown in very slow rhythmic patterns. Hesitatingly I said, “the brown mana is fluctuating. Changing in color.”

  “Keep looking,” he said again.

  As I peered at the various lines, I gradually noticed that all of the colors were fluctuating. “They are all pulsing,” I said, mesmerized by the hypnotic display, “like the beat of a heart.”

  “That is me,” he sounded bashful, “I form the channels with my body.”

  “It is beautiful,” I said without thinking, then continued as the realization slowly came to me, “so, if those are channels, then that means you have a core? Like the Khanri?”

  “Yes,” he said succinctly.

  I walked in silence as I thought about that revelation.

  “As you might have figured out,” he said, “the only way for a Dungeon to grow is to collect soul mana. Every drop we find adds to our ability to contain the other types of mana and allows us to expand. The sapient races have the greatest amount of soul mana when compared to anything else in the world. The only thing that saves them from being hunted to extinction by my kind is our cannibalistic nature.”

  I continued slowly plodding along the hallway as I listened to him in silence.

  “To send a creature up to the surface requires a huge expenditure of energy,” he continued, “more than most Dungeons even have access too. And far more than the majority are willing to risk. You see, while the sapient races are a rich source of soul mana, every other type of mana is absent. I could send a monster up and slaughter an entire village and, because it is out of my sphere of influence, it would only net me a fraction of a fraction of a percent of soul mana. Basically, the amount would be negligible. However, the entire time that my monster is out of my area of influence and not near a ley line, its power depletes at a steady rate. It would fall apart within hours and I wouldn’t be able to recover the majority of the lost energy.”

  “So, it just isn’t worth it,” I said while approaching the doorway to the Memorial Auditorium.

  “Right,” he said, “as far as lost raw power, it would set me back by years.”

  “But then why do Dungeons send monsters to invade other Dungeons?” I asked in confusion.

  “Because they are going from one Dungeon to another that I am connected to along a ley line,” he said, “I am able to maintain a connection with them, so they aren’t subjected to entropy. If that connection was somehow severed, then they would begin to lose power.”

  “You are saying that if I find a way to sever the connection of a monster, it will just disappear?” I asked, thinking that this would have been useful information a long time ago.

  “Sure,” he replied, “it would eventually fade and disappear over the course of several hours or even days. Depending on the mana density of the creature.”

  Grimacing, I said, “well so much for that idea.” I continued making my slow way down the hallway when something came to me, “I’ve seen Khanri on the surface, away from their Dungeon. How is that possible if their power degrades when out of a Dungeon’s influence?”

  “That is where it gets a little complicated,” Akashi said, “since Khanri have a core made of soul mana their power doesn’t degrade when away from a Dungeon. Instead it remains intact until used. However, when used, the power won’t naturally regenerate until back within the influence of the Khanri’s Dungeon.”

  Relief sped through me as I realized that I wasn’t locked in the Dungeon forever. Filing away several follow-up questions that I had for Akashi, I entered the auditorium to see hundreds of Khanri standing in solemn silence. Looking around, I saw Niko and Marty a bit of a walk to the left and made my way over to stand next to them.

  On the raised dais at the front of the room, a reborn Thorn was addressing the assembly, “Eli was one of the bravest Khanri I have ever had the honor of fighting beside,” she continued solemnly, “over his seventy-eight years of service, he has saved the lives of nearly everyone in this auditorium. Perhaps even more than once.”

  Gesturing at someone in the crowd, “Johan, do you remember when you were cornered by that gorilla monster? The only member left of your Hand and he came to your rescue?”

  A man with blue hair near the front of the assembly stood straighter at Thorn’s gesture, his strong voice called over the assembled Khanri, “I do! He managed to hold off the thing until help arrived. Then he charged off to another section that was having trouble. He saved more than one life that day.”

  Nodding at his words, Thorn pointed at another figure, “Pam, before you became the Administrator of the Trials, do you remember when he fought off two Aku as they tried to carry you through a portal?”

  I saw the brown-haired woman wiping at her eyes, “I had the honor of leading his Hand back then. He was an impetuous Kit, always getting into trouble. But he was brave, so brave. We will never see his like again.”

  Thorn smiled sadly and went to another in the crowd.

  My eyes
watering, I hung my head in despair at hearing more about the Khanri that I barely knew. The man that had saved my life without any consideration for his own.

