Akashi's Will

by Kaden Reed

  The picture shifted to display the two surviving members from Amorak entering the arena, “team Amorak will have their work cut out for them going against Akashi,” Bob sounded solemn for the Amorak fans.

  “Their team captain, Samantha, is still waiting to be reborn by her Dungeon,” Bill added gravelly, “unfortunately it means that team Amorak will be at a heavy disadvantage.”

  Mud could be seen waving at the crowd with Kayper standing stoically beside him, not looking at anything but the Akashi team across the arena.

  “Without further delay, let’s get this show started,” Bob cheered.

  The picture zoomed out to show both teams on opposite sides of the arena. The four pillars pulsed with blue light five times, then a brilliant flash of green light erupted from them, “and the grand final has begun,” Bill cheered.

  Mud hefted his shield up in front of him and started sidestepping to get near a pillar. Kayper was running beside him while snapping off quick shots with her bow at the Akashi team.

  Shino took three steps to the side, appearing to fade into invisibility. Dhurin unsheathed his sword, took one step forward and slashed horizontally at the air in front of him while growling a word of power. A barely visible wave of force arced from the swing and flowed in the direction of the Amorak team.

  Seeing the force wave coming in his direction, Mud stopped moving and planted his shield in front of him. Activating a rune, a projection of magical energy enveloped him and the nearby Kayper, just in time to soak up the oncoming wave of power. Mud was pushed back half a step from the force of the blow, but most of the energy appeared to have been absorbed.

  Kayper aimed her bow straight into the air before she released an arrow that was glowing a fierce blue. The arrow zoomed off above the arena and quickly became lost in the blue of the sky.

  “Kayper just shot off an arrow into the sky,” Bob pointed out with urgency in his voice, “this is only the second time we have seen her use one of her abilities. Last time it was to sneakily kill Aleina. Keep an eye out fans!”

  Dhurin started jogging towards the pillar that both of the Amorak members were using as cover. When he closed most of the distance, he shifted his sword into is left hand and held his right hand vertically in front of his chest, grunting another word of power, his body became slightly translucent and the sand of the arena behind him was barely visible through him.

  “What was that?” Bill asked puzzled by what Dhurin did.

  When two smoky forms split off of Dhurin to run on either side of him and face off against the Amorak team Bob exclaimed, “did you all see that? Dhurin must have used a spirit mirror type of skill! I’ve only ever seen a Mesmer use an ability like that!”

  As the picture zoomed out to get a brief overview of all the action, Amani could be seen in the back of the arena, absentmindedly cleaning his claws. He apparently hadn’t moved from where he was standing at the beginning of the match.

  “I’m not sure, but I think Amani might not be paying any attention to the fighting going on,” Bill said in disbelief, “does he even know that his teammates are fighting to the death?”

  Mud set himself to meet the charge of Dhurin and his spirit mirrors. Activating the combination of runes that marked his trademark mire ability, water bubbled up beneath Dhurin, mixing with the sand and liquefying it. Sinking up to his waist in the mire, Dhurin quickly reached a point that he was unable to move his legs.

  Mud activated the runes on his boots and stepped out onto the wet sand with no difficulty. Striding up to Dhurin with his shield leading, Mud reached back with his sword to deliver a vicious strike to the trapped Dhurin.

  “It looks like Dhurin is stuck,” Bill shouted, “I don’t see how he can get out of this one!”

  Kayper took advantage of the trapped Dhurin to fire off a couple of arrows at him, but they passed right through his smoky body without doing any damage.

  As Mud approached, the spirit mirrors advanced to meet him. Ignoring his armor, the swords of the spirit mirrors penetrated deeply into his body. Mud’s sword dropped from his hand as he fell to his knees, panting for breath as the swords carved off small chunks of Mud’s ephemeral soul with their weapons. Every piece that was separated began to dissolve into wisps of vapor that dissipated into the ether.

