by Brandon Chen
***
In the distance, invisible to the eyes of everyone but Darien, was the original God of War, Ares. The middle-aged man smirked, his arms folded as he watched Mithra and Darien mount the flaming chariot and shoot forward across the desert sands with a surge of speed, darting towards Persepolis with haste. A trail of flames exploded behind the hellish chariot.
The old Ares rubbed the back of his neck. “He doesn’t intend to give up his body that easily, huh? He’s willing to do whatever it takes to defeat Ahriman. Even use his Guardians. Looks like he’s learning that it’s better to fight with others rather than alone. But that doesn’t mean that he’ll be victorious against Ahriman. The moment that he’s weak and defenseless, just barely grasping onto life, that’s when I’ll step in and take over. It’s nice that you’re starting to change your ways after our talk, Darien. You’re finally confronting the injustice that plagued your life five years ago. But that doesn’t mean that you’re strong enough to save this continent from the destruction that is about to ensue. Only I am.”
***
Tetsu groaned, his eyes slowly cracking open as he stared blankly at the dark ceiling of an empty cell. He glanced down and saw that there were bloody bandages wrapped around the wounds that he’d received while fighting Ahriman. The young man rolled onto his side and heard a clanking sound, looking down to see that his wrists were bound by cuffs. He tried to move his legs and saw that there were shackles on his ankles as well, keeping his movement drastically limited.
The mercenary’s head pounded with a raging headache and he winced as he turned to look at the thick metal bars that confined him in this small, empty room. On the other side of those bars was nothing but darkness, an abyss of blackness. He grunted, pushing himself up into a sitting position when he suddenly heard footsteps echoing from the darkness outside of his cell.
A man in fancy clothing strolled out from the shadows into Tetsu’s vision — Cambyses. The king was accompanied by two guards that were standing at his side, their weapons sheathed. “It’s been a while, Tetsu! When I look at you it’s like looking at a ghost. I was under the impression that both you and Darien were dead. Impressive. You two were lucky to survive the Lost Sands.”
Tetsu leaned back against the cold wall of his cell as he glared at the king with his glowing red eyes and scoffed. “Darien will be here soon to reclaim what is truly his, false lord.”
“Hold your tongue, slave.”
“Slave? It’s been years since someone’s dared to call me that,” Tetsu growled. “You think that you’re safe just because I’m chained up and you’re behind bars? I’ll have your head soon, Cambyses. You’ll pay for what you’ve done to Darien, to Persia, and to the rest of Dastia! I’ll make sure of that.”
Cambyses smirked. “You don’t have many chances left, Tetsu. After all, your execution is today.” He snapped his fingers and one of the guards opened the door to the cell and placed a platter of food on the floor of the cell. On the tin plate was a giant, juicy steak, grapes, and a full loaf of bread. “This is your last meal, Hayashi clansman. I figured that a friend of my nephew’s at least deserves a full stomach before he’s decapitated in public. Don’t you think so?”
Tetsu gritted his teeth, lowering his head. Then a small smile cracked across his lips. He sprang forward, swinging his legs outward to sweep the first soldier cleanly off his feet. The man slammed to the ground hard, the wind driven from his lungs. But Tetsu wasn’t going to give him a second to get his breath back. The mercenary brought his hands crashing downward on the man’s face, breaking the soldier’s nose with a heavy crack. Turning to find the second soldier rushing into the cell, Tetsu kicked off the ground and sent himself flying forward like a bullet. He bashed his head into the second guard’s gut, sending the Persian staggering backward in pain.
Tetsu held out his hands and caught himself before he struck the ground, shifting his body to a handstand. He clamped his ankles on both sides of the surprised Persian guard’s head and swung his body downward, flipping the man to the ground in a fluent motion. The soldier hit the floor hard, reaching for his sheathed sword, but Tetsu was already upon him. The mercenary leapt on the man’s back and slung the chain on his handcuffs over the man’s head and yanked backward, choking the soldier. The silver metal dug into the Persian’s throat and he gasped, clawing at his own neck in a desperate attempt to remove the chain but Tetsu relentlessly pulled back, his eyes filled with bloodlust.
Cambyses watched from outside of the cage, unsurprised. He’d expected this. When his final guard collapsed in a heap at Tetsu’s feet, he smiled. “My, my. What an aggressive fellow you are.” There was a blur of speed and suddenly Tetsu was thrown across the room, slamming hard into the wall with tremendous force. The mercenary gasped, sliding to the ground, his eyes clamped shut as pain exploded through his back. Cambyses held out the Sands of Time, dangling the hourglass before Tetsu’s eyes. “How troublesome.”
