The Seventh Spirit

by Adam-Clay Webb

  Lex jetted off toward Azar, the earth tearing apart with his speed. He jumped and flew at him. Lex grabbed on to Azar without slowing down. Moving at a speed that nearly took his own body apart, Lex flew the enemy over ten miles in under ten seconds. The mighty black-eyed boy slammed Azar through an entire mountain, at its base! They tore through the hard rock, quite a few miles of it, like it was nothing. The tremendous sound of Lex’s flight couldn’t keep up with him. The darkness that tailed the boy was just vanishing from the air. Lex shoved Azar through the hard ground, ripping through it monstrously. Azar sent a heavy punch up at Lex. Lex’s body flew upward. He felt a strange imbalance and lightness as he steadied himself in the air.

  “So you could fly all this time?!” Lex asked the demon aloud. He was actually getting the hang of it, and already preferred it to running. Azar rose from the wreckage of earth. A black cloud took him away. Lex looked around wildly. He gasped as he looked up and saw a winged Azar bulleting downward, a black sword in his right hand. Lex flew back quickly. Azar crashed into the ground, further wrecking it. Azar flew back up, still clutching on to his sword of black mana. “I think he stole our idea, Maxie!”

  *

  Somehow, Blade clung to life, constantly dodging Lex’s malignant attacks. He was nearing his limit, though. He panted heavily, drenched in sweat, the beastly black-eyed boy glaring at him with threat and menace from a few meters off. Blade hissed and ran toward Lex, a firm grip on his sword. Lex crouched and made a sudden backward jump, summoning up and sending at Blade two shadowballs before landing. Blade dodged the spheres narrowly, still running toward Lex. Lex crouched again and took another backward leap, cracking up the ground as he pounced.

  Damn it. One lousy jump takes him out of my range entirely, and the range of his attacks is virtually unlimited. Blade’s eyes widened as Lex reached upon him. A fist wrapped with the power of darkness shook the swordsman. Blade’s movements had become too slow, a little too delayed to get him out of the path of such speed. His body hurled back at a frightening speed, but he grasped his sword still. He landed on the cracked, dusty ground, bouncing off and landing again, rolling a few meters uncontrollably.

  Blade’s grip grew weak, and he released his faithful weapon beside him. He was fatigued, and in near unbearable pain. He was at the brink of giving up.

  There is no way… This is impossible… He panted hard, looking up at the skies, tasting blood. Suddenly, a new feeling came over him as he noticed slight greyness and heaviness in the clouds. His mind flashed back to the rain that had given him that unnatural energy not long before. I wonder… if I could last until it rains again… What is this? He hissed at himself. Am I really Blade of Zakashi Village?

  The shaking twelve-year-old boy stood in his house, drenched in sweat. With wide, fidgeting eyes, he absorbed the image of his slaughtered parents sinking in their blood. He couldn’t understand. He stood there for what felt like dreary eternities. He could feel tears approaching, but he arrested them. His eyes still fixed on his mother and father, he stumbled down and felt for his sword, which had been stained with their blood. Unable to look away from the horror, he fumblingly grabbed up his sword and stood up. Then, with a suddenness that frightened him himself, he bolted through the door, stepping over them.

  All around him was a scene of mayhem, senseless destruction. Scores of bodies and tens of swords lay scattered about, bodies of Magmalians and bodies of his friends, of his relatives. He stood shivering until he could move again, then rushed to the village shrine where his master, the grandmaster and chief of the village, was always present. He burst the doors open quickly, and stood dead in his tracks. He felt his heart stop beating. “Why…” he contemplated. Six men with grim faces were wrapping his master’s body. They were the remaining of the Zakatian elders, and the only men who were trained directly by this sage of the sword, except for the shaking child and his captured brother.

  One of the elders looked up at the boy who could barely hold his sword steady. Tears were settled in the man’s eyes as his hands shivered with his master’s body. “I’m sorry you had to see such tragedy, Daniel.” He stood and faced the boy, as if to console him, but what could console a boy who had witnessed all this calamity in a single day?

