The Eternal Menace

by Robert Gill

  2

  AWAY TO MOUNT EMBOR

  The next day was perfect. Not too hot or windy. Even the creatures and insects celebrated their short relationship with nature. The townspeople carried Otem’s coffin to the graveyard where everyone gathered.

  They placed the coffin beside his burial plot next to Kwon’s mother. Tears poured down Kwon’s cheeks, but he kept his composure. He’d almost dehydrated himself the day before, letting out his pain while staring at Otem’s body wrapped in linen.

  Every funeral in the town was the same. The citizens offered gifts of a single of their favorite flowers they spent so much effort growing, usually placing them on top of the coffin. The ceremony never lasted more than ten minutes before the deceased got buried. Then the rest of the day was spent drinking homemade liquor while singing and dancing. So there was no reason to dress up. Although Otem did a lot for the townspeople, he didn’t get any special treatment. They just partied harder while they exchanged memories of him.

  Later that afternoon, Kwon sat on the ground by himself. The citizens discussed the future. One of the main topics was who Kwon would stay with from now on. They had no problem taking care of him, but Kwon did. Nothing would be the same for him again. No one else’s bed was as comfortable as his own, and no story was better than any random adventure Otem brought up.

  He pulled the strange medallion out of his pocket. It was red, and in the center of it was a white upside-down triangle with legs; a thin, black serrated line marked the center of the triangle. Coming from the left side, something similar to three black tree branches extended over the triangle. The triangle itself mashed a black dot below its tip, and there was a shrub to the right of the dot; a thick, black T was also to the right; and another black branch, with a squared end, touched the top of the triangle. There was something about that medallion that caused him to get up, look to see if anyone was watching—none of the adults paid him any attention—and run out of town as fast as he could.

  Off into the world he went. Where would he go? What would he do? What would it be like? He didn’t know and he didn’t care.

  Well, he should’ve cared about those storm clouds he ignored about an hour ago, because it was now night time and lightning lit up the sky with thunder exploding around him. Kwon dragged himself along. His clothes sagged from being soaked by torrential downpour. He wiped the soggy hair away from his eyes. At that moment, he spotted a miniature bridge ahead. He rushed to it. Under it: a patch of dry area. He hopped down into the creek and dashed to the spot. He sat with his knees to his chest until he dozed off.

  The next morning was clear. Footsteps plodded across the bridge. The footsteps stopped. Kwon was visible through the cracks between the wood and still asleep.

  A twelve-year-old boy with long, untamed, green hair, a sort of football-shaped head, thick brows, big cheeks, a fat nose, and tan skin jumped off the side of the bridge into the creek. He walked over to Kwon and gave him a nudge. “Hey, wake up,” the boy said. He nudged him a couple more times until Kwon opened his eyes.

  He lifted his head and stared at the strange boy.

  “Are you all right?” asked the boy. Kwon didn’t do anything but gawk. “You drunk or somethin’?” Still nothing but a dumb, groggy look came from Kwon.

  Then he responded. “What’s wrong with your face?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Why, is somethin’ on it?”

  “No, but it looks like you’ve been stung by a thousand bees. Why is your head so puffy?”

  The boy frowned. “Why is your hair so nappy? Why am I still talkin’ to you, anyway? I just wanted to see if you were alright and this is what I get. Forget you! I’m leavin’.” The boy started to walk away.

  “No, no, I didn’t mean to insult you. I’ve just never seen anybody with your problem before, that’s all. Hey, wait!” The boy shook his head. Kwon got up and caught up to him. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Go away!”

  “I can’t. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  The boy stopped, turned around, and looked at Kwon. “You don’t have a home?”

  “No.”

  “What about a family?” he asked, puzzled.

  Kwon shook his head. “It’s all gone.” His voice sounded soft enough to be a whisper.

  The boy studied Kwon from head to toe. “Let’s get you some dry clothes. You don’t wanna get sick out here.”

  Kwon followed the boy through the woods. They walked until they arrived at an old, white house on the outskirts of a small town, surrounded by a vast field of knee-high grass and flowers. The boy went to the back door and turned around.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kwon.”

  “Kwon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay right here, Kwon.”

  The boy went to open the door but turned his head when Kwon said, “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  With a half-smile, he responded, “It’s Zembok,” and entered the house.

