by Jeff Gunzel
“What did you think?” The empress asked, once again calm and composed. “That I hired professional killers to take down some common boy hiding in the forest? Did you really not understand the importance of this mission until this very moment?”
“But I—” His breaths were coming in short bursts. True, he had made the arrangements with the Tryads by order of the empress herself. He never questioned it. The general had learned long ago that questioning orders was a quick way to get yourself executed. But now, in light of new evidence, he suddenly felt like a complete fool. What had he been a part of here? What was this madness?
“Why?” he muttered weakly. “I can only recall bits and pieces of this prophecy. It is nothing more than a tale passed down from the old world. But if memory serves correctly, he is the one destined to save mankind from some supernatural threat. I’ve never given any serious thought to this ancient myth, and even now I don’t know that I believe a single word of it.”
His eyes hardened, meeting her glare with one of his own. “But it’s clear that you do. If any of this is true, then why try to kill him?”
With a warm smile, she stepped forward and placed her soft hand on his cheek. “Oh, my dear, noble commander,” she purred, before rising up and kissing his other cheek. He tensed, but dared not pull away. “You are honorable to a fault, and despite your skill and bravery, that has always been your weakness. Why remove the most powerful figure to walk these lands in a thousand years, you ask? Why, the question itself is foolish.”
Hirao had always found the powerful woman to be intimidating, but this was different. His warrior’s instincts, built up through years of experience, were flooding him with terror. “I don’t understand,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “If he alone holds the power to save the world...”
“Why do kings and queens join forces to conquer lands that do not belong to them?” she answered with a question. “Power is a thing to be shared only when you must. As a ruler, the first lesson is to understand who you never want as an enemy. Do you know why the Crimson Empire has flourished for thousands of years, no matter who rules at any given time period?”
She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Because a wise ruler will always choose the winning side—a lesson I wish you had learned, my dear commander.”
Before he could reply, smoky black hands gripped both sides of his head, then twisted with a sharp crack. Head facing his back, lifeless eyes glazed over, his body crumpled to floor. Slog floated back, his solidified arms shifting back into shapeless smoke.
The door burst open and in ran one of the servants. He opened his mouth to speak, then paused when seeing the general’s crumpled body, head twisted back and eyes wide open. Wisely, he knew better than to ask questions. Still, the chilling sight had caught him off guard. Eyes rising up from the fresh body, he looked at Ilenaya. “Empress,” he continued. “You must come to the surface, immediately!”
“What are you babbling about?” she hissed, a moment too late. Already, the servant was off and running. “Come with me,” she said to Slog, an unmistakable air of worry in her voice. What could be so urgent that a mere servant would barge in on her like that, then run off before she could address his insubordination? Feeling pressed, she followed quickly. Slog drifted along beside her, leaving behind a trail of oily, black smoke that coiled in the air.
Upon reaching the upper portion of the palace, she kicked open the doors and stood at the top of the marble steps. From here she could see much of the city, and more importantly, what the civilians were all gazing at. The crowded streets had come to a standstill, people pointing, others on their knees crying into their hands. Shouts of “it’s the end of days” and “the gods have forsaken us” echoed about.
“No, it can’t be,” the empress growled, her hands balled into trembling fists. Off in the distance, blue light bathed the sky in a brilliant shimmer of energy. The Mountain of Dreams had lain dormant for thousands of years, occupied only by a clan of insane monks. Generation after generation, they existed only to wait for the coming of the Shantie Rhoe. Everyone knew they were crazy, yet there could be no denying it now.
The gods had named the Shantie Rhoe. The end of days was truly upon them...
* * *
Kelus and Jacob stood outside the circle’s hut, eyes on the northern sky as it bathed in blue light. Even after the initial beam had reflected off the clouds, it was followed shortly by the yellow and green flashes of a violent electrical storm. Instead of being widespread like a normal storm, it seemed to be confined to a small area around the source of blue light. After a short time, the light show faded and the angry sky grew dark and still.
The beaded curtain rattled and Wara stepped out. She stood beside them watching the darkening sky. There was still a lingering afterglow, but that too was beginning to fade away. “I never thought I would live to see this day,” she said, unable to tear her eyes away. She sighed, then shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she admitted. “What does it all mean?”
“You know exactly what it means,” said Jacob, a surprising edge to his voice. Recent events had changed him, and he was clearly not the same person anymore. He had always been quick with a joke, or a wink for the girls, but these days his eyes held a chilling hardness. “We no longer have time for any more of the circle’s games. You wanted proof? Well now you have it, and I will hear no more of your tests and ancient rituals. We have run out of time.”
“He is correct, Wara,” Kelus replied before she could respond. She opened her mouth as if to protest, then looked away. “For centuries the Takeri Clan has embraced the ways of the circle. Your wisdom and guidance have proved to be invaluable throughout the years. But change is coming, and it is time to prepare. We can wait no longer.”
Nima and Amoshi rounded the corner from the other side of the hut. They each nodded a silent greeting but said nothing.