  “Daniel… Do not… call me by that name,” the boy said, his eyes still shaking wildly. The other grim-faced men glanced over at the young prodigy. “I’m leaving the village… I’m going after them.”

  “No, Daniel,” another of the elders answered sternly, rising.

  “That is not my name!” the boy raged, frightening the men. They had never heard this meek little boy raise his voice before. They looked at one another. “As of now… my destiny… my mission… is to slay those who have wrought this mayhem with my own sword… My name is BLADE!” The men looked at the boy with frowns of disapproval.

  “This calamity would destroy the mind of any ordinary child,” the first elder said. “I understand… You, as us all, are feeling emotions that words fail to express… but running off on your own is no option. We will stay here and recover from this, and build an even greater force.”

  Blade walked up to the elder. The boy glanced down at the old man’s body, then looked at the face of the elders individually with the countenance of a hardened killer. “I’m going after my brother… He and I will slay the enemies of the village.”

  One of the elders held down his head. He had glimpsed, for a brief, but long enough moment, the face behind the already infamous mask. “Please, Daniel,” the man beseeched, “revenge is--”

  “I said my name is Blade!!” the boy blasted with reddened eyes, flashing up his sword at the man threateningly.

  “Boy!” another of the elders reprimanded.

  “We will not let you leave the village, Daniel,” the first elder said calmly, his sword in his hand. Blade looked around him. The boy was surrounded by the elders.

  “Not even you, the remnants of the great elders of Zakashi Village, will be able to stop me from fulfilling my destiny.”

  “You give yourself a new name and now you think you have surpassed even our strength! Then tell me, why were you so damn useless when the--”

  “Enough!” the first blasted, shutting up the youngest elder of the council, who was Blade’s uncle.

  The boy glared at his mother’s elder brother and spoke calmly. “If you continue to stand in my way…”

  “You’ll do what?!”

  Blade glanced around again. He was surrounded by the most powerful group in the village, who were determined not to let him have his way. “I will do what I must… There is but one path…” the boy resolved, gripping his sword firmly with a new energy, a new aura, a new look on his face.

  “I will do what I must…” Blade told himself with a new energy and a new confidence. He picked himself up off the hot, dusty ground, grappling up his sword firmly. He felt the same vigour he discovered when he was twelve years old. Suddenly, a downpour of rain began, but strangely enough, no rain was falling over where Lex was, like it was Blade’s emotion that summoned it. A smirk found its way upon Blade’s face. He tasted a few droplets of the powerful thing. His body vibrated like it would soon explode with energy. The rain stopped suddenly. Blade made a slight crouch, his sword stretched out to his right. He bolted off toward the black-eyed boy. The earth cracked beneath his feet.

  SLASH!

  With speed given to him by the power of darkness, Lex made a swift movement to evade Blade’s sword. Blade tried to stop himself, skating away from Lex as he turned to attack again. The effect of Blade’s strike had just appeared. A shallow wound appeared on Lex’s right shoulder, and his clothes ripped.

  The black-eyed boy put two hands out towards Blade. Two shadowballs quickly darted off. Blade made a daring move, slapping the approaching spheres with his sword. Each strike Blade made was accompanied by an explosion of dark matter, which pushed Blade back a bit. Then, almost simultaneously, there were two greater blasts to his left and right as
the spheres were sent to hit huge boulders way out in the distance.

  It seems even my sword has become stronger. Let’s see how quickly I can end this. With that, Blade rushed off at Lex again, cracking once more the ground beneath his feet with his sudden movement. As Blade neared the black-eyed boy, a black cloak formed itself around the lad quickly. Extending from the cloak were rapid, sharp streaks of elemental darkness, like long, flexible swords made of shadows. Blade made a swift step to his left, and the first of them passed him closely, jamming deep into the ground, cracking it up further. Blade found himself moving further and further away from the boy, dodging the snaky, perilous attacks. As these shadowy streaks fired themselves at Blade, he noticed that Lex was busy forming a shadowball in his hands. “I see. So that’s the plan,” Blade said to himself, shifting his head to avoid another of the deadly streaks. It dug meters deep into the ground just behind him.

