Lost Lands: The Game - Atlantis

by A. E. McCullough

  Aaliyah’s eyes flicked from the priest to her lover and back again. There was fear and concern in her eyes but also a questioning look.

  “You have one chance to talk Jagoda down. I convinced Tao to let you give it a try.” Kastle’s tone changed, becoming softer. “I know he’s no longer Leon. I can see it in his every move. I know you can too. Let me guess, his temper has gotten shorter and shorter. He’s become more condescending to everyone he views that is lower in stature than himself, including you.”

  Aaliyah eyes widened but she nodded.

  “It’s the Chaos Spirit at work on him. A person can only resist for so long but we can discuss that later, if he is still alive.” Kastle glanced at the deadly dance happening behind him before adding, “Tao has yet to counter-attack. He will only wait for so long before he must. Once he attacks, Jagoda will not be able to withstand his assault. Trust me on this.”

  Seeing her nod, Kastle removed her gag and signaled to the dreadknight to release his spell.

  With a simple thought, the crushing grip was gone and she could breathe again. She cast a dismissive glance at Cozad before pointing a finger at the priest. “You and I are not through. When this is over, one way or the other, we are going to finish this discussion.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Aaliyah turned her attention back to her lover and the crimson samurai. Although she was angry with Kastle she had never known him to lie, at least not about anything important, other than his feelings. She also had no reason to doubt him. In the past four years they had never seen or heard of a dark elf or a samurai in this realm. They had to be Outlanders. Additionally, how else would the samurai know English? As she watched the two combatants, she knew that Kastle was right. Every move that the samurai made was completely defensive and she could tell that he was passing up numerous opportunities to counterattack.

  Concentrating her attention on Jagoda’s face, she tried to read his emotions. If she had to name it, she would call it rage. She’d seen him like this a few times over the last three years and it was never pretty. The last time was when one of the new recruits had flown his wyvern into Jagoda’s prize serpent and injured it, enough so that the Gladiator had to put it down. Jagoda had gone in such a rage that it didn’t end until he had killed the young recruit and seven civilians of the town they were raiding at the time. Unsure if she would be able to reach him through his rage, Aaliyah resolved to try her very best. She owed it to him even if he was buried beneath the rage of the Chaos Spirit.

  Taking a deep breath, the beautiful Sha’ir stepped into the courtyard.

  * * * * *

  Tao once again rolled out of the path of the flaming trident. This time it was close enough that he felt the heat from the red-hot fuscina. Tao swung his katana at the gladiator, not with the intent on striking him but with enough force to make him pause for a second.

  Tao chanced a glance at his position. They were in the center of the courtyard with about fifty bandits a stone’s throw to his left, Arieal was slightly behind him and to his right. Coming down the steps was one of the most stunningly beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life. Tao knew that this must be Aaliyah.

  Rolling out of the way of another attack, Tao held his breathe as the bandit-king noticed her and paused in his attacks. Tao was too far away to hear their conversation but watched in amazement as the rage seemed to fall away from the gladiator’s face. Aaliyah moved closer until she was in between the two combatants and still she spoke. For a brief moment, Tao thought that they would get through this without any more bloodshed.

  That was until, she said something wrong.

  Tao noticed it immediately. It was like a switch flipped inside of Jagoda and the rage overwhelmed him once again. Using the back of his fist, Jagoda smashed Aaliyah aside and screamed, “Harlot!”

  There is an old saying about ‘seeing red’ when letting your anger take over. Mac had only thought it to be a cliché but when the gladiator smacked the beautiful Sha’ir, Tao literally saw red.

  Hitting your opponent in battle is one thing, a preemptive strike on a foe is another thing, striking a woman in combat or training is also acceptable but this was none of those. To Tao’s personal code of honor, Jagoda’s strike on a defenseless female was the act of a bully and he was forced to act.

  Shifting to the Stance of the Fire Spirit, a purely offensive stance, Tao went on the attack.

  Jagoda did his best to block or avoid the Samurai’s attacks and failed. Numerous blows slipped through and scored wounds to his body, none were serious but it was only a matter of time.

