Forged

by G S Michaelson

  To Richard, he said, “Get up. Your Order Squadron must do regular sweeps from now until the day of the Purge. Anyone found without a tourist card or ID is to be jailed immediately. If they resist, you have my permission to kill them.”

  “Excellent.” Richard grinned. “There’s nothing I hate more than people who don’t follow the rules.”

  “Annabelle, you take over Georgina’s case, follow this up. Go with a full squadron this time and be careful. We don’t know who or what took down Georgina, and how many squads and traps they may have had to bring her down.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “Tyler, Julian, we’ll reconvene tomorrow. You two already have your orders. ” Timothy spoke with a righteous fervour now, “Tomorrow is our annual Festival of Life, we can’t let anything interfere with that. The Purge happens the day after as well, that is most important for Jason. We need to flush these rats out, as soon as we can. We have, all of us, worked hard to take control of Karn County, we cannot fail. Do not forget what you have lost -- and what you can still lose. Someone has thrown a stone into our pond. We have only two tasks; find them, kill them. That is all.”

  * * *

  “You OK, Julian?” Tyler had placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. They were the only two left in the conference room now. Timothy had retreated to his quarters, Annabelle and Richard had excused themselves to go start work on their tasks. Julian had remained sitting. Sitting and seething.

  “My twin sister has been killed,” Julian said, “How do you think I feel, Tyler?”

  “I’m sorry. I know how that feels.” He said.

  “No, you don’t. You prefer to kill them yourself.” Julian paused, “Or apparently not.”

  Tyler stepped back, frowning.

  “Excuse me. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I have control of all the tech, remember? I was the first to listen to Georgina’s final logs. I’ve edited them so no one else will find out, but I think you’ll find them a little interesting.”

  * * *

  Tyler sat in his room alone now, playing the tape that Julian had handed him, over and over again.

  “…what’s your name. You, with the sword.”

  “Hello, Georgina.”

  “That face…. you’re…Zeke?!”

  “You’re Zeke. How are you still alive…. Tyler said…”

  “You too…. you’re also…”

  “Yeah. It figures you’d think we were dead. Simon’s still alive too you know. Tyler failed at killing us both.”

  “And yet, I sense there’s no love lost between you two. Shall I understand that it was not due to a lack of trying?”

  “Understand whatever you like. All I’m saying is that I’m back, and I’m going to kill you for what you did.”

  Tyler’s grip crushed the glass in his hand. There was no blood, it simply crumbled into powder.

  There was no way Zeke could be alive, and yet, he was. Georgina had recognised him, and Simon as well.

  He had known Zeke had survived that night, but Timothy would not let him go and hunt him down. The attempt was sufficient, and the child would most likely die shortly.

  Sure enough, Zeke had resurfaced years later in the Rune Knights, but he had then been killed before Tyler could move against him. Now he was turning back and coming for them like a boomerang thrown a decade in the past.

  Julian, his best friend for the past few years had suffered a loss, his already fractured psyche would slip further. He would be after revenge, or he would bury his emotions just as he had done when he had killed his parents, so Georgina wouldn’t have to.

  No, Julian would certainly repress his emotions.

  So, it was up to Tyler to rectify his mistake from earlier and wring the life out of Zeke with his own hands.

  They had done the right thing. He had done the right thing following Timothy then. There was no argument about that. The foolish kid had no right to return from wherever, and whenever to ruin his life.

  Chapter 20 - Jason and Timothy

  Years Ago.

  Tyler’s story didn’t begin in Karn, like his brother. Nor did it begin with him. His story began before he was even aware, with Timothy, in a place far away. The winding path that had created Timothy ‘The Zealot’, started, like with all things, in a fire.

  But before Timothy, there was Tim. Tim from Poleo, the town that was erased from history by a clash of warriors. Before Tim was old enough to understand why he was an orphan. His only friend was a fellow orphan, Jason.

  The boys had met in the town of Muswile and had grown close during misadventures. They stole, and fought, and did what they had to do to survive.

  And they were happy, as Muswile was their home, for a while.

  * * *

  “He’s here!” yelled Jason, dashing to their shared shanty in the woods. Tim shot up, alarmed, “One of the Nephilim is here!”

  Jason, who would eventually be known as Jason the Surgeon, was Tim’s best friend as a teenager. The two were inseparable and often hung around together. It did not hurt that they were orphans, or that they both had shared the bond of awakening their Godspark early. The two 15-year olds were a thorn in their town’s side, but they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  When one of the Nephilim — Phillus who had been granted the epithet of the Slayer for his vicious brutality visited the Muswile that cold winter night, Tim was not going to take it lying down.

  “Everyone’s been killed,” Jason said as they watched the town burn from the outskirts. “I heard the Mayor refused to pay the protection fee this time around. She argued that they were enslaving us, or something.”

  “Adults should know better.” Timothy muttered, “I’m going in to beat that son of a bitch down.”

  “How?” Jason raised an eyebrow, “You’ll just die.”

  “Maybe,” Tim answered. “But it’s better than letting our home die, while we can do something about it.”

  Jason nodded his head in agreement.

