“Icilda, please try to relax,” the guy with the sword said. “No doubt, he was helping out in the war. It’s not like he could have been everywhere at once.”
“He should have been here!” Icilda shouted, her voice now hoarse. “You’re why my father is dead! I’ll kill you!” She flung Artaco off to land in the snow and dashed at Lex with a nasty fierceness in her eyes.
“Ice!” the talkative guy with the scabbard exclaimed, drawing his blade. Lex hissed. Icilda had reached up to him with great speed. She had trained without relent after the war. ‘If I had been stronger,’ she always blamed herself. Lex jumped back as Icilda swung at him with knife-sharp icicles in her hands, her blue hair flashing with her swift movement. Lex, though, had trained for too long with the Zagans for assails like these to bother him. With smooth movements, he made each attack miss narrowly.
Artaco got up and rushed toward the two, but only to be grabbed by Fross. Though Fross had brandished his blade quickly, he was in no hurry to fight. “Wait,” Fross said. “He’s not fighting back. Let us assess his skills and intent. If the fight becomes serious, we will stop it immediately.”
“Are you insane?!” Artaco blasted. They looked over at the chuckling Crank. He was more excited than anything else, and this further irritated Artaco.
As Icilda’s attacks became faster and more dangerous, Lex had to take them more seriously. Though still restraining himself from attacking, his dodging had become less cool and easy-going. Finally, Lex grabbed the girl’s wrists, clenching them so hard that the weapons she had fell to the snow. Her fiery eyes met the coldness in Lex’s. The indifferent look he had made her want to kill him even more.
“He’s hurting her!” Artaco shouted in a panic, escaping Fross’ grip and running toward Icilda and Lex. Icilda shifted her right foot and sharp spikes of ice came forth from the ground at an angle to stab through Lex. He jumped back quickly, but he had to spin as soon as he landed to grab Artaco’s fist. Ice quickly spread from Artaco’s fist to capture Lex’s hand, crawling up to his arm. Lex jumped back quickly. A faint black glow came over his other hand and he smote the creeping ice, shattering it before it could further spread.
Crank and Fross eyed each other.
“Ice!” Artaco called out as he saw Icilda burst up from the ground, a slab of snow beneath her feet. Icilda, now meters above them, motioned her hands, and a hand of snow rose up from the ground and grabbed Artaco, pushing him out of her attack’s range. Suddenly, tens of deadly spikes fired down from the bottom of the slab of snow. They were so fast that Lex’s options were more limited than he would have liked.
A faint black glow appeared in Lex’s eyes. Icilda would not leave his escape an easy task. Hands made of ice came up from the ground beneath Lex and grabbed his feet, freezing them. Lex looked up at the approaching spikes. As quickly as the spikes fell, strings of shadow sprung forth from a thin black cloak that Maximo had put around his host. The slender shadows moved up skilfully, busting through the spikes, heading up to Icilda.
“Crank, cover!” Fross said urgently, rushing toward Lex, sword ready in hand. The shadowy ropes flew around Icilda, leaving her unharmed, and swooped down to Crank, who Lex saw was readying an iceball. He had to change his plan though, postponing his attack to dodge the shadows. Lex dodged Artaco’s swing skilfully. There was a white mist around the blade. With speed and power that were of those inside, Lex landed a kick on the Icemaker. Fross bellowed as the sudden force flung him over many meters. He hit the ground hard and rolled down the hill, losing grip of his sword.
Icilda jumped down from the slab of snow. With rapid succession, she created and flung massive iceballs at Lex.
“Dammit, Ice!” Artaco blasted, dodging the reckless spheres that came his way.
Two wings appeared on Lex’s back as Icilda’s attacks became faster. With quick steps, he evaded the spheres, making his way toward Icilda. He reached behind her before she could react, and grabbed her, holding on to her tightly. The earth shivered as he made a sudden upward movement, flying up toward the clouds with her.
“Icilda!!” Artaco’s shout became quickly distant.
The girl stared down at the distancing ground in panic. She could see the entire palace from where she now was.