“Our ways may seem ancient to some, superstitious to others, but to question the spirits is beyond foolish,” said Wara, her gaze low and her shoulders slumped. It was an odd posture for the powerful circle member. Normally the wiry old woman oozed confidence, radiated a sense of authority, but now she appeared visibly shaken.
“No one is questioning the spirits,” Kelus corrected. “Thanks to the guidance of the circle, as well as that of the spirits, we can now prepare for what lies ahead. All Jacob is saying is that the Shantie Rhoe has passed your final test. There is no more time for questioning, doubts, or uncertainty. The prophecies have unfolded right before our eyes, and even the spirits must see the truth by now. Do you not agree?”
Wara sighed, running a set of slender fingers through her long white hair, her numerous silver bracelets clacking as they collected down around her elbow. “Yes,” she said quietly. “The spirits are certain...as am I.” Her head snapped up, green eyes flaring with a newfound energy. “There is no more room for speculation, only decisions to be made. We either stand together with the Shantie Rhoe, or run and hide in fear, allowing the gods to decide our fate. The circle has made its decision, and we choose to stand against the darkness.”
“Good,” said Kelus with a smile. “A line has been drawn in the sand. Nations both near and far must choose whose side they’re on. Have you two anything to—” He stopped in midsentence. Nima and Amoshi were suddenly nowhere to be seen.
* * *
“Where are you going?” asked Amoshi, finding it surprisingly difficult to keep up. Ignoring his calls, Nima carried on without so much as a backward glance. “Whatever I did or said, I meant no offense,” he called out, before breaking into a light jog in order to catch up. He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her about. She glared up at him, chest rising and falling with angry breaths. “There,” he said, forcing a smile. “I just want you to tell me—”
“You stupid, self-centered, arrogant fool,” she hissed, lips curled back in a snarl. Even when angry, she looked so beautiful his heart nearly skipped a beat.
“What makes you think my urgency has anything to do with the likes of you?”
“When you didn’t answer me I just thought—”
“What? What did you think?” she snapped. “That news of the Shantie Rhoe somehow had anything to do with you? Or did you not listen to a single word that was said? Sorry to inform you, but things are now in motion that have little to do with you, or how important you seem to think you are. I have preparations to make, and think you should be doing the same!”
“Amoshi!” came a shrill shout from only a few feet away.
They turned to see a rather plump woman, gray streaks in her long black hair, tapping her foot impatiently.
“Oh! Uh...Iwa,” he stammered, suddenly finding himself short of breath. “I was just— Nima and I were—”
“It seems as though you have family matters to attend to,” Nima growled under her breath. “Perhaps you should attend to her needs and stop chasing me like a fool.” Briefly, her eyes flickered towards the angry woman before she sped off without another word.
From behind, she still could hear Iwa screaming at Amoshi, her own name coupled with “whore” and “tramp” repeated multiple times. She felt a stab of guilt as she rushed to get out of earshot, no small feat considering the lungs on that woman. Once far enough away that she could no longer hear the one-sided yelling she zipped around a hut, throwing her back against a wall.
You stupid man. You stupid, caring, loyal man. Don’t you understand we can’t be together? Covering her face, she leaned down to her knees and began to sob. I’m not sure I have the strength to keep pushing you away. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.
After a time, she finally composed herself. Wiping away the tears, she stood tall and straightened her dress. “I have more pressing business to attend to than that foolish man,” she muttered to herself.
Making her way up the street, she finally reached her destination. Taking a deep breath, she pushed back the green doors bordered with yellow vines and stormed into the temple, making a less-than-subtle entrance. The room smelled of spice, given off by numerous yellow oil lamps flickering around the room. Ignoring the awkward stares from the room full of red-robed palins in training, she strode across the thick gray carpet and stood at the front of the room.
“What’s this about, Nima?” asked a sturdy-looking woman, curly brown hair dancing down over her eyes. Mise, the instructor here in the temple, was not accustomed to unannounced intrusions. Had the interruption come from anyone else, an immediate example would have been made. But Nima had considerable rank here, and was one of the few who overrode Mise’s authority within these walls. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Gather your students, Mise,” Nima said in an icy tone. “Please,” she added quickly.
Mise motioned for the students to gather round, a few already filtering in from other rooms. “We saw the lights in the sky,” said one of the girls, her voice a bit shaky. “What does it all mean? Is it a sign from the gods? Is that why you are here?”
Nima waited until all the girls were in the main room, then addressed the girl who had just spoken. “First of all, I need you to understand one harsh reality,” Nima replied. “The gods have no say in what our future holds. They care nothing of the fate of man, or whether or not humans will survive the coming months.”
Her blasphemous words brought forth a collective gasp from the students. How dare she speak ill of the gods like that? “Do any of you challenge my word?” Nima asked in response to their shocked reactions. Her eyes took on a bluish glow as her chi flowed through her body.
“Are you saying the gods have abandoned us?” came the voice of another girl.
Nima directed her attention to her. “I’m saying that they’ve never protected you in the first place.” Her harsh accusation brought another gasp from the group. “War is upon us, and the gods will show no favor to either side. A darkness like no other will sweep these lands, devouring anything in its path. And as it does, the gods will be spectators, not soldiers. They don’t care what happens to any of you, nor should you place your faith in them. You will fight...or you will die. No one is coming to help you.”
