The Inner Realm

by Dale Furse

  ***

  Mike blinked and found himself in a place as big as an open football field. Bolts of lightning flew in all directions. The marble floor and pieces of furniture against the walls suggested a room, a room without a ceiling.

  He tried to make sense of what he saw. A blazing dart catapulted towards him. His sword met it and sent the fire sparking into the back wall. He did not make the movement consciously. It was if the sword was part of him and it didn’t need his brain to give it orders. Something about the vibration was different. He could almost hear it laughing. It was enjoying itself.

  Mike was in the midst of what looked like a war. People in robes stood between him and the middle of the battlefield. Different colored robed men and women broke off their attacks to turn and stare at him.

  “That’s Oln,” Hankley said into Mike’s ear, pointing to an emerald-robed man. Oln’s face blushed blue, his serene eyes twinkling at Mike.

  Mike looked at the piles of charred bodies dotting the floor. How could Oln, a god, look so calm in the face of all that death?

  A man laughed a raucous cackle. More like a witch than a man. His dress was black, a velvety trailing robe with a high collar standing erect behind his head. He must be the other god. Gart. He seemed to float above the floor. Behind him stood more colored robed men and women with confused expressions.

  Mike wondered why they chose to follow the younger god. What had he promised them? Perhaps he had promised them a place in Oln’s realm when he took over—promotions maybe. Were angels greedy for power and prestige though? After knowing Hankley and the Shanks, Mike doubted it.

  A bolt of yellow, fiery lightning careered straight at Mike. Again, the sword gurgled happily and blocked it. The bolt ricocheted straight back the way it had come and into the chest of the attacking brown-robed man directly next to Gart.

  Gart roared and sent his own bolt flying. Mike regained command of the blade and clubbed the thunderbolt.

  Oln turned and roared. “Where did he get that sword?”

  Hankley pushed his way between Oln and Mike. “Sir,” he said, “Azu.”

  “Father.” It wasn’t a question. Oln threw his light-engulfed head back and laughed. “Father,” he called to the star-studded space above him. “You have paid attention.”

  He looked at Mike. “I was worried Father had decided to ignore our troubles.” He shook his head, but had to send a bolt of lightning out to halt a stream heading directly for his head. “Enough,” Oln commanded the opposing side.

  Gart grinned, nodding to his troops to stop.

  Oln continued talking as if nothing had interrupted his train of thoughts. “He sent it to you, a human child?”

  A scowl crossed Mike’s face. If he was a child before Zandell, he wasn’t one any more.

  Oln chortled. “No, you are no longer a child.” He threw a ball of light from his hand and it landed more than halfway to Gart’s army, directly in line with Gart himself. A black scorched circle flared on the floor. “You will stand there.”

  Mike looked at the sword, shrugged, and sprinted to his mark. He scanned Gart and his army.

  Hankley asked someone behind Mike, “Where are the Shanks?”

  A low, male voice answered, but Mike couldn’t hear what he said. He turned to see his friend and the person to whom he spoke.

  Hankley’s face twisted in pain. “Where?”

  As the orange-robed man pointed to a fallen body, Hankley threw himself next to it, his head bent, shoulders convulsing. Rone swept behind him and rubbed his shoulder.

  Mike gulped back a cry and moved to join Hankley.

  “No,” Gart roared. “I will wait no longer. If you think you can defeat me, do it now.”

  Another barb of light shot toward Mike as he twisted back to Gart and cut it off with his blade while still half-facing the Shanks.

  Why? He silently screamed. Heart crippled in agony, he snarled at Gart, and emerged from the group of men and women who had collected around the Shanks body. He stymied bolt after bolt. The shots grew in number until Mike’s eyes could no longer tell one bolt from another, but his sword could, and his arms moved as swiftly as Terni’s little feet in full run.

  He glared at the cackling Gart. The monster of a god had caused so many deaths. Mike’s father. He would never see or hear the man who loved his mother and the baby she carried. The Shanks—caring and friendly Shanks.

