The House of Grey- Volume 4

by Earl, Collin

  To their credit, the other two looked slightly ashamed of themselves after their scolding. They muttered whispered apologies without looking at each other, then turned their attention back to Monson. The two brothers stepped forward.

  “Master Grey,” said the silver-haired man in a gentle voice. “I would like to introduce myself but I must ask you to utter neither my name nor my brother’s aloud.”

  “OK.” Monson looked at him confused. “But why wouldn’t you want me to say your name out loud?”

  “I am truly sorry.” He gave a small bow. “I know it is a great deal to request of you, yet right now we require you to trust your instincts and listen.”

  Monson sighed. He absolutely hated it when people said things like that. This was not some bad soap opera. Just tell him what was going on! But Monson saw the urgency in the man’s eyes and knew he had to trust him. This was where the instinct kicked in. He nodded his head. “I will not repeat your names.”

  “Very well, then. I should say that I have been waiting a long time to meet you, Monson Grey. My name is Yari.” He smiled broadly and bowed again. Monson, sensing the significance of the event, actually bowed back.

  The wild-looking man grinned in anticipation as he stepped forward, closely watched by the other two.

  “We’ve actually met, though I don’t expect you to remember. I hope you will call on me again when you’re in trouble….”

  The rest of his words were drowned out by very loud “ahem”s from the other two. The wild-looking man turned around, his malicious grin reattached. He spun back to face Monson again.

  “You can call me Gi.”

  “Nice to meet both of you.”

  “Very well,” said the other Monson. “Now that we are finished with introductions, we have a few things that we must show you. Things that you must know before you can—”

  “Wait just a second,” interrupted Monson. “That’s it? You’re just going to tell me your names?”

  The other three just looked at him, their confusion apparent.

  “Not that having your names isn’t great and everything, but I still have no idea who you all are. It’s hard for me to trust someone I know nothing about.” When no one objected, he continued. “Look at it from my point of view: I get sucked into my mirror by myself, taken to a forest in the middle of nowhere, then I have to sit here and listen to my mirror image and two random people talk about heaven knows what? Oh, and let’s not forget that the last time I caught a glimpse of you all, I’m pretty sure you were in the middle of a stress-induced cage match. Now? Now you’re asking me to trust you? How about you trust me and tell me what the HELL is going on?”

  Monson’s counterpart spoke with a certain degree of pleading. “Monson, I wish we could, but there are other forces at work here. We cannot take the chance of you knowing too much, too early. You do not understand. You could die.”

  Monson started to respond but his twin put up a hand, silencing him.

  “I know that all of this must seem surreal to you, Monson. However, time grows short. There are things that you must see, things that only you can do. So I will ask you one last time, will you trust us?”

  Monson gazed at each of the three individuals. He took notice of the fire in their eyes that seemed both passionate and pure. He thought about the night’s events and all the other weird and unexplainable things that he had witnessed up to this point. He wanted answers, and this might be the only way to get them. He sighed.

  “I will trust you, all of you. But you have to give me your word that you will properly explain yourself at some point.”

  “Agreed,” said the three in unison. This little exchange hung over them for a moment as they watched each other. Then Yari stepped forward, motioning for Monson to come closer.

  “Hero,” said Yari, giving him a slight smile. “What I am about to show you should not be used in the outer world of the humans. It would be dangerous to them. Though I think it will be some time until you are able to accomplish this task, this is the first step of the transition.”

  He stopped and looked at Gi. “Breath of the Dragon. I will use the River’s Serenity.”

  He looked back at Monson. “Watch carefully, great one, as this may be your only opportunity. Behold the Magi Blade.”

  Both men squared up to one another, bowed, and then draped the tails of their robes over their shoulders.

  Intrigued, Monson stepped forward.