Finally, Lex stopped ascending. Icilda’s heartrate had doubled within the last second. She was shivering in Lex’s arms. The black wings made of thick, solid shadow curled themselves around Icilda like a shield, or rather, a prison.
“What the hell do you want, Lex Leo?” Icilda asked.
“Oh, now she wants to reason.”
Icilda hissed.
“I’d say I didn’t come here to fight, but I’d be lying,” Lex said. He continued before Icilda could speak. “You are supposed to be a powerful Icemaker. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say today’s an off day for you.”
“You little--”
“I need training. I need to become much better at icemaking for the next war that is to come. Time is a luxury I do not have.” The eerie presence of something unimaginable approaching that Lex had felt though Maximo’s mind came back to him suddenly. “I may have even less time than I think I do,” he said.
“Next war? What the hell are you talking about?!”
Lex looked down at the scene below. He sighed heavily in annoyance. There was already a thick gathering of soldiers, along with the other three Icemakers.
“Damn,” Ido said to himself. “If she is killed I will be hanged. If I am lucky.” He noticed a soldier readying an arrow into a bow. “Put that things away you idiot!” Ido scolded the soldier.
“It’s just in case, sir!” the soldier replied nervously. Ido was set by the governor of Iceland to protect the dwellers of the palace, especially the Icemakers. Especially Icilda. All the Royal Guards were under his command.
“Bring her down, you monster!” Artaco bellowed.
“Look, Icilda. I understand your anger toward me. It wasn’t my intent for your father and the other Icemakers to perish. But nothing I say will bring back those who were killed in the last war. More importantly, the world is about to face an even greater threat not long from now. These demons I carry – they are very powerful, but just as unreliable.” Lex felt Maximo’s feeling of insult. “I need you to make me as strong an Icemaker as you are.”
Fross looked up at the strange sight. He knew that Lex had no intention of killing Icilda, but the situation did look fickle. He was still clutching to his chest where Lex’s foot had landed. The pain was still there. He was pretty sure that a rib was cracked. He slowly made his body numb with a dangerous technique to make the pain go away. “That boy,” he said to Crank. “He certainly is the one Asuri spoke of.”
Crank snickered. “All of a sudden, things have become interesting.”
“In any event, I’d rather not stay up here much longer,” Lex said. With that, Lex descended until he touched the snowy ground with Icilda.
“Stand back, all of you!” she commanded as they landed. “Ido, get your men out of here!”
“Last time you said that--”
“This was all just a training exercise,” she said. Crank laughed quietly. He was thrilled that something lively was happening. Things had been too dull for his liking since the war.
“Icilda, what are you saying?” Artaco asked, confused.
“Shut up, Artaco,” Icilda said quickly, not wanting the excitement to continue. “Ido, please.”
“Men, stand down! Please return to your posts! Clear away all the civilians from here!”
The soldiers grumbled as they moved along. The crowd scattered, leaving the Icemakers and Ido on the hill.
“An explanation, anyone?” Ido asked.
“Look,” Lex said. “I didn’t come here to cause any trouble. We’re all on the same side here.”
“And which side is that?” Ido asked.
Chapter 16: Children of Gods
The gods had descended into the deepest section of the shrine. T
hey had to walk down several cases of winding steps to reach to the chamber of the sleeping sages. They felt the whole atmosphere transform as they entered the dim chamber. Small glowing plants, like the ones found in the City of Vines, were scattered about, giving off a mysterious glow that flowed elegantly through the cloudy room, saving it from darkness.
The room was only a few square yards, and besides the glowing plants, nothing would seem very special about yet – well not yet.
“Come forth,” Oga said solemnly, gripping the worthy stone in his hand. The place tremored slightly and the two men beheld as coffins of perfectly carved hardwood – eight of them – slowly emerged from the soil.