  Mike found Gart’s eyes amidst the explosions. His orbs too held a glimmer of humor, but his lips were a tight, straight line. Mike held his gaze as Gart’s eyes turned from yellow, to green, to orange, to yellow while Mike’s sword arm flitted from position to position.

  A sense of awe began to fill Gart’s army. They slowed their attack until they completely stopped and fell back. Grouping together, their mumblings floated to Mike’s ears.

  Gart pushed on in spite of his stalled army, drifting upward and forward with every shot.

  Still Mike held his gaze. By the time Gart was within ten paces of Mike, the God’s eyes, yellow-spotted red, glared down at Mike.

  Mike peered up. A hint of humor remained in the back of Gart’s fiery eyes. Mike raised his eyebrows. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, but you can’t fool me.” He gave Gart an “I know what you’re up to” look. “You’re scared. Why else would need your army’s help?”

  Gart’s eyes blazed. Shafts of fire cracked the air and rained down, coursing toward Mike at different angles until almost horizontal to the floor. “Fall back,” Mike shrieked.

  Mike panted and continued to bolt, block, bolt, block, bolt, block, for what seemed an eternity. They were too evenly matched. Bolt, block, bolt, block. Mike, unsure what the god’s father had in mind, did the only thing he could think of to stop the stupid game. He advanced out of the blackened circle.

  The room began to shrink and take on the proportions of the normal inner chamber. It was still huge, but much smaller than the previous arena.

  He stepped forward again. Gart continued his attack as if he hadn’t even noticed Mike move toward him. Another step and another until only one step remained between the God and Mike.

  Gart halted his attack and stared at Mike.

  Still holding Gart’s gaze, Mike lunged, his sword piercing Gart’s chest.

  The god let out a silent scream, his eyes widening with surprise and horror.

  Lights from the entire color spectrum erupted from the wound in Gart’s stomach. He rolled back slowly until he hung horizontal, as if dangling from ropes. The explosion, a great firework display, continued pouring out from his stomach.

  Chapter 25

  All air burst from Mike’s lungs and bending at the waist, he rested his hands on his knees gasping for breath. His mind filled with white noise. He had just killed a god, and not just any god—Oln’s brother.

  The pyrotechnics doubled, and then tripled until the room streaked with color. No noise accompanied the fireworks except for Mike’s own raspy breathing. All else was silent.

  He looked around at nothing but glossed lights. Was he even in the inner chamber anymore? Perhaps he and Gart had somehow gone somewhere else.

  Laughter penetrated his buzzing ears. Was the chortling in his mind or for real? He did not know.

  Gart’s black robe draped, hanging down from both sides of his body. The scene looked like a magician’s floating trick.

  Mike inspected and scanned the god’s whole body.

  The god’s chest vibrated and at the same time, something sounding like a donkey braying exploded from his mouth. He chortled and cackled until his whole body shook.

  Mike glared at the body. Gart was not dead.

  There was nothing funny about the situation. The god had tried to destroy his own brother, seize his mantle, and caused the slaughter of the fallen men and women scattered around the room. He had helped Ludo who in turn, killed Mike’s father. And Gart just tried to kill Mike. Definitely not funny.

  Tears stung Mike’s eyes. He shook them away and clench
ed his teeth. “None of this is funny,” he screamed at Gart’s quaking, prostrate body.

  The lights faded until only ivory light remained. They too withered and turned opaque before disappearing. The room came back so too did the robed men and women, alive and dead. They had never left. It was the lights making it seem they had.

  Gart’s body rolled until it was in a standing position less than an arm’s length in front of Mike. No wound existed in his chest. There wasn’t even a cut in his robe where Mike had lodged the sword.

  Gart’s eyes were warm, shining silver. “Thank you, child.” He tilted his head to the side and grinned. “I do sometimes get a little carried away in my competitiveness with my brother.”

  Blood rushed through Mike’s veins, thundering in his temples. Did Gart think he only played a childish prank on his brother and his brother’s friends?

  “A little carried away? Is that what you call it?” Mike scowled at the god. “You tried to kill me.” He waved his hands left and right. “Look at the bodies.”

