“I wish I had that knowledge. Then I could prove myself more trustworthy.”
“Then that’s a no.”
“So are you going to let him go now?” James inquired.
“Not sure, yet.”
“We can’t take him back to Allay. He’ll be killed for sure. Letting him go is the only option. We can watch him until he crosses the border.”
“Maybe,” Achan trailed off, and then he looked to London. “London, you need some courage in you, why don’t you do me a favor and search him?”
“Why?!” the Langoran gruffed toward Achan. Achan smiled and placed a calm but firm hand on the hilt of his blade.
“Why so defensive? It’s a simple search. If you were their prisoner like you claim, you would’ve already been searched once.”
“Don’t I have rights?”
“Not when I’m in charge.”
“Allayan filth, acting so righteous.”
That struck a nerve with Achan.
“Let me tell you about righteousness. We Allayans are so harsh in our dealings with other Kingdoms and their inhabitants because we’ve gotten the short end of the stick on numerous occasions. Sure, we were strong enough to bounce back, but it’s not like we’ve forgotten what happened. We’re more than willing to give second chances, even third and fourth chances, but we’re not foolish. So you shouldn’t get in my face about a simple shakedown. All you’re doing is making me suspicious.”
“Whatever happened to treating others like yourself? Isn’t that part of your code or something?” the Langoran spat back.
“You’re not like us. We’re just Allayan filth, remember? Now London, search him before I do it.”
London muttered some word under his breath and shuffled toward the Langoran who stared at him in contempt. London started patting his shoulders half-heartedly and Achan growled at him.
“Do it right!”
“Fine,” London retorted, and he went back to the shoulders and patted harder this time. The Langoran glanced over at James who stood idly by. It was apparent he wasn’t going to say a word until the search was over. That was all the answer he needed.
London began loosening the shirt of the Langoran, glancing under the collar. His eyes widened suddenly and he opened his mouth to speak when the Langoran’s right hand moved quickly, a blur speeding toward London’s sword which remained sheathed at his side.
Before the group could even blink, the sword was taken and plunged through London’s abdomen. The Langoran grit his teeth and pulled it out immediately, looking around to see who would make a move. Achan could only glance at London’s fallen body, which was quickly becoming covered by more and more of its own spilled blood. James could hear the anger growling in Achan’s throat. Achan had already been furious at having lost so many of his team, furious at himself for failing them, their lives haunting his decisions for the rest of his life. His sense of guilt had only been softened by the knowledge that at least he had some experience under his belt now. Experience that would ensure his ability to prevent other lives from being so easily sacrificed under his watch again.
Now he had made another error. He had expected the Langoran to grow with strength if he had truly wanted to attack, giving Achan time to order his team’s retreat or surround the Langoran in attack formation. He hadn’t expected a fast Langoran. He should’ve been more careful, should’ve had someone put a blade to the Langoran’s throat before London approached him. Now London was severely wounded or worse because of a simple shakedown. A gross oversight.
Achan had to rectify the problem immediately.
“Stand down!” Achan bellowed at the Langoran as he unsheathed his sword, having no intention of letting him go. The Langoran shook his head no and charged Achan at full speed. Achan swung toward his head but missed as the Langoran rolled behind him and stabbed him through the ribs from behind. Achan cried out, swinging behind him, only to barely miss again.
The Langoran came in close and stuck his blade through another of Achan’s ribs. Achan fell to his knees involuntarily from the pain, his sword nearly dropping from his hand. The Langoran just laughed as he grabbed Achan’s dominant hand and bent it back. Achan’s forearm cracked under the pressure with a sickening pop. He screamed for all the world to hear, his precious sword falling to the ground, still unused. He nursed his arm with his other hand and fell sideways to the ground, curled up in agony, crippled with pain.
James stood motionless, knowing that his fate would be the same. Still, he couldn’t just stand there. He knew now the Langoran had been lying. That he was a spy. And James had vouched for him. It was his fault that someone had gotten hurt. James reached for his sword and then remembered it was still back in the cave. But even without a weapon, he had to help Achan. He couldn’t watch another person die…
He was just about to rush in when Chrillian knocked him to the side. He looked up, questioning the action. Chrillian didn’t look back, continuing to run towards the enemy as he gave his explanation.
“You’re in too deep! I can make the kill!”
James understood. Despite what the Langoran had showed himself to be, there were still too many emotions involved between James’ torture and the kindness his cellmate had shown. It was possible that when the moment of the kill arrived, James might still let his cellmate go. James let Chrillian take his place in saving Achan.
Rahima and Elder kept their distance with James, knowing they were not part of the team because of their excellent combat skills. Elder was undeniably a librarian, while Rahima was supposedly a tactician. And James could see her now, staring intensely at how the Langoran moved, assessing what he could do, and what her own limitations were. If he came after the two of them, she would have a plan of some kind…hopefully.
