by R. T. Donlon
“Tauren,” the Elder whispered. He turned his shoulders so that the King could not hear what he was about to say. “I know I have told you, under no circumstances, should you use your gifts, but you must listen to me now. We must not allow this man to die under our watch. We must do everything in our power to save him from whatever fate the King has set for him. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Harmon nodded, but the innocent look in his eyes seemed more fragile and untested than strength. They were standing at the cusp of a pivotal moment.
“If you wish to become Master someday, you must harness the powers of the Transcendent. You have been entrusted to me for a reason. Trust me now. Pray to Nuhwa and allow yourself to release.”
“Whatever you are planning,” the King warned, “it will not work.”
The voltage of the cage’s dome surged to a new level, deepening in its electric-blue color. A sounding industrial buzzer coupled with a flickering red light brought forth three swarming Shadows. They filled the space opposite of Relu with a swarming black energy. Each towered over the warrior, weaving in and out of each other’s figures as clouds in a thunderstorm swarm the air. A low-pitched growl filled the air, followed by the constant wisps of uncontrolled whirling energy.
“Now, Tauren!” the Elder whispered.
The Ix’a closed their eyes simultaneously. A power rushed through the room.
“This should be good,” Markiss mumbled.
When the King acknowledged the comment, Markiss ripped a piece of bread from his pocket, shoving a shard of it into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously from the side of his overworked jaw.
“You should feel privileged, Altruit,” continued the Clansman. “Not many of the Range witness what the Ix’a are about to do.”
Relu crouched into wuru to protect himself from an ambush, but that attack never came. On either side of him, the image of a body took shape. At first, he could only decipher their outlines, but as more detail took hold, suddenly the Relu recognized the Ix’a cloaks of Leridian and Harmon.
How can this be? Relu thought. The magic of these people!
Fully formed now, Leridian and Harmon flexed the muscles of their forearms, clenching fingers into fists.
“We will not let you fight this alone,” whispered Leridian.
Harmon turned to Relu and spoke only one thing.
“We will get you home.”
“This cannot be. Your bodies! They are still above us.”
“Mind projection,” Leridian explained. “We are more than just our physical selves, Relu. Some of the Ix’a—the truly special ones—possess gifts greater than what the Range can offer.”
The Warrior nodded as if he understood, although he did not, could not, but nevertheless, his heart grew large with gratitude.
“It is time to fight,” Leridian spoke. “Gather your thoughts. Let’s see what the Warrior can do.”
The Shadows attacked, expanding into a cloud that barely fit the confines of the electric dome. It seemed everything within the cage swam in Darkness, slowing time to a fraction of itself, and dulling the surrounding electric noise to nothing but a muffled buzz. The air grew angrier, angrier still, until an excess of swinging claws and dirty teeth swung wildly from every direction.
Relu took the first swing—not because he desired it, but because he was forced to—angling his arm so that it collided with the meat of a Shadow’s whirling shoulder. The Warrior’s fist bounced off its scaly flesh as a pebble would hit a tree. Again, he punched. A third time, but each effort sent yet another grimace of pain reverberating from the point of impact. His hands could only take so much of a beating. He was losing energy quickly.
There must be another way, he thought.
Harmon swept a leg from underneath a set of pointed teeth and forced a Shadow’s clumsy collapse to one side of the cage. Its equilibrium tipped hard and, as it attempted to rebalance itself, its outer cloud edge made contact with the cage’s metal bars. A rancid smelling smoke filled the air followed by an inhuman scream echoing through the Mountain. The once ever-powerful Shadow fell to the ground like liquid across dirt.
“I think we found their weakness,” Leridian called out from behind another black mass. “It’s the cage…the electricity.”
Relu’s legs, as fatigued as they already felt, continued to work for the rest of his body, crouching into the Portizu attack pose, then seamlessly back into the defensive squat. Back and forth he swung, analyzing the Shadows’ rigid movements.
