The Ancients

by Adam-Clay Webb

  He nodded, unable to disobey his spirit. “Alright.”

  She smiled relieved. “I know you are strong, Lex… far stronger than I can ever become… But you will find use for me,” she assured.

  ***

  The Grand Tempest, one of the convoy of vessels heading to Kundo, was merely a hundred miles from the small island continent. On the boat, Mike and Zen had built a steady bond. Being as feeble-looking as she was, were it not for the rough-looking Mike being about her so often, she might have attracted some troublesome attention. The two didn’t share cabins, but they saw each other every day. Mike became increasingly annoyed of the lost look she usually had on her face though, and her disturbingly short attention span when he was ranting off in his adventure stories.

  “Do you worry you won’t see him again?” he asked out of the blue one time, jerking her attention to him. She glanced over at him, seemingly dragged from her lostness. They were sitting in one of the three bars on the ship. This bar was Zen’s favourite place. She wasn’t quite the drinker, but there, she could forget that she was on the open sea. Board stairs led her down to the decent-looking place. It was the least popular of the three bars, but it still wasn’t exactly empty. They were sitting at the back of the bar, where Mike hated to sit, as it would take so many steps to get another drink. The drinks were cheap on the ship, and Mike had money he didn’t quite see the sense in saving, so he had become quite the drinker.

  The place shook a little. Mike grabbed on to Zen from across the table as she nearly fell off her chair.

  “I know I will see him again,” the girl finally answered. “As long as I stay alive. And I will.”

  “So that’s your reason, eh?”

  “Reason?”

  “When a person has a solid reason for surviving, especially in dark times like these, they will earn the ability to defy death countless times, and will become stronger than fate had planned for them.”

  Zen smiled faintly. “So what is your reason?”

  Mike smirked. “To become the world’s strongest… I will surpass everyone…”

  “Even Lex?” Zen asked, sounding quite interested in his answer. Mike laughed. His mind went back to his battle against Lex and Azar a few years ago. He knew Lex had become far stronger since then. But he too had acquired much strength in that time.

  Earlier

  “As for you two,” Azar said, looking at Mike and Zen. Kyle, Lex, Clover and Star were also in the room with him, his personal quarters in the Royal Tower. “Whereas masters for the others are certain and somewhat simple to find, you two are difficult cases.”

  “Hey, Azar, I don’t need a master to teach me,” Mike said. “I have mastered the precepts of my power. All I now need is equipment to train my body on that I may get even stronger, and men to kill to feed my spirit.”

  “There is somewhere I want you to visit,” Azar said. “There is a Silver Village in Luthor, where history has it the last settlement of Ionides was. They had survived the Ionide War but died out in a few centuries.”

  “Then what’s the point of sending him there?” Kyle asked.

  “Relics of the Ionide race are preserved there by the people who inhabit the village. They probably even worship the spirits of the ancient Ionides in shrines they built for them. Who knows?” Mike’s eyes brightened. “If you go there--”

  “I will be a god to them!” Mike raved excitedly.

  Azar hissed. “Not quite that. They might privilege you to access the ancient writings regarding your powers that they wouldn’t give to anyone else – once you prove yourself to be an Ionide. I think those who now live there are descendants of the first Ionide, but their blood thinned out to nothing over the centuries.”

  “Well I’ll definitely check that place out!”

  “And you, Zen…” Zen looked a little nervous. “I have fairly good reason to believe that on the small island of Kundo is another like you, a man who defended Kundo during the Black War singlehandedly.”

  “Another… like me?”

  “Yes, even stronger too. Based on my intel, he was born a mind-bender, and his powers are immensely above yours. I know nothing of his lineage, but it is probable he is of some mixture of Oga’s and Kizer’s bloodlines or something. If this man really does exist there, it is the hope that he will make you stronger.”

  Zen nodded hopefully. When I become stronger, maybe I will finally be useful to him, Zen thought.