Kizer inhaled deeply. He made a slow motion with his right hand, and the lids from the coffins were lifted to rest a few feet away. Now exposed were the mummified bodies of the children of Kizer and Oga who had survived the first war. Each body was tightly wrapped in white cloths that had glowing golden writings all over them. The writings, of course, were Oga’s doing. After a silent moment, Kizer walked over to the closest of the coffins and looked down into it. “Yuki…” he said in a mutter, the quiet whisper almost powerful enough to call the man forth to life.
For a peaceful moment, Kizer remembered looking down at the perfect, innocent, blissful face of his first son. Seeing the baby had shifted his mind for a thought from all his plans to wage a war against Oga. He remembered the feeling of completeness and revelation that he felt when he first held his son. The boy’s mother was not a part of the memory. He had no love for her. It would have been pointless to love her anyway. Kizer had known even from before his first son was born that no woman could have a child for him and survive. These women were necessary sacrifices in preparing a force that could deliver the world from the tyranny of Oga. But the boy, Yuki, it was the first thing the man who would be known as a powerful god actually loved.
Kizer had developed the technique of animating rocks and metal and wood to fight at his command, but this boy he held was nothing like that. But when his senses recovered from the life-changing moment, his resolve to destroy Oga in the world’s first war only strengthened. He needed to create a world where this little one, with shiny blue eyes and golden hair and a face of angelic innocence, where others like him, who had done no wrong, who had done nothing to deserve to live in terror and oppression, could live in bliss. He, Kizer, would destroy Oga and rescue the world. He would build a government that stood up for one thing – peace. His power, his children’s power, even the power of the baby he held, would transform the world. He imagined all the amazing things he could create. He could build villages, even cities, within days, hours. He could create vineyards and orchards with ease. He and his children would save the world. In fact, they would create it.
Kizer looked down into the wooden coffin with a grim face.
“Kizer, you should step back,” Oga said, calling Kizer from the past.
“Ah, yes.” Kizer stepped back to where Oga was.
“I’ll begin the resurrection,” the wizard said proudly. His hand vibrated as he clutched the stone tightly, digging into its massive power. Even still, he was amazed by how much mana the Crystal Eye really contained. “If the stone contains as much mana as I suspect, the rebirth should only take a moment.”
Kizer nodded. He took another step back.
Oga held out his hand that clutched the stone. He closed his eyes, and silent seconds passed. He took deep breaths. He opened his eyes with a suddenness that frightened the air and whipped up a wind. Kizer tensed as he felt a massive surge of mana. As Oga began to speak in an ancient tongue, the air grew tense with mana and the place brightened with an unbelievable whiteness.
Kizer stood silent as time passed. Angels watched from higher realms as Oga performed a spell that was truly transcendent. As Oga muttered the powerful words calmly, the white mana around him flared and soon covered the entire island.
“This power…” Kizer muttered. He watched as the whiteness of Oga’s mana transformed. It had been a long time since he had really witnessed eighth grade magic. The white mana that Oga often sported was beyond seventh grade mana, but it was not quite at the eighth grade.
This white mana was what Kizer and Oga called the ‘bridge’ between the seventh and eighth grades. It was not labelled a grade unto itself because they knew it was a very unstable state of mana, and Oga had explained to Kizer that this state could only be maintained for as long as the user could hold their breath. Of course, Oga found a way around this. Kizer, upon studying, had found that if the maximum time is reached, a sorcerer could either cross over to the final stage of magic or trade their magic for elemental power.
As the whiteness cleared, Oga went over the bridge, calling forth mana that made all other levels of magic trivial. As Kizer felt this power, the thrill he felt back in the war returned to him. This power was what Oga had used to fight him. Kizer inhaled deeply as the colourless eighth grade mana filled the place. The mana could not be seen, as its power had transcended colour itself. The lowly senses of men could not possibly perceive this power. The place began to shake nervously. Rays of golden light sped out from the Crystal Eye and shot through the wooden coffins, bursting them up excitedly. The mummies floated up, encased in light. The light tore through the cloth that bound the bodies.
