by Jeff Gunzel
“Of course I can,” Eric replied, a bit annoyed at the silly question.
Yammon hid it behind his back. “And how about now?”
“No, I can’t see it.”
“Do you think it’s gone?”
“Of course not. You just put it behind your back,” Eric said dryly.
“Are you sure? You’ve already admitted to me that you can’t see it. How do you really know it’s there?”
Eric sighed, rubbed his temples and turning away. “Why must you always speak in riddles? Just because I can’t see it doesn’t mean I don’t know where it is.”
“Then that much we can agree on,” said Yammon, presenting the rock once again. “Once your eyes could no longer prove the object was still there, you used your reason to conclude I still held the rock. Very good, but all that proves to me is that you’re not a complete idiot.” He chuckled at his own jest.
“That’s the highest praise you’ve given me since I got here,” said Eric, unable to refrain from grinning.
“But what if I told you there was another way?” said Yammon, holding up the rock once more. “A way to no longer need your eyes, nor your reason. Suppose I told you that every single object in the world gives off its own energy. Would you believe me?”
“I suppose so,” he shrugged, not finding it all that hard to believe.
“And suppose I told you that that energy was completely unique to that particular object or being.” Eric didn’t reply, but kept listening attentively. “Well, I assure you it’s true.” He turned the stone in the air, observing it from all different angles. “As we speak, this rock is giving off its own unique energy.”
He reached down and picked up a second rock. “And that energy is completely different from this stone here. They may look alike. They may even weigh about the same. But their separate energies are totally different. And more importantly, one such as you is more in tune with those differences than any other living being.”
Yammon handed Eric the blindfold. “Here, put this back on.” Eric wrapped his eyes again, pulling the cloth tight. “Your thinking has been wrong from the very beginning, and we’re trying to break you free of these habits. You are not a normal man. Whether you realize it or not, your senses are on another level. The darts fired at you were weapons for you to use, not for you to get hit. I don’t tell you to wear this blindfold as a limitation. In truth—”
“You’re limiting my weakness,” Eric finished for him. “What my eyes see creates an illusion, but the energy is real and I should concentrate only on that.”
“That is correct,” Yammon said with a smile. “Now, I want you to hold out your hand.” When he did, Yammon placed the stone against his palm. “I want you to not only feel the stone physically, but embrace it with your mind. Feel the flowing energy unique only to this object. And once you make the link, appreciate that you will never feel anything like it again. Does that not make you feel small in a way? This rock has an identity all its own, the same as you and I.”
“Indeed it does,” Eric replied, appreciating the reality of Yammon’s words. He reached out with his mind, seeing the object in his head. He rolled it in his palm, caressing its rough jagged edges, brittle and light like cooled lava, lighter than its size would indicate. The image tingled in his mind, giving off rings of energy he could actually feel. Bluish, was the only description that came to mind, yet the vision was crisp and clear.
Yammon took the rock from his palm. “Keep concentrating. Don’t lose focus.”
The energy began to fade almost immediately. “I’m...I’m losing it,” said Eric, trying to hold the image in his mind.
“Here,” said Yammon, touching it to Eric’s hand once more. “Reestablish the connection, then we’ll move on.”
He felt the jagged edges once more scraping lightly against his hand. But instead of reaching out with his mind, this time he allowed the energy to come to him. He felt the rings of color tingling in his mind and connected them to the stone once more. But this time they felt different, somehow. Something was off. Something was... Greenish? he thought to himself, with no other true description coming to mind. It hit him all at once.
“It’s not the same stone,” he said, removing his blindfold to prove the theory to himself.
Yammon stood there, grinning. “No, it is not,” he said, holding up a rock of similar size and weight. “To actually notice the difference in energy between two like objects usually takes a gifted man ten years, often longer. You did it in less than five minutes. I will need similar miracles from you as we move forward. Our time grows short.”
