The Seventh Spirit

by Adam-Clay Webb

  Shivering soldiers looked at the kneeling boy, whose eyes had become pale. They exchanged glances, and looked around at the frozen men and horses and walls in awe and disbelief.

  “The rope,” their leader said, almost stammering, trying hard not to sound too shaken up, “bind him with the black ropes!” he shouted, still shaking with wild-looking eyes. Three men jumped from their horses and ran toward Lex, who was fighting to remain conscious.

  Mike hissed under his breath. Kyle was holding his sister tight, his hand sealing her mouth forcefully. They watched as even more soldiers came around the corner, tens more, who were gazing at the strange scene of black ice and frozen men and horses. They were hiding behind a massive crate, peeping at the soldiers and Lex.

  “Others are here already. We can’t take them now,” Mike said quietly. Kyle nodded in agreement, struggling to keep Clover under control. His right hand was drenched in a thin paste that was Clover’s tears, snot and spit, as she watched them beat and bound Lex with the familiar ropes. They saw the soldiers fling the bound boy up on a horse.

  “Let’s disappear for now,” Kyle said, “it’s best to get lost in the crowd and come back for him later.” With that, Kyle grabbed Clover tightly in his arms and they ran out into the crowded town.

  “After them!” they heard a command ring out behind them, but escape in such a thick crowd was too easy to mess up.

  Chapter 8: Prison Break

  The three sat and stood in a cave-like place Mike had shown then, tucked away not far beyond the great Magmalian wall. Clover hardly said anything; it seemed tears were all that she could put forth. It’s all my fault, she kept thinking. The place was cool, and the sun was cast behind the western hills, and was completely hidden. A dim, unnerving mist flowed through the quiet place that seemed to darken by the second.

  “We need a fire,” Mike said, standing.

  “There’s only one way this could work,” Kyle said, after quite some time of silent brainstorming, “but we can’t be the ones to carry out the plan; we’re wanted, and no doubt even posters of us are already put up.” Clover jumped up quickly in fright, clinging to Mike who was close by, staring out at the entrance of the cave. The boys flashed their sights over to the figure a little distance off.

  Though the figure was shady and dim, recognizing the long, black overcoat and the elegant handle jutting over the figure’s shoulder, Kyle knew who it was. A visible smirk appeared on Kyle’s face immediately. “Blade,” Kyle greeted, walking toward him quickly.

  “Could it be?” Mike wondered, trying to identify the figure clearly, squinting his eyes, “Blade, the legend of Zakashi Village?” Mike wondered aloud.

  “You know him?” Clover asked, already admiring the man’s straight, silky hair. The man walked toward Kyle, making himself a bit more visible. He grabbed the boy’s steady, outstretched hand and held it tightly for a moment.

  “I am Mike,” the now jittery boy introduced excitedly, rushing to Blade. Clover just continued to look at him, certain he couldn’t perceive her stare as she was at the darkest part of the cave.

  “Greetings,” the man’s voice came forth – he had the polished voice of some kind of nobleman or high ranking army officer. Still, the sound of potent youth was in his voice.

  “What’re you doing here?” Kyle asked.

  “Stole my question,” Blade replied, “I don’t have a deed or title, but this is my territory you’re in – my hideout,” he told Kyle. Still, there was no sign of threat or annoyance in his voice. He sounded more like he wanted them to feel like his guests.

  “Our apologies, Blade,” Mike came in, “it’s mighty fine meeting you in person, though.” He laughed a little. Kyle glanced over at Mike curiously.

  “This man saved Lex’s life back at Smoke Hill a few days ago,” Kyle went on.

  Clover looked at the man with new interest, wondering what had happened back at this ‘Smoke Hill’ her brother spoke of.

  “I get the feeling he isn’t out getting us dinner.”

  “He’s captured,” Mike confirmed without hesitance.

  “Hn. This kid knows just how to find trouble where it’s hiding, eh?” Blade said, not sounding the least bit surprised or sympathetic.

