Ghosts of Korath

by Jake Stone

  “Help her,” I say to Zorel, motioning to Atia who’s struggling to sit down. The elemental grips her by the waist and guides her to a broken boulder nearby.

  “Where are you going?” Atia asks as I begin to march away. Her voice is laden with the scolding tone of a superior and I can only laugh at the fact that even now, after all of this, she still remains in charge.

  “I gotta go free the women,” I answer.

  She nods her ascent.

  The bones of the pentagram crunch beneath the souls of my boots, as I approach the women, anxious to free them from their posts. They thank me with sobbing cries, grateful that I came back for them, forever indebted that my friends and I risked so much for their sake. I tell them that it’s fine and that soon they’ll be free to return to their families. But there are some who don’t share in the joy. They stare at me through suspicious eyes, recoiling from my touch as I pass them, as if frightened by what they just saw me do.

  I ignore them, still grappling myself with the ramifications of my ability.

  Galail greets me with a smile. “Looks like you did it,” she says.

  “I don’t know what happened,” I tell her, fidgeting with the lock that won’t seem to budge.

  “I do,” she says. “You’re a champion of the light, something more than what you are.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” I say, crinkling my nose as I struggle to pry the lock open. “I just know that I need to get you out of here.”

  “Thank you,” she says, drawing my gaze. “You came back when others wouldn’t. And that’s not science.”

  Embarrassed, I let out a snort as I return to breaking the lock. But it won’t budge. It’s as if the metal is refusing to do so. About to reach for my blade, I hear a woman’s voice.

  “Xander?”

  Turning around, I find Tora climbing down the side of the cliff, her tiny hands barely holding onto the rocky side as she comes close to slipping. Halfway down she lets go and lands on the floor with her sandals. She takes only a few steps before coming to a complete halt. “Sister?” she says, her hand covering her mouth as she gasps. Tears fill her eyes, and she can barely contain herself as she races over the bones of the pentagram to reach her.

  I stand back as Tora flings her arms around her sister, unbothered by the fact that her arms are still raised above her head, wrists chained to the metal pole behind her. “I can’t believe that you’re still alive,” Tora says, pulling back and wiping the tears from her eyes.

  But when I look at Galail, expecting to see the same joy reflected on her face, I’m stunned to find only confusion.

  “Who are you?” Galail asks.

  Tora laughs softly to herself, wiping the tears from her eyes. “What are you talking about? I’m your sister?”

  Galail glances at me, brow creased, then turns back to Tora. “No you’re not.”

  It’s then, as my hands start to tremble, that Tora’s face begins to darken and a look of menace that I’d never seen before on her appears. “Oh yeah,” she says, “That’s right. I’m not.”

  Before I can even move, Tora reaches for one of the knives on the floor and slices Galail’s throat, blood gushing from the wound like a curtained waterfall.

  No! I try to move, but my body’s frozen, paralyzed by some unseen force that curls against my skin. Fighting against it, I can only watch, helpless, as Tora moves to the next girl.

  “Silly little thing,” Tora reflects as she holds the knife to the girl’s throat. “But then again, she was only human.”

  “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  “What I must.” She slits the girl’s throat with the knife then plunges it into her stomach, twisting it in deeper without a hint of remorse.

  I can’t believe this is happening. Has she gone crazy? Possessed by the spirit of Bantha? How could I have not expected this? “Drop the knife, Tora. This isn’t you.”

  “Fine,” she says, letting it go.

  I hold her in my sight, as she turns to me. But her movement is relaxed, her shoulders squared. There’s no worry on her face, just a sincere smile and glittering eyes. “I don’t need a knife to do what I must.”

  Holding out her hands, all sixteen remaining women tied to their posts suddenly die, their breaths catching in their throats as they’re suffocated to death.

  The image of it is maddening, and I’m frozen with fear, shocked by the utter display of terrifying power laid out before us.

  “I will kill you,” Atia declares, her hand pressed to the wound on her stomach as she struggles to rise.