  *

  Azar made another backward leap. Blade’s sword sliced him across his belly and chest. The exhausted, aching man landed and skated a little, blood gushing from the freshly made wound.

  “Damn, I could really use that spirit right now,” Azar muttered. His arms were entirely numb – no feeling at all was left in them. Blade ran up to Azar and made a hefty jump-kick, blasting Azar’s almost finished chest. The Magmalian, whose clothes were too bloody and torn up to offer even a hint of royalty, staggered back powerlessly. Blade stepped to him and swung at his neck. Azar jumped back again, suffering a slight graze to his nose. The exhausted man lost his balance, lost his energy, and collapsed, hitting his head on the hard ground, losing consciousness for a moment. As a little sense came back to him, he saw his enemy descending upon him to finish him off. Azar shifted his head quickly. He heard the sword sink into the ground just beside his left ear. Azar blasted Blade in the head with his right slab of ice, finding a sudden potency to move it. Blade stood up, staggering a bit, holding his bleeding head. Azar slowly rose from the ground, standing guard of Blade’s sword, struggling to maintain consciousness.

  *

  Lex and Azar changed the landscape continually with their battle. With much vigour, Lex hurled two quickly materialized shadowballs at the black-eyed Azar. Azar blasted the spheres away in opposite directions with the sword he wielded. Then, with incredible speed, the winged Azar jetted off toward the winged Lex, a trail of black fire following him. Lex suffered the incoming punch. He sunk into a pile of rubble that remained from a destroyed boulder. He groaned. His eyes bulged as he saw Azar appear before him with a potent right fist.

  SLAM!

  “Aaaah!”

  Azar bashed Lex’s body, sending it deeper into the pile of rock. He raised his black sword to finish the boy. In another burst of necessary strength, Lex landed another punch. Azar flew back and landed on his feet, skating back. His sword of black mana fell from his hands and dematerialized. Lex flew up to him relentlessly, throwing swift punches at him.

  Azar dodged the speedy assails, jumping back in defence, instantly conjuring up a ball of dark energy in his right hand. The ground cracked as he jumped off at Lex with great speed. With a roar, Lex took off and met Azar’s shadowball with one of his own. There was a loud clash and an earth-quaking pulse of energy. Rocks and dust rose up from the ground and surrounded the two, who resembled fallen angels and held power even comparable to them. There rang out a sudden explosion as the two clashing orbs could not contain the power being chucked into them. The winged men were blasted in opposite directions. The earth shook and split up rapidly as the wave of energy rippled across land and air. Lex’s body flew through dense rock, shattering it, then landed at the base of a hill a few miles off. Azar’s body blasted through several boulders and piles of rock, then he rolled a few meters, coming to a painful stop. Lex fell over on his hands and knees. He felt Maximo’s power slowly drifting from him. The darkness in his eyes flickered and faded, struggling to remain. He breathed quite heavily. “Max…” He was bleeding everywhere. Blood dripped and drained from him. “Don’t… leave me just yet,” he begged.

  You must finish this quickly. He is as weakened as you are… I’ll have to lose the wings to conserve the little I have left. With that, the glorious wings faded into a black mist. The darkness in his eyes grew dense again. This is the final surge! Maximo told him. Lex felt a sweet rush of energy in his body. Better make this one count, kid.

  Azar lay around five miles from Lex. The darkness was still strong in his eyes. The black-eyed Azar rose to his feet slowly and cracked his knuckles and flexed his muscles. Lex raised his palms to the height of his chest before him, forming that very familiar space. He channelled Maximo’s last amounts of energy.

  *

  Blade landed and skated back, gripping his sword tightly, left hand on the ground. He glared at the cloaked black-eyed boy intently. The ground was full of holes that ran deep through the earth, made by the dark streaks that were shot out of the boy’s cloak. Lex had fired tens more shadowballs at Blade, but the swordsman’s skilful movements permitted none to touch him. Even so, Blade, having to dodge the constant, stringy attacks, hadn’t gotten the chance to land a proper strike.