  “Well, all that being said, you must all be wondering how and when we will meet again.” They affirmed his thought. “Well, for now, I will place on each of you a seal. I have been doing much research on tracking and summoning techniques. I have the incantation and method here, Star. I want you to follow it and get a certain invisible mark on all of you. I have set everything up that the mark will be placed in my name. While you are off, I will continue to do research on this technique. Hopefully I will find a way to use this mark to track your locations, possibly even your progress, and of course, to gather you all here if necessary. At best, if I strike gold in my research, I will be able to communicate with you all over the great distances, probably in your dreams or something.” They all looked quite relieved that Azar was putting all this in place. Star was surprised that such sorcery existed any at all.

  Chapter 8: Lyoko the Impossible

  A man named Darius, an old, shadowy noble who was the right hand and often the brain of the previous king, made his way into the king’s chambers. He gave Kyle a discomfiting glare. The youngster was by the king’s side at all times.

  “Is it customary to enter the king’s chambers unannounced, you imbecile?” Kyle started.

  “For me it is, young fool,” the man answered quickly.

  “Darius, was it?” Azar recalled.

  “Remember it well,” the man said proudly. “It is with regret that I must show one so young and naïve the secrets within this tower, but as the new king, there are things you must know that as prince you were locked away from.” Kyle and Azar looked at each other, then back at the shady-looking old man.

  Kyle’s eyes widened. Azar stood abruptly, seeing Blade appear behind Darius.

  “Blade, tell me you didn’t kill all my guards on your way up!” the king said, not sounding hopeful.

  “Not all of them,” Blade said, walking past the stupefied noble who wore red cloaks and looked like a sinister mage.

  “Blade, what is it? Is Zakashi Village attacked?” Kyle asked, already reaching for his sword.

  “No. Listen. Do you know of a man named Lyoko?” Blade asked, not sounding as calm as he usually was.

  “Lyoko the Impossible?” Darius asked with a similar tone as Blade.

  “Yes, that was his title back in the day,” Blade replied.

  “He was a legendary swords master of unknown origin, famed to be the most wanted assassin in the world. He was wanted in every single state in the northern hemisphere, and quite a few countries here in the south as well, including Magma Land,” Darius flaunted his knowledge.

  “What?!” Kyle belted, pondering the possibility of all this.

  “The most skilled swordsmen in Libson were taught, if even shortly, by this man. Master Chuck in the Twin Towns was one of his students, and so was even my and my brother’s master. For a few days, while he hid in Zakashi Village, he taught me and my brother a few techniques, which to this day are my most powerful moves,” Blade said.

  “I have heard of him,” Azar said. “He disappeared about ten years ago while the Magmalian and Herculean armies were planning to combine their efforts to kill him.”

  “A man strong enough to unite two nations that were sworn enemies?!” Kyle mused, grinning, imagining such a man in battle.

  “Lyoko has surfaced,” Blade said. The other three men in the room froze silent.

  Darius looked pale. “What proof do you have of this?!” he questioned Blade.

  “He came to me not long ago. He said that the god of magic appeared to him in a dream and compelled hi
m to make me deliver into his hands a candidate to fight the Sage of the Sword.” Blade sounded worried.

  “Sage of the Sword?” Kyle looked confused.

  “What is all this?!” Darius blasted, “The gods are long dead, and so are all the sages!”

  “Darius,” Azar said, “there are secrets behind the Black War that I may need to share with you – providing you can be as useful as I hope.”

  Darius looked quite intrigued.

  “The villain behind the war is not Truim, but the ones called gods that history claimed defended the world against the seven Zagans.”

  “Are you mad, Azar?!”

  “When there is time, I will explain,” Azar said, “Now about this message that Lyoko brings…”

  “Yes, the Sword Sage can be none other than Zakashi, the youngest son of Kizer,” Blade said.

  “Does this mean that the children of the gods are also alive?” Azar wondered aloud. “If that is the case, then hope is far too much to ask for.”

  “It seems Kizer and Oga plan on orchestrating the battles that will constitute the next war,” Blade said. “He is toying with us, telling us to ready a warrior to fight Zakashi.”

  “Do you know when Lyoko will return to you?”