  “Let’s go then.”

  * * *

  The duo fought like demons. Tim’s raw physicality ensured he would tear down The Slayer’s soldiers before they could reach him. Jason was subtler in his machinations but equally as deadly. They carved a path of blood through Phillus’ men until eventually, they stood before the man himself.

  “Just kids,” the man muttered. “Children are giving my men this much trouble?”

  He grinned. A savage, bloodthirsty grin, “Perhaps I should have staffed myself with an army of savage children. That’s an idea.”

  Tim attacked Phillus. Then Jason did. Then they both fought together. They fought hard, and they fought long, but neither was able to do much than land a few bruises on him as he deflected each of their attacks.

  He eventually grew tired of them. His men had finished ravaging the town while he had held the kids at bay, now he no longer needed them occupied.

  Tim and Jason were beaten in a flash.

  “You have guts,” Phillus said, towering over them, “And you aren’t too bad.”

  “By all rights, I should kill you both. Perhaps string out your intestines over the gates as a warning” He licked his lips at the thought, “But I have a better idea. You both come work with me. Working for a Nephilim? You’ll live like kings. Maybe one day, you’ll be running your own operations too.”

  Tim glared at him defiantly. But Jason stood, stumbling due to his wounds. Then he got on a knee and bowed before Phillus.

  “I pledge myself to you. Lord Phillus.”

  His tears fell from his eyes, as the words tasted hollow. All Jason wanted to do at that moment was live, and his pride had been discarded for that reason.

  So also, Tim did climb to his feet. Then he bent his knee.

  “I too pledge myself to you, Lord Phillus.”

  As the ashes of Muswile swirled around them, the three men — covered in soot and blood and ashes — came to an agreement.

  * * *
r />   As Tim worked for Phillus, he committed atrocities. Killing men, women, children, and frequently clashing with the Rune Knights.

  His sense of self had been shattered, but he eventually began to pull himself back together, coalescing around a single idea.

  “This was the work of the gods.”

  To Tim, it made sense, there were cults that had sprung up around the Orisha in fringe regions. One of them had told him that Orisha was a word from an ancient language for the gods who used to reign from the heavens above. They had descended to earth a 100 years ago, but no one knew what had happened then. The World War that had broken out had destroyed much history and knowledge, setting humanity back decades in some respects; centuries in others. It didn’t matter. The Orisha had appointed the Nephilim to reign in their stead. If the Orisha truly were gods, then everything made sense.

  The tragedies in his life were heaven-sent, to push him into the service of the gods. He was a servant of god, that was why he was so successful, that was why he would fight and always win.

  The cult died, members drifted away, but Tim had that idea embedded in his head, sharing it with Jason in between missions.

  “My name is Timothy, Jason,” Tim said one day, “The time for childish things is past.”

  “You really believe this,” Jason said incredulously, as they spoke. “I’ll show you that these people are no gods, that they bleed just like us.”

  Jason walked away, and Timothy couldn’t help but shiver.

  * * *

  The Slayer had been slain, a victim of his own hubris.

  When Jason had bent the knee, he had died inside. A new man, colder, more calculating, evil, had emerged that day. He had bided his time and grown strong under Phillus’ tutelage. Phillus, for his part, had neglected to keep an eye on Jason as the man had grown better and more proficient with his powers.

  He confronted the Slayer again, this time the two fought, each attacking with the pinnacle of their abilities. Phillus had thought himself victorious, but Jason was not one to fight fairly or fight to lose. The killing strike was his, and his alone.

  Timothy had run towards the commotion, only to find a sight that was horrifying to his eyes.

  Blood flowed out from Phillus as he lay, mangled on the cracked, broken ground. He looked up, as Jason emerged from the shadows, covered in blood.

  “See,” Jason had held Phillus’ heart in his hands, a psychotic grin on his face, “They bleed just like us.”

  * * *

  The Orisha had descended that day. A woman with dark hair, and eyes that sucked the happiness out of you. Leaving only despair. A man with the composure of a king. But nothing radiating off him but pure icy hate. The Orisha were the true, immortal gods, with the Nephilim acting as their servants. As Jason had apparently gone mad, Timothy had thought that Jason would attack them, that he would continue to prove his defiance in the face of gods. But he merely smiled, and then he knelt before them and presented the heart. Even he, it seems, knew when to be pragmatic.

  The Orisha had watched him. That day, Jason became a Nephilim. The legend of Jason the Surgeon who had slain his master and offered up his heart began to grow.

  While he had worked under Phillus, Timothy would discover, he had moved shrewdly behind the scenes, making deals, and creating relationships with media groups around the continent, the other Nephilim, and the Orisha. When Phillus had died, he had not realised that Jason had already usurped him in the eyes of the people that mattered. His bloodlust was all that mattered to him.

  * * *

  Timothy had merely traded one master for another. He would work under Jason for many more years, but then he would get restless. Jason noticed this, then he sent him away.