  Tora laughs. “You couldn’t kill yourself,” she says mockingly. “Not in your state.”

  “You’re right,” Zorel says from behind her. “But I can.” Her hands rise into the air as she summons a ball of blue light. Her power is extremely depleted from keeping the hellions at bay for so long. But she digs down deep, like the fighter she is and hails Tora with all her energy.

  The ball barely makes it a couple of feet before it’s evaporated from the air, and with another wave of Tora’s hand, Zorel is thrown back against the wall.

  “Damn you,” Zorel mutters through her pain. She jumps to her feet and raises her arms again, her face hardening into a look of focus I’ve never seen before. She’s conjuring all of her power, every last bit of who she is to defy this witch. But when she tries to summon her powers one last time, nothing comes out. Nothing.

  “What…what did you do to me?” Zorel says in utter dismay as she glares at her hands. There’s horror in her eyes, and I realize with a shock of fear what Tora’s just done to her.

  “I’ve taken away what makes you special,” she says. Then, turning to me, she whispers in a voice that only she and I can hear. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, Broken Plug?”

  “Damn you,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to raise my sword to her throat. The rage in me is building, but my arms are stiff, frozen by some magical paralytic that she’s cast on me.

  She laughs at my curse. “But don’t you see, Xander?” She caresses my cheek with one of her fingers. “I’m already damned.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “You’re the witch,” I say, gazing down at the young beauty who stares up at me with lust in her eyes.

  Behind me, I hear the return of Chun Hei and Petronelous, their breaths catching audibly as they see the massacre of bodies hanging from the poles.

  “I never liked that word,” Tora says, her voice low and hollow. She looks away, eyes growing dark as she’s thrust back to some earlier time, perhaps when she was run out of her village and forced to survive like a savage in these shit caverns. She cringes in disgust. “It was so … beneath me.”

  “And now they’re beneath you, is that it?” I say, the words slipping out of my mouth before I can stop them. “That’s why you did it, right? All of this? Why you made your deal with Zendal?”

  She rolls her eyes, annoyed by my petty attempt to figure her out. “Power and fear were never important to me.”

  “Then what was?” I ask.

  “Revenge,” she says, her eyes alighting with pride and purpose. “Revenge against my enemies.”

  “The villagers?”

  “They threw me out,” she says, “cast me aside because they thought I was too ambitious, too free-spirited. But I showed them. I showed them all!”

  The bitterness of her voice turns my stomach.

  “When I returned to the village, I found the men, women, and children groveling at my feet. They begged me not to hurt them. Can you believe that? The very people who chained me, the very people who threw rocks at my head and called me a whore as I was being dragged up the road into my tomb.

  “How terrified they were of me, how pathetic, pleading with me to spare their lives. ‘What about me?’ I asked them. ‘What about the young girl who you sentenced to slow death in the mountain? Where was your mercy then?’

  “Cowards. All of them. No different from the Republic troops who
’ve come here to meet their deaths, no different from the troops who lost their lives during the War of Darkness. Even then, as I was once again forced to retreat into the mountain, I knew, I knew there would be a day when I would get another chance.”

  “You knew we were coming,” I say, piecing the puzzle together. “You knew that the Republic would one day return to Korath to reclaim it for the war.”

  “Of course, I did,” she replies. “It was only a matter of time before someone would reopen the Dark Horizon and allow Zendal’s minions to reenter this world for their own profit. You see, Xander, as I’ve come to learn over the centuries, man’s heart is far darker than any hell. And Korath is the main staging point for Zendal’s invasion into this galaxy.”

  “So all this time it was just a game to you. The human slaves we saved. Your father.”

  “Ghosts,” she quickly replies. “Illusions I made to manipulate you and your friends.”

  “Even Azafalia?” I ask.