How much longer can I last? Relu thought.
It was not fear that permeated the crevices of his thoughts. There was never fear present in a Portizu Warrior’s present situation.
And, in that moment, Relu knew his next move.
He thrust himself backward, forcing his legs to stretch into a powerful two-foot, horizontal kick. His hands found balance at floor-level and held him in an unorthodox horizontal position as his knees locked, his feet flexed, and the pads of his soles made brutal contact with the center of the Shadow’s spinning body. The Dark Energy flung backward into the cage, searing it into nonexistence.
Leridian pushed a hobbling Shadow into the bars nearest the catwalk while Harmon took care of the last against the back wall.
A slow, powerful clap emerged from the railing above. The King towered over his arena exuding contemptuous hubris.
“The battle has been won,” Altruit barked. “Well done.”
The Ix’a projections dispersed as Leridian and Harmon opened their eyes at the King’s side. The dissent in the eyes of the Ix’a no longer needed masking. Thousands of years of anger sparked fire in those eyes—the hatred of a millennia filled with corruption, power and deceit. Markiss only watched, then—seemingly intrigued—smiled while shoving another rather large piece of bread into his mouth.
“I must hand it to you. That was truly impressive,” Altruit continued. “Although I had no doubt you would come out unscathed.”
The King made his slow descent down a spiral staircase to the left.
“Kill the cage,” he spoke. “I wish to approach the Warrior.”
His voice dragged into the rough coarseness of a man perturbed. The cage’s buzzing died and the King opened the gate door with an oversized key, twisting it hard against the mechanisms inside. Relu stood with his hands at his side, breathing heavy.
“Is this proof enough that I am not Shadow?” Relu questioned, speaking between heaves of his chest. “I wish to go home.”
“I’m sorry. Your travels home are not possible.”
“You cannot keep me here,” grunted Relu. “My Chief will have none of this.”
“You’ve done enough damage, Altruit,” barked Leridian through closed teeth. “Let him go. He has done what you’ve asked and survived.”
The King turned toward the two Ix’a with narrow eyes.
“You, of all people, should keep your mouth shut! You’ve been hunting Light-Dark mixes for years now! It seems to me that I am doing your job for you!”
At this, Leridian grew quiet. Harmon turned toward his Elder.
“Is this true, Master?” Harmon asked. “Surely you can’t think—”
“It exists!” Leridian snapped. “The Light-Dark beings exist! The Great Range cannot handle such destructive forces multiplying unmonitored. This is why—”
“This is why we’ve come here,” interrupted Harmon, completing the Elder’s thought.
“This man,” Leridian continued, pointing an index finger at Relu, “is not one of them. He would’ve shown his true side by now.”
“Don’t be so convinced,” Markiss interrupted. “I’ve seen those types—what you speak of—with my own eyes. I, too, have lived long enough to see the abominations in action. I wish I never had. They are nightmares.” Markiss lowered his gaze as if stricken with disparagement. “We must acknowledge that the King has a point. How have we never heard of these Portizu Tribes before now? The Great Range’s history spans seven millennia, possibly more. T
hey’ve managed to live for this long without notice? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Perhaps,” Relu spoke, as definitively as he had ever spoken before, “you have not been looking in the right places.”
Relu dropped his head. Death, he now knew, would be his only escape from Light City.
“Very well. I will show you, without a doubt, that I am not what you think I am,” Relu said. “Bring in one last Shadow. By my death, allow my people to live…in peace.”
Harmon leaned over the catwalk with widened eyes.
“No!” he screamed. “Master, do not allow this to happen! He’s innocent! He cannot die!”
Leridian dropped his gaze to the floor in disappointment. There was a certain restraint in the Elder’s eyes that masked the cowardice within.
“We are in the hands of the King. In here—in the Glowing Mountain—we must follow his rule. Do not act against him,” the Elder whispered. “We must allow this to happen.”
