by Jared Stone
The old man scrunched his forehead in discontent. “And what manner of being are you?” he inquired gruffly of his uninvited guest.
“I believe that most would classify me as a demon,” Zagan said. “Though, I supposed that depends on who you ask.”
The old man seemed concerned, though not overly surprised, by this admission. “And why are you here, in my home?” he asked of the dark figure before him.
“You see, Wilhelm,” Zagan began, taking a single, confident step toward the man, “I am looking for something. Something of great importance. And I hear that you were one of the last people to see it.”
“I do not know what you are speaking of,” Wilhelm insisted sternly. “Now, leave my home at once!”
“Carnwennan, Wilhelm,” Zagan clarified, making no move to exit. “I am searching for Carnwennan, and I must insist that you tell me where it has been hidden.”
“I would never reveal that to an abomination like you!” Wilhelm snapped angrily.
“Wilhelm, you cut me deep,” Zagan said mockingly as he shook his head in disapproval. “Why must you Kílánór always make this difficult on yourselves?”
Before the old man could once again command him to leave, Zagan held out his hand. From his palm, a black orb of energy grew out of thin air. With a yell, the demon hurled this orb at the old man before him. But, reaching out with speed that seemed to far exceed his elderly potential, Wilhelm caught the energy ball in his own hand. As he closed his eyes, the sphere shrunk down until it existed no more, and Wilhelm’s forearm glowed with the lingering dark energy it had just absorbed.
Zagan looked genuinely surprised by this turn of events. “A useful trick, old man,” he said spitefully. “But I still have other means of making you talk….”
Zagan began walking toward the little old man by the stove. Wilhelm stood there resolutely, staring bravely into the silver eyes of his adversary. He did not move an inch as the demon came to stand only arms-length away from him.
“You and Argus are still close,” Zagan said, leaning forward intimidatingly. “He no doubt informed you of where he is now hiding Carnwennan. So, save me the trouble of torturing you before I kill you, and just tell me.”
Wilhelm leaned forward as well, so that he and the demon were now standing with their chests almost touching one another. “Never,” he said, narrowing his eyes in defiance.
Before Zagan could react, Wilhelm reached out and grabbed the demon’s arm. Both men immediately lit up with the pale glow of dark energy as Wilhelm began to sap it from Zagan’s body.
“Rrrrrrrgggg,” Zagan groaned, gritting his teeth in pain. Wilhelm gripped onto the demon as tightly as he was able, but it seemed after a few minutes that he, too, was hurting. Without warning, dark tendrils of energy suddenly shot forth from Zagan’s forearm and began winding their way up to the old man’s elbow like serpents. Seeing this, Wilhelm released his grip and stumbled backwards, falling to the floor against the white stove. As Zagan slowly regained his composure, Wilhelm coughed and sputtered, as if he had just drunk poison.
“Clearly…,” Zagan began through heaving breaths, “you are… unfamiliar with… demonic energy….”
The demon stumbled over to the weakened old man on the ground and dropped to his knees before him. Wilhelm stared into Zagan’s cold, bloodthirsty eyes but was still unable to do anything as he struggled with the malicious force coursing through his body like a plague.
“Most mortals cannot survive such direct exposure to demonic energy,” Zagan continued, now breath-ing more regularly, though still greatly weakened. “I must admit that I am impressed. But you are still wholly incapable of defeating me, old man. So, tell me: where is Carnwennan?”
Wilhelm glared up at his attacker. “Go to Hell,” he snarled. With this, the old man threw his arm up over Zagan’s head and hooked it around the back of his neck. Once again, both men were consumed in writhing, inky tendrils.
“You… fool…,” Zagan forcibly hissed through a clenched jaw. “There is… no way… to survive… this….”
Wilhelm grinned through his grimace of pain. “I do not… intend to!” he cried.
