The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent)

by Bridget Ladd

  “What about her?” Giles called out from behind me, his voice just as oily as the rest of him.

  Scottie looked at me. “She’s free to go. I’ll deal with her on my own terms.”

  Not wanting to give away my inner turmoil at the prospect of losing Xander, I tried my best to keep a calm face. Inside I was seething hatred and panic from my every pore. I looked at Xander’s defeated posture and lost it, my eyes threatening to fill with tears.

  Xander, understanding what transpired in my mind, stood slowly from his knees—despite the fact he had two struggling men at his back.

  His eyes found mine.

  “Tomorrow you will fight. And you will survive. Death will always be one step behind.”

  He received a guard’s sword-hilt to the face for saying so.

  Instead of fighting as I knew he could, Xander took the injustice without so much as a dirty look, falling back to his knees.

  I struggled away from Giles’ sweaty hands in an attempt to help him. I’m going to grab a handful of Scottie’s hair and rip it from the root. I want to slam my knee directly into his face and into that smirking satisfaction of his.

  Xander shook his head at me ever so slightly, sensing what I wanted, and telling me to stay away with only his eyes. Even though my heart burned with anger, I knew that if I resisted his arrest that I too would be taken.

  “I do not need a partner to help me defeat you, Scottie. By the way, your nose has healed quite nicely. Perhaps you’ll not be able to stick it as far up your father’s arse. Finally form an opinion for yourself.”

  I hoped they wouldn’t see the full extent in which I relied upon Xander.

  “Oh, but you do care what happens to him, Lily,” Scottie said smoothly, dismissing my previous attack. “I’ll prove just how much you do. Very soon, you’ll see.” Leaning in close, he whispered, “I warned that you’d pay.”

  Shoving off Giles’ hands, I did the hardest thing I could ever think possible. Feeling as though I was self-inflicting a wound upon my own chest, I turned my back and walked away.

  Leaving my partner, my friend—weaponless in the hands of the Sector 7 guards.

  Chapter 33

  Shadow Kanes ~ Despairing Afflictions

  I was to fight alone this day.

  With axe, shield, and helm at the ready, I took a deep breath before I shook the brass hand that opened the massive door to the Requiem.

  Spying a glance at the carvings on the door, I wondered if any fighters depicted were women, and if so, what were their reasons for choosing such a cruel fate? Did they have no other choice? Were they forced by another or coerced by themselves into doing what they knew to be the honorable course of action? Maybe someday, I’ll be considered brave enough to be carved into this very door. First I needed to prove myself. I had to continue to fight in the Barrage, even if I had to face it alone. It would be no help to Xander if I found myself exiled to the Outlands because of forfeit. For Xander’s sake, I had to make sure that Death did indeed stay one step behind.

  Walking past the shadows that lined the walls of the damp corridor, I reached the end and waited calmly for the final door to usher me into the Requiem’s eager embrace. I refused to glance to my left, ignoring the empty space where Xander usually stood battle-ready at my side.

  Placing my helm over my face, I counted the patterns in my racing heart, determined to compose myself. Xander not being here was affecting me in more ways than one. He was out there somewhere. Most likely locked in a dungeon, most likely being tortured. And all because of me. Because I pushed him, urged him to disregard his Sense.

  So today—today, I would fight in his honor. I would not surrender to defeat.

  And tonight—tonight, I would free him.

  I could only hope they would keep him alive for the tournament’s sake. I wondered what transpired in his mind now. What advice would he give to me? Just as the thought crossed my mind, I felt selfish. I didn’t deserve the comfort of knowing he worried for me.

  Taking a determined breath, I closed my eyes. ‘. . . you will fight. And you will survive.’

  A fire burned deep within. A fire that both the Council and Scottie wouldn’t expect me to possess after what they’d done. They expected me to be terrified and meek after losing Xander. Before, I had felt as though my own energy burned around me like a flame being pushed and pulled by the offensive winds of the Council. That was no longer the case. Now—I needed to burn stronger than ever before if I was to survive this day.