A tear formed at the corner of Harmon’s eye, then rolled quickly down the ridge of his cheek, halting at his chin. The boy that had entered with the Elder suddenly appeared more like a man.
“When you are Master,” Leridian continued, “you will make sure nothing like this happens again. The King may have his orders now, but orders do not apply to the Transcendent. Remember this moment, Tauren. Let it haunt you through the rest of your days. It will make you a better leader.”
“But Elder—”
“No!” Leridian barked. “I have said enough. You will watch what happens here without deflection. May Relu live in us if he cannot live now.”
The King sighed through unworked boredom.
“This is what you want?” the King asked Relu. “To go out this way? I thought you had more fight in you.”
“It seems I do not have a choice,” the Warrior replied.
“Guards,” the King spat. “You heard our guest. Release the Shadow. Allow Relu of the Highlands to die the way he wishes.”
Altruit stepped outside of the cage, locked the metal hinges, and signaled to cue the electricity. The deep blue hue buzzed through the metal bars, igniting blips of sparking light at the corners of interconnecting pipework. The hallway doors swung open from the inside. A Shadow stood in silhouetted human-like form, pressured by a weapon made of metal and electric current at its back. One press of the trigger sent a viscous shock through the Shadow’s ever-changing body.
“Release it now,” the King spat. “Goodbye, Relu.”
The guard did as he was told, snapping the cuff away and stumbling backwards toward the door. The Shadow lurched in his direction with bared teeth and took a pocket of muscle from the soldier with a giant claw. Spurts of blood poured from the wound and sent the guard to his knees, clutching at the wound with terrified, shaking hands. Several other guards unsheathed swords, ready to pounce at the Shadow.
“Leave him! Close the door!” the King screamed. “Do not let that Shadow back inside the cells.”
“Help! Please!” the injured guard pleaded. A terrified stare widened the corners of his eyes. “Don’t leave me here…”
A second guard broke rank, jumping into the chaos that had broke open in the cage. He reached under the injured guard’s arms and pulled him toward the door. The King gritted his teeth at the defiance.
How dare one of my own men disobey direct orders! the King thought.
“Close the door!” Altruit screamed. “Leave them…or you will all pay the price!”
Leridian dropped his eyes in disgrace. Harmon gripped the handrail in disgust.
The door shut with a resounding boom and the injured guard screamed against the pain. He sat up against the other, coughed violently against the weight of his own blood, and died.
“No,” the remaining guard whispered. “Don’t leave me here!”
He lifted his eyes. The Shadow had centered itself, aligned perfectly for a fast-track tackle from only a few steps away.
Slowly, the guard reached for the electric pole-restraint at his side, but the Shadow’s movements were too quick. The guard hit the floor before he could scream, dying painfully in a puddle of his own blood.
If this is what we have become, Relu thought. Xan, take me.
The Shadow—now satisfied with its first two kills—lurched at Relu. There was a sort of humility in the way Relu accepted the creature. He did not close his eyes, but instead, outstretched his arms as if to embrace the monster’s wrath one, last time. He dropped into the wuru defense pose to ground himself against the collision and, in a matter of moments, felt the immediate weight of the monster’s Dark energy consuming him whole. It sent its teeth ripping into his neck. Its claws slashed deep into his torso and yet, Relu kept eerily quiet, as motionless as he could be. The pain brought him to his knees. There would be no benefit in his screams. He would not give the monster any sort of pleasure in this kill. It would be quiet, haunting. Blood rushed up into his throat.
The warmth of it! he thought. How delicate life can be.
His vision blackened. His heart slowed its beating until, eventually, it halted to a grinding stop and his body fell limp, broken and lifeless against the strain of death.
The Shadow retreated—its job finished—returning into its narrow, human silhouetted shape. It peered around at the destruction it had caused, lifted its featureless face out over the electric haze of the dome and centered itself on the eyes of King Altruit.