  “Tonight. He said that he will have to wipe my village out if I do not find him a suitable candidate by then… I would rather not have to go up against this man.” Blade sounded serious.

  Azar hissed. This changes everything… “Blade,” he said.

  “I cannot, Azar. I can’t leave my people again.”

  “I will send a third of my army to guard Zakashi Village! You are the strongest swordsman I know. If anyone could be ‘suitable’, it would have to be you, Blade! We don’t know for sure what’s happening, but Lex and the others need lots more time, so we cannot afford to aggravate the enemies this early.”

  “I Understand... Send Kyle,” Blade suggested.

  “What?!” the boy blasted.

  “Kyle, you were trained by me and by Azar. You should be able to withstand and keep up with Lyoko’s training. With his guidance, you will become even stronger than I am.”

  Kyle stood and stared out, wondering if he had heard Blade correctly. Stronger than Blade… Is such a level even possible?

  Blade thought of the statue he had seen for the first time the day he had fought the elders of his village. The statued man held the sword skyward with a look of solid strength on his face. Blade, since then, knew that this man was the epitome of strength in respect to the sword.

  “I will try to convince Lyoko to remain in my village that I too can garner from his strength,” Blade said, sounding humbler than Kyle had ever thought possible.

  “Heh! Imagine me and you being classmates, Blade!” Kyle laughed excitedly at the thought of it. When this legend that is even in league with Blade has trained me, then that Laika brat will panic when he next sees me fight! Kyle laughed excitedly.

  “Viknor!” Azar called, grabbing his wrist. After a few seconds, the wizard appeared, fighting into his purple cloak. He looked half-drunk.

  “Did I wake you, my good wizard?” Azar greeted.

  Darius looked frightened by him.

  “Not quite,” Viknor replied, laughing a little. “What is it you need?”

  “I am sending Kyle off to train with Lyoko.”

  “Lyoko the Impossible?” Viknor asked, sounding quite intrigued.

  “Yes, he has resurfaced.”

  “Ha! I bet you didn’t know it was I who drove him into hiding. Anyway, that story is for some other time.” The men looked over at Viknor with contorted faces.

  Azar was tempted to ask Viknor about that, but he knew that time wasn’t there for stories. “Place a seal on Kyle so you can summon him at will,” Azar instructed.

  The wizard laughed. “That is long done, my lord.” Kyle’s eyes bulged; Azar wasn’t very surprised though. He was just glad that this wizard wasn’t his enemy.

  “Another thing – I will have to speak to Ki about this, but I want you to stay with me here for a short while that I might learn certain spells.”

  “I see,” Viknor said.

  “Well that’s all for now, Viknor. You, Darius, I believe we have things to discuss.”

  “Far more than I imagined, young king.”

  ***

  Clover had just fallen asleep, her head on a pillowed chair that she had dragged up to Star’s healing chamber.

  “Who are you, little girl?” she heard a woman’s voice wake her. She jolted up. Sitting before her on the other side of the incubator was a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She was in a flamboyant pink and purple dress, and though aged, she looked quite pretty. Standing behind the seated woman was the same crème-dressed lady Clover had met earlier. “Girl, where are you from?” the seated woman asked. “A year ago, in the Black War,” the same woman said before Clover could speak, “I felt a strange sorcery, and only days ago, I felt again it – this time, on Notherlandian shore.”

  “I am from Magma Town,” Clover answered. Hawthorne’s eyes reflected that she was expecting that answer. Still, her slight smirk made Clover know she was pleased. “And my name is Clover Bengushi.”

  “Bengushi… That is a rare but familiar name.”

  “I’m sorry, but who are you two?” Clover asked politely. She touched the healing chamber and saw that Star’s recovery was now at 38%.

  “My name is Gloria Hawthorne, and I am head of the Ogal Council. This here is my housekeeper, Haiku.” Clover stared at Hawthorne with a breathless gaze.

  “Ogal… Ogal Council?” The young witch shook a little, realizing that she was sitting before who was in status the most powerful witch in the world.