Throwing his other hand out, Wilhelm slapped his palm against the cold metal of the side of the stove. Zagan had just enough time to widen his eyes in surprise before the appliance lit up with blinding light. Within a second, this light had traveled up the gas hose and into the massive holding tank, sending a blazing inferno tearing through the walls of the home and incinerating everything in its path. A violent explosion sent shrapnel scattering across the snow-covered plain on which the cabin once stood, and, in the blink of an eye, only a crater remained in its place.
Silence once again fell over the desolate landscape, broken here and there by burning pieces of lumber colliding back onto the ground and the sizzling of embers extinguished by melting snow. The fire raged intensely from the pit in the earth, and it seemed that nothing could have survived its all-consuming appetite… until a hand shot out and grabbed onto the hardened ground of the perimeter.
Crawling inch by inch from out of the crater, Zagan gradually clawed his way back out onto the frozen tundra. Though all of the clothes had been seared from his bare body, his soot-covered form appeared otherwise unscathed. He lay there on the cold earth, heaving and attempting to once again gather his strength.
“Raaaaaarrrrrr!” he suddenly roared. Beating his fists against the ground, he unleashed his rage into the desolate emptiness which surrounded him. After about a minute of this, he lay still once again.
“There is only one who still lives who knows of its whereabouts, then,” he stated resolutely to himself. “It is time to use Argus….”
7 - Practice
Sunday, October 5th
Lucian made it through the night without dying - without any kind of catastrophe whatsoever, in fact. But that didn’t stop the boy from staying awake for many hours, flinching and jumping at the slightest creak or noise in the hallway. In a college dorm, especially on a Saturday night, it’s admittedly hard to feel alone; people in rooms beside, above, and below will continue their disruptive behavior well past midnight. However, as morning creeps steadily onward, even the loudest of them will quiet down and, inevitably, pass out. It was at this point, in between the quieting of student activities and the arrival of the sun into the sky, that Lucian felt most alert and vulnerable.
As light began to shine through the window, Lucian felt profound relief. This was soon stifled, however, by the realization that he would need to go back to Deer Park in a few hours to continue his training. Lucian laid his head down on the pillow and finally drifted off to sleep. His mind fluttered around in a nonsensical flurry of visions that seemed to have a deep emotional impact but couldn’t be recalled after they had retreated back into the darkness of his subconscious. Three hours later, he woke again with a start when someone slammed a door shut in the hallway. Figuring that he had gotten all the sleep he was destined to enjoy, Lucian reluctantly crawled out of bed to prepare for the day.
On his way down to the park, Lucian leaned his head against the window of the train and closed his eyes. As he began to nod off to sleep again, strange vivid images flashed before his eyes in a sort of half-awake dream. He first saw an old man smiling at him, then bright flashes of white light. Everything was very confusing and distorted. He maybe saw something about a black dog, then a brown leather book. Shaking his head and sitting back up straight again, Lucian struggled to stay awake so he could stop the peculiar pictures in his mind and not miss his stop while he slept. He had never liked the taste of coffee, but he found himself sincerely wishing it was available as an option for him at that moment.
Stepping off the train and onto the platform at Deer Park, Lucian once again shook his head vigorously and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air in an attempt to rally himself. It would be a very long day if he had to try and meditate again…. Perhaps it would give him a chance to sleep, though. Lucian liked the thought of that. As
he approached the giant tree, he imagined the comfort of his bed and the loving, delicate embrace of his pillow around his head. He was still smiling when he saw Gus coming to welcome him.
“I see you survived!” Gus said cheerfully, throwing up his hands in greeting. Lucian was immediately struck by the fact that the Kílán was still wearing the exact same clothing as he had the day before, despite the alleged showering and change of attire. The boy hoped that there was at least a chance the identical black t-shirt was a new one.
“Barely,” responded Lucian jokingly. “Didn’t get much sleep though….”
“I can see that…,” said Gus with a frown when he saw the boy’s weary eyes. “Well, that’s unfortunate, cuz you’re gonna need all the energy you can get today! We’re gonna spar!” The Kílán clapped his hands together once in great excitement as he said this.
“Excuse me?” asked Lucian. “Like, fighting?”
