“I envy them,” she said.
“Why is that?” Iel replied.
“They possess power unlike anyone in this world,” Mira answered.
“And with that power lies a heavy burden,” Iel responded. “They carry a burden not many could bear. They have seen many battles, and other unspeakable things in this world that would take the sight from your eyes and the quiet from your mind. A lifetime of meditation and guidance from a remarkable teacher has brought four of them through a harsh life. The fifth warrior remains a mystery to me. He fights as they do, and his weapon seems to have some form of power to fight demons. I would like to know how that is.”
Iel concentrated on the strider. “I wonder where this warrior comes from, and how he came to be.” He turned back to Mira. “You speak of envy, as if they are different from you. They are not.”
The Ilanyan left her to ponder his words and went to the fields to make one last check on the defensive preparations. Mira stood alone in the room, lines of confusion creasing her forehead. Aren’t they different? she thought as she gazed at the wall that showed the five traveling warriors. They are different from me, from everyone. What could Master Iel have meant by that? Though she was capable of things most people were not, she was not able to jump so high, or move so fast. She could not leap from a high cliff overlooking a valley, and glide to the ground unharmed. She turned away from the wall, and it returned to its normal multicolored state.
Iel watched her in a small corner of his mind’s eye. She had practically grown up in the tower and thought of all she did as normal a life as anyone would lead. She never questioned anything in life unless he challenged her to do so. He patted a unicorn standing next to him. Its smooth white coat was like silk, and its mane was wild about its head. It looked up at the Ilanyan and blew a playful snort from its nose. Iel looked at the young one, its mighty horn glistening in the sun as if polished with lacquer.
“I don’t know why humans live such short lives,” he said to his exotic companion. “They seem to take so long to understand things yet more often than not they fear what they do not understand. Perhaps in time we will both understand them, my friend.” The beautiful animal tossed its head and nuzzled his arm in response. He gave it a gentle pat on the neck, then walked out to the fields. Magical beasts of every kind guarded the land like sentinels, unmoving and awaiting the coming storm. It will be a great battle, Iel thought. The likes of which the human world has never seen, and will probably never know of.
* * *
Iel strode across the fields of Takashaniel and gazed at the many magical beings gathered to protect the precious tower. Not far away, he spotted a group of Rizanti fighters. Though every one of the magical defenders of Takashaniel was spawned from earth magic, these creations were an expression of protection. Rizanti were from wild earth magic, and only appeared for one whose need was genuine and unselfish. They were tall by human standards, each standing at about six feet nine inches. Their long heads were pointed, front to back, and their sleek, thin bodies were a blue-silver color, but with a hint of transparency.
They each carried long, oval-shaped weapons with sharp tips on each end, while the sides of the weapon were honed to a cutting edge. The grip was in the center, requiring precision and confidence since the weapon would be dangerous to the wielder as well as the adversary. The five magical fighters stood tall and passive, waiting.
Iel moved on to inspect the magical wards, making his way toward a humanoid-looking man no taller than four feet. For his stature, his shoulders were broad and thick, and his short, stout legs and arms were heavily muscled. Lines of experience creased his curly-bearded face. He was dressed in ragged brown trousers that were shredded at the ankles, and two thick suspenders held them up, each strap lined with two-inch-long spikes. The club he rested on his left shoulder was almost as big as he was and was littered with spikes. He glowed with the magical energy that sustained his artificial likeness.
“Time come er soon,” he said. “We feel strong bad force come er this way fast … get here soon.”
“Yes,” Iel said. “And I believe we will be ready.”
“Brunts always ready for fight,” the short warrior said, referring to the name of his kinsmen earned as a result of them always receiving the brunt of battle. “Brunts be ready for a fight. We’s just hope they’re ready for a fight with us.”
Iel smiled. “I think you will get your wish, my friend.” The magical warrior turned with a snort and huffed back to his group that stood not far away.
The Ilanyan walked through the fields with his unicorn companion at his side, passing the many small platoons of magical warriors. In the distance he found the one he sought.