  Akashi felt my unconscious need to know more about him. Expressing his grief in his own way, visions of Eli flooded into me.

  ********

  I saw a young man, impeccably dressed, arriving at the Khanri Trials for the first time. After the introduction and the customary announcement that if you fail the Trials, you die was made, Eli displaying his trademark confidence even then, looked around the room at the other occupants and said solemnly to them as he shook his head, “you poor bastards.”

  The vision changed to show Eli sitting alone on his bunk, softly humming a song while he cleaned his armor.

  Then it morphed to find him, carrying his wounded friend several miles through the hallways to find a healer. The sounds of a pitched battle behind him.

  Suddenly, I saw him wearing his trademark suit, exit the room to the Trials and set his back against a wall. It shamefully took me several moments to realize that he was silently crying.

  A short minute later a black furred Shokari exited through the door next to Eli. Eli tried to turn away from the intruder and wiped at his eyes so not to have another Khanri see his shame.

  Shino stopped and rested his hand on Eli’s shoulder, “it is a tough burden we have to bear Eli. But bear it we must.”

  “They are just kids though,” he replied while wiping tears from his eyes, “they don’t know any better.”

  Shino sighed, “this is how it has always been done.”

  The vision changed again to show Eli, clad in armor as he dove in front of the spinning dagger that was intended for me. As I watched the horrible events replay themselves to their terrible conclusion, time seemed to slow down as he landed on the floor. Saying softly, as if it was a mantra that he has repeated countless times, his voice crossed the divide between us and whispered in my ear, “these things we do, so others may live.”

  ********

  My heart bursting as the life of the man that sacrificed himself to save me came to an end a second time, I whispered to Akashi, “I can’t take anymore.”

  “He was a good man,” the magnitude of the tidal wave of grief from Akashi that crashed into me with that simple statement had me dropping to my knees.

  As I knelt on the floor, crying at the loss of a man that I barely knew, I felt hands reaching for me to help me back to my feet.

  I turned and saw Niko and Marty next to me, both holding onto my arms. Tears glinting in the corners of their eyes as they smiled at me in reassurance.

  Glazmir moved up to stand beside me and said softly, “it’s alright lad, we got you.”

  Beyond him I saw Jax, Harper and Akira looking at me. Even Bog quickly met my eyes and gave a short nod.

  Most of us have only known each other for a handful of weeks, yet the sight of them standing close together, supporting each other through shared hardship, filled my heart with a firm resolve.

  My grief slowly turning to anger I quietly asked Akashi, “what next?”

  My anger was a cold candle flame next to the inferno that radiated from him as he responded gleefully, “we kill them all.”

  Epilogue

  Krolkun Dar

  “They are ready, my Chief,” a voice called through the tied leather flaps of the chief’s hut.

  Rising from his slumber at the call, a grizzled red skinned orc tossed open his sleeping furs. Running a hand over his eyes, he breathed in the biting morning air.

  “My Chief,” the voice called hesitantly from outside of his hut, “are you awake?”

  “I am awake Morbash,” the deep resonant voice of the Chief carried the unmistakable aura of someone long used to shouldering the burden of command, “go and make ready. I will be there soon.”

  “Of course, Chief Suhgarod,” the sound of the quick salute, curled right fist on breast, followed the announcement before footsteps signaled his Adjunct’s departure.

  Chief Suhgarod rose from his furs and walked over to add a log to the smoldering remains of his night fire and stoked it to life. Sitting and watching the flames grab hold of the unburned wood, it was not the first time he thought there was a wisdom in nature that only the elders of a people have slowed down enough to recognize. My people are the wood, and the Chosen are the fire. How long until they consume us as the flames do this log?

  Sighing, he stood and walked over to his chest along the wall near his sleeping furs. The old scars from a life lived by the edge of a blade along his chest and arms seemed to come alive by the light of the fire as he got dressed in his ceremonial garb. The rich dark leather armor cinched tightly to his muscled frame, he placed the gold circlet on his brow and strode out to greet the morning.

  Positioned partway up the slope of the mountain they called home, his hut overlooked the village generations of his ancestors had built and kept through uncounted sacrifice. The chill mountain air had pulled a vaporous fog from the ground which cloaked the sleepy village, Krolkun Dar, in a billowy white blanket. Although the village was not high enough in the mountains to receive snow all year long, the snow that they did have tended to linger long into spring.

