by T. C. Edge
This is your fault, I think, my eyes on fire. You are to blame for all of this…
Watching the death of his brother, the other Seeker’s eyes blare, and he comes at me furiously. Knight, too, shows a new emotion. There’s no smile or snigger to his visage now. It’s been beaten back and broken down. It’s not even anger and fury that sets his eyes aflame. Those fires have been doused, replaced by a look that sets my own face rising with pleasure.
Fear.
That’s what I see in him now. I can feel it too, spreading out from him, his eyes widening as he looks upon the departed clone, his body twisted in agony on the floor.
I only get to see him momentarily, though, before the other Seeker reaches me. My eyes aren’t on him, but I see him coming all the same. I feel every move of his body, every beat of his heart. As the sight of Cyra and AK1 flows down the connection into my mind, I note every move he makes before he even considers making it.
And as he comes at me, with his own focus lost, his own fury immeasurable, I know he’s not long for this world. I know, now, that there’s nothing he can do to me.
As the murderer of his brother, his attention turns to me, and me alone. The dam of his rage has been breached. There’s nothing controlled about him now. All his power, all his strength, sparks out of him in all directions, every little move he makes so visible to my new senses.
I have no trouble dodging around his attacks, no problem avoiding the probing strikes of his knife. As AK1 continues to hold Knight at bay, watching on unable to help, Cyra sweeps round this time to administer the killing blow.
I hear Knight bellow as he stands there, impotent, watching as his final Seeker feels the sting of my mother’s blade. Once more, I feel no joy at seeing the tip come through the front of his neck, at the sudden shock and pain that fills his eyes as Cyra comes at him from behind.
When his body crumbles to the floor, right to the side of the other Seeker, and the crimson pool gathers between them, I feel only pity and sorrow. Across the room, the Baron and his cowardly allies have fallen silent. They stare wide-eyed at us, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Never could they have expected the day to go like this.
And now, standing between them and us, only one man remains. Augustus Knight, in his new body, gathers his composure once again, and pulls himself up to his full height.
“You’ve grown strong, Cyra,” he says, looking at my mother. I can hear the deflation in his voice, as his eyes sweep across the three of us. Yet still, some defiance remains. “Do you think you’re strong enough?”
My mother shakes her head.
“Me?” she asks. “No, Augustus. I was never strong enough for you.” Her eyes turn to me, and then to AK1, the two of us flanking her. “But these two…that’s a different story.”
Knight’s eyes fall into further darkness as they set on AK1. He stares at him for a moment, a look of disgust rising up on his face.
“Weak…” he hisses. “Traitor…”
His words cause a stir in his half clone. AK1’s eyes widen with anger, that same unsuppressed, incandescent rage that constantly simmers beneath the surface of all of these clones. I can feel him about to pounce, about to surge, but Cyra’s hand sweeps out in front of him.
“It’s OK,” she says, calmly. “His words are empty. Like his heart. Like his soul.”
“Heart and soul,” cackles Knight. “There’s no such thing.”
Cyra smiles at him. “You really are the same as ever, Augustus,” she says. “But you won’t share the same fate as your old body. No…that’s not enough for you.”
Suddenly, I feel her move forward before she even does so, and AK1 and I are dragged along for the ride. We push forward as a three, driving in as Knight’s eyes open once more with that element of fear.
Fear that his life is about to end. Fear that his rule will be so short. Fear that his legacy will be wiped out right here, right now.
He gathers himself just in time as we strike together. We dart in with our fists, circling him, coming from all sides, his own blade slashing and stabbing at us. Our knives deflect the attacks, but his movements remain quick, using the last of his energy as we close in like a pack of sharks.
I can see it coming now, see the end in sight. His movements begin to slow, our attacks finding their range, nibbling at him, beating at his body. Little cuts dig into his flesh, the tips of our knives drawing blood. Fists hit hard at his limbs, at his face, bursting teeth from his gums and splitting his lips.
His body becomes soaked in blood, dribbling from his face and cheeks, from a dozen wounds across his flesh. Little by little, we cut him down and watch as he sinks to his knees, his arms slowly dropping to his sides.
I see AK1 move around his back, hovering behind him with his knife. He looks at Cyra, standing right in front of him, waiting for the order from his new leader. She shakes her head and he steps back a touch, as Knight’s lips dribble with blood, and his grey eyes sink deeper into his skull.
“Well, Augustus, isn’t this familiar,” oozes my mother’s voice. “You won’t remember this, of course, but you died just like this twenty years ago. On your knees, defeated before me…”
His eyes rise up to her, the final flicker of fire behind them.
“Then finish it,” he says, goading her. “End it all forever.”
She looks at him for a good long while, and then shakes her head.
“Oh no, Augustus. I said you wouldn’t share the same fate as before. That isn’t enough, not for you.”
His eyes simmer with fear once again.
“Then what?” he asks, trying to prevent his voice from quivering.
“Oh, don’t be afraid,” she whispers. “You’ll find out soon…”
And with that, she nods at AK1, who steps forward and swings his heavy fist across Knight’s head.