  “This kid sacrificed himself to save us all!” Clover attacked fiercely in Lex’s defence, making Blade look at her quickly. “He turned back and froze the guards so we could escape!” She was unmistakably annoyed with Blade’s tone and apparent indifference to Lex’s capture.

  “Hmmm…” Blade muttered, obviously trying hard to understand the situation properly. “Just what are you kids up to?”

  “We killed the queen,” Kyle answered, a hint of pride in his voice, like he was the one who actually committed the act.

  The aloof expression of Blade’s face was distorted for a little while, and he was silenced by what he had heard. “Heh… Assassination of the Magmalian Queen… Been hearing whispers of that since only a few hours ago… Am I to believe that a bunch of bored kids pulled that off? You know, groups more powerful than you can imagine have failed terribly at assassinating even the high generals… And you three along with that Lex kid took down the queen?” His scepticism was obvious, and though he had many reasons to believe that such a story was made up, Clover flared up at him.

  “Don’t joke about it!” she blasted, her voice twisted by her crying. Blade looked at the girl’s face, at her eyes, and looked back at Kyle.

  “Hmmm… Way to make it into the bingo book…” he said under his breath.

  “Please, Blade, we need your help to get him back!” Kyle begged.

  “That’s right! Mike came in, “Word is you can kill anyone with one strike of your sword!” the boy raved.

  It seems this man’s quite renowned, Kyle thought, wondering just how skilled Blade really was.

  “Can you really help us, Blade?” Clover asked, “We’re begging!” she pled, crying even harder, “I’ll pay you back somehow! Please! You look like a good man!”

  “You assassinate the queen of the second most powerful province in Libson, and you think you can pay me to get involved in this mess?”

  “Second most powerful?” Kyle inquired curiously.

  “Though uncommonly known, the Herculean army is superior to the Magmalian – their weaponry and tactics are far better, and their rigid system gives far less room for corruption.”

  “Looks like you really know your shit, Blade!” Mike commended, sounding quite impressed.

  “I do my homework,” Blade answered, his tone conveying his slight smirk.

  “Lex!” Clover reminded, sounding gravely annoyed.

  “Hmmm… The queen was killed… I assume a powerful sorcerer got you in and out of the tower and has abandoned you now that the deed is done.”

  “She didn’t abandon us!” Clover said, “She…”

  “Same thing!” Kyle came in harshly.

  “I see… In any event, security will be much tighter everywhere in the province for at least a few months.”

  “That’s no matter! We need to get him outta there!” Clover cried, “We’re the reason—”

  “That’s enough, Clover!” Kyle came in on her, glancing back at her with fierce eyes.

  “The queen… Was her murder well deserved?” Blade asked.

  “It was,” Kyle answered quickly.

  Blade seemed to ponder deeply for a moment, then he made a low sound that they couldn’t quite read. After a short while longer, he made a sudden snap, and in an instant, five armed men surfaced at the mouth of the cave, each dressed as mysteriously as he. Mike grinned, even chuckling a little. Clover gasped in fright, uncertain whether to rejoice or force herself to summon up mana. Kyle just looked on with widened eyes. “I never fancied that woman anyway,” Blade said, “now listen closely; this is the plan…”

  ***

  The bleeding, half dead Lex sat in a cold, dusty cell in the Magmalian prison. Chains of thick steel bound him to the rough, dirty floor where no
t even rats and roached would trod. His wrists were tied together behind his back by the special black rope. He was quarantined, put further deep than even the beasts who killed women and ate babies alive.

  He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, trying harder than ever to summon up even a bit of ice energy, but the only result was a faint wave of pain pulsating from his wrists and his head. He wondered wearily whether he was blind; not even a strand of moonlight pitied him where he sat. His hunger seemed to wither and turn to dust, leaving only a hollow, empty feeling that made him want to die. After thoughts that couldn’t help him escape flooded his mind, even they left him, and he lost even the ability to think, or to remember anything. He felt completely alone… but he wasn’t. He opened his eyes again, seeing nothing, then he closed them resignedly and found a strange, sudden peace in the stillness.

