by Aaron Oster
“That I can. All you need to is reach out and touch my arm.”
Grub stared down at the terrifying creature for a just a few moments. Despite his overwhelming fear, he could feel something else building up inside him. Anger. Anger at himself for being so weak and helpless. He’d been left here to die, and would have, had this creature not rescued him. Now, he was being given the chance for revenge, and he was hesitating!
The beast stared up at him the entire time he stood there, waiting patiently for his reply. Slowly, Grub stretched out a shaky hand and placed it on the beast’s arm. A wide, toothy smile stretched the creature’s face then, revealing a mouth full of almost normal looking teeth, aside from the enlarged canines. Then, a burning pain spread from the point of contact with the beast, traveling up his arm and entering his core.
Grub could feel his bones breaking and shifting as the power flooded into him, and he screamed in agony. His body morphed and enlarged, his muscles continuously tearing and reforming themselves as they grew. Finally, the pain stopped, leaving Grub to sag, gasping for air against the altar. The voice sounded in his mind once more.
“Now that I have given you power, how will you use it?”
Slowly rising from his prone position on the ground, Grub flexed his fingers, feeling the power now residing in his body. Words could not describe the difference in power that now coursed through his body, and he grinned, his teeth crooked and misaligned due to the rapid shift. When his spoke, his voice was deep and his speech sounded slightly garbled.
“I’ll kill everyone who ever messed with me. Starting with that bastard Morgan!”
***
Morgan stared up to the lip of the crater, as Sarah peeked her head over the top. He could see Katherine standing there as well, but she stayed near the top, as Sarah dashed down towards him. Gold had long since vanished, leaving him alone to ponder all he’d said, but all thoughts of him vanished as he saw her.
Her face was streaked with blood, and her hair was matted and dirty. Her clothes were torn in several places, and he could see that she was limping slightly. But despite all that, or maybe because of it, she was the most beautiful thing Morgan could ever remember seeing. His heart pounded in his chest as she drew near, and he could feel a flush creeping up his cheeks as she did.
He opened his mouth as she approached, trying to think of something to say, when he was abruptly blasted by a spray of icy cold water so strong, it sent him staggering back. The water didn’t just hit his chest and face, but soaked his entire body, drenching his tattered pants and leather boots as well. When the torrent finally abated, leaving him sputtering and gasping for breath, Sarah was standing right before him. He opened his mouth, an angry exclamation already forming on his lips, when Sarah closed the distance between them.
She practically launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. An electric shock ran through Morgan’s entire body, spreading from the point of contact, and he could feel his heart rate rapidly increasing. Slowly, his arms came up to hug her back, pulling her in closer to his still soaking chest.
The last time she’d done this, it had felt unpleasant, as the idea of pressing their moths together hadn’t exactly appealed to him. Now, he couldn’t ever remember feeling anything quite as pleasant. There were no words he could use to describe the feeling, or the emotions running rampant in his body as the two of them stood frozen in the center of the crater. The moment seemed to drag on forever, until Sarah finally pulled back.
Her face was flushed a deep red, and she was breathing hard, her breath tickling his cheek. To Morgan’s surprise, he found that his breath was coming fast as well, and imagined his face was quite red as well.
“So…how was that?” Sarah asked in a breathy tone, taking a half step back and looking into his eyes.
“It was…” Morgan faltered for a few moments, trying to find the right words to describe the sensation. “…nice.” He finally said.
Sarah grinned then, and swatted him lightly on the chest.
“We’ll have to work on that. Sorry about soaking you, by the way. I didn’t want to kiss you while you were drenched in blood.”
Morgan’s face fell a little when she said that, and her smile faltered.
“What’s wrong?”
For just a moment, Morgan considered lying to her, but in the end, decided that if he could trust anyone with what Gold had just revealed to him, it would be her. So he told her everything. Sarah stood there listening as he spoke and not interrupting even once. When he was done, she was silent for so long that Morgan was worried that she would no longer want to have anything to do with him. Now that he could feel, doubt was something to which he was no longer immune.
Finally, she gave him a reply, taking another step back and giving him a smile.
“So, you finally found out who you are, and where you came from. At least you know.”
Morgan was surprised by her answer and was momentarily at a loss for words.
“You don’t care that I’m not human?”
Sarah reached up and gently cupped his cheek, making sure to meet his eyes.
“I don’t care what you are. You’re still the same person on the inside, no matter what. You know how I feel about you, and nothing will change that.”
Morgan nodded, feeling the warm sensation in his chest increasing, and he returned her smile. They stood like that for the next few seconds, until Sarah finally lowered her hand, and took a few steps back. Her stance subtly shifted, and Morgan now recognized that they’d moved away from the previous topic.