  Death was not an option.

  The warning horns sounded above me then, shaking the ground beneath my feet.

  ~

  I braced myself for the onslaught of approval the crowd rained down upon me after the door creaked, slowly removing itself from my path.

  Shielding my eyes with my hand, I expected the sun to be the first of my attacking opponents. Though, when I stepped forward I felt no warmth on my skin. Quickly removing my hand I saw that the sky was covered with a gray haze of thick clouds. Rain splattered in synchronized patterns and gathered into pools in the dirt, making the terrain muddy and treacherous. I gripped my axe handles even more tightly, my knuckles turning white as I cautiously stepped into the open arena with determination.

  My boots instantly sank into the mud.

  Grunting, I lifted my leg, finding I had to exert twice the amount of energy to simply put one foot in front of the other. You never expected this to be easy. Keep going. Running my fingers down the tree carved across my breastplate, I silently asked the Outlands to provide me with the strength to continue.

  Pushing forward at a slow and steady pace, I kept alert for both Sir Norbert and Charles Nampier and any Council booby-trapped surprises. If I had a Gatling gun where would I want to be?

  I quickly looked to the left, to the highest point in the Requiem with the boulder-ridden hills of the last round, but was surprised to see the area empty.

  Leaving the cheering crowd behind, I continued into the open terrain beyond the arena, not finding any other options than to keep moving forward.

  Keeping my shield close in front of me, I tried to fight the urge to hide behind cover, that everything was simply too still, too calm. No electric force field barrier prevented me from passing, no bullets sliced through the air to pierce my armor . . . .

  Similar to the feeling I had with the droids in the training yard—I had the uneasy suspicion that I was being herded to a location not of my choosing.

  A golden glimmer caught my eye about a klick away. I swiveled and positioned my shield towards it. What little sun that broke through the clouds proved to be my aiding partner, showing me exactly where the Gatling gun was located, situated up high on the northern ridge—the same ridge that sat closest to the Edge.

  By the looks of it, Sector 5 had already gotten nice and comfy and were now waiting for me to come to them. I huffed in appreciation. That was a smart move to have the Edge at their backs. Though . . . there was only one Gatling gun that I saw. Where is the other?

  My senses screamed at me to make a break for the boulders . . . that I would surely die out here in the open. Just as I turned to run for cover, I felt two dark presences materialize in front of me—and not at all the threat I was expecting to find.

  I skidded to a halt as a newfound terror threatened to overwhelm.

  I breathed out the name of the creatures that stood before me.

  Abominations of human life. Created for the sole purpose to guard and kill those who trespassed. I had overheard my father’s hushed whispers of them as a child and the idea of creating such monsters disgusted me as much now as it did then.

  Shadow Kanes.

  The vilest of criminals were injected with a serum that changed their very existence as human beings. A code virus, I had heard my father call it. After days of excruciating pain, their insides would become distorted, allowing the Council to work on them easily, creating these half-machined monsters that stood before me now. The serum only effected
those whose hearts were already blackened by hatred. It was in the Council’s greatest hope that their creations exuded such a dark aura that they could transgress past a material presence—ultimately becoming shadows. And for me to think that Father was only speaking of tales meant to scare unruly Council members . . . .

  I scurried backwards and away from the closest one as it appeared. The Shadow Kanes both wore dark masks that extended unnaturally to a point in front of their faces, and like an animal, their narrowed eye sockets were placed uncommonly far away and rested on the sides of their heads. Demons created from hate.

  —Suddenly, a searing disparity panged painfully in my chest, making me feel completely hopeless. My fingers loosened and the grip upon my axe-handles slackened. I slumped to my knees. Without Xander I was to surely die. It was my fault he was captured. My fault he would be put to death.

  I clutched at my heart as their malevolence gripped at my chest, making me gasp for breath. They were reaching for my rage and guilt, entwining their dark tendrils against my own tethers of despair. Three emotions that were very present inside of me, though hidden and cloaked by my resolve.