“Forgive me for doubting your methods,” Eric apologized. “From here on out I will do exactly what you say without question. You’re right, our time has grown short and I take full responsibility for that. Push me as hard as you need to. We have much to do in only a short amount of time.”
* * *
“How could you do such a thing?” Wara barked, livid. Kelus said nothing, face resting down in his hands as he sat in silence. “You offered Takareechi? You sold yourself like a dog! Not in the past thousand years has a clan leader—”
“By the gods, what is wrong with you people?!” Jacob interrupted, unable to hold his tongue a second longer. “He had no choice! What would you have him do?”
“He should have kept the clan’s honor for one thing,” she shot back.
“Honor?” Jacob said, shocked at what he was hearing, unable to wrap his head around their logic. “With no help from the circle,” he hissed accusingly, “this man accompanied me on this journey, determined to do whatever was needed to get the help we so desperately needed. He sacrificed everything to ensure the safety of your clan, to ensure the safety of these lands and beyond! You deem the price of honor to be too high? What have you done besides sit around in this hut, speaking in riddles of how we’re all doomed? He took action while you’ve done nothing!”
“How dare you?” Wara gasped, glaring at Jacob like an owl watching a mouse. She was thin and ancient, perhaps, but possessed a fire unmatched by any half her years. “Your arrogance blinds you to the obvious. You know nothing of our customs, yet openly offend our ways. Ignorant child!”
“Enough,” Kelus groaned, raising his head and getting to his feet. “What’s done is done. I cannot undo the past.” His eyes landed on Wara, immediately matching her cold glare. “But know that I do not regret my decision.”
“Kelus!” came a shout from outside. A moment later a soldier burst through the door, his green cloak flapping behind. “Kelus,” he repeated, hands falling to his knees while trying to catch his breath. “You must come, now.”
“What’s wrong?” Kelus asked, walking over to aid the breathless man. Warningly, his eyes fluttered towards Wara. They would finish this conversation another time.
“Please, you must follow me,” he said before streaking back out the door.
Kelus exchanged worried glances with the others before following the soldier, Jacob close behind. Losing sight of the young man proved to be of little concern, since the people in the street were all moving in the same direction, no doubt headed towards the disturbance. “Over here,” called a man on his horse, waving his arms off in the distance. The closer they got, the thicker the crowd grew, making it harder and harder to push by.
“Make way, please,” said Kelus, gently pushing against shoulders and backs. Finally, he made his way up to the horseman, a scout who had been patrolling a few miles outside the town borders. Strung across the front of his mount lay a withered woman, skin and bones covered in tattered rags that might have been clothes at some point.
“I beg forgiveness for my boldness, Kelus,” said the scout, a look of grave concern etched across his young features. “I found her just like this. Unconscious, face down in the dirt. She’s very sick and might not survive until nightfall. I just—” He hung his head as if ashamed of his moment of weakness. To show concern for another outside of their clan was sometimes frowned upon. “I
didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did the right thing, son,” Kelus said reassuringly. “We are not animals, after all. Offering care to a stranger in need comes at a minimal price.” He felt for a pulse along the woman’s neck. Faint it was, but she was indeed alive. “Find a place for her until I can—” Her head rolled to the side, revealing her face to Kelus. Emotion rolled through him like a tidal wave. Memories of this woman when she was young and beautiful assaulted his mind, making it hard for him to speak.
“Take... Take her,” he had difficulty composing himself. “Take her back to my quarters.”
“Sir?” the scout said, looking confused.
“Do it now,” Kelus said, turning away before any could notice how rattled he had become. He pushed his way back through the crowd. Jacob had to work to catch up with him.
“You’re having her brought back to your private quarters?” said Jacob, shouldering his way through the gradually dispersing group. “Do you think that’s wise? You should at least have some of your guard stand watch outside. We know nothing of her. She could be as assassin sent here to—” Jacob paused, seeing that unmistakable look on Kelus’s face. “You recognized her, didn’t you?” he accused, eyes glancing back.