  Trium… he heard the faint, familiar voice whisper, He is coming, Lex Leo… You must find the other half… Only then can I lend you my true power… Hurry, Lex… The prince… he seeks it…

  ***

  After what seemed an eternity of waiting to the most wanted criminals in the province, midnight had finally come, and it was time for Blade’s plan to be executed. Blade, the ‘Legend of Zakashi Village’, and his team of expert swordsmen walked purposefully along the dark road, none of them carrying swords Master Chuck would rank anywhere below ‘A’, none of them with swords or fists that were unfamiliar with blood. Kyle kept up with the men, feeling humbled by them already and more than honoured to be trotting the same ground as they. Mike was made to stay back at the cave with Clover, who bothered him even more with her sobbing and worrying.

  “The prison’s thirty-five yards ahead,” Blade said in a low voice. From where they were, they could see standing lamps at the prison gates and guards watching militantly. “This is as far as you go, Kyle,” Blade informed, and the group halted with him.

  “What you mean?” Kyle asked, trying to keep his voice down, confusion and disappointment wrinkling his face.

  Blade pointed to a bundle of rocks a few yards by. “The pile of rocks, that’s your spot,” Blade said.

  “My… My spot?”

  “Yes. Stay there and keep watch.”

  “Keep watch?” By now his tone reddened.

  “Seems he’s a little slow, Blade,” one of the men muttered, causing another to snicker quietly.

  “You’ll remain here. You joined my team, so that’s not a question,” Blade made clear. Kyle hissed and pouted quietly, slowly finding himself into his spot.

  Blade and the others continued and soon reached the gates, walking up to the guards with the expressions of no-nonsense killers on their faces. One man put his hand out to stop the highly suspicious group of men in black coats, who weren’t even trying to hide their arms.

  “Major Nines speaking,” he introduced, sounding just nervous enough for Blade to recognize, “there is no visitation at this hour of night; please return in the morning, at the third hour the earliest,” he informed them. He, along with the other soldiers about kept their hands close to their swords and their eyes fixed on the group of men. Blade and his men analyzed everything quickly. There were six soldiers there, including the major, as the men had expected, and perfectly enough, Blade and his team (not counting Kyle) were six.

  Blade made a visible glance just over the Major’s shoulder, then made a slight nod, distracting the man for an instant. Then, in a quick movement, the six ‘visitors’ drew their swords as one. They guards drew theirs in defence. Knowing how the Magmalian soldiers were trained even better than the Magmalians themselves knew, the six men easily, with accurate predictions, read their movements and killed their opponents, each with a single fatal attack. Stealth was critical; kills had to be instant; there could be no clashing of swords, no screams of pain, no leeway to signal for backup.

  The six guards lay dead on the ground in a pool of blood. One of Blade’s men bent and took a key from the Major’s left shoe without guessing. The man tossed the single key to Blade. Blade made some hand signals to the men, signalling wordlessly to them to stay where they were. They nodded in understanding. Blade jammed the key in the door and turned it. He entered the large room of cells, leaving the door open behind him.

  Inside was dimly lit. There were several entrances and guard posts to the main campus of the prison – Blade had hypothesized that the prisoner he was looking for was being held in this particular building, which was the least visited and one of the least often used. Tens of cells were joined together on each side of the long room, leaving an unpaved aisle running between them. The cells went dimmer and dimmer as they went down the line. Another guard walked up to Blade quickly, looking confused and worried.

  “How—” He glanced down at the blood dripping down from the sword Blade held in his right hand. The blade was sleek and slender, and seemed to hunger for even more blood. The soldier cast his eyes back up to Blade. “Who—who are you?” the man asked, his voice shaking uncontrollably. He slowly drew his sword, obviously wondering if it was a good idea.