  Timothy knew his mission, he would go to Karn County. He would take it over for Jason. The Orisha had issued a decree, and Karn seemed like the small kind of place they could carry it out without prying eyes. The dynamic was established, Jason would be the ultimate ruler of course, but Timothy would be an adjutant, never deviating from the commands of his master. Their dynamics had changed, but Timothy remained comfortable with it. He was serving god after all, and he would always be doing the right thing.

  It was in Karn County that Timothy first laid eyes on him. A man who was in pain, who had been neglected by the world, and was lashing out at inanimate objects in secret.

  A pain expressed in private.

  The pain of the man who would become Timothy’s greatest lieutenant, Tyler Davids.

  Chapter 21 - Timothy and Tyler

  “Don’t touch me!” Tyler had screamed. “Get away from me!”

  All he could hear was the buzzing. The non-stop buzzing in his head. The smell of iron came next. Someone screamed in the distance, a warm spray of blood coating his face. They had tried to drag him away from the middle of the street where he stood. For their trouble, a metal blade had slashed them across the chest.

  A sword around him glitched in and out of existence, floating as if of its own will, cutting down anyone who tried to get close to him. It was a Godspark, a weapon style one that he could control. Unfortunately for Tyler, this had been his first time manifesting the weapon. It had been the first time he had known the power existed. Later he would learn theories on the nature of godsparks. A glitch in the universe that reacted to a strong enough desire in humans. A mutation caused by an accident that happened years ago. The spark of some divine being dwelling in chosen humans. Tyler would never know what caused godsparks to appear. All he knew was the moment of initial manifestation had doubled as a moment of uncontrollable terror.

  A shadow moved, his sword slashed out automatically. The cut was shallow. Its target had leapt past the blade, not letting it deter her.

  “Don’t panic. I have you.” His mother had her arms wrapped around him. “I have you.”

  “I don’t know…I can’t…what should I do?“

  She hadn’t responded then. There was no reason for her to do so. She had no idea how to deal with what was causing his abilities to manifest and lash out. Any suggestion she would give, therefore, would be a lie. All she knew was that he was in pain, and she could take it away for a moment.

  “Shh, Tyler,” She had said. “I have you.“

  Tyler sobbed into her arms, shuddering over and over again.

  “Why me?“

  * * *

  The oak tree shuddered as Tyler sliced through it.

  He often used the forests outside Karn to train himself, they were the only places that allowed him to fully express himself and push his own limits without judgement or interference.

  Like, most other days, Tyler was training. He had known that when he manifested his Godspark his life would change.

  He just didn’t know how much.

  Godsparks could often be used for other, more helpful things than slicing trees. But his was a sword and a force field. Unless he moved into the military or became a construction worker, he was rarely going to have a chance to use it. As he cut down tree after tree, sweat pooling on his brow, he cursed in frustration.

  “Ooh, you have a mouth on you kid.” Timothy emerged. “That’s a nice sword, do you want to try it on me?”

  “Do you wanna die? What the hell’s your problem,” Tyler was aggressive in his manner, “What kind of creep watches young children from a forest.”

  Throwing caution to the wind, Tyler lunged, his sword like an extension of his limbs. Unfortunately for him, Tyler was not an experienced combatant, he had fought no one but trees and the woods. Timothy was, and his eyes could read Tyler like an open book.

  Tyler hacked, sliced and swung, but Timothy evaded all his clumsy swings. His Godspark activated itself, and Tyler was disarmed.

  He now held the boy up in the air, his physical form terrifying to behold.

  “What the hell are you?!” Tyler sputtered in fear.

  “That’s not important,” Timothy said, “You have potential. Your Godspark is powerful. With proper training, you cou
ld reach heights close to me. I’m here to show you how to reach that.”

  “Why would you teach me?” Tyler asked.

  “The same reason you’re hiding it,” Timothy released Tyler, and the boy scrambled away. “Your society tells you it’s wrong, so you come swing it around in the forest. Perhaps you hurt someone, perhaps you want to. So you take it out on the foliage. Then you go home and pretend it’s fine, that there isn’t a piece of you left missing. Your Godspark is as much a gift, as it is a curse to you.”

  Tyler let the words sink in. He was wavering, but unconvinced. Timothy was dangerous, but he spoke to his inner desires.

  “I tell you what,” Timothy said, “You can go home, and think about my offer. I’ll be here, same time tomorrow. I will not approach you. You can approach me. But I’ll only be here for a month, you can make your decision.”

  Every day, Tyler returned to that spot. Timothy did the same. Neither acknowledged the other.

  Tyler continued his training over the next three weeks. On the fourth, he arrived again. Like always, Timothy was there.

  Tyler walked to him.

  “Please,” He said, finally. “Teach me.”

  “Excellent.” Timothy replied, “First, we’ll need to build your pride.”

  Tyler and Timothy trained for over a year, Tyler would learn how to react to all kinds of attacks, as well as how to get past an opponent’s guard.

  Timothy taught him to make the most of his Godspark and forget analysing the enemy.

  “Know yourself, and you can slay a thousand enemies.” He said once, “Godsparks are a dime a dozen. If you’re in a fight that’s turned into a clash of abilities, then you’ve failed to end the fight in a single strike, and you should not have started it in the first place.”