“Watch,” it whispered, pointing to the lifeless guard. “Watch as your world is turned upside down.”
Thick black lines had started to cover the guards’ faces, moving rapidly through the surface of their pale skin. Larger these vine-like lines grew until they seemed to stretch infinitely into pools of licorice gelatin, bubbling into a violent, boiling steam, then into wild billows of smoke. It washed over the bodies of the guards, hiding them completely.
When they emerged, no longer were they human. They had become Shadow, standing adjacent to the original monster as perfect as a mirror shows a reflection.
“It can’t be,” Leridian whispered. “They…changed.”
Harmon watched in terror. He had never seen anything so profoundly deflating, so horrific.
“None of you are safe,” the Shadows growled in synchronicity. “The strength of Darkness can never be matched. You may try to vanquish us, King of Light, but we will return even stronger. Nothing you can do will change this path. It is inevitable.”
The Shadows hovered above Relu’s bloody remains. Bending lower, each hovering creature touched a lengthened claw to the Warrior’s chest and pushed hard.
“This one,” the Shadow continued. “What is he? He does not change like the others of your kind.”
The King, as collected as a regal man can be, turned to the others beside him.
“I have seen enough,” Altruit growled. “Kill them. Kill them all.”
The buzzing of the cage amplified to a level of intensity that dangerously brightened the entirety of the room.
“You are nothing! You will perish as your ancestors have perished before you! The Shadow King will never die!”
But the Shadows’ cries ceased before long and Relu’s body, singed only by the electrical heat, remained relatively unchanged. All else in the cage had vanished.
“The Warrior,” said Markiss, breaking a deep bout of silence, “he didn’t change.”
The Clansman stood erect, staring at the body as if through the eyes of an innocent child.
“I have seen death before,” Markiss continued. “Perhaps too much for one man to see in a lifetime, but this…this is something else entirely. What have we done? Altruit, what have you forced us to do?”
Leridian turned to the King with heated, pained eyes.
“I told you!” the Elder spat. “He was not a mixed breed. He only wished to keep his people safe!”
Harmon clenched his fists in anger. Never before had he experienced such definitive fury. He hated this man—the King—despised him with
everything he possessed. Leridian turned to his apprentice, resting a quieting palm on his shoulder.
“Not now,” Leridian whispered. “We both know your power. It will do nobody good here. Harness your temper, Harmon. This is simply not the time.”
The Elder returned his hard eyes to the King, who stood passively against the catwalk railing.
“I suggest, for the sake of all the Great Range, you uphold the Warrior’s dying wishes.”
The King seemed to feel nothing. He had convinced himself that Relu would change. Everyone else he had put through this test had.
But wait! he thought. Now I have a lead. The Portizu—at least Relu—are immune to the Darkness’ infection. But how?
The itch of curiosity filled the King’s mind, followed by the urge to keep his excitement at bay.
“You are correct, Elder Leridian,” Altruit spoke. “We will make this right with the Portizu people. Call upon Jennison. I will send him as witness. The Portizu will know how valiantly their Warrior has given his life for the sake of the Range.”
Leridian, Harmon, and Markiss stirred against the King’s fateful decree. None had the courage to stop him.
“I think we have all seen enough,” the King continued. “Go home. All of you. Go home.”
The haze of the jungle was nothing like Jennison had remembered it.
The shirt draped across his shoulders clung to his skin as if it were nothing but a wet rag. He pulled at it, hoping the fabric would somehow slough off and hang in front of him, but his sweat only made it heavier and more difficult to walk. He had reached the spot where his water supply had dried up during his first trip to the Highlands and, unfortunately, the same thing had happened again. His mouth felt like a shell of itself, no longer able to function at all. He sucked at his teeth anyway, hoping for something, even if it was the tiniest bit of relief.
He entered the jungle hesitantly. Without Relu, how would he be received? Nearly two weeks removed, the King had told him everything he needed to know.
“Why are you telling me this?” Jennison had asked.