Sapling: The Blade of Ahtol

by Dan Gillis

  The plan had proceeded well until an unusual amount of guards suddenly slipped from the shadows beyond the small opening, escorting all the people along their weary trek. Now it seemed that to escape, he would need to fight off at least a dozen beastmasters and anything else that lurked in the surrounding shadows.

  Zyr rounded a wall of stone and came into a vast chamber. The source of the pounding became painfully clear. He looked upward to a high shelf where a strange contraption moved in rhythm with the great deep booms. From his vantage point, he could discern two large gears that smote violently downward in steady cadence. There seemed to be a thick hide or cloth that was collapsed and then stretched under each gear, like a large clumsy bellows.

  It was unsettling to hear screams of terror mingled with the overwhelming booming; the great cacophony echoed throughout the large cavern endlessly. The people were being escorted along a high precipice, climbing steadily upward upon roughhewn stairs in the rock. The stairs ascended through a vast opening in the ceiling of the cavern just above the massive machine and all its churning gears. Screams followed, trailing off gradually and then became silent.

  Sensing something from above, Zyr focused his mind, employing the sacred training from within the Halls. He detected chaotic dark energy pulsing and dripping from the massive opening. It seemed to grip the people upon the stair, drawing them along a winding ascent to oblivion. He could not determine what lay beyond the stair. The whole scene was very unsettling and created difficulties in determining a course of action.

  Zyr considered whether to act or not. People were dying, but he was unsure of endangering his own life for strangers. He had risked himself for Tehsa and other Order disciples countless times. Yet to sorrow and lament for the common and weakest? Zyr had always taken great pride in his ability to rise well above the commoner and rejoiced as he surpassed his rivals. He had never been placed in such a predicament. He was here to observe and not engage in battle, and yet as he was herded with the rest toward the stair he knew he would have to act soon. At that moment, words that the Servant had spoken years ago, swept through his mind.

  “Have you finished your duties, Initiate?”

  “No, humble Servant.”

  “I understand your presence in the kitchens is for violating the code of behaviour again.”

  “Master Aragil was being …!”

  “Be still, Initiate. I have heard this story many times before. You were unfairly treated by a superior, who demanded too much of you. A common complaint in the Halls, and yet this particular event caused a creative outburst of words that, quite frankly, gave me pause. Such clever vocabulary.”

  “… well … he didn’t …”

  “Listen well, Initiate. There comes a time when we must choose for ourselves what course is best, when we stop reacting to the forces which act upon us. The day you begin to see the greater picture and think beyond yourself is when the true path to ascension begins.

  “I'll give you this one key to true understanding. It is our selfish pursuits of talent which ironically block the path to our greatest potential. That is the greatest mystery of all.

  “I perceive that you fail to understand presently, and that is expected. Someday, young one, your day will come.”

  “Yes, humble Servant …”

  “Now, pass me that other scrub brush. It’s time to work - time to act for ourselves.”

  The words echoed in the Alacritor's mind even as he caught hold of the thought of preserving the file of strangers about him. The young man’s eyes flashed once, a bright blue spark which ignited great untapped flowing oceans of power deep within his soul. The physical chains seemed to melt off his body, as did the ones which bound his soul’s potential, which now burned bright, illuminating the cave in a cold blue flame.

  Twisting sharply, he seized upon the enemy’s spear which prodded him, and slammed the blunt handle forcefully through the armoured breast and the body of the rider.

  Zyr grunted and leaned back on the spear, tossing the writhing beastrider over the edge of the ascending stairs and into the black abyss.

  The masterless beast snarled and charged directly toward the nimble monk, its head held low in attempt to drive Zyr into the chasm below. Two other beastriders appeared and flanked behind the charging beast.

  Zyr moved swiftly upward, pushing as many villagers aside as possible, until the last moment. He somersaulted backward and struck downward with great force, stunning the creature. In its momentum and disorientation, it spilled over the precipice, to follow its master.