Grimhammer looked down at Iel and nodded. With the equine part of his body the size of a Clydesdale, the centaur stood head to hoof at nearly ten feet tall. His human torso was equally large and heavily muscled.
In a hand the size of Iel’s head, the centaur held a six-foot-long shaft with a three foot hammer head, a spike on each end. It was the weapon of his namesake, and quite intimidating.
Iel looked up at the mighty centaur, then at his incredible weapon, which must have weighed halfway between a hundred to two hundred pounds.
“I should be here in my true form,” Grimhammer rumbled. “Not cowering behind this magical likeness.”
“We could not risk losing such a mighty warrior as yourself, my friend. These are major demons, summoned from the deepest pits of the abyss.” The Ilanyan offered a disarming smile. “The brunts argued as well, but I convinced them as I did you, that magical representations of yourselves were far a better choice.” Grimhammer grumbled in his deep, booming voice, and the ground vibrated beneath them.
“Magic is powerful, but it cannot copy the real thing,” the centaur replied. “My real form should be here to fight with honor.”
“None are braver than the mighty Grimhammer,” Iel responded. “I have witnessed your prowess in our adventures together, old friend. But you must understand that Quentranzi are a different kind of monster, not born of this world or even this dimension. The world is changing rapidly and you will be needed throughout the course of its evolution. It is for this reason that I have asked you to avoid the fight directly.”
The proud centaur let out a deep snort and stamped his front hoof, looking to the fields ahead. He was unusual for his kind, having two horns atop his head that grew from the sides and curled up, as if reaching for the heavens. The centaur was a mighty warrior known by many in the stories of the battles of old. Ironically, his kind were known to humans, but only in mythology.
Iel patrolled the rest of the fields, checking on the remaining wards and battalions of magical warriors. Unlike the centaurs and the brunts, these creatures were created specifically for battle. Iel wanted to minimize the harm to any living creature, thus was he granted these magical beings through earth magic.
Despite his efforts, the guardian was concerned that it would not be enough. Once fighting, magical creatures could only sustain their form for a limited time. If the battle lingered too long, the forces would diminish.
Another concern was the centaurs and the brunts. Grimhammer was right. These were only magical representations of the physical warriors, and were less capable than their real counterparts. Iel could only pray to the Daunyans that it would be enough.
He turned back to the tower see Mira standing on one of the balconies. With his keen Ilanyan eyes, he saw that she was looking past him at the distant sky, lines of worry etched in her forehead. He followed her gaze, and saw a sky that was dark as night even though the day was still young. The darkness was traveling toward them, swallowing everything in its path.
Iel clenched his jaw. “And so it begins.”
***
Chapter Thirty-Four
The five companions were beaten and tired. Their descent into the canyon had been a rough one. The winds had carried them straight into the wall of the canyon. Unable to control the
ir speed, it was a hard impact that sent them stumbling and tumbling to the canyon floor.
Kenyatta spat bits of gravel and sand out of his mouth from where he had rolled into a bed of loose dirt, growling curses through gritted teeth as he’d tumbled painfully over the rocks.
The others were no worse for wear. Kenjiro nursed a scar on his left arm from a particularly sharp rock that he’d skidded across. Shinobu sat against the wall holding his head in his hands. He seemed to have recurring pains from the fight two days ago.
Kita had perhaps the worst landing of all. He rubbed a bruised shoulder and forearm that had resulted from his unlucky collision into a tree. The tree that grew at an angle on the canyon wall, and he’d hit it while rolling, and was launched into the air. Once in the air he was caught in a crosswind and fell straight down to the ground. The only thing that broke his fall was that the dirt was thick and soft, but that brought little comfort to the battered Kita.
Akemi seemed to have had the most successful landing of the group. Although she did not escape the fall unscathed, she’d managed to grab hold of a bush that was strong enough to hold her until she was able to orient herself. Long after everyone else had crashed to the bottom in a heap of dust and dirt, she’d carefully picked her way down the decline until reaching the bottom.