  They placed their right hands on their shoulders. Then, slowly, they traced the length of their arms to their wrists until a sort of shell shrouded in an odd light removed from the arm and shoulder. Gi’s was brilliant silver while Yari’s was something closer to white platinum. It was like a snake molting, except that this “skin” had some sort of stable structure; it did not crumble but continued to hold the shape of the men’s arms. Both men grabbed their shells and shaped them into glimmering cylinders of about three feet in length, and two inches in diameter. The shells were completely transparent, and seemed to pulse with anticipation. Both men turned to face one another in a knightly pose. Gi fumed, a restless blood lust mounting. Yari remained calm and focused, the picture of self-restraint and discipline. They held their shafts of energy skyward, both hands near the bottom of the shaft, and then squared up to one another like dueling swordsmen.

  Next, both men let their bottom hand fall to their side. Using their pointer and middle fingers, they started to make weird slashes, the glowing traces of Gi’s silver and Yari’s white platinum hanging brightly in the air like camera-flash-induced glare. They completed their gesturing, and then raised their free hands with fingers spread and palms facing up as if each man was asking for a low five. Monson watched as expressions of intense focus took over the faces of both men.

  Something started to happen...something significant. What though…what was it?

  Monson felt a whoosh of energy like a concussion wave followed by a burst of heat. He closed his eyes, reacting to the ripple of energy. Once opened, Monson beheld a sphere of crackling energy forming on Gi’s right hand. A mix of red, yellow and orange, the small orb was dancing in place, spinning and growing steadily until it was about the size of a golf ball. Monson switched his attention to Yari to find that he, too, had a glowing form on his hand. In contrast to the reddish hues of Gi’s, Yari’s ball of energy was the deepest of blues and seemed to embody every variation of color from light to dark. Instead of heat, an overwhelming coolness emanated from the space around Yari and his tiny globe. Monson watched each of the glowing orbs for a moment; then, with quick hands, Gi and Yari violently jammed the orbs into the bottom of their cylinders. A violent commingling of light, smoke and color followed, as some sort of spiritual debris splashed over everyone. Monson felt burned and cooled almost simultaneously. When it all cleared, both Gi and Yari had assumed fencing positions with...swords in their hands. They had just created swords!

  Monson gazed in awe at the weapons. Gi’s blade was glowing with the color of life fluids, simmering with a forge’s heat, as large flames swirled around both the blade and his arm. The look on Gi’s face spoke of blood lust and…power, immense power.

  The power and heat of Gi’s blade contrasted sharply with the cool refinement of Yari’s aquatic blue one. His blade felt almost ethereal. The weapon left a ghost of itself in its wake, creating the illusion of multiple blades as Yari handled it.

  “What in the...” Monson felt the exclamation spill from him, but then he suddenly burst out. “Holy crap! If that isn’t the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  “Shh...” said Monson’s clone in a quiet voice. “Watch closely.”

  Both men said something in a language that Monson did not recognize, but that sounded vaguely familiar. Then they were off. What followed was like no sparring match Monson had ever seen or even imagined. Movements and poses that he knew were not humanly possible flared with ease as both men tried to find an opening in the other’s defenses. As expected, Gi’s style was wild, aggre
ssive and explosively powerful. He continually shifted his blade from a forehand to a backhand position and augmented his strikes with aggressive hand combat, with bursts of swirling handheld flames increasing his combat effectiveness. The style felt strongly reminiscent of Casey’s fighting mode, but less form-centered and much less controlled.

  Gi attacked with both his blade and fire-tipped extremities, striking at the face and chest of Yari, but no matter what he used to strike or how he struck, he could not penetrate Yari’s defenses. Yari’s style fluidly meshed patient blows and counterblows; he wasted no energy on unnecessary posturing. Small movements close to the body blocked every slash and thrust thrown his way. The style was so graceful it was almost beautiful. Bursts of mist met blasts of flame as the concoction of elements entangled and vied against one another, giving off the feel not of fire and mist but of passion and fluidity, abstract concepts that Monson did not even attempt to understand.