  Zyr landed just in front of the next two enemies and dodged through several slashes and thrusts from their spears and vicious blade-like maws. The monk slammed his hands into the black stone beneath his feet and ripped large jagged boulders from their resting places. Roaring in echo of the power that swelled and nearly exploded from his frame, he hurled the large chunks of basalt toward each rider. One rock completely separated a beastrider from his legs locked firmly in the stirrups, which twitched nervously, driving the unknowing beast into the rock face. The other foe attempted to block the projectile with a shield, and though successful, felt charged fingers slice through his armour and body, as the young warrior swept past.

  Landing deftly, the monk’s mind worked quickly. He determined that the great hammering mechanism was the key to the whole corrupted and cursed operation, and in the massive, circular-hewn expanse there was only one visible way to get to it. The stair of stone was jammed full of dazed people, but the young weaver was already engaging his next move. Zyr launched his body upward onto the sheer rock surface and began to scale it quickly. Driving hand over hand into the stone surface he ascended as an ant upon a tree trunk, skittering white across the dark surface toward the opening in the ceiling. The Alacritor crawl, as he often referred to it, was a careful burst of power through the fingers to penetrate the foreign surface. The timing was incredibly finite so that when releasing the power, his hands did not slice through the rock when he sought for leverage. Great heat was belching from the machine below, nearly scorching the young man’s exposed skin.

  Zyr pulled himself over the edge and rolled quickly as a large spike whizzed through the space he had occupied. Thrusting to his feet, the monk looked upon a terror his young mind could not have imagined.

  Hissing and swaying high above, a great serpent-like creature glowered down at him. Its body was serpentine, yet the torso was strangely humanoid. Thin wiry arms wielded a large ornate spear deftly, and slowly the creature’s tail slid across the floor, twitching in anticipation. Zyr remained still as the monstrous thing hissed sharply. It waited for any sense of motion from the monk.

  Zyr noticed something beyond the strange creature, a tall robed figure standing in the shadows atop a protrusion carved from the far wall. Next to the figure were hewn tables of stone upon which a dark object was placed quickly. The hands of the shadowed figure began to move in gestures and the mouth shaped words which were drowned out by the incessant pounding. The young man’s eyes opened wide in surprise as the rocks beneath suddenly enveloped his feet and ankles, gripping them like a smithy vice. The snake-creature shot toward him in a heartbeat, it jaws spread wide, as black venom streaked from its long teeth. Zyr had a moment to react and bent his body backward until his head brushed the floor. Despite the evasion, the serpent head brushed over him, the venom splashing across his face. Crying out, Zyr felt the sticky substance sink into his skin, indeed into his very soul. It scraped and clawed upon his spirit, seeking to corrupt his very essence. The sea of bright blue emanating from Zyr began to dim, its brightness beginning to shift toward blackness. Zyr straightened himself and gasped as his body and spirit recoiled in shock. He blinked as his vision began to blur slightly.

  The large serpent stood poised to strike again, menacing its weapon.

  “Your effrontery is returned upon you one hundred-fold, foolish one,” a deep voice called out through the crashing booms of the machine. The voice was strangely a
mplified. It came from the man in the shadows, high above on the plateau. The figure had stopped and seemed to take in a long deep breath. “Ah … Zyr, so much potential … a fettered blade that only requires the proper hand to draw it forth.” Zyr slumped down as the cursed poison sapped his will and strength. He prepared his soul for a fate which would envy a simple quick death. Somewhere in the recesses of his consciousness he wondered how he was known to his enemy. He wondered about the strange feeling of familiarity flowing in those words.

  A bellow shattered the deafening cadence of the foul machine. Zyr glanced to his right to see Tey’ur charging over the stairs, his massive two-handed sword whistling high above his head. Two arrow shafts protruded slightly from his torso, the ends jagged from being broken for increased mobility. The roar filled Zyr’s soul, momentarily staying the poisonous effect, and reviving his will.

