by Brent Reilly
CHAPTER 7
Before they could pack the marmot, a visitor descended, his wand emitted a friendly greeting, as curtsey demanded, before landing across from them. He looked like a rich noble. William's wand returned his greeting, but remained wary.
"I’m looking for Barchuk the Bandit," the visitor said, stating his business like a good Mongol. Mongols only had one name, and so used descriptions to differentiate those who share names. "I heard a firefight."
"And what is your business with him?" William asked, keeping his tone neutral.
"I planned on killing him," the visitor replied. "His raids threaten the nomads."
"Then you’re too late. We killed them defending ourselves."
"You?" The visitor found it hard to believe. "No disrespect, but Barchuk was very good. I trained him myself, before he turned bad. I even gave him his wands."
"No disrespect, but he traveled with fifteen others. Were you hunting them alone?"
"Yes," the visitor answered, not at all insulted.
Husband and wife exchanged anxious looks. "I am Vesak," William said, using his Mongol name. "I descend from Taran of Kiev."
"I knew Taran well. Good Mongol. We fought at Kiev together. That movie his wife made of him even attributed some of my kills to him. It still feels like someone stole from me."
"And who are you?" William asked, annoyed that he had to ask.
"It's hard to believe you killed Barchuk."
"His body lies a few hundred meters over there."
"And his wands?"
"I gave them to my boy for when he gets his powers at puberty."
Billy helpfully held out the wands. The Mongol tapped an eye with his wand to examine them from a distance. "Yep. That's them."
"Is that what you want? His wands?" William asked.
Billy reset them in his arm launchers when the old man turned away.
"I wanted them, yes. But if you gave them to the boy, then you did not transfer ownership quickly enough to retain their power. Otherwise you’d have kept them for yourself."
Which was solid reasoning, except the wands belonged to Billy, who killed Barchuk and transferred ownership.
"We dueled so high that, when I finally got a lucky shot, I lost him in the trees. He was cold when I found him," William lied. He waited patiently, but the visitor was in no hurry to leave. "We have nothing more of value."
"Oh, but you do," the Mongol replied. "You have wands powerful enough to kill a great dueler like Barchuk, and fifteen others. A powerful wand can last me years, if I sip moderately." He turned to Liz. "I’m sorry, ma’am, but I need yours as well."
The visitor just said he was gonna kill them to suck their wands dry. Drained of life, their useless wands would then break like twigs. The words chilled William, who until now had not felt the Siberian cold.
"You’ve been very polite. Please continue by telling us your name."
The old warrior hesitated, but decided he owed them at least that. "Subodei."
Liz and Billy watched William turn pale. He seemed to shrink in front of them.
"We just killed sixteen. What's one more?" Liz demanded.
"We can't beat him," William assured her. "He has Millennial Wands. I'll fly north, you go south. Billy, lose him in the woods."
"And why can't we beat one guy?" she wanted to know.
"Show her," William begged the visitor.
"You seem like a good Mongol, so I'll tell you what. If you and your wife promise to fight, I'll let your son live. If either of you flee, I'll make sure he dies hard. I'm responsible for the deaths of millions. As your wife said, what's one more?"
"Who is he?" his wife demanded, completely irritated.
"You know him as the Third Millennial. The Second Millennial, Jamuka, was Genghis’ blood-brother growing up, then rival as adults. Subodei has an even longer wingspan than Genghis Khan."
Known as the Khan's favorite general, Subodei won sixty-five pitched battles and defeated thirty-two nations before retiring in his prime. In contrast, Julius Caesar fought fifty major battles and Alexander the “Great” just five.
When Genghis first heard of wands, he paid a fortune to find the oldest tree. From it the legendary wand maker Torolchi crafted ten sets of the world’s most powerful wands. Genghis promised the wands to the first warriors who scored a thousand kills. So many quads were eager to prove themselves that they completed the unification of the nomad tribes, then looked south to quench their thirst. Soon they sucked China dry.
"How many Millennial Wands are still alive?"
"What am I? A history professor?" The visitor's patience was running low.
"Come on, or we'll take our chances at high altitude! Genghis uses a set, with one as backup, and gave another to the head of his personal security. Jamuka lost his when Genghis killed him over Lake Balkhash, and General Boorchu's burned in the ashes of Moscow. How many others still work?"
He shrugged. "You already know that Genghis gave sets to his brothers, Khasar and Kachiun, although I don't know which of their descendents have them now. Batu Mongke has the tenth set, as far as I know."
William felt Billy looking at him. In the briefest glance they read each other’s minds. William nodded to give his son permission.
"Let the child go and we promise not to run." William then shushed his wife before she could argue with him.
"You know what I like most about a fair fight?" the general asked rhetorically. "The better fighter always wins."
