by Jeff Gunzel
“I see.” Xavier nodded, looking around. All were still staring at him in complete silence without even so much as a cough. Then he spotted a separate group a ways off up on a hill. Sitting on the grass, a number of what appeared to be children were watching them from a distance. Their icy glares told him all he needed to know. Maybe it was something in the way he was raised, but Xylia’s word just wasn’t enough for Xavier. He needed to hear their objections with his own ears. “I think I’ll go have a word with them,” he said simply.
“That is not necessary,” Xylia objected as he stalked away. “I told you my word is final. Your reaching out to them will accomplish nothing.”
Xavier slowed a moment, glancing back over his shoulder. “If that is truly what you believe, then it’s a wonder you’ve stayed in power for so long.” He kept going without waiting for a response. He walked over to the group of what appeared to be small children, perhaps two dozen or so. Most ignored him, looking away, while others poked at the loose ground between their feet with sticks. But a few met his gaze, the icy frost in those eyes completely at odds with their youthful appearances. Children didn’t know how to hate. At worst they displayed acts of frustration. Hate was not an innate emotion; it was learned later in life. Yet another reminder that these were most certainly not children.
“Would any of you care to speak your minds?” Xavier asked. They stirred, many just looking away as he waited. “No one? I am giving you a chance to speak from your hearts. Does no one wish to take advantage?”
“The elder has already spoken,” one of the girls finally said.
“Yes, so I’ve been told.”
“It doesn’t matter what we think of her decision.”
“And that is where you are wrong,” Xavier replied, moving closer to the girl. “I care very much what you think.”
“No you don’t,” another boy accused. He spit on the ground then threw his hands in the air. “And why should you? You’ve won! The elder has already fallen for your lies, and nothing we say can change her mind. You have nothing to worry about, stranger. You are free to make a mockery of our traditions and no one can stop you.”
“Tradition?” Xavier said. “Is that what this little protest is all about? Have I somehow tainted the traditions of this little village that time forgot?”
“Yes!” the boy said, rising to his feet. Others nodded, inspired by his open aggression. He was merely stating what all of them were thinking. “Did you even know that the ritual can only be done once in a century?” Xavier blinked. No, he wasn’t aware of that at all. “It will be another hundred years before another can be chosen. In the meantime, the gift of the ancients is about to be wasted on some outsider. It’s madness, I say! But what do you care? Our elder has already been proven to be blind to your deceptions. But we are not fooled, even if she can’t see the truth!”
Xavier stepped back as more and more joined in with their accusations. He had been planning this from the start... He was sent to infiltrate their village and steal its secrets... And on and on it went. It was strange to see those chubby, youthful faces so filled with rage. Everything about it just seemed so unnatural, so wrong. But this was what he wanted, after all. He wanted them to speak their minds, so he forced himself to stand there and face their outrage without judgment, and with an open mind. More than once he had to hold his tongue.
“So it is your belief that I have taken what is rightfully yours,” Xavier said when the group had finally calmed down somewhat. “Is that correct? I am not worthy, therefore I have no right to be chosen?”
“What have you done to earn the ancients’ gift?” came a shout from the back.
“And what have you done?” Xavier replied, his eyes quickly finding the source. A girl with brown hair glared at him. She appeared to be around eight or so, but those eyes were much, much older than that. “What have any of you done besides being born in the right place at the right time?” There was some shuffling about, but no one spoke. “I did not come here to break your traditions. I did not even come here by choice! Your people found me and brought me here. One thing led to another, and not once did I feel as if I had any control over anything. It was as if my life was being controlled by some unseen force!” Xavier stopped and thought about what he was saying.
“I never felt like I was in control,” he whispered to himself.
Tell me, Xavier, do you believe in fate? He could hear Xylia’s words in the back of his mind. Had she known all this time? It was a question he would probably never learn the answer to.
“You say this ritual can only be attempted once every century. Does anyone even remember who was the last to be honored by this great gift, as you call it?” Again no one spoke as they exchanged looks of confusion. “Two centuries ago? Three perhaps? Not one of you can remember a single name?”
“We are not at war!” came a shout from another boy. “There has been no reason to perform the ritual for centuries because it has not been needed. This is not a game, outsider. You take too lightly that which you do not understand.”
“You are wrong,” Xavier said softly, removing his shirt. They gasped at his scar-covered body. How could one so young have seen so much violence already? “I do not take my mission lightly and I will do whatever it takes to finish what I’ve started.” He looked to the boy who spoke last. “You are the one who doesn’t understand. We are at war even if your sheltered village does not realize it yet.”
Xavier traced one of the scars across his chest with his fingertip. “Each of these marks was earned while protecting the realm from the evils that lurk in the shadows. And before I draw my last breath, I suspect I will earn many more. This is my life. I will never know the comforts of living in a peaceful village such as this, hidden away from all the world’s horrors. I will never know what it’s like to live on for centuries, never once wondering if this might be the day a fang or tooth finally pierces my heart.” He stepped back, his muscles swelling as his body tensed. He was nowhere near as big as Owen, but his body was lean and hard like he was carved out of wood.
