The Seventh Spirit

by Adam-Clay Webb

“Will I ever return home?”

  “… That depends on too many things for me to even attempt answering,” the woman said. Lex held his down in reflection and contemplation. Clover put her arm around him, comforting him somewhat.

  “I’ll be in an army?! A legend?! A hero?!” Kyle ranted, just regaining the ability to speak.

  “A war, you say…” Blade considered aloud.

  “Could this woman be speaking truth?” Mike wondered. Other worlds?”

  “Alright, you must leave, now!” the oracle sounded suddenly impatient. “To fulfil these blessings I pronounce upon you, you mustn’t tarry another minute! Head straightway to Pirates’ Town! You must leave immediately!” She sounded like she was genuinely warning them.

  “Why Pirates’ Town?” Lex asked.

  “Go see for yourselves! Now go!”

  “Thank you,” Blade said, and bowed slightly before her. “Many thanks from all of us.”

  “You must leave!” she pressed, ignoring the thanks.

  “Come!” Blade called them, and they hurriedly left the house.

  Mike turned and nodded at her, a look of deep deliberation in his eyes.

  Chapter 18: Brawl in the Dust

  It was noon. Walking by faith, the little group of destined heroes was midway between Ghost Town and Pirates’ Town. The sun showed no mercy, and there were no trees about to shade them from its red wrath. The road was dry and hot and brown and dusty. There were no houses, no signs to reassure them they were on the right path. They were a bit too deep in thought to do much complaining though, especially the Ionide. All those questions he had finally buried after seeing no hope of getting them answered were again at the forefront of his mind. It pained him more than ever that he couldn’t remember anything from his early childhood. All he could remember was being homeless and alone in the busy streets of Magma Town. He knew not how he had gotten there, where he had come from, who his parents were. Thoughts of coating his entire body in the strange armour flooded his head, even changing into fierce, silvery beasts, even unlocking the Legend State he had seen. His head ached a bit as he tried to think about everything at once.

  “Which army do you think we’ll be in, Blade?” Kyle asked for about the twentieth time, sounding just as excited as the first. “Can you believe it?! Me fighting alongside the legendary Blade?!” Blade didn’t quite share his excitement, though. He even seemed to ignore him. He was grim, and even more reserved than usual.

  With more pressing from the excited Kyle, Blade finally turned to him with an annoyed look on his face. “War is nothing to be eager about,” he said in a dark, serious voice. “Wars bring death, strife, suffering, bloodshed. How can you be excited to be a part of that?”

  “Huh?! What?! Why do you train so hard then?! How comes you’re so strong?! You couldn’t be my father and you’re already a legend!”

  “I train so I can fight if I must,” Blade said, turning his eyes from Kyle.

  Kyle hissed.

  “Wait! Shh!” Everyone stopped in their tracks suddenly on Blade’s signal. Kyle withdrew his sword.

  “What is it?” Lex whispered.

  “Horsemen… Many,” Blade said, a calculating look on his face. For a little while, the others listened for sounds, but not even the wind howled. Finally, faint but recognizable sounds surfaced, and grew louder. Horses were certainly approaching. They could now see in the distance ahead chariots and other horsemen riding alongside and before them. The horses moved quickly, stirring up a dusty cloud of brown. “Out of the road!” Blade warned his companions, and they moved to the sides of the road.

  As the group of horsemen, who were by now obviously armed approached, they shielded themselves from the rising dust. Clover coughed vigorously. As Blade observed, he realized that these travellers weren’t just passing through. In the chaos of dust and noise, the horsemen surrounded the group of five quickly. Men dismounted their horses briskly, and a sudden brawl began. Swords clashed in the dust. A rough-looking man stabbed at Kyle. The young swordsman blocked the attack skilfully and made a quick, strong counterattack, deeply slicing the man’s chest.