  Blade’s skilful movements had him dodge another myriad of streaks, though by tiny margins. Blade rushed off toward Lex swiftly. Lex jumped back again. Blade’s sword almost grazed his neck. Lex pounced back at Blade. Even with his new form, Blade didn’t manage to dodge Lex’s incoming fist. The man flew back quickly, making a hard landing, rolling a couple of yards.

  The twelve-year-old Blade, with skill that was only mere potential seconds before, managed to dodge and block every attack of the challenging elders. The men were confused, wondering what could have accounted for the boy’s new level of skill. Without words, the fierce battle progressed in the Zakatian shrine. Many of the villagers who had survived the war gathered around the shrine in wonder and question, witnessing the seemingly impossible and senseless occurrence through the windows. Blade blocked the first elder’s blade firmly while blasting away two others with forceful kicks that could hardly have been be evaded. The robed men slammed onto the walls of the shrine, cracking them up.

  “What is this?” one of the elders asked another, just reaching ground on all fours after Blade blasted him away with his left foot. The wide-eyed crowd watched almost silently, wondering if it was a show that was being put on to distract them from their dismal reality. Why would and how could a mere child be challenging six seasoned swordsmen, six veterans?

  Blade’s uncle jumped back nervously as the kid’s sword grazed him. The attack was so swift. “Is he really fighting to kill us?” the man wondered aloud. The elders were fighting him with their blades reversed – they turned the sharp side of their swords to themselves and the duller ends outside so they wouldn’t seriously harm the boy. It was a strict village rule never to duel a fellow villager unless the blades were reversed, even if the fight wasn’t particularly friendly. Shaman, the child’s uncle, spun his blade quickly, gripping to his bleeding, hurting chest.

  “Insolent brat!” he spat in irritation. Blade, with clenched teeth, wide eyes and untameable fierceness, rushed at the first elder. His uncle rushed at him from behind promptly. Blade ducked quickly, seeing the man’s blade near the back of his neck, using his opponents’ swords as mirrors to keep track of all angles.

  Shaman’s sword blasted the first elder’s. The first’s eyes widened suddenly as he noticed the unfriendly position of the elder’s sword. Another of the elders rushed at Blade. Blade blocked the attack firmly and landed a heavy, rock-hard fist in the man’s belly. Then, Blade blasted the man up under his chin forcefully, knocking him out instantly. The fiercely focused boy jumped back quickly, escaping another swing from one of the men. The boy ended up in a quick series of skilful, close to impossible dodging, the elders’ swords grazing him once or twice. The boy made a sudden and desperate high-jump. He stepped in the face of an attacking elder with his left foot, simultaneously dodging his attack, and sent off a
nother of the robed men with his right foot. He landed and jetted off to another of the elders, who was just rising. The swords connected loudly. Blade then made an impossibly quick and forceful jump, stepping down forcefully on the man’s knee.

  SNAP!

  The man cried out loudly as bone and tissue were busted. The watchers became noisy. His leg was undoubtedly broken. The boy grabbed the crying, suffering man and tossed him behind him seemingly effortlessly, kicking away another approaching elder.

  With no change on his stern face, Blade ran toward the facing wall. He jumped up skilfully, having both feet touch the wall. The wall cracked as he pounced off through the air with momentum the elders had never seen before. He sent his feet at two of his opponents, flooring them easily. The boy jumped and blasted one of the startled elders with a fist of steel, a fist of every dangerous emotion that exists, of uniquely strong determination. A wave of pain and force rippled through the man’s body as he flew toward one of the walls.

  SLAM!

  The wall suffered thick cracks as the man landed into it. The watchers awed as the elder hit the ground unconscious, pieces of the wall falling down on him.

  Shaman ran up to the fierce boy, angry and disgusted. “Shaman! Get back!” the first elder commanded. Ignoring the command, the thirty-five year old man swung at the child with menacing fury. Blade made another of his impossible jumps. Shaman’s blade slid an inch under the boy’s feet. The elder flew back as Blade’s kick reached him with no sense of trivialness. The first elder jumped out of the way as the man flew past him.

  The elderly man looked across at the crying man with the serious injury, who blade had sent plunging to bash the brick wall. The man’s robes were already soaked with blood.