  The rain intensified, causing steam to rise from the warm earth, blanketing me in a humid cloud. Instead of making the situation worse, the steady rhythm of the splashing cold orbs against my hot cheek awoke me from my dark asphyxia.

  —I silently said a thank you to whoever pitied me this day, quickly hopping to my feet, my determination renewed to its original fire.

  The Shadow Kanes hadn’t moved from their positions while they stood silently, each holding a large serrated broadsword in both clawed hands. I watched as an empty void of gray mist swirled menacingly around them, forming evil faces, their smiles cruel and horrid.

  Why haven’t they attacked me physically? It was as if they were waiting for direction from some higher power, awaiting the command of their Masters . . . .

  “What is it that you want from me?” I yelled for all to hear. I tried to not cringe as I turned my back to the Shadow Kanes, wanting to converse with the invisible presence of the Council.

  “Is it obedience that you long for?” I said defiantly, taking off my helm, letting the cold rain stream down my face and hair. “Never have you been so insistent on killing one of the fighters as you do me! Do I threaten you? Is that it?” I brazenly yelled out once more, hoping to get a reaction.

  I was right.

  Interference from the intercom blared over the length of the Requiem. It was the voice of Mr. Briggins I now recognized—and not the Magistrate.

  “My dear, Lily, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? The Council is not threatened by anyone of course, we simply feel sympathetic and wanted to offer you a proposition of sorts . . .” his voice carried across the landscape, not waiting for a response, “We see it as unfair for you to have to fight alone in the Barrage and would like to offer an opportunity to save your partner, Xander, from a cruel death he no doubt deserves for his act of treason.”

  A flutter of hope surfaced momentarily at the mention of saving Xander. “What trick is it that you offer me?” I cried out, making sure my voice carried. I swiped at a damp piece of hair that hung annoyingly across my right eye as I stared through the pouring rain.

  “No tricks. Only an opportunity. If you can fight your way past the Shadow Kanes, then Xander is free to go. I would, however, not delay too long for he sits on a time sensitive platform that overlooks the Edge.” Mr. Briggins chuckled lightly over the speakers. “At least he has a lovely view. I would make a decision quickly, Miss Emerson, for your time. Starts. Now.”

  Just then a shimmer of energy crackled ahead of me, revealing the place where Xander was bound, gagged and beaten, but still kneeling proudly. He looked straight at me, a warning in his eyes.

  “Xander . . .” I breathed out in shock and anger.

  The two Shadow Kanes shifted from their statuesque posture and into an aggressive stance, raising their massive black swords before them. The ground shook as they did so, an echo of their deep tenored malignancy vibrating from their core.

  I struggled to bring my own weapons up as wave after wave of mental assault pervaded my senses again, discouraging me to continue. I would never be able to fight them. Xander was going to die and I wouldn’t be able to save him, just as I wasn’t able to save Mrs. Fawnsworth. Just as I drove my grandmother from me . . . .

  Prosper would be better off without me.

  I will give up.

  I will die.

  Squeezing my eyes tightly, I grabbed at my head as I fell to my knees again. Digging my palms into my eyes to try and drive the madness away, I growled defiantly. Looking up to Xander, I caught his gray eyes to mine.

  Seeing him bound like that struck a chord deep inside of me. A chord of desperation and determination, both, having more influence over my emotions than any mind trick the Shadow Kanes could place upon me.

  The grip upon my mind shattered.

  Rising from my knees, I stood tall, my face red from the effort. “Cowards,” I growled. I peered through the rain, my hair dripping and plastered flat to the side of my head.

  No chance fighting hand to hand with them . . . a thought of my own proper reasoning and logic, and not a trick of the mind. I watched as the rain pooled into the mud at their feet and an idea suddenly coalesced itself. Surely if I was having a hard time traversing through the treacherous muck as light as I was—so too would they being twice my size. If only I could out maneuver them. Lead them to a place of my choosing . . . .