And there before us, our enemy lies, defeated once more.
31
Brother
Silence swamps us all. Knight’s new body lies before us, breathing lightly, his eyes closed, blood trickling to the floor from many little wounds.
My mother looks at him for a moment, just staring at his beaten form. Then, slowly, she turns to me, and draws me into a long hug.
“We did it, mum,” I say. “We did it.”
She nods at me, and finally her cool begins to break and thaw, a tear running from her eye. She turns to her father’s body, and once more her face becomes etched with pain.
“You should be proud of him,” I whisper. “Without him, none of this would have happened.”
“I…I know,” she says weakly. “I am proud. I’m so proud of you both.”
She draws me into another hug, and gently kisses my cheek, before releasing me once more. We turn to AK1, an energy still bristling around him, standing guard over Knight’s unconscious, bloodied frame.
“How can we ever thank you?” my mother asks, moving closer towards him.
“You…don’t have to,” he answers. “I’ve done terrible things.”
“And wonderful things,” says Cyra quickly. “You saved us all.”
He nods, but doesn’t answer. All this must be so alien to him, so new, a fresh part of his own consciousness beginning to wake. He turns to the Baron, who continues to cower with his cohort behind the see-through wall. And once again, a fury builds in his eyes.
“What about him?” he asks. “I’ll happily kill them all…”
“No,” says Cyra, moving over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “There’s been enough death today. Come with me, both of you.”
We begin walking over to the Baron, still locked behind his wall with the rest of the scientists and decorated luminaries who saw to the resurrection of evil. Above us, the war continues to rage, the occasional shudder through the ceiling reminding me that those I care about above remain locked in combat.
As we reach the barrier, my mother turns to me.
“Theo, I trust your special dagger can cut through that?”
Before us, the Baron stands, his eyes locked in anguish as he stares ahead at Knight’s body. His lips seem to move, whispering to himself, unable to compute what’s just happened.
“Baron Reinhold,” says my mother loudly, drawing his eye. “Send word to your people immediately to end the fighting.”
It seems to take a while for her words to sink in, his mind a mess, his eyes swollen and small.
“You heard her!” I shout, stepping forward menacingly.
My movement makes him half jump and yelp, his hands shaking as they rise up in surrender.
“OK...OK…” he whispers. “I’ll…do anything you say…”
We stand and watch as he fumbles with his communicator, his voice rushing as he sends out word to the various commanders out in the field. Soon enough, all of his people have been alerted and ordered to stand down.
Above, the muted sounds of war quieten, the Baron’s voice squeaking into the room.
“What are you going to do with me?” he whimpers.
We all look upon him in disgust, his face stricken, his eyes red. Before him, his God lied defeated. There’s nothing left for him now.
“There are so many people who want to kill you, Baron Reinhold,” fumes Cyra. “Three of them stand before you now. But I won’t deprive the many others of the sight.”
He whimpers in fear again, nothing but a weeping child, as Cyra’s fist flashes across his face and his eyes switch to the back of his skull. He crumbles to the floor, as Cyra takes his leg and begins dragging him out into the room. We add our strength, and slide him right beside Knight.
“Lie with your fallen God,” bites Cyra, as we set about binding their hands.
Now, my mind turns to Velia, and Athena, so nearly forgotten amidst it all. She lurches right back into my head, and I rush over to her to see if she’s OK. I cut the binds on her wrists, as Cyra does the same with Athena, before slowly stroking her hair and drawing her back from her sleep.
One side of her face is badly bruised, but other than that she appears to be OK. Slowly, her eyes open, and set their focus on me.
“Theo…” she whispers.
“It’s me,” I say. “It’s all OK now.”
She sits up, and her eyes take in the room.
“What…what happened here?”
I smile as wide as I have in a while, and draw her into a soft kiss.
“It’s a long story,” I say.
As Athena is roused from her sleep, her own questions begin to tumble. Most of all, their eyes fall upon the bundle of bodies in the middle of the room: the Seeker, who they have no idea is actually Knight; the Baron, lying bound beside him; the other two clones, heaped together in a pool of blood; and AK1, standing above them, no longer our enemy but fondest ally.
Then, to Drake’s body their gazes drift, Athena’s face in particular crinkling in pain.
“Is he…” she starts, looking to Cyra.
My mother nods, and a fresh tear drifts down her cheek as Athena pulls her into a long hug.
I sit back against the wall, exhausted and drained, and feel Velia lay her head against my shoulder. So many questions must lie on the tip of her tongue, so much to tell. And even now, there’s so much still to do.
But as she lies there, she asks only one thing.
“Is it over?” comes her voice, sweet and soft.
I stroke her hair again, and pull her a little closer.
“It’s over,” I say. “It’s all over...”
We stay sitting there for a little while, as Athena rises and sets about communicating with our allies. I wait for word of my father, of my friends, and watch Athena as she paces from side to side, gathering up intel. Cyra, meanwhile, moves over to Drake’s body, sitting beside him, finally able to mourn in peace.