  Frozen in shock, Mud’s eyes were wild when he raised his head and looked at Dhurin. He pulled the short blade from the sheath at his waist and lunged for Dhurin as he was trapped in the sand. The short blade glowed an ethereal gold and Mud was able to lodge it deeply into Dhurin’s shoulder.

  Dhurin hissed in pain as his spirit mirrors faded and he returned to normal. Grabbing Mud around his arms with his claws, he pulled Mud closer to him and sank his fangs into the side of his neck. As Mud was being bitten, he pulled his blade out of Dhurin’s shoulder and thrust again directly into his ribs.

  Dhurin yowled in pain and his breathing became more rapid as he tore the side of Mud’s throat out that he had clenched in his jaws. Arterial blood gushed out of the wound and bathed Dhurin as he remained pinned in the sand up to his waist, Mud’s defeated body crumpling in front of him.

  A rapid succession of loud pings, like the sound of rocks bouncing off a shield, could be heard and the picture shifted to show the brief outline of an energy field lighting up around Amani. A dozen or so small arrows that glowed blue were embedded into the arena floor surrounding him. Lightning began arcing from one arrow to its closest neighbors which seemed to dissipate into the sand in waves.

  Amani walked over to one of the arrows and picked it up out of the sand. Studying it, he held it up to his eyes and sniffed. With a puzzled expression he flicked his tongue out and licked it. Grimacing at whatever it tasted like, he threw the arrow over his shoulder. Appearing to realize that he was in the arena for the first time since the match started, his eyes went wide in shock when he focused on the sounds of battle not far from him and saw Dhurin bent over gasping for breath.

  Then his eyes flicked downward and noticed Mud’s body next to Dhurin somehow still clutching the dagger that was embedded in Dhurin’s chest. Ears flattened in rage, he started snarling a guttural song. A tempest of energy began pulling sand from the arena floor and flung it around in a quickly developing cyclone that surrounded Amani.

  Reaching his hand out, Mud’s body was wrenched into the air and began spinning. All of Mud’s limbs splayed out from his body as he rotated faster and faster. The energy whipping around Amani intensified, erratic discharges of static electricity could be seen sparking in the intensifying storm. Mud’s body became a blur as it continued to spin even faster.

  With a ripping sound that rivaled thunder, Mud’s body was torn apart by the forces that were holding him aloft. His flesh was reduced to chunks, no larger than the tip of a finger, and the fans on the lower levels near that side of the arena were showered by the viscera and gore. As Amani’s rage was spent, the summoned energy gradually began dissipating. Leaving a pink mist that hung in the air and was carried by the breeze, to settle on the remaining combatants and fans alike.

  Kayper was so terrified by the casual use of so much power that she sat down in the sand and threw her bow on the ground in front of her. She was trying to say something, but it took her several attempts to get the words out past the lump in her throat. Eventually the quiet words, “I surrender. I can’t beat you,” were heard coming from the woman in the nearly silent arena. A second later when the pillars shifted to yellow, to signify the end of a match via surrender, Shino became visible behind Kayper, holding both of his daggers to the back of her throat.

  Feeling the points prick her skin, Kayper froze in fear which quickly gave way to resignation. Shino said to her in a somber of tone of rebuke loud enough for the viewers to hear, “I do not kill those that yield,” then slipped both daggers into their sheathes. He began walking to Dhurin while pulling out a small vial from one of his many pouches.

  Dhurin was barely on this side of conscious, having lost a lot of bloo
d. When Shino tipped back his head, he emptied the contents of the vial into his mouth and began stroking his throat to get him to swallow. Amani came up next to them and scratched a rune into the sand with a claw and the sand opened slowly to allow Shino to reach in and pull Dhurin out from the ground. Settling him gently on his shoulder, Shino carried Dhurin out of the arena with Amani following behind, worriedly stroking the fur of Dhurin’s now unconscious face.

  “There you have it,” Bob announced as the team walked out of the arena, “Akashi is this year’s champions!”

  “That was some of the most intense matches I have ever witnessed,” Bill interjected, “Akashi earned it though. No doubt about that.”