“Yup!” said Gus gleefully.
“I don’t know about that, Gus,” countered Lucian, scratching his head with one hand. “I’m awfully tired….”
“I don’t think that excuse will work on Zagan,” said Gus playfully. “And it won’t work on me, either! Come on, it’ll be fun! I’ll take it easy on ya!” The Kílán winked at the hesitant boy.
“Fine…,” said Lucian reluctantly. “But I’ve never fought anyone before, so take it slowly.”
Gus was all smiles as they walked over to stand under the thick canopy of leaves. Lucian could tell that his companion greatly enjoyed the prospect of sparring, but the boy feared that he would only be a big disappointment for the Kílán. As a kid, Lucian had always considered taking up martial arts, but, in the end, he had chosen to throw javelin in school instead. Taking place in the gym immediately after classes, it was a more convenient extracurricular activity for him, and several of his friends had been on the team as well. Lucian felt confident in his ability to throw a spear, but he knew he was lacking in hand-to-hand prowess. As such, Lucian didn’t feel adequately prepared to fight anyone, and he wore a worried look on his face. Panhavant sat cheerfully under the tree, calling out his standard “You are here!” as Lucian arrived.
“Hey, Panhavant,” said Lucian meekly with a little wave. After a moment, though, he couldn’t help but break into a smile as well. The tiny sage’s mood was almost infectious, and Lucian still wondered the secret to his seemingly limitless joy. Panhavant sat with his legs folded up beneath him, all prepared to watch the spectacle that would be their sparring match. Lucian amused himself further by imagining the old man pulling out a tub of popcorn from his tattered rags and eating as he looked on.
“Okay, Lucian,” Gus then said, turning to the boy and bending his knees slightly in a defensive stance. “You ready?”
“I guess…,” replied the boy dryly, quickly yanked away from the much friendlier version of reality inside his head.
“Okay,” said Gus resolutely. “Now, we’ll start with the basics. First, hit me!” He held up both his palms facing the boy. Lucian looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“Huh?” the boy said.
“Hit me!” repeated Gus, using one hand to point at the other palm.
“Okay…,” said Lucian. He thought again of how much he’d rather be sleeping. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Gus laughed a bit too heartily at the boy’s concerns, and this made Lucian slightly upset. “Don’t worry, you won’t” answered the Kílán assuredly.
“Alright, then…,” said Lucian, preparing himself to launch an attack. He wanted to show Gus just how strong he actually was, contrary to his companion’s assumptions. “Here we go!”
Saying this, Lucian brought his arm back and shot it forward with as much force as he could muster. It connected with the Kílán’s solid palm and bounced off sideways, causing the boy to stumble and almost fall. It felt as though he had punched a fleshy brick wall, and Lucian grabbed at his throbbing knuckles.
“OUCH!” he cried, wiggling his hand in the air and glaring at Gus as though the Kílán had done some-thing wrong.
“Ummmm, yeah…,” said Gus as the smile fell from his face and he slowly lowered his palms. “We’re gonna have to work on that….”
“Hoo-hoo-hoo!!” Panhavant cried out in amusement over the boy’s pathetic attempt. The tiny sage put his hands on his knees and rocked back and forth jovially on the ground. To Lucian, he looked more like one of those blow-up clown punching bags with sand on the bottom and less like a highly realized being.
Lucian stood there caressing his sore fist, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. Sure, he had never been the strongest guy, but he had had grandiose notions that he would at least be able to throw a punch capable of causing some damage. He had just never considered that the damage would only be to his own hand.
“I’m not sure I’ll be in fighting shape by the time Zagan attacks again…,” said Lucian dejectedly.
“Oh, no,” replied Gus. “You were never meant to fight Zagan physically! He would crush you!” Gus chuckled as he said this, as if it should have been obvious to anyone.
“Then what are we doing here??” Lucian shot back scornfully. The only thing he liked less than looking like a fool was looking like a fool for no reason.