  He went to his bedroom and rummaged through the dresser drawers, tossing clothes all over the room. Everything would probably be too loose for Kwon. He grew tired of looking and just grabbed a white T-shirt and a pair of green sweat pants.

  Zembok took the clothes outside and gave them to Kwon, who was sitting on the ground patiently. “I would invite you in, but my grandpa might freak out if he comes home and sees a stranger in his house. You can change in the storage house, though. Let me unlock it for you.”

  Kwon followed Zembok to the red, aluminum building forty feet from the side of the house. Zembok unlocked the combination lock, then he slid the door open a bit. Kwon stepped in and shut it just enough to leave a crack for them to hear each other.

  “So what happened to your face, anyway?” Kwon’s voice slipped through the opening. “You never told me.”

  Zembok leaned against the wall, not knowing if he should be offended or not. “What is it about my face that bothers you? Nothin’ is wrong with it. Haven’t you ever seen a troll before?”

  “A troll?”

  “Yeah, you heard me, a troll.”

  “I didn’t think those things really existed.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure those things do exist,” Zembok replied. “Hey, whatever happened to your family?”

  Kwon’s voice became soft. “I really don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

  “Why not? You gotta get it off of your chest sooner or later.”

  Kwon yelled, “I said I don’t wanna talk about it!”

  “All right. I’ll leave it alone.” Zembok rubbed his gut. “Look, I’m goin’ to the house to make somethin’ to eat. Let me know when you’re done.”

  Kwon sulked as he wrung the water out of his pants while Zembok went back to the house.

  Zembok spent several minutes going through the kitchen cabinets grabbing herbs, vegetables, oils, and throwing the ingredients into a large bowl on a square dining table. Then he looked in the refrigerator to see what else to add. Everything had labels from fish to chicken to pork, but Zembok decided to eat something different, so he grabbed a bag of chunky meat labeled “Unidentifiable”, opened and sniffed it, “I guess it’s still good,” then dumped it in the bowl with the other raw ingredients. He began stirring with a wooden spoon.

  An old troll with long, shiny, silver hair flowing down his back—resembling an older version of Zembok, except with strong cheekbones instead of puffy—entered through the front door. He had a distinguished poise. He passed through the living room side of the area to approach Zembok and then he nosily peeked inside the bowl.

  “I thought you were gonna be gone all day?” asked Zembok.

  “I had a change of plans. I wanted to spend the day with you instead of helping out around town. What’s this you’re making?”

  Kwon approached the back door wearing his fresh clothes with the wet clothes in his hands. He heard them inside talking, so he turned the knob and eased into the kitchen. The old trol
l snatched a butcher’s knife from the counter to his left and threw it at the wall. As it stuck, Kwon stared at the reflection of his own frozen eyes just inches away.

  Zembok’s eyes bulged. “Oh crap! Grandpa, you almost killed him. You can’t just throw knives at people like that.”

  “Who are you?” The old troll’s voice was smooth but bold toward Kwon.

  His fear left him with a stuttered reply. “Uh … uh …”

  Zembok spoke for him. “His name is Kwon. I found him down by the creek. His clothes were wet and I didn’t want him to get sick, so I gave him some of mine.”

  “I-I’m sorry. I’ll go back outside.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” The old troll relaxed. “Come in and have a seat,” he insisted, pulling out a chair at the table for Kwon.

  Kwon kept his eyes sharp as he took steady steps to the table. He and the old troll sat down.

  The old troll cracked a smile that eased Kwon’s discomfort. “I’m sure whatever Zembok is making will be edible.” He leaned in closer to Kwon. “But it’ll probably give you a bad case of bubble guts.”

  Kwon snickered.

  “Yeah, whatever, old man,” Zembok said.

  “Are you hungry, Kwon?”

  “Heck yeah! But I don’t want the bubblies, though.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s always good to clean out your system. By the way, my name is Zion.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Zion.”

  “Throw those clothes on the floor. I’ll wash them later.” Kwon placed the wet clothes beside his chair. “Why is a young boy like yourself wandering around?”