Chrillian and the Langoran were fighting each other off to the side now as Achan, who was still on the ground, tried crawling toward his sword. London lay motionless, still breathing, but barely. James made his way to him, hoping that he could help in some capacity. James had just shuffled over to London’s side when he heard Chrillian cry out in pain. He fought to keep his attention on London, who was struggling to keep his eyes open.
“London, is there anything I can do?”
“I just...”
“What is it London? No, actually, you really shouldn’t be speaking.”
“I just saw…his shirt…Allayan shirt.”
“He had an Allayan shirt on?”
London said nothing more. James got the message. The Langoran was planning on passing off as an Allayan.
“I’m so sorry, London. I didn’t know…”
James turned his head suddenly as another sharp cry rang through the air. He saw Chrillian fall to the side. The Langoran was just coming out of the stance that had killed his teammate. James’ eyes welled up with tears as he saw his cellmate turn toward Elder and Rahima. James reached out to grab the Langoran’s heel, anything to stop him, but he ignored James and kept walking toward the only two left that still had a weapon. Elder and Rahima pulled out their swords and stood side by side, ready for the attack.
Rahima was whispering battle tactics to Elder as he fought to hold onto his shaking blade. James screamed toward his cellmate, hoping to get through, but the Langoran ignored every word, focused only on his goal. James got to his feet as quick as he could and charged him, hoping that he could at least give Elder and Rahima some time to run, but all he got was a powerful backhand to the face. The force was so incredible that when James opened his eyes next, he was on his side, barely able to keep his swelling eyes open.
His cellmate continued his march toward his friends.
By this time Achan had had enough.
He thought he had grabbed his sword, but suddenly he realized that the object was further than he had anticipated, his own eyes playing tricks on him. As his vision blurred from the loss of blood, he pounded the ground once, then immediately wished he hadn’t as it only made him woozier. His mind was in a spiral and it
took everything he had to stay awake. Crawling up against a tree, he was able to move himself into a seated position. His legs were like bricks as he barely sat up, able to see the Langoran move closer and closer to Rahima and Elder.
He quickly scanned the field, his despair growing when he saw Chrillian on the forest floor, dead. Achan’s vision blurred through tears of anger and frustration. He barely had the strength to even wipe them away. He put his head back against the trunk, staring upward as he couldn’t believe he had lost another friend. Why had he even been chosen to lead? Surely there were others better suited, and where were the proctors? Even if they had sworn not to intercede, shouldn’t they have made an exception just this once? Since it was such extreme circumstances? Since the very Kingdom of Allay was in danger of another attack?
The Kingdom couldn’t survive another one, even if it was by Languor. There was hardly anyone to defend the Kingdom. For only a moment, Achan could see what the recruits saw in the Sages, how they could deal so much damage to the enemy. Here were ten fine recruits, ready and able for battle, unable to take down a couple Langorans, let alone an army. Ten were now four, and all within a couple of days.
Achan glanced over at the sword that cruelly eluded him. He pumped himself up to reach out with his hand once more toward it, as if his very will might bring it to him. It didn’t, naturally, but he hoped for it nonetheless. The sword mocked him and he hated it not only for its silent taunts, but for its weakness as well. Why put so much faith into an object that could so easily be taken away? Why put so much faith into something that could do nothing without your own will imposed upon it? His dominant arm was broken now…even if he got to the sword, he wouldn’t be able to use it, not well - and even earlier, when he had been able to use his dominant hand, he had done nothing to the Langoran. Still, there had to be something he could do. Was he now useless because of the loss of an arm and a sword? Was that all he was worth? An arm and a sword?
Achan muttered a low prayer as he continued reaching for the sword, his head turned away.Please Maker, just give me the sword. Please, he uttered desperately. He didn’t expect the sword to magically appear in his hand, but his prayer still had meaning. He didn’t necessarily need the sword, but a miracle of some sort, a way out of the situation, an answer. Why wouldn’t the Maker answer? Were they just going to be slaughtered?Please Maker, give me the sword.
“Just grab it already,” a sweet, pleasant, female voice said from behind him. Achan’s eyes opened wide in surprise. A voice!
“Maker?”
“No, dummy,” it answered, losing its sweetness.
Achan sat against the tree, confused, searching for answers, when he eventually realized he knew the voice all too well.
“Master Chloe?”
“Of course. Did you think I would leave my favorite student?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Sometimes the Maker gives you what you need, not what you want. Are you willing to accept that?”
“Teacher, I don’t understand.”
“Achan, you are my favorite student, but you are stubborn. You can’t let your past get in the way of what you can become. You can go as high as you want in this world. The glass ceiling is the one you made. You limit yourself.”
“Teacher, have you come to help us?”
“Look down.”
Achan dropped his head, and gasped at what he saw. For a moment he thought he was dead, but no, it was not his soul sticking out of his body…but a sword - the end of the hilt sticking out through the center of his chest. The knob was glowing an eerie red, not vibrant, but enough to look like a sort of cloudy aura. He stared at the area around the knob which seemed to shimmer between transparent and solid, as if his chest were fading in and out of reality at that spot.
“Is that -”
“What else would it be?”