  Gart chuckled, which sounded even worse than his grating cackle. It was a sympathetic chuckle as if Mike didn’t understand anything he had said.

  With clenched fists, Mike wheeled away from the dim wit.

  Oln, eyes also twinkling, smiled. The men and women still alive bowed to Mike. He ignored them, the whole bunch were insane. He rushed to where Hankley hunched over the Shanks. Rone moved away to make room as Mike fell to his knees.

  Salty water, free to flow, fell on what was left of the Shanks’ charred robe. Mike wanted to shout their names, but a sob caught in his throat. He wept silently, reliving visions of his encounters with the funny pair.

  ***

  A warm, golden light encompassed the room. Mike glared around. Oln and Gart fell to their knees, gaping up.

  The remaining servants did the same, including Hankley and Rone.

  The translucent amber began to take shape. A face, ageless, with eyes like limes, and long, rich-honey hair. Azu.

  The bodies of the slain vanished, not an atom remained. Servants exclaimed or gasped.

  “Do not be distressed, servants of the realms,” Azu’s voice resonated. “Your comrades and friends are now housed in my realm. If they are not content, they can return. However,” violet twinkles lit his eyes as he turned to Hankley, “I am certain they will be few.”

  A smile twitched the corners of Hankley’s mouth. He nodded in agreement.

  Azu laughed. “All who are left may go about their business.”

  It was a dismissal and all knew it. The servants rose and filtered out of the dome.

  Before Hankley made it to his feet, Azu commanded, “Hankley, Rone, Mike, stay.”

  An orange-robbed man gave them a look that said, ‘good luck’.

  Through the entire goings on, Oln and Gart never took their eyes off Azu.

  “To your feet, children,” Azu said to Gart and Oln. The god of all god’s body appeared, draped in a long, golden, jewel-embossed robe. “I will deal with you in a moment, but first, Hankley and Rone, you have yet to complete your assignment.”

  They looked at each other in bemusement.

  Although confusion dimmed Mike’s mind, Azu’s merry laugh warmed Mike’s heart.

  He floated just above the floor. “Two human boys are lost in the country of Zandell on Cillian who shouldn’t be there,” Azu continued.

  Hankley and Rone bowed.

  With his heart in his throat, sword held out, Mike moved forward. “I think this belongs to you.”

  The god’s gaze held Mike so forcefully, Mike could not move even if he wanted to.

  “You are now the sword of Dragonlee’s custodian. Be kind, but firm. He likes to get his own way.” He gurgled mirth. “You have done your part here.” He raised an arm.

  “Wait,” Mike cried, sure he was about to send him back to Zandell.

  Azu lowered his arm a little. “You want answers?”

  Mike nodded.

  “Now is not the time. I will speak to you again after your mortal life span is fulfilled. You’re father is waiting for you.”

  “My father?”

  A patient smile parted Azu’s lips to reveal sparkling white teeth. He gave a nod. “Micah. Ready?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m ready.” Mike’s entire body trembled.

  Azu raised his arm.

  In the same second, Mike found himself facing an older red-robed Mike. He had the same black curls and brown hazel eyes as Mike. Mike beamed. It really was his father.

  The man wrapped him in his arms. “Mike.”

  The man enveloped him in pure love, a love only a father could feel for a child. Mike stayed in that moment, never wanting it to end.

  Too soon, his father moved away, but kept his hands on Mike’s shoulders. “Let me look at you.” He slowly turned Mike in a full circle. “You are the image of my Eva, not her coloring, but her exact face shape right down to her wide eyes.” His head tilted. “With a little of my brother thrown in. A handsome man.” His smile, full of pride. “And heroic.”

  Warmth filled Mike’s cheeks. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “None of that matters anyway.”

  Micah moved one arm around Mike’s shoulder and guided him down the wide, jewel encrusted, palladium steps, onto a yellow gold street. “I hear the cafés in the platinum quarter are not to be missed.”