“So. What now? Do you still wanna leave the Five Kingdoms after learning about your past?”
Morgan shook his head, already knowing his decision.
“I can’t leave. Not yet, anyway. There are still too many things for me to do here. Not least among them to take care of your father. After what he did to you, he deserves no less than an excruciatingly painful end.”
He saw Sarah’s expression darken at that, and her back stiffened slightly.
“He won’t be a problem anymore. I killed him myself…Drove a dagger through the back of his skull. He won’t be bothering us anymore.”
Morgan was a bit taken aback at her cold demeanor, but figured that killing her father must not have been easy. Despite all he had done, he was still her father. So, he decided to change the subject and steer it towards his plans for the future.
“There is one more thing I have to take care of before we can leave, and that may take some time.”
“Oh yeah?” Sarah asked, perking up a little. “And what might that be?”
Morgan felt his lips turning upward ever so slightly as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The wind picked up then, whipping his hair around his face, and making Sarah shiver, wrapping her arms around herself. Morgan’s next words made the chill that had settled over her skin, seep down to her very bones.
“How would you feel about killing a god?”
Continue reading after the credits for an exclusive sneak preview of:
Power: Buryoku (Book One)
Afterword
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Upcoming releases
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The Rules
Somerset: Book One
1
“Out of the way, you useless piece of trash!”
Roy jumped aside as Shah Koya ran past, followed closely by a group of other Yellow-Belts. He stumbled, nearly falling to the ground as his lame leg was jostled by one of the passing group. Luckily, he’d been holding a broom and was able to brace himself against it, though he imagined the bristles would now have to be replaced.
He could hear their snickering laughter floating back on the wind as they dashed through the village gates, heading on their latest excursion into the clan’s Dungeon. Outwardly, he kept his features neutral, pushing off the broom and allowing the weight to settle back on his braced right leg. Inwardly however, he seethed at the injustice.
Roy had only been a child when he’d been adopted into the Shah clan. He’d been too young to remember how he’d lost his parents, or where they’d even come from, but the Shah clan made sure to remind him every day of his position within their ranks. He’d been treated this way for as long as he could remember. Not for the crime of being a cripple, no, his crime was a far greater one: he had no affinity for the Martial Arts.
In a world where everyone could cultivate the Essence of their chosen Advancement Path, Roy was completely inept. Not only could he not sense the Essence of the world around him, but he didn’t even have a core in which to store it. He was a freak. Everyone developed a core by the time they were five or six, he however, had never had such luck.
Had he developed a core, he’d never have been crippled in the first place. And even if the horrific injury that the wild boar had inflicted would have crippled him, the clan would have used their considerable resources to heal him. They would not waste their precious time and money on a freak however, so he’d been left to recover on his own.
The sound of laughter reached his ears, breaking him from his thoughts, and he turned his head to see a group of children splashing in a nearby pond. Instead of cheering him up however, his mood only darkened when his eyes landed on the pristine White-Belts tied around the children’s waists.
The Belts were a sign that they’d developed a core and had enough control to form them, forging them from the Essence within. The Belt was a sign of a true Martial Artist and demonstrated to all the Level of advancement in one’s core. Looking down to his own waist, where a piece of knotted rope held his robe in place, Roy felt his mood sour even further.
He was now twenty years old. At his age, he should already have long since reached Yellow. If he was particularly talented, he might even have reached his 2nd or 3rd Dan within the Yellow stage. But the world had seen fit to curse him and though he tried desperately to feel the Essence of the world every day, without a core, he was only making weird faces at the walls of his small house.
Aside from the obvious increase in strength, speed and power, advancing also had more far-reaching advantages. Such as an increased lifespan, and better health and complexion. Simply by advancing from White to Yellow, a Martial Artist could expect their lifespan to increase by ten years. From Yellow to Orange another twenty, and at Green, one could expect to live to well over two hundred, given the right circumstances.
He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Shah Lynn approaching. The bright Orange-Belt, featuring two slashes of green at the end, was tied tightly around her waist. This meant that she was a 2nd Dan Orange and one of the most powerful Martial Artists in the clan. It also meant that she had the power to bully anyone she wanted and there was no better punching bag, than the village cripple.
“I’ve noticed you shirking your duty, Herald Leroy.”
Roy winced at the use of his full name. It marked him as even more of an outsider than he already was. The name sounded foreign and strange. He looked enough like an outsider as it was. With his light brown hair and green eyes, he stood out like a spot of white in a sea of black. He also had fairer skin, his being pale in comparison to the darker tan of the Shah. The most notable difference, however, was in his build.