  Gripping the handles of both axe and shield, I broke into action. I turned as though I was going to make a run for it on their right side, but skidded to a halt and spun, changing directions as quickly as I could, trying hard to not dig my heels into the mud.

  To my horror, the Shadow Kanes disappeared before me.

  A sick feeling encroached inside my stomach as I skidded to a halt, the only indication of their lingering presence. Not allowing myself to become discouraged, I kept my previous plan in mind—and ran.

  My muscles screamed as I sprinted through the brown sludge, feeling it coat the back of my armor in great globs. Pumping my legs quickly, I kept my head tucked close to my body—if I slowed, the Shadow Kanes’ massive swords would slice me in half.

  I glanced to my right as I ran. Xander was still kneeling, chained to the platform which was only about a hundred yards away—some of which had already crumbled and fallen away beneath him.

  I had to hurry.

  Even though I couldn’t see the Shadow Kanes, I could feel their presence slip in behind me—their pursuit feeling like the sickly fingers of despair upon my neck. I heard a massive whoosh from behind as one of the creatures made a swing at me, becoming partially visible from the effort.

  My heart raced in my chest and my legs burned as I ran, mud splashing into the air with every footfall. Desperately I searched for an area to evade them for I knew I couldn’t outrun them for much longer.

  I’m not the only one who fears such creatures . . . .

  Instead of running straight at Xander, I veered and ran northwest—towards Charles Nampier—and the Gatling gun. I couldn’t help feeling a bit smug as I saw the wide-eyed look upon Nampier’s face, seeing that I was now luring my two dark friends along behind.

  Nampier fumbled with the gears and notches of the gun before grabbing hold with both hands and finally aiming, letting the bullets fly to land haphazardly around my feet.

  I brought my shield up and deflected a few grazing bullets that flew past, my hand stinging from each reverberating impact. Judging by the messy array of rounds that went flying by—Nampier wasn’t particularly focused on targeting me, but on the charging, swirling dark masses that loomed behind.

  Leaping over divots in the ground carved out by the rain and misfired bullets, I pushed harder. Faster.

  I was close now. Close enough to see that Nampier was indeed disturbed, his moustache prickling nervously against his cheek. As I near
ed, the ground darkened, making me guess that it was lower than the surrounding surface. Nampier had somehow positioned himself behind a trench. A trench that appeared to be roughly fifteen feet wide.

  Knowing that I would never be able to clear the gap if I slowed, I pushed everything I had into the last few feet before I leapt, swinging my arms and legs wildly to help propel myself across.

  I was soaring—and then just as suddenly: pain.

  I grunted as I landed hard onto my side, feeling what remaining breath I had left get knocked from me. I tumbled to a stop and clutched at my ribs, struggling for breath. A smile started to form, knowing I now lay a few feet from my newest partner.

  Nampier glanced down at me, furious, but kept the Gatling trained on the Shadow Kanes in front of us. I sobered and rolled deftly from my side and back into a crouch as I surveyed the muddy area before us. Looking towards the approaching dark masses, I continued to breathe heavily against my armor as I watched, calculating their erratic and partially visible movements. A clawed hand, a thigh—then sometimes their massive swords, their masked heads, their armored feet.

  A golden glimmer to my left caught my eye. Sir Norbert had finally decided to show and took up position with his handheld Gatling gun, raining his own array of bullets at the back of the Shadow Kanes.

  We had them trapped.

  I squinted. Every so often I would catch another glimpse of their dark masses swirling and dodging bullets, partially materializing midway between their actions. And when they did, I saw that even though they were invisible they still left prints in the mud.

  Charles Nampier took a moment to reload so I took the chance to converse with him. “Watch for their footfalls,” I offered in a commanding tone. “They cannot hide their weight in this mud.”

  Reaching down, I grabbed a handful of the wet sticky sludge, and hurled it in the general direction of where I’d last seen one. A mud-covered armored chest and part of a clawed hand appeared only a few feet in front of the trench.