  Tao continued his assault and worked Jagoda’s defenses up high. When the gladiator raised his trident high to block, Tao shifted tactics and executed a jump spinning side kick.

  This was another one of TaeKwonDo’s signature kicks. Not as flashy as the flying side kick but more useful in combat. The martial artist would leap straight up into the air, chamber his kick by pulling his back leg up to his chest while turning one-hundred and eighty degrees in a split second. As soon as he completed the spin, the martial artist would lash out with his leg, striking with the heel of the foot. The extra force of spinning and the large muscles of the leg combined to make a devastatingly powerful kick. If the martial artist was extremely skilled, and Tao was, the kick would land in a very vulnerable spot on the human body; solar plexus, groin, ribs, etc. which would multiply the effectiveness of the kick.

  Jagoda felt all the air leave his lungs as he was catapulted backward several feet. Landing on his back, he couldn’t think of anything except the need to breath. At this exact moment, he didn’t know where his shield or spear was nor did he care. He just wanted his lungs to work.

  Tao followed up his devastating attack by immediately moving to the downed gladiator and placing his swords in an X over his throat but paused before making the final blow when he heard Aaliyah screaming at him to spare him.

  Placing his knee on the larger warrior’s chest, Tao stared down at his defenseless opponent. “Do you yield?”

  Jagoda answered between breaths. “Why would you spare my life? I wouldn’t hesitate to end yours.”

  “I’ll give you two reasons. First, Aaliyah asked me to and only the gods know why after what you did to her. Secondly, I’m betting you weren’t always this way. This isn’t the real you. As Kastle would explain, it is the Chaos Spirit at work inside of you, struggling to take control.” Gesturing with his head to the compound around them, Tao continued. “I bet that none of this was in your plan. I don’t think you set out to be bandits, it just happened. From what I’ve been told, an Atlantean killed your best friend and you vowed vengeance. Completely understandable. Nevertheless you had the mentality that the end justifies the means.” Tao nodded his head toward Arieal. “Nothing justifies what you did or intended to do to her.”

  Jagoda looked from the dark elf to Aaliyah. Kastle was tending to her wounds. Judging from the bruising around her tear filled eyes, she had a broken nose. The gladiator focused his attention back on the samurai. “If I yield you will just let me up?”

  “Is not the word of a King the same as the law? Or am I mistaken?”

  Jagoda tentatively shook his head. Careful not to cut himself on the razor sharp blades at his throat. “You are not wrong.”

  Tao searched his face for any of the tale-tell signs of Jagoda’s earlier rage. Not seeing anything he asked, “Then I can let you up?”

  “You can let me up.”

  Tao slowly removed his blades and stepped back. Surprisingly, the Gladiator didn’t immediately get up but laid there checking his wounds. Once Tao had put about twenty feet between him and the defeated warrior, he sheathed his blades and turned his attention to Arieal.

  * * * * *

  Jagoda watched the crimson samurai move away with barely disguised hate. It had taken every ounce of control to keep it off his face. There was no way that he was going to forgive the humiliation he received from this peasant, esp
ecially since it happened in front of his men. The samurai must die.

  Shifting his gaze to Aaliyah, he watched as she let her injuries be tended to by the false priest. Kastle wasn’t there because she was injured. He was there because he wanted the Sha’ir. Seeing how tenderly he touched her made his blood boil. Aaliyah was his woman. No one was allowed to touch her without his permission.

  Glancing around, Jagoda spied his trident a mere foot away. Rolling over, he grabbed it, whispered a word of command and it burst into flames. Hurling it with all his might, it flew straight and true right toward the priest’s back.

  * * * * *

  Once again, Tao moved with such lightning speed that it was amazing. The samurai had suspected that the gladiator had given in too easily and remained on high alert. One skill that both mindsets, Mac and Tao, practiced religiously was Iaijutsu which is often translated roughly as the ‘art of mental presence and immediate response.’ It is the Japanese martial art of drawing the sword. It was designed for the samurai to be ready at any moment for combat. To draw and cut with the same motion greatly enhanced readiness.

