Lost Empire

by Jeff Gunzel

  She could see him now! Jacob’s feet scraped along the ground while his arms and shoulders hung low, yet his head was nearly looking at the sky. It was as if someone was pulling him along by the top of his head as his body dragged behind. He stopped suddenly as a grayish white mist materialized right before him. Within seconds the shapeless mist melted into the form of a woman. The beautiful girl was clad in a long flowing robe that covered her whole body, including a hood that only exposed her face. Her ghostly skin was white and mostly transparent, similar to her hooded garment. It was as if both her clothing and body were one and the same.

  With kind, motherly eyes she looked down at Jacob, floating around him as she sang her hypnotic song. Athel tried to scream out to him, but not a single sound left her throat. It was like trying to scream underwater, as if the air around her had suddenly disappeared. With her deadly blades drawn, she tried to sprint toward him, but running proved to be no easier, as her pumping legs felt like they were made of paper. They felt as light as dry leaves, with no mass or power to move her forward, as if gravity itself had somehow betrayed her.

  The motherly specter smiled warmly at Jacob as she spread her arms out wide, all the while singing high-pitched notes that no human could ever mimic. She then held one long high-pitched note as her eyes pulled back into her head, leaving two black holes in their place. Two rows of pointed teeth sparkled brightly as her mouth opened impossibly wide, like a snake that had just unhinged its jaw, ready to swallow a meal many times its own size. Jacob’s head began to disappear into the toothy cave as the specter lowered down on top of him, consuming him whole.

  Steel flashed across the specter’s belly. It shrieked, then quickly dissipated into a scattered mist as Jacob crumbled to ground with a sickly thump. Athel grabbed him by his shirt and shook him frantically. His wide-open eyes had an odd “dead” look to them, somehow clouded over and colorless. “Snap out of it! We have to go...right now!” His head flopped around lifelessly as she shook him. It was clear he would not be responsive any time soon. “Oh no. You’re not going to leave me this easily!”

  Athel was strong by any measure, but she was able to hoist him up over her shoulder with almost no effort. She began running south with nearly the same speed she had displayed earlier without any burden. The enraged specter quickly rematerialized and let out an unworldly shriek as she pointed to her escaping meal with thin trembling fingers.

  Athel’s lungs burned as she gasped for air with each powerful step. This was an all-out sprint for their lives, and she could not afford to pace herself. However, her mad dash for the forest’s edge soon became an obstacle course as ghostly arms rose up from the ground, trying to grab her legs and pull both of them down below. She hopped and bounded along as one after another came firing up through the leaf-covered soil, each one just missing her foot by mere inches. She could see the edge of the forest just up ahead as she bounded along with all her might. “Almost there!”

  As if caught in a bear trap, her momentum stopped instantly, driving her right into the ground and sending Jacob flying through the air. “Run! Get out of here!” she called out, not knowing if he could even hear her or not. With the strength of several men, the ghostly hand dragged her along the ground as she clawed desperately at nothing but cold, wet leaves and loose soil that slid between her fingers. She clawed around desperately, praying she might blindly get ahold of a tree root or bush as she skidded along back the way she came. Suddenly, another set of hands gripped hers—hands with warmth and color.

  “I got you!” Jacob called out as he tried to pull her back the other way, but his feet just slid across the leaves, gaining little to no traction. With a renewed sense of survival, Athel began to kick back viciously at the ghostly hand with an iron grip. She kicked it hard once, twice, ten times before is loosened just enough. Jacob fell straight backwards as Athel popped free, still in his grasp. She landed right on top of him before they both scrambled back to their feet. They sprinted past the remaining trees and spilled onto the grass just outside the forest’s edge. Angry shrieks echoed from the trees as they ran off into the night.

  Chapter 10

  Men clad in light cloth tunics and sturdy leather shoes moved along with a sense of urgency. Not that any more work would be accomplished by wasting energy running around. The reason for their haste was much simpler than that. The price for standing around when the rice fields needed to be prepared, or really for any perceived laziness...was death, plain and simple. To stop moving at all, or at least appearing to not be doing something constructive would bring the ultimate punishment—a well-understood fact which no one ever tested the limits of. Not that any convincing was ever needed, for one life lost a day was pretty steady on average. The boachards standing guard with their steel segmented staffs made sure that at least one example was made daily. Whether or not the servant was working slowly or even deserved this fate was of little importance.

  With their thick human-like legs and heavily muscled arms, the boachards stomped along looking for any reason at all to inflict punishment. Wide, gray heads that closely resembled an insect’s displayed four thick, pinkish whiskers from the corners of their toothless, lipless mouths. Oversized purple eyes with no iris or pupil seemed to stare off at nothing, while the stiff, awkward beings had to turn their entire bodies just to look in different directions. Natural black armor rolled across the backs of their heads and down their backs, similar to a mealy bug’s, while several rows of tiny, clawed limbs lined their wide chests. These extremities had no ability to grasp an object but could tear through soft flesh rather easily. Although they appeared awkward and slow as they lumbered along, the true strength of the seven-foot beasts lay in their ability to collapse down into armored balls. In this form no human could possibly outrun the rolling balls of death. The beetle-like creatures more than served their purpose.