“Why me?”
“You asked for it.”
“Not this.”
“Like I told you once…our lives are not our own anymore. Let’s be honest. Our lives never were. We want to believe that if someone becomes a Sage, they’re a puppet, but we are too blind to see that we are never in real control of our lives. We are either bound to a job, or family, or school, or debt. We are forever linked to something that will take our very life and soul to work at. Why don’t you choose to bind yourself to this one for a change? A worthy cause?”
“I never wanted to become a -”
“Or your friends could die.”
Achan closed his eyes, trying desperately to come up with a way other than this one.
“It’s the only way. But you better hurry. I hear you only get one chance at unleashing your eidolon. Deny it, and it may never come again.”
Achan placed his hand on the knob.
“The others will thank you.”
Achan sighed, wishing she would stop talking.
“Whatever,” he stated as he gripped the hilt and pulled with all his might…
***
James was unaware of Chloe’s conversation with Achan. All he could see was the Langoran slowly making his way toward his victims, enjoying their fear, seeing that physically, they were weak. James grew desperate. Unable to catch up, he threw the sheath of his sword at the Langoran’s head. The Langoran laughed when it hit him and turned toward James.
“What do you want? I’m doing you a favor.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not going to kill you, James. I’m not evil, but your teammates have to go. They don’t care for my life. They were going to kill me from the beginning. Either that, or take me to Allay to be executed. I wasn’t going to accept that.”
“What difference does it make if you leave just me alive, or the three of us? We’re a bunch of recruits. We mean nothing.”
“You can barely move from that hit I gave you. Even if you make it back to Allay, it will take forever for you to do so. I’ll be long gone before then. These others won’t rest until I’m dead.”
“Then hit them also, but spare their lives!”
“No, the less witnesses the better. Be grateful I spared you.”
“How can I live with that? How can I live with the fact I get to live while everyone else dies?!”
“That’s for you to deal with.”
“No…”
James reached for his cellmate but fell to his face instead. It was his own fault. His own fault for trusting him. If he had let Achan take him out in the beginning, they would all be alive.
As he went to push himself up again, he heard a gurgle erupt from the Langoran’s throat. James snapped his head up in shock to see his cellmate bending back, as if someone had stabbed him in the spine. And that’s when he saw it.
An invisible pen was making a diagonal line across his front. A line of blood slowly appeared, reaching from the side of one hip, to the opposite shoulder blade, clean and neat. James marveled as he saw the line extend from the shoulder blade up to the trees in the distance, not red with blood, but still visible. The Langoran fell hard into the dirt, and didn’t move again. The trees in the distance began toppling over, and continued toppling all around the area James and the others were standing in, as if a giant had made one amazing cut across the entire forest. James turned around to see Achan, on his knees and struggling to see through one sweat-filled eye. He laughed for a moment at his handiwork and fell to the ground.
James only saw a glimpse of it.
A fiery red blade, a gigantic sword, so big that the blade itself looked dull. A Zanbato. It was almost the size of Achan himself, yet as soon as Achan fell to the ground, the sword disappeared, as if it had never been there. James stood there motionless as the cool breeze lapped at their wounds. Elder stepped forward to attend to Achan’s wounds.
No one said a word except Achan, who muttered only one sentence with disdain.
“I hate Sages…”
Chapter 11 - The Final Test
James woke up feeling better than he
had in a long time, despite current events. It was nice to wake up in a bed again and not the cold granite floor of the cave or the dirt of the forest. He decided not to go outside the Kingdom walls anytime soon. After Achan had released his eidolon and defeated the Langoran in one strike, not a word had been spoken as they limped their way back to Allay. Scarlet and Arimus had been waiting for them at the entrance. There wasn’t a big celebration or anything like that waiting for them, but at least they were quickly swept away to the infirmary. And that was better than dessert.
James had mainly slept, not caring what tests or duties were next. He just wanted to rest, as he had in the old days, when life was simple and dull. It was nice to go back to it now and no one could call him lazy, or say he hadn’t earned it. No one said a word to him about it, period. They had just let him sleep, and he thanked them silently for it. No one knew but him what torture he had gone through in that cave, and he didn’t want to relive it just yet in the debriefing. The only two survivors who were unscathed were Elder and Rahima, and they mainly just hung around the dorms, telling in detail the story of their survival.
James was finally ready to talk about his venture when Achan walked through the door. James couldn’t speak at first. He was sure he was going to start crying. Achan noticed the hurt in his friend’s eyes and simply sat down beside him.
“I know, I know…why me, right?” Achan said as he shrugged his shoulders. He winced at the pain that shot up his broken arm. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want this.”
“It makes it worse,” James said, his voice trembling as he tried to force the misery out of his face.
“Noted.”
“So why are you here? To gloat?”
“Idiot, I just told you I don’t want this. I came to see how you were doing.”
“I’m doing fine. My leg is still not the same, as expected. But I’m hanging in there.”
The Works of Julius St. Clair - 2017 Edition (Includes 3 full novels and more) Page 22