“Lower your voice!” rasped Kelus, looking around to see if anyone heard them. “I’m not sure,” he replied honestly. “It’s been many years and I can’t be certain until I speak with her.”
“You saw her condition,” Jacob replied. “You have to admit, she doesn’t look good. She may pass within a few hours.”
“We must not let that happen,” said Kelus, rubbing his chin in thought. “This woman might hold important information about our enemies.”
“How could that half-starved woman have such information?” Jacob asked, confused. “Who is it you think she is?”
Kelus looked around once more. Most of the attention was on the rider as he was making his way towards Kelus’s hut. “Because she is the mother of Zhou and Morita!” Jacob stumbled forward, nearly falling on his face. “Now, no more questions. Go back to the circle and tell Wara to come to my quarters immediately.” Resisting the urge to ask a hundred questions at once, Jacob did as he was asked.
* * *
“There is nothing more I can do for her,” came a woman’s voice cutting through the darkness. “I believe I’ve stabilized her, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. Only time will tell if it was enough.”
“Thank you, Wara,” came a second, somehow familiar voice. “I’ll take it from here. Check back with me in a few hours.”
“Very well.” Light footsteps faded away.
The woman slowly opened her eyes, her throat as dry as a bone. “K-Kelus,” she whispered weakly, seeing the old man’s familiar face hovering over hers.
“Shh,” he replied, gently placing a finger across her lips. “Yes Ida, it’s me, dear. Try not to speak. It’s best if you just rest for now. We can talk once you’ve regained your strength.” He moved a wooden bowl up near her mouth. “Here, take a sip.” Cool and refreshing, it felt as if she hadn’t tasted clean water in decades. When she started to cough, he pulled back the bowl and began lightly stroking her hair.
She reached up, pinning the back of his hand with her own and began to sob. “Oh Kelus, the things I’ve seen... That monster is truly lost. A demon disguised in flesh and bone. If I had not escaped when I did—”
“Quiet now,” he repeated, still stroking her hair. “You are safe. I give you my word Ida, no one will touch you here.”
* * *
All week long Eric had been engaged in various drills, each an attempt to refocus his mind from concentrating on an object, to detecting the objects’ individual energy. Even Yammon was shocked at the speed in which he honed the skill. He often told Eric it felt like teaching a fish to swim. It came so natural, it was probably best to just throw him in the water.
Today, he would learn to swim...
Eric stepped out from his hut, eyeing the lines of monks that seemed to cover the entire mountaintop. Individually, he had seen them in various groups when he trained, but never all at once like this. Their weapons varied greatly, everything from staffs and katanas to daggers and bows. Several even held thin-bladed wheels gripped between their fingers—an odd throwing weapon he had never seen before. Like statues they stood, motionless, ready to see what the Shantie Rhoe could really do.
Eric drew Spark from its sheath, the angry blade bursting into flame the moment air touched the steel. Pulsing fire danced up the length of the sword as black smoke rolled into the air. He could feel its rage, its hunger for blood as it begged to be wielded...pleaded to sink into flesh and feed on life as it had done so many times before. But this test would have nothing to do with his skill with a blade. Nothing to do with any weapon wielded by the Gate Keeper.
The Gate Keeper was a weapon...
He released the blade, the flames extinguishing before it clanged against the ground. “My reliance on you was a mistake,” Eric whispered, wrapping a blindfold across his eyes. “What can a single sword do against the coming darkness? I was a fool.” He pulled it tight, making sure he could see nothing. “Weapons mean nothing, and even my own eyes have proved to be useless—a mistake I don’t plan to repeat.”
Weaponless, conscious mind void of all thought, with a roar he charged forward. A torrent of edged projectiles whistled towards him. The air around him changed as he splashed through a doorway, sparkles scattering about when it snapped shut, arrows and daggers instantly blanketing the area. There was no reason to hold back anymore. The true Shantie Rhoe would survive, or the imposter would die.