“You say I have not earned the right to gain advantage against my enemies, but they are your enemies as well,” Xavier continued. “That I am willing to go back into the real world to fight, and possibly die, for you as well as every living creature in this world, is not enough in your eyes? Then so be it.” He pointed to the group, his finger sweeping across them.
“Let any who wish to take my place speak now. Either challenge me yourself or choose a champion of your choice to take your place. It matters not to me. In offering you the chance to take back what you believe is rightfully yours, I am giving you exactly what you wanted, am I not? But make no mistake, I will paint this very ground with the blood of all who stand before me and my duty. I made an oath many years ago and I am not afraid to sacrifice my life in service of that oath. Can any of you say the same?”
The group began scooting away from the crazed stranger. Sure, they didn’t believe this outsider was worthy of being in this privileged position, but none of them had seriously considered taking his place, either. In truth, they weren’t entirely sure what the ancient ritual truly was anyway. As Xavier had already suspected, it hadn’t been performed in centuries. For all they knew, it was just as much a gift as it was a curse.
“If each of you takes a chance at bringing me down, fatigue will prevail in the end,” Xavier said, waiting for someone to step up. “It is simple numbers, really. I can’t beat you all. Your eventual victory is guaranteed if you are willing to come take it. How many lives will I take before you succeed? The real question is how many of you are willing to find out? You think I’ve taken your gift from you? Fine, then come take it back! And when my body is broken beyond its limits, which I promise you is the only way I will be stopped, the lucky winner can leave this precious town and go take my place out in the real world. Go face the ghatins alone, fight for a thankless world that doesn’t even recognize you’re alive. After all, that would have been my
job.
“I already know I’m a dead man. I sealed my fate in blood many years ago when I made my oath to defend mankind. Whether my end comes now or ten years from now makes little difference to me. I have nothing to lose, so in turn I have nothing to fear. Now I’m tired of talking. Come prove your worth to the world. Come take back what you believe is yours.”
Not a single person moved or even drew breath. They never considered that this outsider’s motives might not have anything to do with greed or power. Perhaps he really was trying to defend the realm from this shadow enemy that had risen without warning. Was he really willing to die for his cause? Testing this young man no longer seemed like such a good idea. And the ancient gift they were so concerned about a moment ago? Right now, it seemed more like a curse.
Eyes turned as one child got up. Xavier watched the boy as he stood in silence, his eyes stony and cold. Of course, this was no boy, and Xavier had no intention of treating him as one. His promise to them had not been some idle threat. Any who tried to stop him would be killed without hesitation. In Xavier’s mind, this was not callous thinking at all. It was his duty and nothing more. One by one the others began to stand. Soon everyone was on their feet watching this stranger. Xavier tensed, ready in case they all rushed him at once.
This first boy stepped forward cautiously. He stood before Xavier, those dark, thoughtful eyes clashing with that youthful face. Deceptive, cunning, they held the wisdom of several lifetimes. “Are you really going to defeat the ghatins?” he asked, that soft, youthful voice not matching those eyes at all.
“No,” Xavier admitted, his voice nearly as soft. “I’m not strong enough. But I swear to find and protect the one who can.” The boy sighed, then looked back over his shoulder and nodded to the others.
* * *
Xylia waited with the rest of the village, listening to the other elders grumble among themselves. Even they weren’t certain about Xylia’s choice. What did they owe this outsider? Who was he to just show up out of nowhere and—
“He has returned,” Xylia interrupted, pointing to the hill. “And it appears he is not alone.” The elders, and all those around them, turned to see. Marching at Xavier’s back were all those who had distanced themselves in protest.
“I am ready,” Xavier said, the others not only following him but now standing at his back in unity. “We are ready,” he corrected himself. Somehow he had not only convinced them to come back, but he had gained their allegiance as well.
“What did you say to them?” Xylia asked, truly astonished by the sight.
“I told them the truth,” Xavier said. “I know you are wise and have witnessed many a lifetime, Xylia. But you have lived those centuries from behind a one-way looking glass. The passing of time does not breed wisdom unless one is forced to adapt to change. Your word is final. Those were your exact words. But having the final say in any society, whether it be a small village or a vast kingdom, means nothing if others don’t share or understand your vision. A single misstep and a leader becomes tyrant in the eyes of the people. If you’re not sure which you are, then you need to rethink everything you know.” He glanced to his back. “When given a choice, I will accept loyalty over control any day.”
“I see,” Xylia said, surprised. She had already seen strength in this young man and knew he was the perfect choice. But she hadn’t expected to be this impressed by him. The outside world was full of surprises. “Remove your clothing, then. It is time to begin.
* * *
Xavier groaned as the straps around his hands and feet tightened. Attached to four poles, they creaked with tension as his naked body lifted up off the sand. Torches in the sand blazed around him, their intense heat causing him to sweat profusely. The crackling flames danced in the slight breeze, their flickering light reflecting off his glistening body.
He turned his head at the sound of bleating goats, two as far as he could see. Both animals were wrestled to the ground, knives tucked under their chins as their heads were tilted back. They shrieked as the blades drew across their necks, choking while blood ran freely from the cuts. They flopped and squirmed as townsfolk pulled on the cords strung over the branches above, hoisting them up by their legs. Buckets were quickly held underneath them to collect the spurting blood.
