The Willbreaker (Book 1)

by Mike Simmons

  “Did we win?” Jasmine said, rubbing the bump on her head as she woke up. She did not notice the Guardian until he turned to look at her, but once he did, she squeaked out a high pitch peep, putting her hands over her mouth. She caught Edward’s eye, who mouthed “It’s alright.” She held her eyes wide though, nervous about the giant six-armed monster.

  “He’s not too doing well,” Edward whispered.

  “What happened?”

  “I’ll fill you in on the details later, but I think he’s dying.” Edward said, as his eyes rose again to meet Jasmine’s stare.

  It had been two weeks since One left the sanctuary of his home. He had an average height and average build, if not a little on the skinny side. He had no body hair and wore simple grey wool robes. Although the robes had a large cowl, he did not wear it, instead it rested lazily on his shoulders. His general appearance did not bring attention to him, except the brilliant color of his green eyes. They were the color of a perfect emerald if held to the sun, light beaming through every facet and wave. His eyes were nothing special to him; they had always been that way, and the God’s created him that way. He walked with casual grace, not in any rush, but also walked with an unknown purpose.

  Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six had wished him well, simply nodding to him as he left the shaped stone walls of their home. He began his journey, a journey the others would repeat, one each, each serving a specific purpose. Nothing told them when to leave or where they would be going, but they did know. They called it faith.

  In his travels, One walked in whatever direction he felt looked right. In the first week of his trek, he strolled upon the Paraline River. He had the choice of crossing it by boat or walking along the shoreline, north or south. He did not choose the boat because he enjoyed his walk and that seemed a distasteful choice. He smiled as the wind and fresh air surrounded him. He chose his direction and walked, nodding to himself with the pleasure of his choice.

  He carried no weapons and no pack filled with supplies. Destiny guided his journey and he believed that destiny would take care of him. As he walked, he gently kicked a small round river rock into the water. It splashed in the shallows, scaring away the minnows that fed along the shore. One giggled to himself and kept walking; a few paces more and his stomach growled. He had not eaten since the morning. With only a slight turn of his head, One could see the red fruit of a raspberry bush.

  “Destiny,” he said, as he smiled. After picking a handful of the fresh berries, he continued.

  One purposefully walked the beach, fulfilling his destiny as he saw fit. Three rugged men sat along the shoreline in a poorly scad camp and perked to attention as they noticed him. The first man to notice, a beefy unshaven man, wearing a worn fishing hat laced with holes, stood up and stepped quickly towards One. The other two men, less heavy but with equally trodden clothes, followed immediately behind him.

  “Well, well, well!” he said with a huge, gap-toothed smile. “What do we have here? A traveler? How nice! How nice!” They surrounded One now, in a spaced semi-circle, unusually close to him.

  The thick man grabbed his beard around the chin and stroked it eagerly.

  “Well, does our gracious traveler have anything to donate to a few unlucky souls? C’mon, now, you must have something you can spare?”

  One looked at the man and smiled turning both palms to the sky. “I’m sorry, friend, I have nothing, no coin, or food. There are some ripe raspberry bushes down the stream a bit, though, I would be happy to show you where they are if you are hungry.”

  The rough man’s smile faded as he shook his head back and forth. “Well, I’m afraid we’re not hungry, well, not for food anyways. We are looking for coin!” He grabbed One’s wrist and with his other hand he pushed the sleeves of his long robe upward looking for jewelry. Another man did the same to his other arm and then patted his body, feeling for weapons or bags of coin.

  One let them search, patiently smiling, relaxed and calm. “As I said, I have nothing.” He looked into the lead man’s face and gave him a genuine smile.

  Anger flushed across his brow.

  “No! No! This is not going to work! This does not make me happy!”

  One shrugged politely.

  “Okay, now you are just pissing me off. If you have nothing for us, then I’m afraid that…” he did not finish his sentence as he hit One in the belly. One gasped as he curled over, gripping his middle. The man laughed sarcastically. One’s smile had disappeared, replaced with calmness.