  “Azafalia?” She snorts derisively. “I could’ve destroyed that monster whenever I wanted to. But I needed him for the game. I needed him to make it look like I was helpless.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because of you,” she says. “I saw you in a vision. I knew you were a champion, a being of worth. I just didn’t know how worthy you were.”

  “So this was a test?”

  “Everything’s a test, Xander, and this was yours,” she says. “The great witch of Korath can’t ally herself with just anyone. I needed a warrior, a champion, a king!”

  “Ally?” I ask.

  Her face turns dark with mischief, and I see the excitement sparking in her beautiful eyes as she readies her answer. “The price for my power was greater than I’d expected, even if it had made me one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy.”

  “Your father,” I say.

  Her head hangs as the memory of him looms over her, and I see the figure of the man whom we’d met back in the forge, appear next to her. He’s just as dirty as he was before, his hair long and unkempt, his body thin and frail. He looks at his daughter, and even though I know that he’s just a mirage, some illusion that she’s concocted to display her power, I can’t help but feel the sadness she feels as she looks at him.

  “He was the most important person in my life,” she says sadly, her hand rising to touch his face. “The only person who showed me love.”

  “Then why’d you do it?” I ask.

  “Because I thought for once in my life I would be free of all authority, able to live the life that I wanted without penalty or punishment. But I soon learned, regardless of how powerful a person is, a slave is still a slave.”

  “You plan to betray Zendal,” I say.

  She laughs, dismissing the image of her father with the wave of a hand. “To betray him implies that I was once faithful. No, Xander, I mean to defeat him, to the shut the Dark Horizon once and for all and rule this galaxy for myself.”

  “And you think you can do that?” I ask.

  “With you,” she says with a grin.

  I frown in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Light Bringer,” she says decisively. “The one who would one day appear in the night to bring back the day. I never believed in the myth, not even as I hid away in the darkness of these caverns plotting my revenge. Not until now that is.

  “I’ve seen you, Xander. I’ve seen what you can do. Facing creatures far more powerful than yourself. Standing against them with just your will to survive. You’ve proven your worth to me.” She sashays toward me, her gaze lowering to my chest, her hands caressing the plates of my armor. “Together,” she whispers seductively, “we can vanquish all of our enemies and rule this planet. But first, a great sacrifice is required.”

  “You mean to kill me to gain your full power,” I say.

  She looks at me, her brow furrowed. “No, Xander. For me to regain my full power, it is you who must sacrifice something for me.”

  “Sacrifice what?”

  She glances over my shoulder at my friends behind me. “That which has become most important to you.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Never.”

  “Fine,” she says. “If you will not do it, I’ll do it for you.”

  She whirls on me, turning to face dais where the eighteen women are hanging dead from their poles. With raised arms, she begins to recite her spells, ancient words, terrible sounds that rise from the bowels of the planet like waking gods chained to rock ,and the air starts to shimmer.

  I watch as the pentacle collapses into the ground, revealing a deep chasm that seems infinite in its darkness. From this wretched portal, a fountain of lava begins to rise, boiling angrily with hatred.

  Like a conductor of a symphony, Tora waves her hands in the air, her eyes resting shut as she throws herself into the melody of her madness. There’s beauty to her movement, a controlled articulation of craft that results in the formation of strange figures that start to pour out of the lava-like an assembly line.

  Monsters, I realize. Monsters made of steaming lava. They hunch over like hulking primates, their fingers and arms and feet dripping with boiling lava that melts the ground around them. One by one, they descend the steps of the platform, their movements slow, but purposeful.

  Atia calls for the women to stand and fight. But they’re wounded and frightened. Zorel barely lifts her gaze, her focus stuck on her powerless hands.

  “Please,” I say. “Don’t do this.”

  “But your test isn’t over yet,” she says. “You must now prove your loyalty to me.”

  “But I can’t,” I say.

  “But you must,” she replies, drawing closer to me. “I’ve made my sacrifice. Now, you must make yours. Prove to me that I am your one and only, and in return, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  I watch, captivated, as she starts to transform her appearance. Her short bangs and shoulder-length hair grow out past her shoulders, and the straight lines of her face soften, removing the seductiveness of her appearance and making her look more comely and nurturing.