  “Abingush!” Clover blasted away an unlucky enemy, killing him instantly. She summoned up more mana. “Abingush!” She slew another. Lex was busy dodging fierce attacks and sending iceballs at the striking men. Two men were already frozen solid. One of his spheres missed and hit one of the chariots, freezing it and the ground just below. Blade, without doubt, was the most skilled fighter of the lot. He fought four enemies at once. With swift dodging and accurate swinging, he beheaded two of the enemies without effort. His sword gracefully sliced through their necks without resistance. Blade launched himself in the air seemingly impossibly, making two kicks quickly, launching two enemies in opposite directions, cracking ribs with his feet.

  Not knowing how to deal with a witch, and having developed an instant fear of Clover, no more of the men attacked her directly.

  “Help me! Kyle! Lex!” Mike’s voice tore through the chaos.

  “We have him! Come! Come!” another voice sounded. In a jiffy, the remaining enemy chariot sped off in the direction from whence it came. The other men who were still fighting a losing battle jumped back on their horses quickly and whipped them fiercely.

  “They’re retreating!” Kyle announced, an air of pride and victory in his voice. Blade grabbed one of the men as he attempted to jump back on his horse. The masked swordsman turned and swung in panic. Blade shifted the attack easily and grabbed the man’s right wrist, with which he was holding his sword. Two hard blows from a well-trained fist and the lone enemy was staggering back, struggling to stay awake. The man’s sword fell. Kyle rushed up to him, pulling his sword back to kill him.

  “No!” Blade stopped him. “The others took Mike.”

  In a short moment of fretting and silence, Kyle, Lex and Clover looked around. All they saw were bodies of the dead enemies and a few stray horses trotting about. Mike was nowhere in sight. Kyle grabbed the remaining enemy with great haste, holding his sword an inch from his neck. He pushed the frightened, nervous-sounding man to the ground. Blade looked out into the distance where a trail of dust was just settling.

  “Where are they taking him?! What do you want with him?!” Kyle drilled. Kyle grabbed the man’s mask and pulled it off roughly flinging it aside. The man’s face looked old and pitiful, well not to Kyle. His eyes showed fear and regret.

  “I – I d--don’t know,” the man stammered.

  “I said tell me where he is! I swear, I’ll kill you!” Kyle punched the man hard, making his head bang against the ground. The old man’s eyes became soaked and his teeth were clenched as he looked up into fiery eyes of the youth.

  “I really don’t know!” the man shook his head nervously.

  “Get off him,” Blade told Kyle calmly. “Rage doesn’t empower, Kyle, it only mars judgement. Search the chariot. See what you find. And you all start getting used to those horses. The black one’s mine.”

  The sweating, panting, shivering man, probably thinking he could somehow escape his capturers, scurried up quickly, kicking up dust, and ran off. Blade calmly observed him, sighing in bother. He bent and picked up a small stone. He flicked the pebble with such force and technique that many grandmasters would deem impossible. Blade slowly walked toward the fallen, crying man.

  “Aah! Oohh! Oh God!” the man cried in pain, holding the back of his bleeding head. He curled himself into a helpless ball. Blood dripped through his fingers. Blade just looked down at him, watching him carry on. While Kyle and Lex ransacked the carriage, Clover just stood aside and watched Blade. She wondered how she never saw him show any anger or fright or fear, not even slightly, or any definite emotion as a matter of fact. She admired how calm he always was, and felt a nearly sudden urge to unravel his shady character.

  The babbling, crying man finally turned on his back and looked up at Blade. He quickly noticed Blade’s scabbard and the handle jutting out from it. “Are you going to kill me?
” the man asked nervously. “I don’t wanna die! Please, don’t kill me!” he begged.

  “The boy. Where are they taking him?”

  “I don’t know! I swear! I didn’t ask! They didn’t tell!”

  “… Stand.” In a hurry, the pitiful man picked himself up, still clutching tightly to the back of his head.

  “I swear, good sir! I don’t know where they’re going! I just came along for the money! They picked us up at Pirates’ Town! I’d just help them get the boy, then they drop me back in the town and take him wherever! No questions asked! That’s it! I swear!”

  “Alright, I believe you,” Blade said.

  The captured man sighed as if he were relieved.

  Blade slowly drew his long, slender sword from its resting place. The man stared at it fearfully. Blade saw the beautiful reflection in the man’s glistening eyes. Blade too looked at the sword intently. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Blade asked in a sombre tone.