Mise marched forward and leaned up to her ear. “You’re scaring my students,” she whispered angrily.
“Scaring them?” Nima repeated, making no attempt to lower her own voice. “They should be terrified!” With an angry glare, Mise backed away.
“You wondered about the light in the sky,” Nima went on, her gaze sweeping across many confused faces. “Very well, I’ll get right to the point. The Shantie Rhoe has been named.” More than one hand clasped over a gaping mouth. “By all means, pray to the gods if that makes any of you feel better. But know this, the only one who matters now is the Shantie Rhoe himself.” Whispers and muttering broke out amongst the students. More than a few eyes glistened with moisture.
One of the girls from the back began to slowly march forward, her long dark bangs hung low over her eyes. “Creena, what are you doing?” asked one of the girls as she pushed her way to the front.
She stopped and stood before Nima, head low, eyes hidden behind a dark curtain of hair. “I’ve read the prophecies,” she said, her voice so soft it was barely audible. “You’re here to ask that we stand at his side when the war begins.” Nima said nothing, but her eyes nearly popped from their sockets when the girl sank down to one knee. “What is our purpose as Palins, if not to protect those who are innocent? I pledge myself to his cause. When the darkness comes as we all know it will, I swear to be at the side of the Shantie Rhoe. Should I fall in battle, I will take my last breath knowing I served mankind to the best of my abilities. This alone is an honor I can achieve no other way.”
The girl looked up for the first time, her dark eyes locking onto Nima’s. Reaching inside her red robe, she pulled out an ornamental dagger. Most of the girls carried one that was similar. Although it was jeweled and held swirls of gold, it was still plenty sharp, if not exactly a weapon used for combat.
She gripped the blade with her hand, and slowly pulled down on the hilt. Red trickled from her palm, running down her wrist and forearm. “By my blood, I swear on my life to fight for the Shantie Rhoe,” she said, voice still soft but clear as a bell.
One by one, others followed her lead, dropping to their knees then running their blades across their hands. With bloody fists held high, each recited an oath similar to hers. The words differed, for each one was giving voice to the feelings within her own heart.
“Rise, all of you,” said Nima, raising her palms. The girls got back to their feet, each one looking different somehow, as if the girls had all become women. “You are students of the arts no more. I raise you now to Palins, and I couldn’t be more proud of each of you. I tell you this. When the darkness comes to swallow our lands, it will be met by a force like no other. Our realm might shake, the mountains may crumble, but when the dust clears, it will be us who are still standing!”
* * *
Soft hands brushed the sides of Eric’s cheeks. “Can you hear me?” came the question from a far-off distance. “How are you feeling?” asked the voice again, a far-away whisper, only slightly closer this time.
He gasped, eyes jetting open as he sat up with a start. Jade grabbed him by the shoulders and eased him back down to the pillow. “It’s alright, I’ve got you,” she said gently. She kissed him softly before pressing her forehead to his. “I’ve missed you so,” she whispered, stretching forward to lay herself across his massive body.
“Please, let this be real,” he whispered back, fearing this might be a dream or a trick of the mind. The last thing he remembered was his battle with the man in white. I killed him. Was that also a dream? How many days had passed since then? Was any of that even real? His head swam and his throat was dry.
Jade pushed herself up, just enough to look him in the eyes. Her long dark hair hung down over her face, but not quite enough to hide her crystal blue eyes. “No, you are not dreaming. I’m
just as real as you remember.”
“And she hasn’t left your side for days,” came a scratchy voice from the entryway.
Surprised, Eric turned towards the voice and tried to sit up, but Jade gently eased him back down. “It’s alright,” she said, resting his head back against the pillow. “He’s a friend, and probably the only reason you didn’t die up here. I’ll explain everything later. For now, you may rest a little longer if you wish.”
“It sounds to me like I’ve had enough rest already,” he said, sitting back up against her weight. Gently, yet with the strength of an ox, he moved her aside despite her protests, then rolled from the bed.
“My name is Yammon,” said the bald man, dropping into a low bow. His flowing orange garment hung loosely, and had a single slash of purple across the chest. The material looked soft and thin, possibly even made of silk. He stood up straight, a warm, fatherly smile splitting his round face. “For centuries we have waited for you. Generations have passed by, each waiting for the Shantie Rhoe to arrive. It seems that day has finally come, and I’m honored to stand before you.”
Eric’s head spun, as if he had been drinking for days. But still, he managed to return an awkward bow. “Yammon, I thank you for your aid,” he said, flashing Jade an unsure look. “Who knows what fate would have befallen me had you not taken us in. But if you will excuse us, I think it’s time Jade and I returned to our friends.”
“Oh, I’m afraid it’s far too late for any of that,” Yammon replied, his smile changing from fatherly to outright amused. “You have been named by the gods. Your presence in this world is no longer a secret. Friends and enemies alike have surely seen the sign, and we now find ourselves in a race against time. Your place is here now, and we must get to work before it’s too late.”