  “Well, I’m trying to find Mount Embor.” He paused with a quick glance to the table top. His voice went soft again. “My grandfather was killed … and I need to know why. He told me his best friend lives there.” Kwon pulled the medallion from his pocket and gave it to Zion. “I found this in his hand. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Do you believe this had something to do with his death?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is, he had been stabbed and blown apart and this was in his hand. Something’s not right about it.”

  Zion examined the medallion. He smirked, gazing at the item for a few seconds as if he were familiar with it, and then let out a slight laugh. “This has a funny-looking design.” Zion placed the medallion on the table. “Try not to worry about it too much right now. Relax a bit. This type of stuff can stress you out. Eh, let’s say we go for a walk after lunch, huh?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” said Zembok.

  “So, have you seen it before?” Kwon asked Zion.

  “Nope, but maybe your grandfather’s friend has. We’ll talk about it after we eat.”

  After lunch, the three of them strolled through the fields where a colorful sea of flowers stretched far and wide over shallow hills. Zion stretched his arms in the air and let out a long grunt, then he rubbed his stomach. “I don’t know what that was, Zembok, but it was amazing. Who taught you how to cook like that?”

  Zembok smiled. “Don’t try to sweet talk me after you verbally bashed my cookin’.”

  Zion started laughing. “Bash? I didn’t bash anything. I simply pointed out how your culinary skills can make a great laxative.”

  Kwon enjoyed their energy. Their relationship was close. It reminded him of how easy it was to talk to Otem about anything. It brought back the feeling of how much they loved each other’s company. The environment also made him feel comfortable. “This place is beautiful. It’s almost like back home, but with more flowers.”

  “This land was once inhabited by my people a long time ago,” Zion said, lifting his chin with much pride. “They built the town below us. Humans and trolls lived together in peace.”

  “So there are more trolls around here?”

  “I’m afraid we’re the last of our kind.”

  “What? What happened?”

  His pride faded as his eyes dropped. “Our race was wiped out. An evil man destroyed our people out of spite. Zembok’s parents and I were all that was left, but they fell ill and died after Zembok was born.”

  “Why would someone do something like that?”

  “I don’t know. He hated me, that’s all I know.” Zion’s straight face became cheerful, an obvious attempt to hide his emotions. “You mentioned Mt. Embor before. You must be searching for Goopa.”

  Kwon’s eyes lit with curiosity. “You know him?”

  “A lot of people do. He’s saved a lot of lives.”

  “He’s saved your life?” Zembok asked.

  “Plenty of times. We were good friends. We would get together from time to time and travel to different places, along with some other friends of ours.”

  “Were?” Kwon asked. “How come you’re not still friends anymore?”

  “We’re still friends. We just haven’t seen each other in a long time. So your grandfather … what was his name?”

  “Otem. Otem Kiwambe.”

  Zion raised an eyebrow. “Otem, huh? And after you find Goopa, what next?”

  “I’m gonna find out who would want to kill my grandpa.”

  “But Mt. Embor is pretty far. How would he know?”

  “He has to know something. I’m telling you, my grandpa didn’t have any enemies. Everybody in town loved him. He built a ranch in the middle of nowhere so he could hand out free food and milk to the townspeople. There’s no way anybody in town would want to harm him. Besides, where else do I have to go? If I don’t find some answers I’ll just be standing still.”

  Zion noticed some of Kwon’s grief showing when he said that. “You’re right, but for tonight, you stay with us.”

  Zembok spotted a baseball hidden in the grass. He picked it up and said, “Look what I found. You wanna play catch?”

  “Yeah.” Kwon started running out into the field. “Don’t throw too hard, though.”

  “Go way out there.”

  Zion smiled. “That sounds like something Otem would do,” he whispered.

  “Eh, grandpa, you playin’?”

  “Of course I am.” Zion walked out into the field while Zembok threw the ball way over Kwon’s reach.

  A few hours later, Zion held his forehead as he approached the front door. “Maybe playing catch without gloves wasn’t such a great idea. I’m going to make dinner. Don’t wander off too far.” Zion entered the house.

  “You wanna see somethin’ cool, Kwon?”

  Kwon shrugged. “Sure.”

  Zembok took Kwon to the storage house and slid the door open, then he pulled a long, thin chain to turn on the light. On one of the tall, metal shelves lied a long case. He pulled it down, then lifted three latches to open it and reveal its glorious contents: a red fighting pole with symbols engraved on each end—or at least it was glorious to Zembok.