***
“You’re finished,” Kyle said. Finally, he had exhausted Zakashi enough to get him into a position where he could not escape death. Kyle held Zakashi from behind. Zakashi’s sword had fallen from his collapsed hand. Kyle’s sword was at his throat. Blade was already upon Zakashi. Together, he and Kyle would make the final strike.
“Too little too late,” Zakashi said with a weary smirk. He felt his spirit dissolving, or rather, being transported. He knew he had gotten lucky.
***
Standing in the room of empty coffins, the children of the Kizer and Oga looked as if their senses were hazily returning.
“Father,” Aven finally said. His hair was thick and white, and reached down just below his shoulders. There were a few strands of green adding a strangeness to his hair. He wore a dark green tunic.
“Oga!” Aragan shouted in what sounded like a confused rage. White fire flared up about the tall, muscular man who had black hair almost as long as his father’s.
“Settle down, brother,” Yuki’s voice came forth calmly. Yuki had already realized that this was not a time for fighting.
“Son,” Kizer confirmed with a nod, and Aragan relaxed.
“I’m alive!” Witch finally gave out. She was a pretty woman who wore a black and white dress that covered even her ankles. She had curly grey hair that elegantly reached down to her shoulders.
“Father, what have you done?” Wizard sounded anxious and disappointed. He had lazy eyes and his face was almost as deathly as Oga’s. “You have resurrected this brat and his children as well?” Wizard glanced over at Kizer with a nasty look in his condescending eyes.
“Oga, it would be well to remind your children who I am,” Kizer said as calmly as he could manage to. If there was a man who taught Kizer the feeling of hatred, it was Oga’s eldest son.
“Just say the word, Kizer. I’ll kill them all in seconds,” Argros said, and in a moment, his entire body was covered in the silvery armour. He wore a proud smirk.
“Don’t be foolish, Argos,” said Adam, who was leaning against a wall with his arms folded. He had coarse brown hair that formed into spikes that looked dangerous to touch. He was short and very muscular. His eyes were golden-brown and seemed to glow. “Oga is the one who resurrected us. Obviously, in whatever is happening, he and father are allies. Remember both families agreed on a treaty after the demons attacked.”
Argros hissed. He probably wouldn’t get to kill anyone today.
Zakashi sat silently on his coffin, his mind on Blade and Kyle. He was holding the sword Oga had made. The Sword Sage’s very presence summoned the blade to him.
“Father, have you forgotten that Og
a and his children killed Jeereeka and Appa?” Aragan continued redly.
“And who killed all my siblings save Witch?” Wizard countered.
“We’ll let the dead worry about the dead,” Witch came in with a tone opposite to Wizard’s. Wizard could never understand her. “Father, is there a new enemy?”
“The Zagans! Are they back?” Argros asked excitedly.
“Listen, all of you,” Kizer finally said. “It might sound impossible, but the first war happened because we all wanted the same result – a perfect world. Oga and his council ruled for a long time. An immovable, unchallengeable government was Oga’s idea of a perfect world, a world of impeccable structure. My idea of a perfect world was a world without dictation. Now, after The Seven attacked and disrupted our war, I realized something – it is more important to create a world of power than a world of perfection. This planet is a small dot in the universe. What if a powerful world launches an attack? What good would a perfect world be if it is incapable of surviving? Oga and I, the fathers of power, and you, the inheritors of this power, have the ability and thus the responsibility to save this world from weakness. We must cleanse the world and create a race that will be strong enough to conquer everything.”
“Cleanse this world?” Argros asked. Even he was chilled by those worlds.
“Something is coming,” Oga finally said. “A power far beyond anything this world has ever seen.”
This silenced them for a moment.
“I do feel something, like a faraway flurry of darkness… Zagans,” Wizard said. He looked at Kizer and Oga. “They shouldn’t be here for 2480 years at their current pace,” he continued. “Therefore, my first priority remains as it is.”
Kizer tried not to appear to be fazed by Wizard’s acute senses. He could perceive that much even while standing in a dome with the most powerful men in the world.
Oga snickered.
“The city. Where is it?” Wizard asked.
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