  “This was their year,” Bob added, “Glasden will now get the League of Dungeons Championship trophy and the Champion’s Tribute. That will be quite the boon for the small country.”

  “The Akashi Dungeon and Glasden will be celebrating this victory for quite some time I think,” Bill added cheerily.

  “By the Dungeons, they actually won!” I was dancing in front of the picture as the ‘B’ twins kept talking about the match.

  “I can’t believe it!” Marty was dancing on his cushion.

  We joined in with what seemed to be the entire city as the celebrations emptied from the homes and pubs across the city, to take to the streets. Restaurants prepared platters of food that were put on impromptu buffet tables on the sidewalks and pubs tapped barrel after barrel, which any person with a mug, or a big enough mouth, could fill on their wandering journey through town. Music of every style was played by musicians on every corner and the people of Glasden danced until they couldn’t anymore. We partied long into the night, along with most of the other residents of the City of Glasden.

  When exhaustion finally did take us, we returned home and collapsed into our small rickety beds, with the pleasant realization that perhaps next year we could be celebrating in the Dungeon as Khanri settling into our thoughts. Mercifully falling asleep almost immediately, forgetting for now that the Trials loomed that much closer.

  Chapter Four

  The Khanri Trials

  The Shokari have an interesting custom of sending one member from their tribes to take the Khanri Trials every year. Although the process regarding how the Shokari are chosen for this is a closely held secret, I have been able to find some evidence that suggests that a competition is held among the tribes. Regardless of the details, all of the Shokari that would speak to me on the subject consider the chosen warrior to be the bearer of the honor of all of clans.

  - Excerpt from A Treatise on the Shokari Tribes, by Raine Royce, University of Glasden Historian

  Groaning as I slowly became aware of my aching body, I cracked open my eyes and saw the treacherous morning light coming through my window. Crawling out of bed, I settled onto the floor and reflected on why I had thought it was a good idea to have that sixth mug of beer last night.

  Bemoaning my cursed existence, I shambled into the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I ran a hand through my unruly dark brown hair. Even though it was cut short, it had a habit of standing straight up in odd places. I’ve never been accused of being tall or particularly fit, but I wasn’t a slouch either. Working as a general laborer the past year has managed to add a little muscle to my undefined frame. I rinsed my mouth out and decided I had enough time to climb into the shower. The water coursing down my face helped me to gradually wake up and by the time I shuffled off to my closet, I almost felt like an actual living person.

  As I got dressed, it dawned on me that if everything went as planned today, I wouldn’t ever come back to this place. A slight sense of remorse ran through me as I looked around at the bare four walls and stained carpet that served as my room. I wouldn’t miss this place, not really. It was just all I knew in this city. I knew all I would really miss was the comfort of having something familiar in this town of strangers. Sighing inwardly, I got up and went to go see if Marty was already conscious.

  Stopping outside of his door I could faintly hear snoring from the other side. Of course, Marty had forgotten to set his alarm and was still asleep. I was about to walk in and wake him up when several options occurred to me. Naturally, my conscience tried to get me to see reason, Marty stayed up later and drank more than I did, and he will need all the rest he can get to pass the Trials today. My conscience is a wuss though, so I told it to shut up and went with option number one. With a wicked grin, I shoved open the door hard enough that it slammed against the wall with a loud bang, while shouting, “Hey Marty! You up?” as loud as I could. The door rebounded off the wall, reverberating slightly.

  Marty, his reflexes honed to an unnatural state brought on by the years of pranks that got more elaborate as we got older, launched himself out of bed completely naked with a surprised shout, “whaaaa!” As soon as he reached the apex of his temporary flight, a look of shocked realization dawned on his face as he locked eyes with me, recognizing his assailant. When gravity reasserted itself, he contorted his body in an attempt to get his feet under him. Right when I thought that, against all odds, he was actually going to pull it off and land on his feet, the speeding train that was overladen with all of the bad decisions he made last night, crashed into him and he collapsed onto the floor, holding his head in the fetal position.

