Courage

by Angela B. Macala-Guajardo

  Oemuaru levitated until he was over the heads of everyone nearby. The opposing army was a bit too far away to make out many facial features, but he could tell that those across the basin had their eyes on him. He was both relieved and disappointed that he didn’t spot any red-glowing ones. As the opposition turned, more near them turned to see what their companions were looking at. Oemaru didn’t care. They could look all they wanted. It wouldn’t help them strategize.

  The flying cat creature was working back the way he’d come across the opposing front line. He was significantly bigger than most of his allies. He had his eyes on Oemaru as well, who had a feeling that that creature would make an excellent opponent. It was far bigger than him, and most likely significantly stronger, yet how smart was it? Before Oemaru realized what he was doing, he raised a hand and pointed at the creature, then at his own chest, then back at the creature. The cat pivoted midair so it was upright as it bobbed with every flap of its huge wings. Oermaru couldn’t see its individual fangs, but he heard the roar. Challenge accepted. Excellent. It wasn’t the creature who’d humiliated him long ago, but that wasn’t what he wanted from the cat creature. He needed a fresh challenge. He pivoted midair and flew back to his second in command.

  Firru stood at attention atop his own Sky Fang, surveying the rest of the Neo-Josos and barking out orders as he saw fit. Oemaru alighted next to him and told him to order a handful of soldiers to invite the leaders of every army to a strategy meeting. Now that he was certain he had one particular foe he didn’t have to worry about, it was time to get things moving forward. Firru complied and, within a minute, ninety nine soldiers took to the air and dispersed.

  Oemaru climbed into the cockpit of his Sky Fang and opened a small, built-in storage bin behind his seat. Inside sat a tidy display of several gadgets, each with a specific purpose and tightly strapped in place. He freed a heavy, golden, spherical object the size of a grapefruit, his veladome, along with a black oval item the size of a large walnut, his wyverbit, then locked the bin. He balanced in the crook of his craft’s wing and cockpit with one object in each hand, then scanned the battlefield for any eyes following his every move.

  A bunch of his soldiers shot curious glances at him for a second, and nothing more. The nearest ally army, these brown people with leafy hair--or maybe they had leaves for hair; he didn’t know and didn’t feel bold enough to ask--had technology similar to Neo-Joso, but they paid him no mind. There was no army behind him. He and his men held a rear section of the realm. The opposing army was too far away to make out anything beyond colorful masses, and where one god’s army ended and another began. The armies were laid out in a grid formation. Nothing perfectly square, yet tightly fitted together. What made each army distinct was the race of mortal, what they wore, and the varying levels of technology. There seemed to be a median size and a dominant humanoid shape that had been built on with all sorts of creative twists and flairs. The Neo-Josos were no different. They all probably bled the same, including Oemaru, and they all died the same, but not on this day for the strongest and most elite.

  Satisfied that no one from the opposing army was spying on him with any sort of magic or technology, not even the cat creature, Oemaru tapped an indent in the top of the wyverbit. Several pinhead-sized lights blinked to life on its flanks. He tapped a code into the indent with a pale fingertip, then the wyverbit leapt out of his palm. It zigzagged over his army’s heads and out of sight.

  Oemaru flew past the edge of his army to an empty strip of rock maybe fifty strides deep that stretched from end to end of his allying army. A few soldiers occupied it in places farther down, but not many. He assumed those who stood in the emptier space had found a need to have their own space to think and strategize. He sympathized with them.

  Oemaru pressed a button in the golden veladome and four small markings that hadn’t been visible glowed white. He gave the veladome a hard throw, then took a few steps back just in case. The heavy ball dismembered itself midair, revealing layer upon layer within as golden rods arched out like a squid enveloping its prey. More rods sprung out horizontally, connecting all the vertical ones. When the veladome was done expanding, the golden structure stood four men tall. A transparent membrane protracted from the rods, filling up each grid and covering the rods themselves. Once complete, the dome shimmered with white and blue light, then vanished from sight.