The air ripped open several yards away and Eric streaked out in a splash of sparkles. Energies swirled around him, and no two felt anything alike. The only things he could truly categorize were the difference between living energies, and those of inanimate objects. In that regard, the differences were obvious. Although there felt like millions of different shades, objects simply felt like colors. Similar in the vastness of their variety, living energies felt like varying degrees of warmth.
Blues, greens, and yellows of every shade came at him like bolts of lightning. But still, they were each very distinct and obvious to his mind’s eye. Hundreds of shimmering portals opened up, each placed perfectly in the path of these flying weapons. Thrown daggers, arrows, darts and bladed wheels were all swallowed up, then sent flying back the way they came.
He felt the chaos around him as warm energies dove in all directions, evading the very weapons they had just used as they streaked back towards them. And still, Eric did not hesitate to push harder. He felt the warmth to his left and right, striking one monk in the chest before whirling back to leg sweep the other. Again, he splashed through another doorway, escaping just before another wave of projectiles tore through the area, shredding the ground.
The air flashed open and Eric streaked out at full speed. The surrounding energies didn’t feel so chaotic anymore. Hundreds yes, but each so distinct they were easy to pick out. His fist smashed across another monk’s face, followed by a spinning elbow that took out a second. Never missing a beat, he flashed into another doorway.
Eric’s senses heightened to levels he didn’t believe possible. He could detect everything around him on every level of awareness. Everything from the frustrated shouts to the subtle creaking of bows being restrung. The wings of a fly as it buzzed across the other side of the mountain were as obvious as an earthquake. He could feel the world as it turned beneath his feet. Suddenly, time moved at a different speed. Monks scrambling into new formations were nothing more than turtles ambling around.
The air ripped open again and Eric stepped out into the light. To his own reality he was moving slowly, yet the opposition moved even slower. A blur of colors headed his way. Painfully slow they drifted through the air, creeping along like dandelion seeds on the wind. They were easy to feel yet remarkably distinct from one another. It was like comparing the vast differences between trees and grains
of sand. Portals flashed open before each one, swallowing them up before sending the projectiles back.
With perfect control of each, he sent them back exactly where he wanted with pinpoint precision. At least thirty monks dropped, each gripping their legs in pain. Their nonlethal wounds were hardly an accident, but the Gate Keeper could have taken their eyes had he chosen to do so.
Warm energies melted towards him, wielding colors varying from violet to yellow. The one thing they all had in common? Slowness. Turtles rushing him as time ticked along. He sidestepped the first, allowing the slow-moving color to creep into the waiting doorway. It swallowed him, then fired the monk out into a crowd of others, taking them all to the ground. He sidestepped a second, then flashed open a doorway at the monk’s feet, allowing the ground to suck him in.
The slow-motion dance continued as monks fell into portals only to be flung back against others. Streaking flashes of color here and there posed no threat, each easily intercepted and hurled back against waiting flesh. To Eric’s sharpened awareness, the frenzy was like lazy carp swimming around his ankles. But in reality, it was all a flash of violence as flying bodies crashed into others. Monks dropped to their knees with perfectly placed arrows and daggers.
Eric stopped once the energies stopped advancing his way. He peeled back the blindfold, revealing a sprawl of groaning men. Their injuries varied and none were serious, but no one had escaped unscathed. He looked on with eyes of steel, not judging, yet waiting to be judged himself. He threw the blindfold down into the dirt.
“Let any man who still doubts the Shantie Rhoe step forward,” came a call from the back. Yammon weaved through them, stepping over monks who still couldn’t stand on their own. “Is there no man here who wishes to continue the trial? If so, let him speak now!” His answer came in the form of silence, heads dropping, eyes averted in shame that they ever doubted the Gate Keeper. “Good. Now let us—”