Soon, Athena brings word that my father is safe, and that Ellie is with him. And Link and Ajax, too, have both survived, battling to get here but, in the end, unable to do so.
“They’re coming here now,” says Athena, informing us of the more important events taking place outside.
She doesn’t overload us though, drained as we are. I can sense that she knows where the line is drawn, that we’ve been through enough for one day. So she doesn’t tell us of the thousands of brave men and women we’ve lost. She doesn’t tell us how close we were coming to defeat. She doesn’t tell us, either, that Markus has been killed, lost to the fighting in Piscator. It’s not until later that day that I learn of such things.
Sitting there, with Velia in my arms, I look upon AK1, still standing like a statue above Knight. There’s a growing awkwardness to his face, not quite knowing what to do next, just staring at the ground at his feet.
I call out his name, and his eyes venture towards mine.
“Come sit here,” I say.
He hesitates for a moment, before moving over to the wall and sitting a few paces away from me. All upright and firm, like he’s never been taught how to relax.
Velia’s half closed eyes open up as he comes, her gaze following him.
“Velia, meet AK1,” I say.
She frowns, still confused as to why this Seeker has joined our cause.
“Um, hi…” she says.
AK1 hardly knows where to look. He glances at her, but nothing more, and doesn’t utter a word.
Then, she whispers harshly into my ear: “What’s going on, Theo?”
I smile at her, and take a long breath.
“He’s my brother,” I say. “He’s family…”
She still looks confused, her eyes turning to him again, inspecting him more closely. And then, I see her eyes change as the truth dawns.
“I understand,” she says. “I understand it all now.”
I look to the boy who saved us, and our eyes lock for a moment, the blue in his continuing to grow brighter.
“Brother,” I whisper, staring at him.
Slowly, he nods.
“Brother,” he says.
The minutes drift by, and soon enough the room begins to fill as our allies make it down to join us. I leave AK1 where he is, but promise to stay near him, promise I’ll be back, as I dart forward to meet my father, covered in dust and soot and spattered blood.
As a family we hug, drawn together through the crowd of bodies, Jackson taking up Cyra’s frame as she sobs into his chest, his eyes growing hooded as they look down upon Drake’s body.
More people come, and my eyes search for Ajax, my best friend, my closest ally. He emerges as my father did, covered in the carnage of war, stepping into the vast room alongside Link. The two towering heroes gaze upon it all, and I can only imagine what things might have been like were they in here with us, and Athena and Velia too.
In the end, we managed alone, just my family fighting off the darkness. And now, they’ll all learn of a new member, AK1’s identity no longer to be shrouded in mystery and doubt, his name to be spoken, not as a threat or enemy, but as a hero, as a saviour to us all.
I greet Ajax with a long hug as more people come, and the Baron and the Cabal and the newly embodied Knight are all gathered up and taken away. Through the lands above, the dust will not settle for many days, many weeks. It may even be months before people can consider moving on.
And down here, right now, this is where it all starts. This is the first block placed at the foundation of a new world. Here, right now, we will come together and begin the process of growth once more.
The lost will be mourned. The heroes will be praised. The towns will be rebuilt and the lands resewn.
Here, in this lab, where the fate of the world has been decided, the future will be reset.
And it’s a future that we can call our own.
A future that we can determine.
32
A New World
Never did I expect to attend so many funerals. Never did I ex
pect to see so much death.
It all started with that of Troy, Master of Petram, so many months ago. Now, the new Master is dead too. But it’s not his death that lingers in my mind most of all, it’s that of Drake, my grandfather, a hero without equal.
So close were the two men that they’re sent on their way together. Once more, I find myself out on the plateau of Petram, hardly able to hold back the tears as I stand before the plinth, the bodies of Drake and Markus atop it.
My father stands before them, issuing a touching eulogy to two men he knew so well. Across the plateau, and the city inside the mountain, tears are shed and silent words of prayer and thanks are whispered. The same will be happening all across the lands, from the far Western shores to the Eastern coast where both men met their ends. Tears for them, and tears for others; tens of thousands of soldiers and civilians who will were killed in the conflict.
The architect of it all has already seen his end, answering for his crimes before the masses. No one wanted to wait for that. No one wanted to have it hanging over them. As our armies gathered on the stretch of earth between the cities of Piscator and Mercator, a stage was hastily erected.
Upon it, the Baron was set, tied up to a noose, his mouth gagged so we couldn’t hear his wails and pathetic cries for mercy. Many thousands surrounded him, witnessing his end, watching from any vantage point they could find.
But only one could be given the honour of kicking away the stool.
So many wanted it, so many staking their claim. But in the end, only one person came to mind, the one who’d spent more time than any under his thumb.
It was a symbolic moment when AK1 stepped up to the stage, and looked the Baron in the eye. When he struck out with his foot, and kicked away the stool, and set the Baron swinging wildly in the air, his hands bound and neck tightly wrapped in strong rope.
As his face when red and then blue, no one uttered a word of pity. And right there, the real purpose of AK1 was revealed to the masses, this boy who had been bred for chaos, groomed to be infused with the mind of Augustus Knight.