  Oemaru pressed and held a spot on the wrist cuff of his jumpsuit and pointed his fist at the invisible veladome. The perimeter of the base lit up with a thin line of white light. He followed it until he found the arch of light that outlined the doorway and stood before it, ready to greet his guests once they arrived. He released the button and the lines of light winked out.

  The edge of the realm caught Oemaru’s attention. He glanced at his army, then the rest of his allies, and spotted no one headed towards him. He wandered towards the edge of the realm and cautiously peered over the edge, one foot braced in front of him, hands ready in case vertigo pulled him off balance. The edge ended in a sheer cliff that looked like someone had dragged fingers down it in perfect straight lines. Beyond the realm winked countless stars, nothing more than the sheer endlessness of space. The sight was comforting.

  Long ago, once he had been trained enough, Oemaru had spent life up to this moment on one spaceship or another, minus the times he’d visited world’s he’d conquered. Stars and blackness greeted him almost every time he looked out a window.

  Oemaru leaned a little farther over, but couldn’t tell if the underside of the realm was flat, rounded, jagged, or something else. He found a loose stone by his feet and tossed it over the edge. The rock arced up and out for several strides, then suddenly continued on a tangent from its arc, as if it no longer was affected by gravity or flying through air. There were no visual cues as to where the cutoff point was. He looked at the stormy sky that had to stretch for thousands of foot spans to encompass the tall storm clouds. His jet could navigate the storm no problem, but what about under the realm?

  One of Oemaru’s men shouted to him. Several soldiers escorting a motley collection of allies were approaching on foot. Oemaru held up a fist and opened the door, then greeted his first guests, measuring each of them for their strength and prowess just by their appearance.

  * * *

  A good few of his guests looked annoyed. His soldiers confirmed this by explaining the apparent lack of etiquette when it came to inviting a soldier of superior rank to a meeting. Oemaru shrugged it off. He didn’t care. He would give a convincing performance of profuse apology if anyone demanded it of him.

  A handful of guests didn’t deem this meeting necessary. Several came just to be polite. A few had to be heavily persuaded (without threats) to come. Most of his guests were grateful someone had thought of bringing them all together like this. Three individuals cloaked the veladome in spells that would block unwanted eyes and ears, and overall interest from their location. Oemaru expressed genuine thanks for their aid. The Neo-Josos’ access to extended reality was severely limited. When he was little, he’d been told that his people used to be able to fly much faster through the air with just a thought. Nowadays, most insects could fly faster than them. Oemaru accepted it as a sacrifice for their technological gains.

  Oemaru’s little black wyverbit zipped back to him and hovered before his elongated face. He plucked it out of the air.

  Firru entered the veladome with the last leader, some cloaked and hooded being that caused a chill to crawl up Oemaru’s spine. He’d caught a glimpse of feminine curves, beady eyes and a sharp nose, but the rest of the being’s face was lost in the depths of the hood. The cloaked woman entered the veladome like she knew exactly what was going to happen. Oemaru didn’t like this person, however he pushed aside the dislike. He had to respect her if he wanted her respect in return. Firru grabbed Oemaru’s shoulder before he could enter the dome.

  “Sir, this is quite the impressive collection of leaders,” he whispered. “Even with all the wo
rlds we’ve explored and conquered, I don’t think we’ve ever been to any of their worlds.”

  “Consider that a good thing,” Oemaru whispered back. “Or they would all hate us.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m just amazed, even with as many galaxies we’ve been to, how much life we have yet to meet in the universe.”

  “Mm. More to conquer,” he said with a grin. He turned for the interior once more.

  “A caveat, sir, before you begin.”

  Oemaru gave his second in command his full attention. He didn’t like the worried tone in Firru’s voice. Nothing had caused him worry since that one loss many years ago.

  “Your soldiers informed me that many are eager to prove that they can lead the entire army better than you. Their pride is injured for not having thought of this meeting before you. And that’s in addition to the few who think this meeting is unnecessary. You have your work cut out for you if you want this army functioning as one cohesive unit. Would you like any bodyguards?”