  On a typical day his people would still be slumbering, with only the militia patrolling the grounds to ensure no monsters disturbed their sanctuary. However, this was not a normal day. His people could be seen bustling through the narrow streets, carrying loads of food stuffs and other items for the feast that will be held after the Choosing has taken place.

  Spying the coliseum in the distance, Chief Suhgarod scowled as he was reminded of the day’s festivities.

  “Chief Suhgarod,” an orc dressed in the traditional white and gold robes of the Church of Cainan called to him as he approached from down the path to the village.

  “High Priest Grul,” the Chief wiped the scowl from his face as he turned to consider the orc coming to stand before him.

  “Today marks another Choosing,” the plump Priest was slightly out of breath from making the climb to his hut, “we have many venerable warriors to offer Cainan this year.”

  “May his blessing fall on the people of Krolkun Dar,” the Chief responded automatically.

  Nodding in appreciation the Priest responded with the traditional refrain, “and his curse on our enemies.”

  “Have the Chosen already arrived?” Suhgarod asked the Priest.

  “Our scouts have spotted their horses in the valley,” High Priest Grul answered elatedly, “they will be here within a handful of hours.”

  The Chief swallowed thickly, fearing the answer to his next question, “and how many wagons did they bring with them this time?”

  “Four,” the Priest was ecstatic, “never before in all of our histories has Cainan ever relied so heavily on the people of Krolkun Dar. We are to be greatly honored.”

  Suhgarod’s stomach fell at the pronouncement. Four wagons. That means thirty-two of our young warriors will be leaving us today.

  With the Chosen’s hold on his people, the Chief could not openly share his mistrust of Cainan, “I see. If we are to be honored so much, I must go and ensure preparations are made.”

  Ignorant of the Chief’s true feelings towards the matter, the Priest nodded his acceptance, “I have already informed the clergy and they are overseeing the additional preparations.”

  Wanting nothing more than to depart from his company, the Chief continued, “even so, I will ensure everything is going smoothly.”

  Frowning slightly, High Priest Grul nodded curtly, “if you insist.”

  “I do,” the Chief called over his shoulder as he strode down the mountain path to the village below. When he reached the bottom, he returned the salute of the two warriors that stood guard. Holding their spears aloft, they fell into step behind him as he continued his journey into the village.

  Continuing along the main thoroughfare that spanned the center of the village, he nodded his greetings and returned pleasantrie
s with his people. Occasionally he stopped to exchange words with someone before resuming his journey. It was his custom to meet with his people, to be among them, so they knew their Chief was one of them.

  As he neared the coliseum a voice called out to him, “my Chief.”

  Turning to see his Adjunct approach, “Morbash.”

  “I have seen to the additional preparations that are necessary for the scope of today’s ceremonies,” Morbash stopped in front of the Chief and saluted.

  “Yes, I have heard from High Priest Grul that we are to be greatly honored today,” Suhgarod could not hide some of the distaste he felt towards the misuse of the word honor when applied to the Choosing.

  His eyes widening slightly at hearing his Chief’s disdain, he looked around nervously and said hurriedly, “yes my Chief, it is quite an honor if the reports are true.”

  Suhgarod sighed, feeling ashamed for having put his Adjunct in the position of having to cover for him. It was around this time every year that the burden of leadership began to weigh on him more than usual. Letting his people see the strain though, that was not like him. “Show me the preparations you have made Morbash,” the Chief instructed his Adjunct.

  Nodding to him, Morbash turned and beckoned his Chief to follow him into the coliseum. He updated him on the ordering of additional food stuffs and the state of preparations at the cook fires. The inventory from the recent hunting party that returned with three elk and a cave bear, which are even now being rushed into the eager hands of the cooks. They passed dozens of laborers as they hurriedly finished the repairs to the seats for his people to observe the ceremony as the Adjunct led them ever onward in his tour.

  The decorations on the coliseum were nearly complete, with only a handful of places looking bare. A few laborers were seen in the fighting pit, raking the sand so it appeared to be unblemished. Only stopping a handful of times to impart instructions to various workers, the Adjunct continued making his way to the Chief’s viewing platform.