“Just try and relax,” Xylia said, standing over Xavier with the other elders nearby. Shifting around on their feet, constantly glancing back at the hung animals, they did not seem to share in Xylia’s confidence.
“I understand this hasn’t been done to anyone for centuries. It that true?” Xavier asked, now feeling some doubt for the first time. Xylia answered by saying nothing. “Then how do you know if it’s even going to work? Are these just stories passed down from each generation, or have you actually done this before?”
Xavier turned his head at the sound of splashing. One of the townsfolk was inching along with one of the buckets, spilling blood as he went until it formed a circle around them. The blood splattered and foamed, causing the sand to turn blackish.
“I have,” she replied, looking up as she thought back on the memory. “I performed the ritual on a young woman many centuries ago.”
“And where is she now? What happened to her?” Xavier asked. She glanced down at him briefly before looking away. Xavier sighed, knowing that once again he would get no specific answer to his question. “Then why the bindings?” he asked, pulling back on his wrist. The tightly bound strap cracked with tension. “Is this somehow for my protection?”
She glanced down at him again, a hint of amusement on her face. “No, Xavier. Keeping you bound is for our protection, not yours. The effects have been known to be somewhat...unpredictable. For this reason, there was even a time when these ancient magics had been outlawed. The only thing that brought them back into practice was the war against the ghatins.” She gestured to those around them. “That was generations ago. Few here were even around at that time.”
Xavier took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Tell me the truth. Is my life in jeopardy?”
Xylia placed a gnarled hand on his sweaty chest. “Would my answer make any difference?” she asked in return.
“No, it wouldn’t,” he admitted, rolling his head back to stare straight up at the stars. The stars? He hadn’t even noticed them until now. The sky was so clear tonight. When he unfocused his eyes, the stars seemed to twinkle all at once. They looked like thousands of white gems rushing straight towards him. It was strangely comforting to feel so small. Xavier had never been more aware of his own mortal limits than he was at this moment. It was humbling, and at least for the moment it brought him a sense of peace.
“What!” he protested, startled when a warm splash hit his face. He blinked while spitting blood from his mouth. Ignoring his objections, a woman walked around him, stopping every so often to pour more blood on him. Showing little regard for personal boundaries, the elders rubbed the blood all around his naked body. Vision blurry, he shook his head back and forth while trying to blink it away from his eyes. Paying no attention to his discomfort, the elders rubbed away at his chest, genitals, and legs, smoothing the blood over every inch of his body.
The elders raised their blood-soaked hands in the air. Seeing that it was about to begin, the crowd of spectators stepped back to give them room. As old as many of them were, none had actually ever seen this ritual performed before. As far as they knew, the gift of the ancients was little more than a story so old that it no longer held any meaning.
Backing away from Xavier, Xylia threw her hands in the air and began to chant in some alien, unworldly language. Her voice became unrecognizable, deep and powerful, her tongue rolling with every word. Feeble and weak on any other day, the old woman suddenly stood tall and strong, her rickety old body defying its many centuries of wear. The wind picked up as leaves came fluttering down from the trees, many of them whirling about as if trapped by mini tornadoes. Blazing torches flickered in defiance, their flames bending to the will of the wind. The other
elders rolled their tongues, eyes rolled back while flickering their bloodstained fingers above their heads.
Suddenly, the circle of blood in the sand erupted in flame, the intense heat assaulting Xavier from all sides. Sweat mixed with blood began to steam off his skin. Teeth grinding, body tensed, he fought against the straps to try to draw himself away from the heat. What started out as knee-high flames suddenly burst high into the air, his entire body now hidden within the blazing cone. He screamed from the searing pain, thrashing about, unable to get free. The heat was so intense that even onlookers had to back away, many covering their eyes.
The ring shot upward in a whirling tornado of flame. It spun above Xavier as Xylia continued her chanting. Hair waving about like snakes, bulging eyes showing nothing but white, she barked and chirped in that guttural language, apparently unfazed or even oblivious to the wild spectacle.
The whirling flame began to take shape, moving with intent as it twisted and turned in the air like a giant serpent. Up and up it climbed, high above the trees in a blazing coil of energy. Black arms burst from either side of the fiery funnel, its top growing horns like those of a bull. But its face remained shadowed, distorted, appearing as nothing more than a set of pointed teeth gleaming down from a sea of darkness.
Witnesses began to run about screaming, desperate to get away from the summoned creature. Oblivious to it all, Xylia’s booming words rose up into the night. No mortal lungs should have produced such a roar, yet her voice rang out like a storm. Looking possessed, her eyes were not only white now, but glowing with white energy.
The summoned demon gazed down, its red eyes flaming like smoldering lanterns. Nothing but teeth and eyes, its shadowed features all but disappeared against the night sky. Its scanning glare fell on Xavier, those gleaming teeth spread out into a wicked grin. It dove straight down like a comet from the sky, its flaming tail leaving behind a trail of fire and smoke.