  “Did the other leaders bring any?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then no. I don’t want to look like I’m either afraid of them or trying to intimidate them into submission. Grab your men and go.”

  “Yes, sir!” Firru ordered his men out Oemaru marched in and closed the door behind him with a press of a button on his cuff. He weaved his way to a skeletal podium in the back of the dome. The podium consisted of a single golden rod, like the ones the veladome was made out of, that held up an angled metal dashboard, also golden. Oemaru flew three foot spans into the air so he could reach the dashboard, thus elevating him above most beings present. Many along the perimeter were tall enough to gaze at him levelly. Oemaru detached a voice enhancer from the dashboard and pressed it to the side of his face, near his mouth. It suctioned to his leathery skin.

  He took a moment to take in all the eyes on him and steel himself. He was more accustomed to addressing his soldiers, or people he’d conquered, not those he needed to sway in his favor. This moment outside his comfort zone would only make him stronger. He squared his shoulders, eager to conquer this challenge, but not without due caution. He focused on exuding confidence, instead of a sense of superiority.

  All his guests ceased their chatter and turned their attention to Oemaru. Eyes of varying shapes, sizes and colors met his. Their faces varied just as much, bearing tusks, horns, scales, hair, fur, tentacles, skin hues and textures, and various clothing, accessories, and technology. Near the front stood the cloaked woman who’d made a chill crawl up his spine. Oemaru’s body remained still. Hopefully the slight widening of his eyes went unnoticed. The woman looked like she was exuding dark tendrils of smoke around her shoulders, and the leaders around her had given her extra standing room, whether they realized it or not. At least he wasn’t the only person that woman made feel uneasy.

  “Welcome, all, and thank you for coming,” Oemaru said, his voice amplified by the sound system. “My name is Kwon Oemaru of planet Neo-Joso.” He bit back his automatic rattling off of his rank. Right now, it would come off as arrogant. “We are well hidden from enemy eyes and ears, so we may speak freely about strategy.” A few faces nodded in agreement, however a few others still looked displeased. The cloaked woman looked indifferent.

  A tall, lightly armored female said, “Are you so unsure of our skills in warring that you really think this meeting is necessary? We are the chosen.”

  “That we are,” Oemaru said without missing a beat. “However, we are not a unified army. We are a hundred different ones with a hundred different plans. I would like everyone to take this opportunity to share our strategies, so each army can provide support to another like you’ve never had before.”

  “Just charge in and start killing,” she said with a shrug. “You don’t need to discuss that.”

  “I don’t think that’s what everyone had in mind,” Oemaru said as politely as he could manage. “Including myself.” Dozens of people voiced agreement, and several laughed.

  The tall female folded her arms and glared with injured pride. “Fine.”

  One of the hulking creatures in back said in a gravelly voice, “I don’t think he cares so much about discussing strategy as does turning all of us into his puppets.” His statement caused many people to break out into hushed conversation.

  “Do you really think that’s true?” Oemaru said. The chatter stopped. Yes, he wanted to be the leader of them all, but he wanted loyal subordinates, not puppets. Puppet masters had to pull all the strings if they wanted their marionettes to do anything. Subordinates only needed commands and strong leadership. “Do you see any of my men in this room? Do you see any weapons on my person? All of you stand between me the exit, so there’s no easy way to escape if I felt so inclined.” The membrane blanketing the veladome was highly elastic. He’d get tangled in it like in a spider web, even if he managed to rip it. “If I wanted you as my puppets, I’d have sent my men to capture and subdue you, not politely invite you here.”

  “You missed the polite part,” someone muttered.

  “I apologize.” Oemaru tried to mean it. Being condescending wouldn’t help him right now. “I ordered my men to show all due respect and etiquette that we practice on our world Neo-Joso. Don’t hold against me the formalities I missed from worlds I’ve never been to.”

  “Yet you’ve been to many worlds,” the cloaked and hooded woman said, amused.