  “What’s so great about this?” To Kwon it was a useless piece of metal.

  “This is my grandfather’s favorite weapon. He fought all over the world, beatin’ all kinds of opponents. Everybody that tried to challenge him got smashed with this pole. My grandfather was a great fighter. Still is. He told me this pole is magical somehow. It’s legendary. He’s been teachin’ me how to fight since I was six.”

  “My grandpa taught me a few things, too. Only problem is, I never practice.”

  Zembok closed the case and put it back on the shelf. “You should start. You never know when it’ll come in handy.” Zembok began to speak with a radiant ambition. “One day I’m gonna learn how to use this thing, and I’m gonna grow up to be even better than my grandfather. Nobody’ll be able to stop me. Not even you if you decide to become a fighter.”

  Kwon shook his head. “Nah, fighting’s not my thing.”

  “Oh, well, we should go get washed up for dinner. My grandfather freaks out if I’m not clean.”

  At the dinner table, nothing but bones and empty bowls were spread all over the surface. Kwon and Zembok laughed as Zion made weird faces with chicken bones overflowing from his
mouth.

  “Hey, grandpa, I was thinkin’, why don’t we let Kwon stay with us?”

  Zion let the bones drool out onto the table. “We can’t let him stay here. He has a quest to fulfill. Speaking of which, I have to show you how to get to Mt. Embor.”

  Zion went to a reading desk in the living room to pull out a blue pen and a piece of paper and sat back down. He began drawing on the paper, concentrating as if he were creating his greatest masterpiece. But instead of a masterpiece, he pushed the paper, with a childish doodle on it, to the center of the table. Both Kwon and Zembok paid close attention as Zion used the pen to guide the directions.

  “Here we are.” Zion circled a scribbled example of the house they were in. Then he drew a line past lollipop trees, short arrow houses, and connected triangle-mountains to link it to a bent, vertical rectangle, and then he circled the rectangle. “Way up here is Mt. Embor. It’s actually a straight shot from here for me, but for you it’s different. You’re—”

  “Why is that?” Kwon interrupted.

  “I have a different way of traveling. Don’t worry about it, and just listen to me right now.” He moved the pen down to the first group of lollipops near the house and added more detail to the drawing as he continued. “You’re gonna go along a trail. Don’t worry about getting lost; that rarely happens in this forest. After a while you’re gonna see a big, pink flower and three other paths. You can go left or right, it doesn’t matter. Just not the middle.”

  “What happens if I go through the middle?”

  “I don’t really know for sure. No one has ever returned from that path.”

  “What do you think happened to them?” Kwon asked.

  “They’re probably dead. There’s a lot of poisonous creatures in that forest. But keep in mind, the paths I recommend are also dangerous, and it’s been a while since I’ve been through that forest. If you go left you’ll end up at a graveyard. Past the graveyard is the Kalahari. Head north through the desert and, eventually, you’ll find the mountain. If you go right you’ll go through many different towns where bandits like to prey. If you run into a bandit there’s a good chance they might kill you and take your supplies, but if you go that way head northwest. Take this piece of paper with you in case you forget. You should get some rest … both of you.”

  “Already?” Zembok moaned.

  “I’ll clean up. You two get ready for bed.”

  They all got up from the table. Zion collected the plates and bones as Kwon folded the paper and placed it in his pocket. They all said goodnight, and he and Zembok went to Zembok’s bedroom.

  Later that night, Kwon gazed up at the ceiling from the floor. “You awake?” he heard Zembok whisper.

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish we could spend more time together.”

  “Me too.”

  “Hey, promise me somethin’.” Zembok leaned over the edge of his bed. “Promise me that you’ll come visit us after you find what you’re lookin’ for.”

  “Of course, I will. We’re friends now, right?”

  “Sure.”

  Kwon gave him a quick nod. “Then I promise that I’ll come back.”

  “Good.” Zembok turned over and closed his eyes.

  Kwon continued staring at the ceiling, wondering what to expect ahead.

  Meanwhile, Zion stood outside in the front yard staring at the moon. The night was calm, but his usual carefree demeanor was gone. He gripped the strange medallion tight as the sight of it brought back the feeling of terrible weakness.