He was bulky and wide as opposed to the more slim and refined build of the Shah. They could of course, have made him feel welcome by at least allowing him to carry their name, but they didn’t want the other clans to associate him with them. He would make them look weak and in Buryoku, weakness was punishable by death.
Aside from those differences, he was average height, a couple of inches short of six feet. His face was broad with a strong jaw and slightly crooked nose. He owed that particular feature to Shah Koya. His posture was always bad though, as his deformity forced him to lean heavily on his left leg, giving him a crooked appearance and always making him seem shorter than he actually was.
“Forgive me for my failure Shah Lynn,” Roy said, bowing at the waist as best he could.
It rankled him to have to bow and scrape to these people, but if he didn’t, the consequences could be severe. She could kill him right here and now, and no one would say a thing. She might even be secretly rewarded for ridding the clan of such a disgrace. The only thing keeping a clan member from doing so thus far, was their image. It would be dishonorable to kill someone like him, so they kept him around, for now…
The woman tossed her long mane of black hair, placing her hands on her hips to emphasize her advancement rank, not that she needed to do so. The color was bright enough that everyone could clearly see it, and in a clan of Water cultivators who wore primarily blue, it stood out even more.
“I cannot forgive this affront. We took you in when no one else would, Herald Leroy. We even allowed you to stay when your deformity was discovered. You should be on your knees thanking us for our generosity. Instead, you shirk your duty and dishonor our clan.”
Roy knew what was coming next, but he kept his head bowed and didn’t allow the rage he felt boiling inside to bubble to the surface.
“Three extra hours work in the kitchens for shirking your duty!” The woman snapped, “And we will be docking your pay for ruining that broom.”
Roy’s head snapped up at that proclamation. They’d always seen fit to saddle him with more menial labor at every opportunity, but docking his meager pay was going too far.
“You can’t do that!” he exclaimed before he could catch himself.
A ringing slap caught him across the face, sending him sprawling. His vision fuzzed from the force of the blow and he could taste blood. He clutched at his cheek, staring up at the woman who still had an impassive expression on her face. And despite the pain he felt, Roy knew that she’d held back. Had she wanted to, she could have knocked his head clean off his shoulders with that blow.
“Disrespecting someone of my station will not be tolerated from a cripple and a freak. Two week’s pay will be docked from your salary Herald Leroy, now get back to work before I make it three.”
With that, she turned her back to him, sauntering away. Gritting his teeth in anger, Roy slowly got back to his feet. This wasn’t an easy task, seeing as his right leg was in a stiff brace, and he was once again forced to use the broom to help him. This time however, he made sure to turn the broom upside down, using the handle to prop himself up instead of the delicate bristles.
Feeling around gingerly with his tongue, Roy made sure that none of his teeth had been knocked loose. They hadn’t, but he could already feel a bruise spreading from the point of impact and knew he would have to bear that shame for as long as the bruise took to heal. He sighed, feeling the anger leaking from him as he resumed his sweeping near the village gates.
This was his l
ot in life. He was doomed to forever be a cripple, pushed around by those more powerful. He could always leave, but he knew he wouldn’t survive the week. After all, the last time he’d tried to escape, he’d ended up crippled, and that was after only six hours. Without the ability to sense Essence, he had no way of avoiding dangerous Beasts. And if he’d been injured so badly when both legs still worked, how would he fare now?
Roy let out a snort as he continued sweeping. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the White-Belts being instructed in their first technique. The Water Blade was the staple of their clan and what they were known for. The Martial Artist would manipulate the Essence in their bodies to take control of the water in the air, or if there wasn’t enough, create it using their own Essence. The water would then form into a half-moon blade, which could then be controlled by the Martial Artist.
This was, of course, only the most basic use of the technique. He’d personally seen Shah Lynn controlling no less than ten of the half-moon blades. She’d once demonstrated for a visiting clan and had diced a boulder the size of his house into a pile of perfectly shaped bricks in a matter of seconds.
In the Shah clan, the amount of blades you could produce, as well as the precision you had with the technique, showed the potential one had as a Martial Artist. And at only twenty-five years old, Shah Lynn was their star.
While most children reached Yellow-Belt by the age of eleven or twelve, most wouldn’t reach Orange until well into their forties, and even once they did, most never even made it to 1st Dan Orange. That Lynn was a 2nd Dan Orange at her age was nothing short of remarkable. That, of course, had gone to her head, turning her into an unbearable and prideful person.
Roy saw one of the instructors looking over at him and belatedly realized that he’d once again stopped sweeping. He quickly resumed his duties, not wishing to be scolded or attacked again.