  Tao used this skill to cut the flaming head of the trident off in mid-flight, just a few feet short of its target.

  Cozad had also reacted, though not as quickly nor as flashy as the samurai. The dreadknight knocked the two friends aside and brought his weapon up to a ready position. The flaming spines of the broken trident harmlessly bounced off the huge blade of the dreadknight’s axe.

  Both Kastle and Aaliyah were shocked and realized in that instant if it hadn’t been for the quick actions of Tao and Cozad that they would’ve both been skewered.

  “That’s twice you have vexed me! Not again!” Jagoda roared. Drawing his bronze sword, the Gladiator charged the samurai.

  Part of Tao regretted his next action for a long time to come. He instinctively knew it was necessary and even unavoidable but that didn’t make it any easier to live with. Jagoda’s rash charge was basically the same as ‘suicide by cop’ back in the real world. Tao didn’t have any choice but to act. That didn’t lessen the fact of taking a life. Killing in combat is one thing. He’d done it dozens of times in Desert Storm. He’d even done it several times since being pulled into the Game but this was completely different. Jagoda had dropped all pretense of defense and ran at him.

  The bandit-king made one downward swing which Tao blocked with his mastercrafted wakizashi which shattered the weaker blade. The samurai reacted out of pure instinct and immediately counterattacked. His frost-kissed katana slid straight through the Gladiator’s unprotected chest and ruptured his heart.

  Jagoda Wartooth was dead before his body hit the dirt.

  Chapter 19

  Tariq moved through the Peacekeeper camp with ease. That first night, wounded, tired and in pain, he had gone in search of death. His intention had been to kill anyone and everyone in his path in a vain attempt at rescuing Calli.

  Tariq shook his head. He still didn’t understand why he was here trying to rescue the witch. She wasn’t his lady. Hell, he hardly knew her. So why was he risking his neck for her?

  The memory of his assassination of Roland the paladin flooded his mind and he knew why he was wandering around the enemy’s camp in disguise. Atonement.

  Forcing his mind back to the matter at hand, Tariq or Benedict as he was now called moved through the chow line. His wounds were healing nicely thanks to the medical care of the Peacekeepers. A grim smile flickered over his face as he recalled how he had gained his robes.

  On that first night in camp, Tariq had stumbled across the medical tent and found some poor sap sitting with his back to the door and no one else in sight. It was a simple matter to slice his throat and pull him into the darkness. He noticed that the victim had similar enough wounds to himself. But more importantly, that he was wearing a chadri, type of burqa that covered the entire face except a small region around the eyes. Tariq recalled that all of the attackers back at Crooner’s Gap had been wearing similar head coverings but hadn’t given it much thought. Now with this dead body at his feet, a crazy plan began to form. Stripping the body, he checked for any tell-tale marks or tattoos, there weren’t any. He disposed of the body in the nearby pig pens, knowing that the omnivores would make short work of the corpse.

  Donning the soldier’s garb, he returned to the medical tent and was bandaged by the Peacekeeper healer. He attached himself to the platoon of injured soldiers and spent the next few days following orders. It was rather simple to blend in. So, he followed orders and scoped out the camp. It was obvious that the Peacekeepers were preparing for something big but what that was, neither he nor his bunkmates knew. Even though Tariq had gotten himself assigned to the guard detail on the prisoner wagons, he hadn’t found a chance to talk to the witch alone.

  One thing for certain, Calli was in bad shape. None of the Peacekeepers had touched her but it was obvious that she was getting weaker by the day. They brought her three meals a day which she politely refused. Tariq knew why she wasn’t eating but couldn’t say anything for fear of discovery. He knew that as a vampyre, Calli couldn’t gain any nourishment from eating normal food. She needed blood to survive.

  Seeing the cook preparing to head out to the pens gave Tariq an idea. Putting on his best smile, he flagged down the cook. “Gavin!”

  The large cook paused and turned back. “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful food.”