  Mike walked beside his father as they circled Oln’s monstrous building of every conceivable, and inconceivable to Mike, precious metal. It glinted in the light, looking like a giant castle out of a storybook. Many turrets stretched up into the sky disappearing into the mist hanging only over the palace. Mike couldn’t see where the light came from, but the warmth of it on his skin felt like the sun.

  They stepped onto a path. “Silver?” Mike asked.

  “Platinum, the artisan’s quarter of Oln’s realm.”

  Silver buildings lined both sides of the street. On one side, they were white and on the other, artwork of all the colors in the rainbow and then some covered every inch of the facades.

  Any other time Mike would have liked to have a closer look at the paintings, but he couldn’t stop glancing at the man beside him. He wanted to imbed every cell, every line on his face into his memory—the shape of his ears, the cut of his strong chin, his eyes and eyebrows, the span of his forehead, and the ebony curls falling on the top of his ears. He never wanted to forget what his father looked like.

  As they walked, Micah said, “Tell me everything about your mother’s and your life after she left that fateful day.”

  Torn between gazing at his father and ogling the sights of different colored robed men and women going about their day and the magnificent frescoed buildings, Mike told him everything, He’d never felt so comfortable talking about his family or his life, before. But when he got to the part about Dan, he hesitated.

  “Ah this one looks fine enough for us,” Micah said, and with a small nudge, pushed Mike into a restaurant.

  Once seated, Micah gave their order to an auburn-haired woman in a white robe. He faced Mike. “What happened to you both after you moved to a different school?”

  Unable to lie, Mike answered. “Mother got married.”

  Micah sat back and smiled. “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “If she had found someone when you were younger, it would have made her life easier.”

  “She never gave up hoping you would show up.” Mike laughed. “Anyway, the way she talked about you, no man could ever compete.”

  “Until Dan?”

  “Yeah, until Dan. I guess she just got tired of waiting. and he’d pestered her for ages to go out with him.”

  “Is he kind? Does he treat you and her well?”

  “Yes to both. Actually, they just had a baby.”

  Micah smiled. “Boy or girl?”

  “Boy. They named him Derek.”

  “Eva always did have a soft spot for that rascal of a brother of mine.”

  “Can
I ask you some questions?”

  “I will answer what I can.”

  “What happened after Mother went through the door. She said you were still alive?”

  He sighed, and a far away look filled his eyes as if he was remembering that day. “The moment I saw her enter the door, I knew in my heart she and our baby…” he smiled at Mike, “you, were safe. I was so filled with love and contentment, I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, I was standing in a heavenly room with god’s servant.”

  “You didn’t know you’d died?”

  “No, not until Hankley told me I had.”

  “Hankley? Hankley was the servant?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “Oh, I know him all right.” Mike grinned. “He’s my friend.”

  “I’m glad. He is a comforting soul.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Hankley brought me before Azu and Oln. Azu told Oln I was to go to the Outer Realm and serve him as our ancestors have since the time of Peteor the Great.”

  “He’s my many greats grandfather?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hang on. Peteor walked the streets of heaven and became king so does that mean I have to be a king?”

  “It isn’t a law, Mike. If and when you are ready, you may take the throne of Zandell, but only if you want to be king.”

  Mike let out a long breath. “That’s a relief. I don’t want to be a king.”

  Micah laughed and mussed up Mike’s hair. “Now you sound like Ternith.”

  “So what do you do in the Outer Realm?”

  “I travel to all the worlds of all the realms from time to time. We must always stay alert to the workings of the dark realms.”

  “There are more realms?”

  “Yes, without the dark realms there would be no light realms. Azu is god over the light, and his opposite, Uza, is the god of the dark. Uza is always on the look out for a chance to gain a greater hold on the citizens of the light. If he or his children can turn the balance of good and evil, they will do it in a heartbeat.”

  Mike thought that made sense. There would always be a fight between good and evil, and now he knew first hand how evil could pervade peoples’ consciences. Ludo was a great example of becoming too greedy, too self-centered. Mike frowned. He realized he sometimes had a tendency to be self-centered, but hoped he would never stray down that path.