  How did she know? Her voice was rich, deep, and attractive, and made more chills crawl up Oemaru’s spine. None of his soldiers would say more than what they needed to persuade these leaders to gather inside the veladome. They knew better than to brag about his intergalactic conquest to a bunch of potential targets. “I have. But none of yours.”

  “And a good thing at that. I see a lifetime of conquest in your mind.”

  “Perhaps you’ve seen how great a leader I am as well?”

  Oemaru wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but he thought he saw part of the shadow below her nose curve into a smile. “There’s no denying you are the best of your kind.”

  The tall, lightly armored woman spoke again. “Who cares what she says? She has no proof. I, Zestra Axesinger, challenge you, Kwon Oemaru, for leadership of everyone here!” She grasped the long handle to what looked like an axe slung over her back, but didn’t draw her weapon. Other people shifted in place, switching from cautious to ready for a fight. The whole atmosphere tensed.

  Wishing he didn’t have so many people standing between him and the door, Oemaru looked at her, then around the room with feigned calm. “Who else wishes to challenge me? I accept every challenge, but on my terms. We have one hundred thousand enemies waiting for us on the other side of the realm. We aren’t supposed to fight each other. We will debate with words, not weapons or extended reality. Everyone who wishes to challenge me step forward. Those who don’t, make room near the podium.” He gestured to the rocky ground before him.

  The cloaked woman remained near the podium with her hooded gaze fixated on Oemaru. Leaders moved to the back of the room while Zestra and over a dozen others drew closer. He counted twenty leaders who were eager to take his place. In all honesty, he’d expected more, but he was relieved, not disappointed. Well, almost relieved. The hooded woman was among the challengers. She spoke first.

  “Kwon Oemaru is the best of all of you. You’d be fools to challenge him. Your deeds and prowess pale in comparison.”

  The leaders surrounding her balked, but none dared stand within three foot spans of her. Almost all of them, including Zestra, spat venomous words at her, but Oemaru couldn’t make out much of what they said. In fact, he found it strange that he understood anyone. The tens of thousands of languages spread across the entire universe, but not every world spoke even one common language. Yet here were a hundred people from a hundred different worlds with nothing lost in translation. How? The hooded woman’s voice halted his train of thought.

  She stood her generously-given ground, undaunted. “Kwon Oemaru
will lead us to certain victory. In the short future, he is the wisest choice. In the farther future, he is the most dangerous choice. His leadership comes at a price that will be paid for not during this war, but later. But that part of the future is too far forward to be certain it will come to pass. We may have nothing to fear. He may not even survive this war.” Again, a part of the darkness in her hood looked like it curved into a smile, a thin curl of grey that matched what Oemaru could see of her nose and eyes.

  Zestra said, “Explain yourself!” Her words were meant to come out forcefully, but her voice was strained, fearful. Why was Zestra scared? By Vancor’s cunning, why was Oemaru scared as well?

  The smile inside the hood widened, baring jagged teeth. The tendrils of her dark aura snaked out and covered the eyes of those nearest to her. Those leaders cried out in alarm, but their bodies froze mid-flinch, limbs taut with fear.

  “What are you doing?” Oemaru said. His voice sounded just as strained over the sound system.

  More tendrils lanced out from within the hooded woman’s figure. One wrapped around Oemaru’s eyes and he found himself unable to see or move. Her rich voice sounded like she was the one with the voice enhancer. Her voice filled Oemaru’s head. “Let me, Daevra of the world Acherontic, show all of you a few things about the glorious leader who has gathered us here on the eve of war, for all of you must take much into consideration before deciding on who will lead us to victory.”

  Oemaru’s awareness of the veladome made way for a memory--no, a vision of the day he was born, but it wasn’t from his point of view. It was omniscient somehow, like she’d collected the memories of everyone present and formed a grander picture.

  The newborn Oemaru was cradled in two pale hands wearing latex gloves and caked in the same amniotic fluids and silvery blood as Oemaru’s wrinkly body. His head was a third the entire length of his body with a gaping wedge of a mouth letting out phlegmatic wails. He’d almost forgotten he’d ever been that small.