Now the companions rested in a cave Kita had discovered that provided relief from the violent, ever-changing winds that punished the canyon.
“How can anything live here?” Kita asked as they looked at the howling windstorm. “If these winds were just a bit more powerful, the dirt and sand could turn a building to dust and grind the skin from your bones.”
“Yeah man,” Kenyatta replied. “Feels like I almost lost my skin even with my clothes.” He inspected his right arm, which was raw from the chafing sand. “It’s dangerous out there. I’ve seen nothing like it.”
“We will need to cover well when we leave,” Kenjiro said. “I like my bones better with skin covering them.”
“I say we camp here and recover,” Kita suggested, and all agreed except Shinobu, who still held his head in his hands.
“What’s wrong with you?” Akemi moved to sit next to the farstrider, then flinched and fell away.
Kenjiro looked over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“I can feel it,” the ninja gasped. “It feels like the same power that I was attacked by. A different kind of dark power, but definitely demonic.” She cupped the strider’s chin and lifted his face to look into his eyes.
“Touched by evil,” she said. Shinobu’s eyes had a distant and tormented look. None understood more than her, the nature of the agony he felt. It was like a persistent sickness that slowly crept from the subconscious to the conscious, and each time she pushed it back, it returned a little stronger. There were times that she heard voices, dark suggestions that remarked on everything she encountered. She felt as if she was being drained of her energy as time passed.
When she looked into the strider’s eyes, she saw a similar pain.
“It was the Nightmare,” he stated. “It entered my mind and thrust a lifetime of torments in my head in a manner of seconds. I’ve never felt such potent evil before, but after the fight I’d felt better, and thought nothing of it.”
Kenjiro stooped beside him, closed his eyes, and concentrated. “The demon’s incursion in your mind was more influential than you thought. The energy around you is tainted.” He stood, never taking his eyes from the strider. “The power that plagues you is different. You can withstand it if your mind is strong, but until you receive proper treatment, you will be forever haunted in your sleep and will have no peace of mind … or, your mind may be ripped to pieces.”
“A worthy test,” the strider remarked with a wry smile.
“One that may destroy you,” the samurai responded.
“This will take longer than a few days, as I thought,” Akemi said, drawing everyone’s attention. “The tower is still farther west, and we have not made half the distance.” She stood at the mouth of the cave just out of reach of the whipping sands. “We will need to camp for the night as Kita suggested. The winds have gotten stronger, and if we make the attempt now the sands will devour us before we take a dozen steps.”
Kenyatta moved beside her and looked out at the howling night. “I know you said that the winds are stronger here than any other place in the world, but there is something unnatural about this place.”
Kenjiro looked over at them. Even Shinobu lifted his head as Kenyatta continued. “The winds were always strong, but the sandstorm didn’t start until we reached the floor of this canyon, and now it is twice as intense.”
“It’s as if we were trapped here,” Kita said, peering out of the cave entrance.
Kenyatta picked up a rock and threw it out into the sandstorm. It was ground to dust before it hit the ground. “I think our friend is aware of us.”
“This costs us time that we cannot afford,” the samurai said.
“And we are two or three days from our destination,” Akemi added.
“We could tunnel our way out. Anyone have a shovel?” The group turned to see Shinobu leaning against the wall with a strained smile on his face.
Akemi saw the struggle in his eyes and used his conviction to strengthen her own.
“How long can he keep this up?” Kenyatta asked, waving a hand at the storm.
“If it is the Drek,” Kenjiro answered, “there is no telling how long he could detain us here.”
“So we could be here for days or longer?” Kenyatta chuckled in frustration.
He looked to Akemi for any possibilities, but the ninja just looked out at the raging sandstorm that was their captor. This Drek could be a problem.