  The man punched him hard in the gut again and then hit him across the temple with a right hook, knocking One down to the ground. Blood ran down One’s cheek from the half inch cut on his upper brow. He spoke, calmly.

  “Taking out your frustrations on me, physically, will not change the fact that I have nothing. If I had anything but my robes, I would surely have shared it with you.”

  The man nodded to One, attempting to look as if he understood, but he made his sarcasm obvious. He held out a hand to One offering to help him to his feet. One reached out and took his hand. As the man pulled him upward, he quickly reached over and wrapped his other hand around One’s thumb and snapped it backwards. The snap of the bone made the two men in the back cringe. For a brief moment, One’s face revealed the discomfort he felt, but he regained his composure and calmness promptly. Now on his feet, One cradled his broken thumb in his other hand and looked at the three men emotionlessly.

  The rugged man took a step back. His brow dropped in worry, concerned that One did not even scream when his thumb broke. One turned his attention solely on the man in front of him.

  “What’s… what’s the matter with you, mister? You off or something?” He did not know how to read the situation with One, at all.

  “As I have said before, you will get nothing from me, for I have nothing to give. I would have offered you my friendship, but that offer has expired. Are you finished?” One asked gently.

  The man in the front just nodded as he back away. The other two already ran away.

  One casually continued his walk along the shoreline, not looking back towards the men. As he did, he closed his eyes momentarily, not much longer than a slow blink. His broken thumb jerked inward and then popped. He rolled his thumb around freely and smiled.

  If he wished to, One could have stopped those men from bullying him. He could have prevented them from hurting him. The power he wielded within could have erased their entire existence; no one would have found them and no trace of them would have been left. He contained a power not of this world, and they were no threat to him. One did not need to prove his power to them, so he did not, and now here he walked, and all stayed in balance. His destiny led him true.

  Days past as he walked, casually. Finally, One decided that he wanted to leave the riverbank. He turned left and headed into the beautifully green and lush forest, aspen and birch trees held up the canopy like living columns of wood and bark. A few minutes into his walk, One realized that his destiny played out before him.

  A clear pathway led forward, trampled grasses and freshly broken brush indicated the path had been recently traveled. One smeared the soil in between his thumb and first fingers, the moisture still stuck within. As he peered upward, he noticed a massive six-armed creature a hundred spans down the trail. It had grey-blue skin and engorged muscles peaked and popped from every inch of its massive body. It had an equally large head, hairless, but its face and chest appeared burned. One could still see light wisps of smoke rising from its wounds. A unconscious man laid in its arms, and another older man stood next to them, checking the unconscious man for a pulse.

  One rose to his feet and walked with his normal cool grace towards the people down the way. Edward looked towards Jasmine.

  “Do you think you could find us some ginger, or cardamon, somewhere within this place?” Jasmine stared at Brandon, but nodded slowly. “I can do my best.”

  “Then hurry, girl, hurry!”

  As Edward spoke, the Kella�
��Dune grunted and stood up straight, quickly pulling Brandon towards his chest with his upper arms, flexing and clenching his four other fists as he spread his feet apart in a stance fit for battle. He looked behind Edward. Edward turned around and Jasmine took a step back in alarm.

  One stood in front of them. He smiled, as destiny had once again fulfilled its promises. He had found whom he looked for and he made it just in time. He spoke calmly as he looked at Jasmine.

  “The roots will only temporarily disguise his illness. Your friend is very sick, and if you do not let me help him, he will die.”

  The Guardian grunted angrily again, keeping Brandon protected against his chest. Edward had one hand back on the Guardian and his other hand out towards One, signaling him to not come any closer.

  “Who are you? And what do you know of his sickness?”