  The battle continued for a few minutes until both men, exchanging a look, stopped, cradled their weapons, and bowed again.

  “Amazing!” Monson’s voice reflected his awe. He felt completely blown away by the display. “What in the world was that?”

  “Magi Blades,” Monson’s counterpart said simply. “Along with my two other admonitions, this is what we have come to show you.”

  “But why? Why would I need to see this?”

  “The Magi’s Blade is the key to your release,” said Yari as his magical weapon evaporated, becoming mist, then vapor, then nothing. “You should know now, Monson Grey, that you have power. You have felt it before. Your power is extraordinary. Yet, it means nothing if you do not know...”—he hesitated as if he was choosing his words carefully—“how to use it.”

  “Guys,” began Monson, unsettled. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but I’m just a normal—”

  Yari put up a hand, cutting him off. “Do not say you are normal. You were never normal. You will never be normal.”

  Monson sighed. It wasn’t like he actually believed it either.

  “This is crucial,” whispered the other Monson. “You must understand. Only then will the markings be breached.”

  Monson sighed again, looking at all of them.

  “Let’s say for minute that this isn’t a total figment of my imagination, which I’m not saying it’s not, but let’s just pretend for now. How does watching a sparring match teach me how to use this power? What do these blades have to do with anything?”

  “Everything,” answered Monson’s mirrored self. “The Magi Blade is a representation of something much greater. Before we or your guardians can teach you anything else, the construction and preservation of this weapon must be attained. This blade is the mark of any real magic user. And you, Monson Grey, are a magic user. You just do not know it yet.”

  Guardians, blades, power, magic...magic? Magic was real...? Ho-ly crap!

  “Our time is quickly coming to an end,” Yari interrupted. “Do you remember everything we have told you?”

  “Well yeah,” Monson said in a hurried voice. “But I don’t understand the blade thing. Are you trying to tell me that I have to figure out how to make it by myself?”

  “Precisely,” answered the other Monson.

  “How in the heck am I going to do that?”

  “Just remember that you have power,” interjected Gi in a surprisingly soft voice. “Look deep within the depths of your heart and remember what you’ve always known. The power to perform will be there when you need it and the tools are all around if you know where to look. The air, the earth, the flame, the mist, and the heavens will guide you. Oh—and this might help.” Without another word, Gi tossed the flame-wrapped Magi Blade through the air, sending it hurtling towards Monson. Monson reacted and caught the blade near its middle. He should have been cut—it was a blade after all—but he was not. Instead, the searing heat of the blade scorched his hand.

  “Gi, what in the world are you doing?” demanded the other Monson angrily.

  “I was just testing his constraints,” answered Gi, looking slightly disappointed. “I wanted to see how long it would be until I was able to come out and play again.”

  “If you had wavered in your control you…!” yelled Monson’s counterpart. “What are you attempting to do? Kill yourself and everyone else?”

  “You worry, intruder. Look at the kid. He’s sturdy.”

  “Enough!” said Yari loudly. “We do not possess the time for this. Look!” All four of them looked into the depths of forest and saw something that caused Monson’s breath to catch. The dream world was disappearing right before their eyes. Engulfing the scenery was a strange fog unlike any fog that Monson had ever seen before. It was almost as if the world itself was dissolving into the fog…into nothing. Something occurred to Monson.

  “I’m waking up, aren’t I?” He looked at the three. He really was dreaming.

  The other Monson answered. “Correct. Is there anything else we can tell you before you go?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact there is.” Monson pointed at his mirror. “What’s your name?”

  Monson’s twin smiled. “You are right! I have not told you my name. You can call me Dawn.”

  “Dawn?” asked Monson, raising his eyebrow. “Why Dawn?”

  “It is my favorite time of the day,” said Dawn, smiling.

  Monson smiled back. “That’s not corny or anything,”

  Chapter 42 - Ice

  “Good morning, Hero.”