  Early the next morning, as the sun began to rise, Kwon put on a backpack that Zion handed to him.

  “This should be enough food to last you.” He opened Kwon’s hand and placed the medallion in his palm. “Take this. When you meet Goopa, make sure you give it to him. Good luck on your journey.”

  “Thanks for everything, Zion. Tell Zembok I said goodbye, okay.”

  “I will. You be careful out there.”

  “Bye.” Kwon went on his way, waving at Zion as he left.

  Inside of the house, Zembok slept. His clock on the wall, at the foot of his bed, read 6:41A.M. Two hours passed by before Zembok woke up. He looked at the clock, then he looked at the floor to discover Kwon’s absence. He started making his way to the living room, rubbing his eyes, noticing that his grandpa’s room was empty as he passed it in the hallway. As he stepped into the living room he shouted, “Eh, grandpa! Why didn’t you wake me up? I wanted to say goodbye to Kwon.”

  BWOOSH! A powerful force burst through the living room window as if an explosion happened outside. Zembok blocked his face. He looked down at the glass-littered floor and then at the window and ran to his room to slide on some shoes. He darted outside to see what horrors the bomb had left behind. But there was nothing different. In fact, there was no sign of any explosion at all.

  Then he heard a loud, painful shout from above. He looked up in the sky in time to see Zion plunging toward the storage house. He crashed into it, making half of the building fold in on itself. The impact sounded like someone shot a baking sheet with a 9mm handgun inches away from Zembok’s ear.

  “Grandpa,” Zembok gasped. He didn’t know how to process what he’d just seen. He started running toward the storage house yelling, “Grandpa! Grandpa!”

  Zion crawled from beneath the mess of metal through an opening where one of the corners split apart. His pole case was strapped to his back. “Stay back, Zembok! Don’t come any closer!” he shouted.

  Zembok stopped. Zion stood up and walked over near his grandson without much of a limp. But his focus wasn’t on Zembok as his eyes drifted from the sky to the ground.

  “Is that your kid, Zion?”

  Zembok turned around, immediately perplexed. “Who the heck is that?”

  Bohr descended to the ground twelve feet away from them, displaying a devious grin. “I can’t believe you’re still shootin’ ‘em out. I guess you still are a lady charmer, even though you are an ugly, old troll.”

  “That boy is my grandson, and if you’re thinking of harming him, think again.”

  “If I wanted to do anything, he’d be dead already.”

  “It’s a shame you’re still the same after twenty years.”

  “I’m not the same. I’m worse.”

  “We’ll see then.” Zion threw out his left arm. “Shadow touch!”

  His shadow stretched across the ground and grabbed Bohr’s shadow. He slingshot himself toward Bohr and punched him in the jaw hard enough to send him flying backwards, sliding on the grass. Zion grabbed his pole case, charged at Bohr, unhooked the first latch, and attacked with a stomp. But Bohr dodged and tried to leg sweep him. Zion jumped. Bohr transitioned to his feet from the sweep.

  Zion unhooked the second latch. They exchanged punches and kicks, counter attacking each other with devastating contact that made Zembok cringe as he watched. Zion took a punch to the stomach that sent him sliding across the grass. He maintained his footing but barely managed to keep from dropping to one knee.

  Zembok had never seen his grandfather fight anybody before. Although he was confused, it excited him to witness what he’d been told for so long, especially when Zion unhooked the third latch. The pole dropped from the case. He caught it. The sunlight gleamed in the pole’s highlight, sliding across its surface as Zion twirled it a bit to get the feel of it again, then brought it to his front, holding the weapon close to his chest horizontally to guard while crouching a bit with his left hand behind his back in a firm stance.

  “This is good,” Bohr said with a smile. “I never got to see what was so special about that thing. Show me whatcha got.”

  “I’m warning you, Bohr, I’m a lot stronger than I was twenty years ago.”

  “Does it really matter? You weren’t a match back then, so what makes you think you can beat me now? And don’t think you can trick me again. You don’t have any support this time.”

  “What is he talkin’ about?” Zembok asked. “Who is he, grandpa?
”

  “Stay out of it, Zembok. This man is a ruthless killer. He won’t hesitate to kill you … believe me.”

  “He’s not lying to you, Zembok. After I kill your grandfather I might just beat you around a little bit.”