  “Uh… Yes! Mighty fine, sir!”

  “So slender… So fine… Yet so deadly… What might I call you?” Blade asked, still looking down on his blade. Turning the blade slowly, as it reflected sunlight at various angles, Blade inspected it carefully.

  “Georjohn, sir! Georjohn’s ma name!”

  “Georjohn, huh… She couldn’t decide, I reckon.”

  The man forced a laugh, trying to delight Blade.

  “Have you ever observed a lion, or a snake, or even a bee?”

  “Uh… Not really… sir…”

  “It would seem the most beautiful things in life are the most dangerous.” Blade kept looking at his sword.

  “What do you think they’re saying?” Clover asked, puzzled by how calm and friendly the two men appeared to be from the distance.

  “Are you a good man, Georjohn?”

  “Aumm… That would depend on what you call good, mister!”

  Blade made a slight snicker. “I’ve never been called ‘Sir’ and ‘Mister’ before… Thought it’d be nice… but it does get annoying after a while… It’s funny how much power a piece of metal can give a man, isn’t it, Georjohn?”

  “Yes sir… quite strange.”

  “Do you have a brother?”

  “Died when he was seven, sir…”

  “How could you let such a thing happen to your own brother? Did you not love him? Were you not strong enough to save him from those wicked soldiers?”

  “Solders, sir?”

  “You believe in heaven? Hell? Afterlife?”

  “I think…” he got more nervous all of a sudden. “I think… we all go to the same place when we die, sir, under the earth.”

  “That’s a sensible belief, Georjohn. I hope for your sake there isn’t a hell… I don’t like being a judge, but I don’t think you’re a very good man. How could you let your brother be taken?”

  “--”

  Blade plunged his sword through the man’s heart, quickly pulling it out and stepping back, escaping the spewing blood. He fell dead. Blade took a forward step, and then another, then stooped and wiped the man’s blood on his clothes, then slowly recased it.

  “Under the earth, Georjohn,” Blade bade him, then turned and walked over to the three watchers.

  Chapter 19: The Last Five

  For hours Mike wriggled and squirmed, trying to escape the ropes that bound him. A nasty-smelling piece of thick cloth was tightly tied across his mouth so he couldn’t cry for help. Another length of cloth was tied across his eyes, blindfolding him. Sturdy ropes, not made for handling people, tied down his hands and feet. Helpless, he grew weary of his struggle and finally gave up, lying in the back of the chariot, enduring rough bumps ever so often. Endless possibilities of where he was being taken and who would be doing what to him rushed through his head, and none of them included the prospect of an elaborate birthday surprise. After what seemed like a million thoughts and a million moments, he began to find a little solace in the oracle’s prophecies about him. He forced himself to believe that whatever was happening was happening for his own benefit somehow, and hoped that he would at least survive the indefinite journey he was on.

  As a doze decided to rescue him, he felt the chariot come to a sudden halt. Half awake, he couldn’t muster up the energy even to rise slightly. He heard men get out of the chariot. “Thank you. I knew I count on you, my friend,” a rough voice – like that of an ex-soldier who was banned from the army for being too deadly – said. There was more talking, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He was sure, though, that somewhere along the line, he heard ‘Ionide’. Then, he heard a clink like a heavy bag of gold was being shaken to have its rough weight tested discreetly without conveying mistrust or doubt to whomever was compensating. He then heard some laughter, and figured that some business transaction had gone on pretty well. He jumped in fright as he felt someone touch him. He felt muscular arms grab him up, and heard a blade slice the ropes that bound him.

  “Aah!” There was a heavy thud. He felt himself thrown off the chariot and hit hard ground. Then he heard a whip crack and horses run off.

  “Where am I?” Mike struggled to mutter, his voice muffled through the cloth.

  “You’re home, Mike,” the same killer voice greeted. He then felt rough hands on his face. He relaxed slightly as he realized what was happening. The cloths that tied his eyes and mouth were ripped off. Sitting, Mike stared up at a man who looked like he could kill elephants with just his tickle. Mike stood hurriedly, his eyes on the man who wore a surprisingly friendly expression.