  Brian’s voice interrupted Monson’s attempt to collect his scattered thoughts. Not that he was making any progress anyway. Monson’s butler entered his room holding some freshly laundered clothes. “It is not like you to sleep this late. Having nightmares again?”

  Sleeping? He wished. He had actually awoken a couple of hours ago, his body covered with sweat. He had tried to go back to sleep, he wanted to sleep, he needed to sleep. Sleep, however, did not happen. His brain refused to turn off, and at the forefront of his mind sat Dawn, Gi, Yari, and everything he had experienced in the dream world. It was weird, even for him. Could it actually be real? Could a weapon known as the Magi Blade really exist? And why would it be so important for him to be able to use it? He opened his eyes and shook his head as he realized the implications of what he was thinking. Was he insane? There was no such thing as magic! It went against what he knew to be true. But then Monson considered all the stuff that he had experienced: Casey’s mystical martial art, Artorius’ strange resiliency, Kylie’s mind control power, not to mention his own unnatural memory loss, token moments of extreme combat ability, and…the list just kept growing.

  He felt as if he was suddenly starring in some bad epic fantasy novel. Unexplained talents, bizarre happenings, powers beyond human comprehension, and many unanswered questions. Worst of all was the lack of direction and guidance. His inner fan club expected him to work this all out on his own. How was he supposed to do that when he did not even have a proper teacher?

  Monson thought of his counterpart, Yari and Gi. “If you’re all supposed to be the mentor in this story then you’re doing a sucky job”.

  “Master Grey, are you with me?”

  “Sorry Brian,” apologized Monson. He sat up. “I’m a bit out of it.”

  He rubbed his eyes vigorously. It was as if he could still see the glow of the Magi Blade in front of his eyes. When he opened them again, he immediately shrank back; Brian was standing right next to his bed, examining him intently.

  “Little close there, Bri-guy.” Monson continued scooting away from him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Monson?”

  The sound of his first name startled him. Brian almost never called him by his first name—like never ever. So when he did, it made Monson nervous. He waited in anticipation.

  Brian gazed in concern at Monson’s hand. Monson glanced down and saw a strange burn that wrapped around his entire hand. He gulped at seeing the mark...it was real—all of it. His trip int
o the mirror, his conversation with himself, his first tutorial in the formation of the Magi Blade, and the magical duel on a riverbank. Everything just became a great deal more complicated.

  Brian lifted Monson’s hand to inspect the burn and touched it gingerly. This alarmed Monson. He was not sure what made him more nervous, the fact that a burned hand from a dream had followed him into the land of consciousness or that he was now going to have to try to explain it to one of the few people who could read him like a book.

  “How did you acquire this burn?” Brian continued to examine the hand.

  Monson considered telling the truth, weighing his chances of not sounding like a psycho. Deciding his chances were not so good, he lied. He lied like his very life depended on it.

  “You know….” Monson flipped through a list of excuses in his head. “It’s kind of a funny story.”

  “Yes, I am listening.”

  “I was cooking…on the stove…and I accidentally grabbed the handle when it was hot and…well, yeah. Not very much fun.”

  Brian’s brow furrowed, an expression that made it plain to see that he did not believe a word.

  “Hey, what time is it?” inquired Monson in a very nonchalant way. “For some reason I feel really hungry.”

  Brian’s eyes narrowed even further. Monson could tell that Brian knew exactly what he was doing. Thankfully, he did not call him on it. “Well, you should be hungry. It is almost noon.”

  “Noon?” Monson popped out of bed, instantly going pale. “Crap, Taris is going to kill me!”

  Monson dressed at top speed and five minutes later, he was out the door. This was not good. He was busted. He was more than busted, he was dead. So dead—so very, very dead. Taris was going to kill him. They were supposed to go into town today as their third official date. Thankfully, he was only about a half-hour late. If he was lucky, she would still be there. Monson ran all the way to the outskirts of the Gardens.