  “That’s what you think.” Zion charged at Bohr. He swung the pole at him, but Bohr dodged the attack. He tried a few more swings, aiming for the head and stabbing at the chest. Bohr dodged all of the attacks. He even rolled on the ground to avoid being hit, then he flew up in the air.

  “Double spear,” Zion commanded. Sharp, four-sided spear tips popped out of the ends of the pole. Zion flew toward Bohr. He threw a couple of knives at Zion and equipped two of them. Zion deflected the knives with the pole. Their weapons clashed when he reached Bohr. They attacked and dodged each other a few times. Zion kicked Bohr in the face. He countered by slitting the side of Zion’s left leg.

  The battle escalated as they both landed devastating kicks on each other multiple times. They utilized every limb they had to attack and counter. Droplets of blood fell to the ground as their arms and thighs were cut by the finely sharpened weapons.

  Taking advantage of the open space, they moved around in the air with ease at a breakneck pace. Even though Zion’s movements and weapon control were graceful, they were easily matched by Bohr’s rough, forceful techniques. He slashed Zion across the chest, then kicked him to the ground. Zion back flipped in the air, landed on his feet, and stumbled back a few steps, holding his chest while sucking in air through his teeth.

  Zembok yelled, “No!” He started running toward Zion.

  “Stay back, Zembok!”

  Zembok froze. His concern for his grandfather made him want to disobey his command and step in. But what could he do? He’d never seen anything like this before. He’d definitely never known people could fly. As Bohr came back to the ground sheathing his knives, Zembok noticed Zion jam the pole into the earth and whisper something to it.

  “Is this it? The world champion defeated already? I thought you said you were a lot stronger?” Bohr taunted.

  “I’m surprised you’re still this powerful, Bohr. I guess I was foolish to underestimate her magic.”

  “Even though my body’s still weak, my outfit is making me stronger. Soon my body will be healthy and I’ll reach full strength as I become one with this outfit. After that, no one can stop me.”

  Zion stated, “I’ll be damned if I let you get away.”

  The spear tip burst from the ground underneath Bohr attached to a chain. The chain wrapped around his ankle. Caught by surprise, he tried to move, but the chain tightened. He tried to unwrap the chain but couldn’t. The spear’s edges dug into his skin every time he resisted. Zion pointed the other end of the spear at Bohr and commanded, “Extend!”

  The other spear tip, also connected to a chain, shot at Bohr. He dove out of the way. “Retract!” The chain and spear tip snapped back to the pole. Zion dashed toward Bohr as he hopped to his feet. The chain underground continued to stretch with Zion’s advancement. He kicked Bohr in the gut, then he punched him in the face. Zion slapped him in the head with the pole, but the helmet absorbed the shocking blow. Bohr became angry at his limited mobility. He began to parry the attacks using his hands, then he jumped as hard as he could into the air.

  He shot his javelin blow, with his index and middle fingers on one hand, at Zion, but the adept troll jumped out of the way. The energy hit the ground, causing dirt to explode everywhere. A few clumps smacked Zembok in the face.

  Zion jumped into the air. He reached Bohr and grazed his chin with the spear. When Bohr leaned away from the attack, Zion used the opportunity to try and take one of Bohr’s gloves off. Bohr punched him in the face and kneed him in the stomach, then he flew higher in the sky. Zion chased him. The chain stopped stretching after they became specks in the sky; it jerked Zion a bit, but not enough to stop his momentum.

  The chain underground broke through the surface. Bohr grabbed the pole and kicked Zion. The pole slipped out of Zion’s hands. Bohr threw the pole away. It landed near the storage house.

  Zembok went for the pole up. Bohr lunged at Zion, punched him a few times, then he hit him with an energy bomb: slightly visible, distorted balls of energy that resembled heat rising off of any surface on a summer afternoon (usually shot or thrown from the palms of the hands).

  Zion started to fall. He hit Bohr with multiple energy bombs of his own that didn’t faze him.

  Zembok picked the pole up. He started pulling the chain as fast as he could, but his effort was useless since Bohr’s movements jerked him around.

  Bohr grabbed Zion. He tried to hit him with another energy bomb, but Zion dodged and grabbed Bohr’s arm. The blast hit near Zembok and exploded, knocking him to the ground. Zion started kicking Bohr in his back and attempted to take his glove off.