  The knowledge that karma would undoubtedly come to settle the score with me eventually, was pushed from my mind because I was too busy laughing so hard that tears were starting to come out of the corners of my eyes and run down my face at the look of anguish my friend was making. “You look-,” I had to pause because I was doubled over laughing too hard to complete the sentence. Wheezing I continued, “You look like you were forced to clean a troll’s privates with your tongue.”

  Gagging slightly at the very thought of it, Marty cracked open one eye and gazed balefully at me, “vengeance will be mine you ass,” he whispered vehemently and then promptly closed his eye and started rocking back and forth softly whimpering. Which seemed oddly synchronized with my continued boisterous laughter.

  When I could control myself, I decided to have a little mercy on the twitching gnome, so I started walking down the stairs, “I’ll get started on breakfast. Come on down when the thunder in your skull calms down a bit,” I called to him still chuckling in amusement.

  We didn’t have much food in our pantry, but I was able to find a couple of eggs and some bread, which was only a little stale. I fixed them into a meal that someone could only consider palatable if they were in a generous mood and sat eating my portion of the breakfast while sipping a cup of tea.

  By the time Marty finally joined me at the table downstairs, I was already well into my second cup and beginning to consider a third. Marty set into his breakfast like a starving gnome and didn’t look up until his hunger was abated.

  “Today is the day my friend,” I said over the rim of my third cup, “today is the last day we will be living here.”

  “Thank the Dungeons,” Marty agreed with obvious relief in his voice, “I don’t ever want to see this dump again.”

  Even though the walls were cracked, the paint was peeling, the appliances barely worked, and consistently hot showers were only fond memories, our little apartment had been our home for four years now. The small farming village of Dor’s Crossing, that Marty and I grew up in wasn’t too far from Glasden City. You won’t find it on any of the region’s maps though, I guess it is probably considered to be too small to be bothered with. As much as the slight to my home village rankles me, I can’t say I blame them. It only had a population of about a hundred people in the village proper. The land surrounding Glasden is dotted with dozens of similar sized settlements, if the surveyors took the time to plot all of them, the maps would be too congested to be usable.

  Although we were put to work when we were both kids, myself in my family’s general store while Marty worked in his family’s inn, it wasn’t a bad life. I sometimes miss hearing the tiny bell
on our door that chimed when a new customer would walk in. My dad or mom would usually greet them and ask how their day was and I would listen, while doing chores, as they talked about whatever gossip was going around the village.

  Each day would lead into the next and time would steadily advance, but nothing seemed to ever really change in that village. I think that is why Marty and I became infatuated with the idea of becoming a Khanri. A hero’s tale is never boring, it is always full of fantastical adventures like in the stories we would read.

  Every time the peddler, Joe Hatlock, would come to the village, we would pour over the books that he had for trade. We rarely ever had enough money to actually buy one, but he would usually let us sit on his wagon and read them, as long as we didn’t damage his merchandise.

  Some in the village said Joe was a retired Khanri, but he always pretended to not hear the question if anyone asked him about it. To us he was just Joe. Sure he was sometimes grumpy like everyone got but he always had a dry spot for us to sit and read the latest book he acquired and his pockets were always full of small candies that he handed out to all of the young kids in the village that came asking. It wasn’t until we were older and had moved to the city that we recognized how rare of a person Joe actually was.

  “Are you ready for the Trials,” Marty’s question interrupted my reflection on the past.

  “As ready as I will ever be,” I answered. Old man Brig was our only source of information when it came to the Khanri Trials and he hardly told us anything. His dubious advice was to get it over with as quickly as possible and try not to think about the details, whatever that meant.

  As closely guarded as any information about the Khanri Trials is, you would think that after over four hundred years some information would be public knowledge. As far as I could find though, the only thing the public claimed to be aware of was that the people that fail the Trials, don’t come back. The wide spoken belief is that those that fail - die.