  “Rachel,” I whisper.

  “Who else, dumby?” she says, framing my face with her hands. Even her voice is the same, its amused tone conjuring a smile from my lips. How has she done this? How has she made her so close to the real thing? She’s read my mind, that’s how. And even though I know this, I can’t seem to care.

  Slowly, my body relaxes, the rigor mortis that once ruled it lifting like a bad memory, and I’m free to hold her in my arms. Nothing else matters at this moment. Nothing else but her.

  In the background, I hear the sounds of screams, but they’re muffled, like the annoying noise of a television playing in another room. I don’t know who it is, and I don’t care. I’ve found her.

  I hold Rachel close, basking in the sensation. A huge part of me is healed now, and I begin to cry in joy.

  “Don’t tell me you’re crying,” she says.

  “I can’t help it,” I say, gazing into her eyes.

  I press my head to hers, relishing the moment as best I can. I breathe in her scent, glad that she’s safe in my arms. But as I listen to the sound of our breaths, there’s more noise, the screams, the cries, the pleas for help. They shake me from my reverie, pulling me up to a higher place, like the top of a mountain where I can see the sun on the horizon. “What is that?” I ask.

  “It’s nothing,” Rachel says. “The sound of an unneeded past which blocks us from the future. Ignore it. Forget it. Let it go.”

  I turn to the rest of cavern, my lids heavy from relaxation, my sight filled with haze, and I see the figures of women in armor struggling to survive against creatures made of fire. The women fight valiantly. But they’re slowing down now, barely able to stand against the onslaught.

  I know them, I tell myself. I’ve seen them before. But from where? I search my memory, trying to remember who they are, but my thoughts are clouded by my love for Rachel. I shake my he
ad.

  “Relax, darling,” Rachel tells me. “Let it go. Forget them and stay with me here.”

  Darling?

  The word stays with me, lingering with me like a nail in my shoe. It doesn’t feel right. It’s hollow with promise and lacks any real sincerity. I’ve never heard Rachel use it before. This isn’t her, I tell myself, this isn’t her, this isn’t her.

  The realization echoes in my mind, breaking the chain of desire that keeps me captive and in a flash, my senses come rushing back, ears filling with the horrific screams of my friends.

  “Keep fighting!” Atia yells out, blood gurgling from her throat. “Never give in. Never surrender. For the corfew!”

  All around me, they begin to fall, dropping to their knees as they’re finally overcome by the enemy. Everything in me wants to move, to throw Tora to the side and rush out with sword in hand to save them. But I don’t. I have more important things to do.

  “They’re not your friends anymore,” Tora says, realizing that her plan has failed. “You heard them. They resent you. They resent each other. Your bond is broken.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “They’re not.”

  Her features soften, as she lets out a sigh of relief.

  “They’re more than that.” I plunge my blade beneath her chin, her eyes filling with panic as the tip of my blade peaks out the top of her skull.

  Slowly, the facade of her beauty dissolves. Pieces of her face begin to chip away, revealing the wrinkles of an old woman, and her once dark hair fades to a dull grey. “I could’ve given you everything,” she says sadly. Her hands reach for my face, and I feel the sincere touch of longing and despair. “Everything you could’ve wanted.”

  “Not everything,” I say.

  When she dies, she dies gently, her face turning to the side as she’s overcome by a deep sleep. She won’t wake again, not if I can help it. Letting her go, I swing my blade at her neck, severing her head from her shoulders.

  The head flies through the air, twisting and turning until it finally lands on the floor of the cavern where it rolls to a stop.

  The air itself cries out in a shriek, and the floor beneath her body breaks into a long crack. Her power has been destroyed, and with it, her creations. The lava monsters suddenly harden and turn to stone, stopping just short of my friends, who are grouped together in a last stand.