“This sparring is intended to train your body,” said Gus. “You see, meditation will give you control of your mind and spirit energy, but your body is the vehicle for these tools. If you don’t master your body and align it with your spirit and mind, you’ll have no hope of truly mastering any of the three.”
“But why even bother with the martial arts training if I have no hope of winning in a fight with him?” Lucian rebutted.
“A true master of martial arts knows how to subdue his enemy without ever fighting,” responded Gus earnestly. “If you know yourself and you know your enemy, you can go through a hundred battles with-out ever being harmed!”
“Oh yeah?” said Lucian with a snarky grin. “And how has that worked out for you in the past, huh? Sounded to me like Zagan whooped you pretty good before too!”
Gus grinned back with his mouth slightly agape in mock offense. “Oh, is that how you’re gonna be?? Alright, smart guy, let’s try this again. My turn now!”
Before Lucian even had the opportunity to react, Gus had closed the gap between them and planted a light smack against the side of the boy’s head. Lucian stumbled backwards and grabbed his head.
“Hey!” he cried out in alarm.
Gus just stood there laughing. “You have to be prepared for that!” he said. “Don’t let your guard down. The battle’s not over until either you or your opponent has lost the ability or will to continue fighting!”
After being caught completely off guard by Gus’ offensive strike, Lucian assumed that it was quite apparent he had neither of those attributes. Standing there rubbing his head, the boy was now in a very foul mood. He was too tired for all of these painful lessons. He just wanted to go to sleep. But he would not have that opportunity, as Gus lunged forward again and this time stopped his fist only an inch from Lucian’s nose. The boy stood frozen.
“Now, what should you have done just then?” Gus asked with his hand still in front of Lucian’s face.
“Ducked?” guessed the boy apathetically.
“That’s a start,” responded Gus. “Or you could try to block it. But, most importantly, you could use my own energy against me.”
Lucian stared at him blankly. He had no idea what the Kílán was talking about.
“Okay, just watch,” Gus said, lowering his hand and standing before the boy. “Try to punch me.”
“Really?” asked Lucian in disbelief.
“Yeah!” Gus exclaimed, nodding his head. “Just try to punch me right in the face!”
“Okay…,” said Lucian hesitantly. He reached back again and tried to plant his fist right into the Kílán’s smug grin. But, as his arm approached, Gus side-stepped almost quicker than Lucian could see while simultaneously placing both of his hands on
the boy’s arm and pulling him further forward. Lucian could feel his body succumb to the overwhelming momentum generated by this move, and he quickly found himself face-down on the ground.
“Like that!” Gus exclaimed proudly, putting his hands triumphantly on his hips. “You need to first sense your opponent’s energy, then use that energy to your advantage. If you use your opponent’s own power against him, you’ll expend little to no energy of your own and eventually exhaust him.”
Lucian raised his head up from the earth, feeling his bruised knees, hands, and ego throbbing in pain. Panhavant could be heard by the stump of the tree overcome with joyous laughter. The boy pushed himself off the ground slowly and brushed himself off. He could feel anger rising up inside of him, and he knew he was either on the verge of screaming out obscenities or crying…, or perhaps both.
“Fine!” said Lucian in a huff. “Let’s try this again.”
“Yeah!” Gus said excitedly. “That’s the spirit! I’ll come after you now, and you try what I just showed you. Try and be fluid, like water. Nothing in the world is more yielding than water, yet even the strongest, most resistant things in nature succumb to its power. Be like water!”
Like water…, thought Lucian as he breathed in and out, trying to gain his composure. With one final breath, he stood at the ready and nodded to Gus to signal that he was prepared. The Kílán threw out a punch that Lucian could see was much slower than his potential but was intended more for instructive purposes. Lucian tried to step to the side and plant both his hands on Gus’ arm, as he had seen Gus do to him, but, before he could, the Kílán had turned away from him and brought his left elbow around to connect with the back of the boy’s head. Though the strike was not hard, Lucian still stumbled forward from the unexpectedness of the attack.
“Dammit!” he cried out in frustration.