  The creature appeared to be stunned and wavered upon its tall body, the large spear faltering in its hands. Tey’ur barked an order which Zyr could not discern as the pounding drowned all other sounds. Though his vision was blurred and his body weak, Zyr attempted to smash away at the rock which had formed in cool prisons around his feet. Suddenly the air was filled with electrical charge and static. Zyr felt a familiar sensation and dully gazed to the stair to see Tehsa rounding the last stair, arms outstretched in Categor form. Zyr wanted to shout at her, and rebuke her stubbornness. Yet even if his voice could be heard over the incessant gonging, he felt gratitude for Tehsa and the potent Master of Arms being there for him.

  Tey’ur was truly awe-inspiring to watch as he literally overwhelmed the massive creature. His mastery of a very difficult and dangerous weapon hushed even the most hardened veteran. The blade flowed through the air like the relentless wind through the banners of the Hall. It was an intricate dance, each step built upon the previous. The sheer battle ferocity of the master caused a large lump to develop in the monk’s throat. He sheepishly continued to work away at his bonds, disgusted at his youth-like astonishment.

  Lights began to light every crevice and crack, and suddenly the air was filled with sharp jagged bolts which streaked toward the cloaked enemy which had imprisoned Zyr. With a wave of the shadowed figure’s hand, the electricity arced to the ground and fizzled to nothing. Tehsa emitted an oath of frustration for all to hear. She continued to weave more threads of power but Zyr could sense a feeling of despair coming from her. Her most potent attack dispelled with a simple gesture. It was a rare feat. Yet, his faithful Jyril continued to press onward, managing at least to drive their foe to the defensive.

  The massive serpent screamed in great pain as Tey’ur’s massive weapon sliced through its undersides. Despite all of its innate agility, the Serpentine could not counter the tall burly opponent below. It reeled as time and time again the warrior’s large tooth bit through its scales. Tey’ur was summoning all his strength and agility, driven to bodily limits and beyond through adrenal bursts. The tide was shifting on the floor, but the clash of magical energy was still pitched and uncertain.

  Tehsa screamed out in pain as she dropped to her knees. Her hands were smoking as if burned and she held the scarred flesh to her bosom, wincing. The man above had an amused look upon his face as he considered the girl. Zyr watched as the man stretched a hand slowly toward her. “I mark you mine.”

  ‘No!’ he thought and feverishly chipped away at the resilient stone. Normally, his skills would permit him to free himself easily. However, the young man’s mind was dulled by poison and desperation and any sense had been cast to the wind. Blackish strands of energy streaked from the weaver’s fingertips, twisting and curling through the air, licking the air hungrily as they sought their target. The monk watched helplessly as Tehsa raised her head for a moment, and watched her green eyes dilate in horror. The strands wrapped around her body and began to worm their way through her flesh. She screamed violently again and again, thrashing upon the ground. It appeared to him, as he watched helplessly, that her body was near translucent. Energies were beginning to be drawn from her body, collected and snatched by the swirling black strands of power.

  Then Zyr knew what had caused the agonizing sounds from earlier and the true horror of the mountain mystery dawned in his mind. The machine boomed in tandem with the harsh cries of his Jiryl. He understood it clearly. The energy of so many souls, collected for some dark purpose. He drew in his breath sharply, and smote the rocks at his feet, shattering the fetters. In his mind he knew what was required.

  As Tehsa’s body thrashed upon the ground, he dashed past Tey’ur while pulling in his last energies. The snake made to stab at Zyr, for which Tey’ur relieved the creature of its weapon and limb in one fell swoop. Zyr ran on unperturbed; for the young man it would be one final act, which would incapacitate him, but it was worth the cost. He might even save her.

  Zyr brought all of his force down upon the bellows frame, which cracked and splintered under his blow. The torment of Tehsa stopped immediately and, in an instant, Zyr’s body convulsed and sunk to the floor from a viscous attack from energy most vile.