  “Better question. Where is Lex Leo?”

  The man’s breathing became excited and Blade could hear his heart pounding out of his chest. He pointed the shaking sword toward Blade, who seemed not to even notice it. “I don’t-- know who you are, young man, but I am a well-trained soldier!” the man struggled to say, “and I have here a first grade sword, and I can call for backup!”

  “Now that won’t be necessary,” Blade said in a calm, emotionless tone. “Just lead me to the Icemaker.”

  “I can’t do that; I’ll lose my job!”

  “You will lose much more than that if you don’t begin to cooperate,” Blade told the shaking man in an unquestionable tone. Blade could almost hear the soldier’s thoughts word for word as he looked at his face: the guards out there… they’re all bloody dead! They don’t pay me enough for this… But if I just hand the prisoner over… Those idiots behind me are sleeping… Maybe if I could wake them up… Blade already assessed the situation, and worked out the most probable endings. Blade looked down the dim aisle. There were four soldiers behind the shaking guard, their backs flat on the hard floor, their heads on small bags. “They couldn’t help you if they were awake and had me surrounded,” Blade said.

  “Your sword,” the guard said nervously, “lay it down and I will free the boy,” he said. Blade, still looking at the man with blue-cold eyes, cased his sword and rested the sheath against the wall just behind him.

  The empty-handed Blade looked at the guard, and saw his expression change slightly. Blade sighed, realizing the man’s thoughts. With a sudden burst of noise, the guard charged at Blade sword first. With a simple movement, Blade effortlessly evaded the attack. He grabbed the man’s wrist, jamming his thumb’s nail into the artery there, slicing it. The prisoners began a chaotic uproar. The man’s sword fell from his hand as blood spewed from his wrist. Before the man could cry out, Blade grabbed his head and forced it down to meet his rising knee. The impact knocked the guard unconscious. Blade tossed the soldier aside as the woken guards rushed toward him with their swords.

  The sword master maintained his composure, dismissing the enemies without trying. He grabbed the first attacker’s right wrist, dodging his sword, then jumped and kicked the other incoming soldier, sending him crashing into another. Blade flung the soldier he had grabbed behind him; he hit the ground hard, his wrist bleeding out. The fourth soldier made swift, accurate swings at Blade’s head and chest, but it took nothing out of Blade to dodge each attack. Barely moving from where he stood, he avoided each of the well-made swings. Blade then made a sudden jump-kick, sending the man a few yards away to hit the ground hard and roll turbulently, leaving his sword behind.

  One of the guards, on rising, swung at Blade’s neck from behind. Blade lowered his head, and the sword nearly grazed his hair. There was a cracking sound as Blade wedged his heel under the man’s chin, then turned in the air with a powerful spin-kick, blasting the
man’s cheek so hard that his head took a three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn on his neck before he fell. Blade grabbed another rising soldier and bashed his head against one of the cells. Rough hands reached though the bars and grabbed the soldier’s head, dirty nails digging into his flesh. Blade turned and helped another standing soldier to his feet, then broke his neck and let him fall.

  “Quiet down! Quiet down and you’ll all be released!” Blade shouted over the noise, and the chaos was suddenly tamed.

  “Who are you?!” One prisoner asked, a heavy man with crusty hair.

  “Blade.”

  Blade took out the keys that he had snatched from the first guard he had encountered inside. They jingled, and the noise was resurrected. “Too much noise! Order!” Blade demanded, and the noise settled again.

  “One question, Blade!”

  “No questions!” the man snapped, briskly walking down the aisle, walking with a torch that was stationed at the door, glancing across at each cell for the familiar-faced Icemaker. After searching though many cells, he started to encounter vacant cubicles. As he progressed, the cells looked worse and worse, and the flames flickered more and more nervously. It seemed these cells were reserved for the worst of criminals. Soon enough, Blade reached the last pair of cells. In the left cell, he saw a boy in chains; he was on his knees, and his eyes were closed. He appeared lifeless.