  “Do not be frightened, young witch. It is I who should be frightened of you. You couldn’t have mastered arcane magic as yet, but I know you have visited the seventh grade at least twice.” Hawthorne looked quite intrigued with Clover. Clover nodded faintly, knowing that it was useless to lie to this woman. “Why did you show up here at Notherland, and how did you end up in a fight with my men?”

  Clover struggled to remember. “I was only warning them…” she said, just recalling how the brawl had begun. Her eyes bulged as she remembered just how it had escalated and how many were killed on that bridge and on the ship. “Did they sink the ship?!” Clover yelped anxiously.

  “No, the passengers are safe.” Clover sighed. “Those who survived the battle anyway. I managed to heal most of them and drag them from the grips of death. What were you warning them about?” Hawthorne asked the girl. Clover looked back up at her. She remembered well how much trouble that warning of hers had caused before, and how offended the Notherlandians were by it. To tell the leader of the Ogal Council that her god is a villain – could that possibly be a good idea?

  “I… I can’t remember,” Clover said, her eyes averting Hawthorne’s.

  The woman’s face sterned. “Reports came in that you committed the vilest of crimes… blasphemy… Is that so?”

  Clover looked up at her quickly. “If I tell you what I know, you won’t believe me!” Clover said shakily.

  “That Oga is behind the Black War? Along with Kizer, the god of elements?”

  Clover wondered what to say. “If you know of the accusations I have made against Oga, why don’t you have me executed like what the others tried?”

  “Are you saying you want to die, girl?” Hawthorne asked.

  “That isn’t it, but--”

  “You remind me a little of one of my young teachers, Kuriu.”

  Clover looked a little confused. “That’s right!” she burst suddenly, “Councillor Hawthorne! You are the principal of the Notherlandian School of Magic, aren’t you?!” Clover remembered, her face beaming.

  “That aside,” Hawthorne marginalized, “why is it you say that Oga and Kizer are behind this war? Tell me everything you think you know.”

  Clover sighed. “Alright, if you promise me that my sister and I will be accepted in
your school--”

  “You start tomorrow.”

  ***

  Kyle and his teachers stood at the gates of Zakashi Village as day died. Blade had relieved the guards there of their duty for the while, but they kept watch from the distance, knowing something strange was going on – after all, Blade, King Azar, and Kyle the student of both who had gotten quite renowned in recent times, were standing about in one place, awaiting someone or something.

  Blade noticed him just milliseconds before the others – an old, limp-looking man seemingly struggling to reach up to them on tired feet, walking with a shaky staff and holding his back with his other hand.

  “Tell me this isn’t the man who will be teaching me,” Kyle muttered disappointedly. Blade looked on wordlessly, but Azar and Kyle could read from his eyes that this old man was indeed Lyoko the Impossible.

  Kyle clutched his knapsack tightly. Is this some kinda joke? No way could this old man kill a fly.

  “Young Blade,” the man greeted as he reached up to them.

  Blade bowed slightly. “Master Lyoko.”

  “Greetings, Lyoko. I am Azar, king of Magma T—Magma Land,” Azar said.

  “Hmm?” the old man looked over at the king, then laughed. “Have you come to arrest me? I should still be on your country’s blacklist you know.”

  “I’m afraid I’m on different business. This boy here will be your student.” The man looked over at Kyle, who gulped with sudden nervousness.

  Lyoko looked very displeased, and he didn’t even try hiding it. Blade sighed. The old man walked up to Kyle and inspected him thoroughly, also his sword. He looked back at Blade. “Son, you do remember that it is the Sage of the Sword that I am preparing a warrior to fight, right?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Honestly, do you think you, at your level, could fight this son of a god, Blade?”

  “Do you think even you could, Master?” Blade asked back after hesitating.

  “Yet you expect some random teenager to manage?! Don’t joke around, Daniel! I didn’t show my face here after all these years to be made fun of! Get this boy out of my sight!” He pressed his stick down on the ground and it shook under his feeble-looking, well-contoured hand. Kyle glanced over at Blade and Blade saw the look of anguish on his face. The boy’s fists and teeth were clenched like he was trying damn hard to hold himself back from going at the old man.