  Sturdy oxen that looked to be far better nourished than any of the men snorted and bucked while dragging the heavy blades through the cold, dense soil. Even after the rice had been harvested, the lands needed to be plowed once more in order to bring the nutrient-rich soil back to the surface. These areas would then be flooded before the rice seedlings were planted by hand. The winter here was rather short, so the labor needed to be pushed hard during these three months or so.

  The women, who wore white tunics similar to the men, ran out into the fields carrying buckets of water. They would become more useful once the planting started, but for now bringing water and bits of stale bread to the men would be their only jobs; a duty not to be taken lightly, given how hard they were being pushed.

  Until now, the harsh winter had been far colder than normal. The plows cut through the nearly frozen soil at a slow, labored pace, clinging and clanging against stubborn clumps of dirt. Nervous servants looked back over their shoulders at the lumbering boachards pacing around with their segmented staffs, using them as walking sticks to support their hulking bodies. They jabbered away in their odd language, sounding like rodents with high-pitched squeaks and clicks as their thick whiskers flopped about. They seemed relatively content for now, but that did little to relax the men, who continued to push on through the cold.

  Beyond the rice fields were a series of stone paths that twisted about, crossing over themselves in a mindless pattern. The old, gray slabs had sunk deep into the rich, black soil as years of rain and general use had taken their toll. Although the pattern appeared chaotic at first glance, any path chosen would eventually empty into the servants’ tight-knit community at the top of the hill.

  Poorly made shacks with thin walls made from wax-coated canvas and reinforced with bamboo lined the dirt roads. Even though none were actually owned by any individual, the men and women had grown accustomed to using the same ones each night. In fact, everything they owned equaled no more than a bedroll and a few tunics, and even these were no more than gifts, gifts they felt honored to receive.

  Although their existence bordered on slavery, they had grown accus
tomed to their lives and really didn’t know any better. When they weren’t working in the fields they were allowed to do as they wished, which helped reinforce the illusion of freedom. It wasn’t even like they could run off anywhere, seeing as there was really no place to go—none that they knew of, anyway. At night, many danced around the raging bonfires while others played fiddles and flutes. Aside from losing one of their own here and there at the hands of the boachards, their lives could have certainly been worse. At least, that’s how they saw it.

  However, the boachards were not in charge of anything either. Just like the servants they beat and killed whenever it seemed necessary, they too had to answer to a higher power, for they were not even of this world, and the privilege of them even being here at all came at a price, a price each was more than willing to pay.

  Darkness came early this time of year, and nothing more could be accomplished by moonlight. The random torches scattered about provided just enough light for everyone to find the stone pathways that led back to their sleeping quarters. It was always about this time the men and women let out sighs of relief; no life had ever been taken after the workday was through. They began to filter onto the familiar paths they knew would get them closest to the rickety shack they called home. With men bent low, holding their lower backs from yet another day’s labor, the women would carry the water buckets and tools as they usually did. Later in the evening they would cuddle their men and do their best to pretend life was normal.

  The lumbering boachards each gave their segmented staffs a slight shake in the air, watching them go limp as each metal division became independent of the piece next to it. They now grasped heavy steel whips that were easily capable of pulling flesh right off the bone. They preferred the enjoyment of using their weapons in this form, for the intended target usually lived a bit longer...if only for a bit. For now, however, the staffs were converted into whips so the creatures could wrap the wicked weapons around their heavily muscled arms before collapsing back down into their true forms.

  With hinged shells as hard as steel, the balls of death rolled smoothly through the servants’ camp, kicking up dust and rocks as they rumbled along. The loud cracking and squeaking of the boachards could be heard from nearly a mile away. Although they were certainly a deadly breed in its own right, stealth would never be considered one of their strengths. Not that it really mattered; by the time they could be heard, it was too late to run.

  On they clattered through ridges in the ground that had been naturally carved out due to rolling over the exact same paths for many years. They rolled a few miles before reaching the massive stairway that led them to their temporary home. The steps were made from some sort of light pink crystal that seemed to pulse with energy. Although only faintly, the steps oscillated between clear crystal white to light pink, then back again in an odd fluctuating rhythm. Two great statues stood to either side of the steps: bright green jade carved into the likeness of giant cobras that stood twenty feet tall. Their eyes were dimpled red rubies that seemed to follow the paths of anyone who approached, no matter where they were standing.

  They rolled past the green snakes and up the fragile-looking crystal steps, clanging and grinding the whole way, yet not leaving a single chip or smudge. At the top of the three-hundred-foot steps stood the awesome golden pyramid referred to by locals as ���The Serpent Temple.” At five hundred feet tall and eight hundred across its base, the majestic sight was truly one of awe and wonder.

  Perfectly cut blocks that looked to be made of yellow diamond gave the structure an unworldly sparkle. Each gleaming cube, hard as steel yet smooth as glass, formed impenetrable sloping walls that met at a large single diamond set on top of the pyramid. Three light blue obelisks that also held the look of smooth glass stood tall at each corner of the structure. The only way to tell them apart was the different carvings engraved on each one. Each was covered with different animals and scenes of Gods battling in the sky. The entire structure looked to have taken centuries to assemble, but as far back as anyone could remember, it had always been there.