Subodei “spread his wings,” shooting flames fourteen meters in both directions for a total “wingspan” of twenty-eight meters -- the most in the world. As he geared up to attack, Billy hopped through the deep snow towards him with his palms empty.
"Stop! You have to first promise to carry me home or I’ll freeze to death tonight."
The general hesitated in disbelief at the ballsy kid. Although he had a good point since the old man didn’t know the boy could fly. Still, he didn't want to bother with that. The father sensed it, and called him out.
"We’ll agree to stay only if you swear before Father Sky and Mother Earth to carry our son safely home."
The old general grunted his displeasure. His first temptation was to kill the father, and hope he could find the mother before dark. They both looked prepared to flee, although the child stupidly walked eight meters in front of him, memorizing his face.
"Where can I find you in ten years?" Billy demanded to distract him.
"Revenge is suicide, boy. No one can beat me."
"That’s my decision, not yours. As a descendent of Genghis Khan, I demand honor for the killing of my parents.”
Spoken like a true Mongol. The ancient warrior stared hard at the little boy. With snow up to his chest, Billy looked about to drown.
"In a cave on top of Mt. Burklan Khaldun. Now get out of my way."
William and Liz suddenly popped up and spread out to flank him. Subodei naturally tracked them, the child forgotten. Instead of reaching into his coat like other quads, Billy had wand launchers attached to his underarms, and already held his new wands under the snow. He now thrust twin blades through two meters of snow into the general’s chest, who looked really surprised that a six year old had eight meter long blades. In all fairness, no six year old had ever projected that much length. Ever.
Billy slashed the old man’s arms before the shock wore off. The general fell back, screaming in frustration. Before he could recover, the boy scrambled forward and snatched his hand wands. For a man who thought he had seen everything, Subodei looked astonished. He tried to say something, but only coughed up blood.
This was the greatest moment in Billy’s life. “Revenge is suicide, boy! No one can beat me!” Billy said in a surprisingly accurate imitation. “Except some damn six year old. I’m gonna let the world know that the most powerful quad in history got killed by a child. So how does it feel to get tricked by a little boy?” S
itting on his chest plate, Billy peered into his face. "You know what I like most about a fair fight? The better fighter always wins."
Delirious, Billy popped up in the air and blasted fire from all four wands, laughing like a lunatic. He looked down to see the old dueler staring up at him in horror.
“You can use boot wands!” Meaning, other than for propulsion. “You’re the one who got Barchuk!”
“And, after I destroy the Mongol Empire,” Billy warned him, “I’m gonna kill Genghis Khan.”
“Noooooooo!” the world’s most successful general cried.
“Billy!” William yelled out as he landed. “This is the bastard who led the team that wiped out three generations of our family in Prussia, so make him die hard.”
“I’m busy transferring wands. You make him suffer.”
So while Billy absorbed the world’s most powerful wands, William electrocuted the old man’s genitals. The boy looked like a nympho enjoying her first multiple orgasm while the general looked like he swallowed a pinecone. While the bandit’s wands were incredible, they couldn’t compare to these Millennials.
They say you begin owning your wands and end with your wands owning you. Feeding the world’s most powerful addiction meant Billy would have to duel constantly. Fighting would boost his wand power, which would increase his addiction, which would force him to satisfy an ever greater thirst in a vicious cycle that some called a Faustian Bargain. Every super-quad is an addict, but never had so strong an addiction started in someone so young. Nor armed with the world’s best wands. This addiction determined Billy’s fate. He could never retire, never take a year off. He had to fight until he died or the withdrawal would kill him.
What no one appreciated then was how the world’s most powerful wands would improve a six year old’s ability to heal. Because he’d use his wands constantly, Billy bathed in wand juice daily, which fortified his capacity to recuperate. His body grew, year after year, soaking up wand juice. Growing up in healing energy did not make him invincible, but it did make him very hard to kill. Billy would sleep off injuries that would have killed others.
“Watch this!” the boy told the general, torching his new Millennials almost eleven meters. “You just gave the world’s best wands to the Empire’s greatest enemy. I’ll now join my father in targeting Mongol super-quads.”
The old man tried to curse him, but Billy just laughed in his face. Literally -- he landed on his chest plate. General Subodei, scourge of lands from China to Russia to Hungary, watched the boy watch him die. It seemed to take him forever to bleed to death, but for Billy, it ended all too soon.
Billy savored the best damn day of his life. And his week would only get better because they’d find thousands of wands in Subodei's mountaintop home, including a backup set of Millennial Wands that the general was long rumored to have. It was the coup of a lifetime.
Like most parents, William and Elizabeth recorded almost everything their only child did. Unlike most kids, Billy recorded himself since he sparked his first wand at age three. He wanted a video of every memorable moment of what he expected to be a tragically short life. So now he saved this experience forever on his wand, careful to show Subodei’s dying breath.
Billy left his childhood behind without a backward glance.