  “Where am I? Who are you?” On looking around, Mike realized that he was in some kind of training camp or military facility, definitely something of the sort. Scattered about the yard of the large square building were all kinds of bodybuilding equipment. He also noticed, through an ajar door, that another man was in a room hitting what looked like hanging sandbags, running through them militantly, striking and dodging the makeshift enemies.

  “My name is Silver,” the man greeted Mike, standing slowly and unthreateningly. “Shake my hand,” the man said, and offered his right hand, no look of trickery or menace on his face. Staring up at the man, Mike grabbed his hand. He stared down at their hands with wide eyes. Both their hands suddenly glowed in a faint tint of silver. He also felt an exhilarating rush through his body.

  “What the hell was that?!” Mike drew back his hand quickly.

  “A sign, Mike, that we are true Ionides.”

  “Ionides?! Did you just say…”

  “That’s right, kid… Haven’t you been wondering who you really are? You must have been frightened when you first saw Iodium come over your fists.”

  Mike’s mind flashed back to a few years earlier, when he was eight:

  Bigger street boys were beating him up with scrap board from a construction site. They cornered him in the building on a cold, pitiless night.

  “Please! Leave me alone! I didn’t do anything!”

  But one of the boys struck him again with a length of board.

  He crouched, holding his belly in the corner, crying in pain, in loneliness.

  “Get up, you weakling!” With great struggle, Mike made it to a stand, his teeth clenched in pain. He glared at the three boys and clenched his fists.

  “Wha-- What’s that?!” one of the boys gave out, pointing down at Mike’s right fist. As confused as the other boy, Mike glanced down at his hand, which was now much heavier than it was a moment before.

  “It’s just a glove, you idiots! He must have slipped it on just now! You think his fist can just change into iron?” one of the smarter ones said. He hissed, pushing back his two companions. “I’ll handle him!”

  He walked up to the still slightly bending Mike. “Come on, kid. This isn’t personal. We’re just seeing how tough you are! If you put up a good fight, we’ll let you in! Come on! Hit me with your iron fist! With all your strength!” Mike stared up at the boy in tears. Suddenly, Mike pulled his right fist back in a sudden burst of strength. So
mehow, he just knew all of a sudden that they were no match for him.

  SLAM!

  A frightened Mike watched as the fourteen year old boy flew back meters, crashing into his friends. They groaned in pain. Mike looked down at his fist. The strange, miraculous coating was gone. Mike looked back up at the boys who would fear him since that very night. He stared at what he had done for a moment more then took off.

  “Ionides, you say…You mean I’m not the only one left? There are others like me? From my race?”

  “Yes. Five of us remain,” the man answered.

  Mike’s face lit up with a frantic excitement and hope. His face then quickly returned to the countenance of confusion. “Remain? From… where? From when?”

  “I will soon explain. First, come meet the others,” Silver invited. He moved toward one of the three buildings Mike saw, the one with its door half-opened. Mike quickly followed.

  There were three persons in the room: two very muscular, handsome men, and a gorgeous, fit-looking woman, looking like she was in her early thirties. One of the men was fighting the hanging bags of sand or whatever with hard punches and swift movements. The other two alleged Ionides were wrestling to lift thick metal weights that look extremely heavy, and they were even much heavier than they appeared. The woman paused, just noticing Mike. She suddenly and excitedly tossed the heavy weights aside, as if they had become light, staring at him with a girlish grin. The floor shook as the weights slammed down on it. She breathed heavily, and her body was drenched in sweat. She was dressed very skimpily, and her body was simply perfect. She wore a short skirt with what looked like metal pleats. Her top, too, which scarcely covered her breasts, seemed to be made of the same metallic material. The boy stared at her, instantly stimulated by her body.

  “Tiger! Copper!” she called to the other two trainers in alarm. They paused their training and stared over at the boy Silver had brought in.

  “Rebecca, Tiger, Copper, meet the newest member of our family – Mike,” Silver introduced, smiling.