  “I am sorry, friend, I understand your concern and weariness in this situation, but I assure you, your friend is in dire need of my help. I am sure you have checked his pulse. His forehead should be unusually warm; his body soaking in sweat, and his sporadic pulse should be getting noticeably weaker. If you lift his eyelids, you will see his eyes rolled backward in his head. In a few moments, he will start to shake. It will start in his extremities, his hands and his legs, and it will move into his body. The more it moves, the more violent his shakes will become. His skin color will begin to pale as the blood rushes to his organs to fight the sickness. He will be become completely unresponsive. Once the shakes have entered his chest, his muscles will tighten so tight he will not be able to breathe and the contents of his stomach will be expelled. His shaking will cause severe trauma and his organs will start shutting down, one by one. It will be a very unpleasant experience for everyone. We are running out of time, please, let me help him.”

  Edward’s eyes were soaked in worry. He looked at One, judging him and then looked to Brandon. Brandon’s arm hung limply between the fingers of the giant Guardian, and as Edward watched, his fingers started to shake.

  Edward looked back at One. The pressure of the situation hit him in full. If this man told the truth, then what choice did he have? If he did not telling the truth, how did he know about Brandon’s symptoms and how could he predict the shaking?

  One spoke again, calmly, but urgently. “Please.”

  Edward cracked. “Fine! But I warn you,” he yelled at the man, pointing and shaking his pointer finger at him, “if anything happens to Brandon by your hands, you will face my wrath!” One simply nodded.

  Edward turned towards the Guardian who looked at Edward as if waiting for a command. Edward nodded at him and with a fierce snarl, he opened his arms and lowered him towards Edward. His other four arms still held clenched fists, indication of his readiness to fight at a seconds notice if he had to.

  “May I?” One asked, holding a hand out towards Brandon.

  Edward nervously nodded again.

  One closed the five steps towards Brandon cautiously, not paying attention to anyone around him. The look on his face indicated the care he took, as if Brandon might explode if he touched him wrong.

  One reached towards Brandon’s face with his left hand and gently placed his thumb on Brandon’s forehead. Brandon’s head twisted, like he fought against the placement of One’s hand. Mirroring his left hand, One moved his right hand upward, cradling Brandon’s head and placing both thumbs together in the center point of Brandon’s forehead. Edward noticed One’s thumbs rested right on the bottom point of Brandon’s red star tattoo. Coincidence? He wondered.

  One hummed in a deep, low tone. He closed his eyes and concentrated. His hum grew in resonance and started to come from all areas around the group. Edward, Jasmine, and the Guardian looked around into the woods, seeing if there were more men besides One, but the woods were empty of visible life. The deep rumbling sound split into multiple tones as if a hundred men, all deep in voice, hummed in eerie harmony. Edward rubbed his arms as the hair on them stood up.

  Brandon jolted. One increased the hold on his head and the volume of his ghostly song. He jolted again and then again. Edward looked around with worry, ready to pull back the grey robed monk. As Brandon shook, words entered One’s hum but Edward could not understand them. Perhaps they were spoken in another language, or maybe they were so low in tone that he could not distinguish their meanings.

  Brandon’s body rocked violently. One’s mesmerizing song turned into shouts. Edward grabbed One’s arm, “Stop! You are killing him!” One pressed on, fierceness on his face never seen before. “Stop!” Edward yelled.

  With a single final word, One released his arms, and Brandon went still.

  The world spun in a blurry vision, seen through a thick wall of fog. An invisible white light illuminated the circular room around him. Brandon knuckled his eyes, feeling like he had slept for much too long. A few strong blinks and his vision cleared. He laid on a stone tile floor in a circular room not much bigger than his old bedroom back in Greylin. The ceiling, lined in sculpted stone tiles, bore a circular window filled with light.

  A small statue sat in the center of the room on an elevated pedestal. The statue had no features, but the size of the small figure indicated it as a child, though he could not tell its gender. Centered on the pedestal, below the feet of the statue, a blank bronze name plate glimmered against the light.

  A single doorway led out into blackness. Around the rest of the room, six other featureless statues were space equally spaced apart along the outer wall. These statues stood six feet high, nearly twice the size of the small one in the middle of the room. Each stood in a smooth recess of the circular wall. Curious, Brandon looked around the room and then approached one of the statues.