* * *
Deeper inside the chilly cave, the group sat around a campfire Kita had created. Fortunately, there was some old dried up tree roots lying around and he had a bit of tinder in his pouch. Akemi produced a small, flat item from Kenjiro’s sack. After a bit of unwrapping, Kita saw that it was a pack of thinly sliced dried meat. She then reached into a pack that she had on her waist and produced a sack stuffed with rice.
“This will sustain us without weighing us down,” she said. “If we cook it on the fire and add the water from the tower that you brought, its revitalizing qualities along with the food will last longer.”
Kita reached for his sack and brought out the water skin. Kenyatta had set up a frame over the fire on which to sit a small pot.
Kenjiro gave the islander a sidelong glance. “Unless things have changed more than I thought, lone warriors traveling the road don’t carry cookware with them.”
“Nope,” Kenyatta replied, reverting to the western tongue, “but us improvise when we be need someting we don’t have. Carved wood makes a good bowl ya know.”
Kita nodded with an amused smile as he looked at the dumbfounded expressions on the other three companions’ faces. Although they all spoke a bit of the western tongue, they could barely decipher the Jamaican’s strong accent that even he, after living most of his life with Kenyatta, sometimes had difficulty understanding. Kenyatta looked around at the others and shook his head. “Some time or another, dem have to understand me.”
“You think so?” Kita replied. “You manage to speak Japanese with little to no accent, my friend. Your version of the western tongue is another story altogether.” Kenyatta just smirked and continued his work.
While the Jamaican prepared the food, Akemi moved next to Kita and spoke slowly. “How long you know each other?”
Kita looked at her in surprise. It was the first time she or anyone else in the group had attempted to speak in the western language.
“Almost our entire lives.” Kita offered a warm smile. “You speak the western tongue well,” he said, reverting to her language. “Maybe one day I’ll teach you the language of my people.” The genuine smile on her face and the tip of her head told him that she intended to take him up on the offer.
“Alright,
done!” Kenyatta announced, sitting five wooden bowls beside the campfire. “Time to eat!”
Kita laughed at his friend’s use of Tagalog, Kita’s native tongue. He couldn’t say why Kenyatta had made that choice, but sometimes it was better just not to ask.
Shinobu moved closer to them. “Am I going to need a linguist to understand you two?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kenyatta replied, reverting back to the tongue of Japan. “We just didn’t want you to know what we really think of you, is all. We don’t want any tension, especially since you’re a bit fragile after your bout with that Nightmare a while back.”
The strider arched an eyebrow at the obvious sarcasm. It was the result of the remark he had made about the warrior’s skill from back in that canyon. “You don’t forget much, do you?” he said, referring to his remark about Kenyatta’s skill, days ago.
“What do you think?” came the retort.
Shinobu pursed his lips. “I think that harbored aggression spawned from a casual bit of sarcasm can be a detriment to one’s well-being.”
Kenyatta shot him a dangerous look, and Shinobu held up his hands. “Be at ease, friend. I meant no threat. I simply mean that to harbor such ill feelings for so long is bad for anyone’s health.”
“When the time dictates, I use judgment and act accordingly,” Kenyatta said evenly.
“Was my remark that offensive?” the strider asked.
“Would you tolerate a similar one from someone you don’t know, and who doesn’t know you?” Kenyatta replied. He straightened to face the strider. “I have yet to meet a warrior who would tolerate a stranger questioning his skill or ability in any way, joking or not.”
“I have yet to meet a warrior who would take such a fleeting remark so seriously,” Shinobu countered. “I think there is more to you than you reveal, Kenyatta, but that is not my business. I would offer this, however. Since I so deeply offended you, I offer my apology and an attempt to begin anew. We have a long road ahead of us yet, and I wish not to go into battle beside one who would watch my back for the sake of what is right and not for the sake of camaraderie or even friendship. It was not my attempt to create tension, which is what I have done. My wish now is to offer my hand to you in allegiance and hopefully in time, friendship, for I cannot think of a more capable ally to have at my side.”
Echoes of a Shattered Age Page 28