  The armored beings rose back up into their clumsy humanoid forms and waited patiently in front of the plain-looking, rusty iron double doors. The doors seemed odd and out of place given the sheer sparkling beauty of the rest of the temple. The wait was not very long—it never was—before the thick doors began to grind open with a shrill, high-pitched screeching. In sets of three they lumbered inside the chamber where they would collapse down once more and remain still as death until the morning came. Then they would return to the rice fields, set on getting the most out of their fleshy labor, taking a life or two if that meant making the others work harder.

  Taking the life of a flesh being was just a means to an end and nothing personal. These were their orders, and if it meant staying in this realm for yet another day, away from the constant pain and suffering they were otherwise accustomed to, then the decision was really quite easy, for pleasing their masters was more important than anything else.

  The inside of the shimmering architectural wonder was no less elaborate than the outside, if not in a much different way. Long silver halls shimmered and glistened while reflecting images cast off the dark red tile floors. Various oil paintings decorated the mirror-like walls with images of mystical creatures portrayed with a sense of nobility and honor. Sturdy winged horses covered with white feathers held their heads high, their gleaming green eyes appearing far too lifelike to be nothing more than paintings. Dark, scaly, lizard-like creatures with forked blue tongues hanging out grotesquely seemed to follow one’s gaze when passing by the black steel-framed images. In fact, all the paintings were absent of traditional wooden frames, replaced with iron or steel borders that twisted about in dizzying ornate designs.

  The occasional oil lantern hung from a steel hook, flickering away as its subtle light cascaded off the silvery walls, but the vast majority of light was provided by clear globes hanging on thin black chains from both the walls and ceilings. The clear glass spheres proved to be tiny prisons for the blue glowing creatures held captive within each one. The delicate, passive beings slowly bounced around their captive orbs, instinctively searching for a way to free themselves, yet never making any adjustment to their predictable patterns. They lit the halls and rooms with a soft blue light that was more than easy on the eyes. The elegant little beings proved to be an endless source of light that never needed nourishment or care of any sort.

  Filthy servants scrambled about here and there as they wiped the silver walls with worn rags that were far cleaner than them. Each dressed in dirty, tattered, yellowed garments that were once white, they swept and polished as they roamed about whether the items needed it or not, wiping down wooden tables with no lacquer or finish to them, carefully lifting porcelain vases and making a pass or two over the already spotless area before slowly placing them back on the exact same space. Not unlike the servants in the rice fields, to stop moving for any reason at all simply was not an option.

  Two servants, a dark-haired male with a scruffy beard and a thin woman with sharp green eyes and small pointed nose, each turned suddenly from their incessant scrubbing and dropped down low to the floor. With noses pressed against the cold tile and arms stretched out before them, they were simply doing the only thing that would ever excuse them from working. To not show great respect to their lord and master was far worse than any other action they could possibly perform.

  The tall figure clad in flowing white gracefully glided past the two servants, not paying any attention to either of them. Of course, had they not dropped down to the ground before he appeared around the corner, the encounter would have been far different. They each held their muscles tight as he passed, trying hard not to tremble or shake in his presence. The effort was extreme, but drawing any unnecessary attention to themselves was never a good idea. Not unlike the boachards, the young man was unpredictable at best, but at worst...

  In his flowing white robe with low drooping hood, Zhou d
rifted past with all the grace of a king, which was more than fitting, considering he viewed himself as such. His diamond-studded black leather belt with glittery golden buckle hugged his slim waist, while the normally loose-fitting robe clung to his massive shoulders. Long, drooping sleeves covered the many silver and gold bracelets riding up each of his muscular arms. Thick, black leather boots that should have clopped noisily against the tile floor stepped in total silence as he moved gracefully through the hall. Unseen under a low-hanging hood, his chiseled features and gleaming blue eyes held an expression of concern, an emotion that was seldom seen in the confident twenty-five-year-old.

  When he approached the door he had been seeking his hand rose up in a fist, but at the last moment he turned the knob instead of knocking. The strong aroma of burning incense assaulted him immediately, a combination of sweet berry and roses. The thick, dark red carpet spread across the small room stood out boldly against the jet-black walls. Red and green crystal statues of majestic creatures stood proudly in each corner: a large cat with three heads, a sea serpent resembling a giant squid, a winged lizard with multiple horns across its head, and a particularly detailed version of a thin man with the body of a snake. Each held the same glistening white pearls in place of eyes. He gazed up at the mirrored ceiling reflecting the large blue bed with thin, light blue silk curtains hung on silver rods surrounding the frame. However, the bed itself was not what caught his attention, as the image in the mirror held his eyes. I suppose my message can wait a minute or two.

  The beautiful red-haired girl lay sideways across the bed, her head propped up on one hand as she gazed down upon the black-haired, tan-skinned girl who lay flat on her back next to her. Wearing only a green thong, she slowly ran her fingertips across the girl’s navel, then up between her breasts before gently working them back down again. Although her soft touch was as light as an angel’s, the naked dark- haired girl began to whimper and tremble.