  The shadowed Ashori was now scowling, his outstretched fingers trembling as if in great exertion. Indeed, Zyr could feel his heart being pressed, squeezed as his blood ran suddenly fast. The enemy was a Defiler and had corrupted the use of Mother’s power to stop his heart; already it beat painfully fast under the strain. Rising from the ground, Zyr brought his hands up again. Great stabbing pains wracked across his chest, causing the young man to gasp and falter.

  With a prevailing thought of his Jiryl, his Tehsa, he summoned his resolve and brought his pulsing white hands down upon the weakened frame. It groaned and bent under the strain as new grinding noises screeched through the air, as gears were pressed upon and bent out of shape. A thousand daggers pieced through his heart, and Zyr felt his conscious slip like a shadow upon the wall. In one last surge he beat upon the great thundering machine and brought the structure crashing down to the ground and upon himself.

  The young monk’s mind began to drift as the black streams of venom and lingering energy coursed heavily through his veins. He imagined he heard a terrible sound, so overpowering it froze his weakened body. It echoed everywhere and became everything. In his dazed state, locked down to the floor, the monk felt like a reed tossed about by waves on the lakeshore. Great flashes of power and intense feelings of fear washed over and consumed him. His eyes were closed now; the world was fading, and his soul edging over the lip of the black abyss. Then his mind slipped away from the physical world.

  ***

  “Zyr?” the voice was soft, drawing him from the darkness. “Zyr … there are things I need to say, and the master says that you can hear me.”

  The monk felt his body drifting, floating weightless as the words passed through his mind. “I wish I could have told you everything that I was feeling, that moment on the mountain. I’m not sure where to begin, and I don’t know if you’ll remember … but maybe … you know already. I love you. Why is it so wrong to say that? I cannot believe how much my feelings have grown for you.”

  Silence.

  “I wish you could show me some sign that you hear me. I don’t even know if you care the same … It frightens me that you might not. I felt something in your gaze upon those slopes, warm and inviting, but those things are so foreign to me. All you have ever cared about is yourself and you have pushed me aside for so long. I hated you so much back then, and in some ways I still do. It’s funny. Though you cannot speak, all I want is to tell you everything I feel, and hear your voice telling me what I want to hear. Yet, somewhere deep within, I am glad you are here, listening. I can finally share everything with you, without everything else getting in the way.”

  As the young man’s mind caught hold of the voice, he felt himself slowly being pulled from the mists. “I want to leave the Order … with you … and … and start a new life together. You know, no more Mihyl or Jiryl. I could take care of everything! You won’t have to work if you don’t want
to … you don’t have to train anymore. I’ll make sure everything is perfect for you … and maybe … you can love me enough to … just think how happy we will be! Oh Zyr, it will be so wonderful, away from here. I hate these halls; I only stay to be with you! My worst fear is that you will leave me here … alone. Or grow apart from me. Something happened in that horrid mountain. I was frightened; I still am. That strange power wasn’t destroying me, it was like it was seeking to know me … to discover something. I wish I could explain … wait ... no, why now …?”

  A sound of metal sliding across metal came to the monk’s ears. Then footsteps coming close to where he lay.

  “How is he faring, young Seeker?”

  “Humble Servant, I … he seems the same as always. I just wanted to be near him.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable, young lady, as you two have never been apart. The Tetsu is a delicate balance and to lose one half is to lose the whole.”

  “I wish I could help. He just lies there, for days now. Are you sure that he can hear me?”

  “A mind-sleep is a difficult state to assess and yet we can assume certain things. His body is healing itself and we must be patient. He used up every last thread of power in his body, which is no small recovery. The venom had spread through his entire system. Also, breaking the curse of his enemy took a substantial amount of energy, and such powerful weaving may bring unfortunate side effects. He may not retain every memory from the recent past. Thankfully, his body will be fine and it is simply recovering from the shock of the curse breaking.