  This statue mirrored the other five; dull grey in color of stone and lacking any features. Brandon examined the statue carefully. It appeared to be made of a single piece of flawless stone and had an odd smoothness to it.

  When Brandon had his fill of examining the figure, he bent over to look at the nameplate.

  Two words were written on the plate, in a simple but elegant writing.

  “THE JUGGERNAUT”

  Brandon stared at the nameplate momentarily before his curiosity got the best of him. A quick glance revealed that all the pedestals had nameplates on them. He casually walked towards the next statue. He looked around as he moved, feeling as if someone watched him.

  The next statue, the same as the first one, had a nameplate with different words on it. The Guardian. Brandon scrunched his brow. What does it all mean?

  He moved slowly to each statue, examining and reading their nameplates. The figures were tagged The Guardian, then The Telepath, The Archmage, and The Child. When Brandon read the last nameplate, he froze. His face went hot and his heartbeat rapidly increased. It said The Willbreaker.

  He had been called The Willbreaker before. The words drifted across Brandon’s ears as if spoken by the Bauth’Dok Blademaster himself, memories flooding his mind in a single, wild rush. That creature called him Willbreaker when they fought. Twice.

  "There will be no escaping today, Willbreaker," the king said. "Die, Willbreaker. Your time has come to an end."

  Brandon asked himself if this could be coincidence. Is this the reason I am here, because of that name? What does it mean? What is The Willbreaker? My name is Brandon. That is it. Just Brandon.

  Brandon looked around the room. He could not go anywhere else, unless he entered the doorway that led into sheer blackness. He looked upward at the circular window, wondering where the light came from. The brightness and clarity of it did not make it seem like sunlight. The light must have been magic of some kind, he thought. He could not see through the glass, giving him no clues to his location.

  Brandon circled the room many times, searching and looking for anything that might give him options, separate from the doorway. After searching behind the statues, examining each recess, looking high and low, Brandon faced the doorway.

  “Oh, great,” he mumbled, looking into
the vast emptiness. His hand went absent-mindedly to his belt where his old short swords used to hang. He sighed when he felt nothing there. With a deep breath, he walked into the darkness.

  Unusually cold air filled the hallway. A dim light on the opposite end of the hallway gave him direction and Brandon increased his step to get out of the chill. He approached the end of the hallway with caution, hugging close to the wall.

  The room opened up into a spacious stone room, not clean or clear like the previous one with the statues. Perhaps in a mountain, the entire room had been carved from rock. It had a high ceiling, even higher than the rooster wind vane Brandon installed on the roof of his house in Greylin. The ceiling seemed supported by the aged stone pillars that stood out from both sides of the walls. Rays of sunlight showed down through small holes and cracks in the rockwork above, beaming through the dust that filled the room. In the center of the room a man sat in a simple wooden chair.

  “Come in, it’s alright, I mean you no harm,” he said.

  Brandon peered around. Is he talking to me?

  “Yes, I am talking to you, Willbreaker. Please, come in. I wish to talk to you.”

  Brandon’s temper fired. With a puff of his chest and clenched fists, he walked into the room defiantly. “Why is everyone calling me that? My name is Brandon, Brandon Pike. You have the wrong guy. And where are we? How do I get out of here?” He had a thousand questions. “And who are you?” he blurted out.

  The man in the chair wore simple grey robes and had no visible body hair. Smaller than Brandon and a good fifty pounds lighter, his stature foretold that his size did not indicate his wisdom or ability, which made Brandon nervous. As the man rose to catch Brandon’s gaze, the striking green color of his eyes made Brandon lose focus. They looked like blazing emeralds, clear and crisp. Brandon stopped his approach instantly.

  “Who are you?”

  The man in the chair sat casually and smiled.

  “Let us start from the beginning. I will answer all of the questions that I am able. First of all, my name is One. I have been waiting to bring you here my entire life.” He smiled proudly. Confusion replaced Brandon’s anger.