  Taken back by the compliment, Gavin grinned. “Thanks”

  Tariq flexed his injured hand. “Between your fare and the doctor’s care, I’m getting my strength back.” When Gavin didn’t respond, Tariq continued without pause. “It just so happens I have a few hours before my next shift and I was always taught to return kindness with kindness.”

  Gavin looked around doubtful and wiped his hands on his already filthy apron.

  Tariq gestured with his chin. “I see you are heading out to the pens. Need any help in the slaughtering?”

  Gavin’s face brightened. “Help? Hell yes. I can always use another set of hands around here.” Grabbing a second cleaver, he gestured for the assassin to follow him. As Tariq moved to follow, the cook pointed to his mask. “Don’t forget your chadris. You don’t want Jericho to see you without it until after your vows.”

  Tariq nodded and pulled the mask up. “Thanks. Even after all this time, I have a tendency to forget.”

  Gavin grinned and showed off his missing teeth. “No worries. All you recruits forget from time to time.” Turning, he headed back out to the pens. “Now, have you ever slaughtered a pig before?”

  Tariq shook his head. “No. But I’m a fast study.”

  “No worries. It isn’t unlike killing a deer. We’ll start by stunning them with a mallet, then slice their throats and drain their blood before removing the hair. All this before the butchering begins.”

  Tariq took a deep breath as the large cook continued to ramble on about the art of slaughtering a pig.

  * * * * *

  Calli was in a bad situation.

  She had heard of the Peacekeepers, everyone in Hyperborea had but she had never considered the possibility of being captured by them. She knew that the Peacekeepers were from the Westlands and only recently had made their way into the Forestlands. She had even attended one of their revivals last season and was shocked at what she had heard. It was the rhetoric of hatred. Sure it was subtle but it was there.

  The orator was talented. During the sermon he began to talk about the good old days and how they were a time of prosperity. Once he had the crowd agreeing with him, he switched to the problems across the land, such as the bad weather or poor crops. Then, he picked on someone to blame for all the problems. First, he blamed the Dragon Kings. Never mind that according to Hyperborea legends, all humans were descendants of the Atlanteans. Once the crowd was agreeing with him, he switched to blaming the elves for the bad weather and the dwarves for the poor crops. Soon, it was everyone who wasn’t alig
ned with the Peacekeepers.

  The scariest thing for Calli was watching the simple and peaceful farmers become a mob at the behest of his words. If a lone elf had walked into the tent that night, they would’ve torn him apart with their bare hands. Having seen that, Calli knew that she had to keep the fact that she was a vampyress a secret. If the Peacekeepers discovered her affliction, she was dead. However, if she didn’t feed soon, she was dead anyway. She was in a quandary and didn’t know what to do or how to get out of it.

  Hearing movement outside of her cell, she placed her back to the wall and waited. The food slot popped open and in fell two pink objects that landed with a squish. The slot closed quickly and she heard the soft sounds of footfalls fading away. But still she hesitated, that was until the overwhelming scent of blood filled her nostrils. Moving closer, she studied the pink objects in the steady light of the four glow stones hanging in her cell.

  Glow stones were a magical lighting source that gave off light but no heat. No chance of accidentally burning down a house. They were popular with peasants since they were cheap to purchase and tended to last a full year before needing a refreshing spell.

  The pink objects turned out to be pig bladders full of blood. It was either a trap or she had a friend nearby. As she picked one up, she noted that on the outside of the bladder a symbol had been traced in blood. It was a colon, a dash and a parenthesis :-) the smiley symbol used all across the internet. The image of the injured guard with the dark eyes who had escorted her to the cell came to mind. She racked her memory for a name.

  Benedict. As is Benedict Arnold? The turncoat? Holy shit! Tariq was the guard!

  Lifting the first bladder to her mouth, she bit into it and felt the still warm fluid run down her throat. Almost immediately, she felt strength returning to her limbs as the blood did its work. But it was hope for tomorrow which truly fueled her soul. She had a friend nearby and she knew that Tao was outside the camp somewhere. She just had to bide her time until one or the other freed her.