  “I don’t think so,” Bohr uttered.

  He grabbed Zion’s leg, stabbed him in the thigh so quick that Zion never saw him pull the knife, and started pummeling his face. Zion fell to the ground with every punch. Bohr hit him with a big punch that sent him crashing into the ground. Bohr landed with his feet on each side of Zion. He started punching the old troll over and over again in his torso, pounding Zion’s body into the ground as the earth around them shook.

  Tears poured from Zion’s grimace.

  Zembok shook off his bump just in time to see Bohr stop and point his two fingers at Zion’s throat.

  “Don’t … go … down … this … path,” Zion’s weak voice struggled as he spit up blood.

  “Shut up and die!” Bohr used a small javelin blow. Dirt and grass exploded around them, creating a cloud that rushed in all directions. Zembok couldn’t see anything. When the dust cleared, Zion lied in a small crater, his head nearly detached.

  Bohr unwrapped the chain and walked away from the body. Zembok crawled to Zion’s remains. His legs gave out every time he tried to stand. He hoped what he was seeing wasn’t true. He wanted to vomit from the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even swallow without feeling a giant lump in his throat.

  Bohr pulled the wrist communicator from the pouch. He put it around his wrist and then started turning the tiny knobs on the side. He tuned through the whistling static until he found a clear channel. “Hello. Hello. Is anybody home?”

  “I’m here,” a small voice said on the other end.

  “Where’s Kizm?”

  “This is Kizm.”

  Zembok gazed at Zion.

  “Oh, you sound different. Listen, the first two are dead. Do you want me to go after the other ones now?”

  “No, you’re strong but you’re rusty. Those others shouldn’t be taken lightly. Find the blue gemstone bracelet first. If we plan to succeed we have to summon Ditan.”

  The conversation grabbed Zembok’s attention. A ferocious frown came over his face as he stood up. Bohr looked at him. “Look, there’s a kid here. What should I do with him?”

  “Leave him.”

  Zembok charged at Bohr. He pulled one of his knives, threw it, and hit Zembok in the thigh. He shouted as he fell to his knees.

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

  “No, no. He tried to attack me, so I stopped him, that’s all.” Bohr began pacing back and forth. “How am I supposed to find this bracelet, anyway? I don’t even know where to start.”

  “There’s a professor in South Carolina who used to be an archeologist. From what I hear, he’s the only one that knows the location of the bracelet.”

  “Where at in South Carolina?”

  “I don’t know,” Kizm said.

  “Well, what’s his name?”

  “Beats me.”

  Bohr snapped, “So how am I gonna find this guy?”

  Kizm gave a smug laugh. “Just follow the news. The ocean’s pretty violent nowadays. I don’t wanna hear from you until you find that bracelet. I’m out.”

  Kizm cut the communication. Bohr stopped his strides. “Why do I get the feeling
that he knows more than he’s telling me?” He turned his head to Zembok, who was pulling the knife from his thigh. Zembok grunted as blood oozed from the wound. Bohr took a small jar of medicine out of his pouch and tossed it in front of Zembok. “Put this on your wound. It’ll help stop the bleeding.” Zembok gave him a fiery stare. “Look, kid, no hard feelings, huh?”

  “I’m gonna kill you! That’s a promise.”

  “Alright then.” Bohr pulled a red-and-white medallion, with a strange design in black, from the pouch and tossed it right beside the medicine. “Let’s see if you can keep that promise.”

  Bohr flew away. Zembok crawled back to Zion and began to weep.

  Later that afternoon, Zembok stood over his grandfather’s shallow grave. He had covered it with dirt and placed a big stone near it since he had nothing else to put on it. Flowers from the field were no good to put on the grave; they’d just end up like Zion. Besides, he was part of the field now.

  The fighting pole had returned to its normal form. He didn’t know how it moved on its own or how to use it like Zion did, but he didn’t care at the moment. He was going to find out somehow, so he placed it in the case and wore it, along with a backpack with some money, a bit of food, and a spare set of clothes.

  “I’ll get him for you, grandpa,” he said as he stared at the grave. He took one last look at the house, not knowing if he’d ever return. Then he went on his journey.