Tetsu winced and watched helplessly as the king drove a heavy kick into his stomach, doubling the mercenary over in agony. Tears glistened in Tetsu’s eyes from the pain and he coughed, saliva splattering on the cell floor. He grabbed his aching gut, listening to the door of the cell slam shut.
“I believe Darien is finally coming, after five years, to stop me,” Cambyses said, looking at the unconscious guards in Tetsu’s cell. “Thank you for the artifact, Tetsu. I’ll use it to silence the god of war that has been giving me so much trouble. Oh, and enjoy your final meal.”
***
Ares’ flaming chariot slowed to a stop before the gigantic walls of Persepolis. Hundreds of Persian archers had nocked their bows and were pointing arrows down at the two gods halted outside of the gates of Persia’s capital. Ares stepped off of the chariot, landing on the burning sand. He looked up at the line of archers above him. “It is I, Darien, your prince. Let me into the city!”
The archers, unconvinced, kept their weapons trained on the god. However, some of them did recognize the prince as Darien. He looked exactly the same as he had five years before. Such an occurrence was not possible. Regardless, some archers began to lower their bows, unsure if they should be threatening the unknown outsiders.
“Do not listen to his lies,” Ahriman’s seething voice echoed in the minds of everyone on the wall.
The archers yelped, startled and frightened by the mysterious voice that boomed in their minds. Some dropped their bows and clamped their hands over their ears, screaming in a futile attempt to try and drown out Ahriman’s voice.
Mithra dismounted the chariot, unsheathing his golden sword, his eyes scanning the walls of Persepolis for any sign of the Persian god of darkness. “Show yourself, Ahriman! We have come here to cleanse this world of your existence.”
“Come and get me then, gods of war!” Ahriman’s voice roared.
Mithra leapt off of the ground and punched the fortified wall of Persepolis with a frightening crack of his fist. There was a massive explosion as pieces of stone and metal went flying into the air. Archers fell around Ares and the boy stared, impressed. The Persian god bolted through the gaping opening in the wall that he had created, storming into the city of frightened civilians.
Ares leapt back onto his chariot and yanked the reins on his horses, watching as the flaming war steeds bolted forward and leapt through the opening in Persepolis’s wall, dragging the chariot behind them. The boy gripped the railings of the chariot to balance himself, his hands squeezing the metal tightly. The wagon rocked abruptly when it landed harshly on the ground and Ares swallowed hard, realizing that he was racing through the main road of Persepolis. Pedestrians were leaping out of the way in a desperate attempt to escape the flaming horses’ path. “Out of the way!” Ares boomed, turning to see that Mithra had summoned a colossal bull that was the size of a mammoth. The creature was trampling over everything in its path and smashing through any Persian buildings in its way, bolting straight for the castle in far distance.
Ares winced.
The determined look in Mithra’s eyes said that he was willing to do anything to defeat Ahriman. Then again, a lot was at stake here. More than just the few lives that Mithra was trampling over. Though, Ares wished that the Persian god were less destructive in the way he was traveling. “Do you know where he is?”
“He’s in the throne room!” Mithra yelled to Ares, smashing through a line of Persian soldiers with his massive bull. “I can feel his aura there,” he growled.
Ares suddenly glanced up and saw a beam of purple energy descending on him. He pulled the reins on his chariot, yanking the horses to make a hard right. The wagon skidded as the magical beam struck the earth next to his chariot, creating a huge explosion of magic that swept outward and engulfed the street in destruction. Ares’ chariot slowed to a stop and he leapt onto the ground, finding two men standing in the center of the road, blocking the way. Magi. “I’ll go on ahead!” Mithra shouted. “You handle those small-fry!” Soon the Persian god was out of view as he barreled through the city straight for the castle. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Ahriman.
Unfortunately for Ares, he was stuck facing these two intimidating Magi. One was holding two scythes that were connected together by a chain, eying Ares with a determined gleam in his eyes. The other Magus looked quite odd, wielding only an ordinary broadsword as he trudged forward towards the god of war. These guys look like more than just small fry.
“Sahad, so this is the god of war! Do you think his squeals of pain sound as amusing as the others?” the man with the sword said, a crazed look in his eyes. He licked his lips as if he were about to devour a delicious meal.
Sahad whipped his chain scythe through the air, ripping the ground around him. He smirked as he slashed a Persian slave across the back by accident. The man screamed and collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his wound. But Sahad didn’t seem the least bit concerned. “I don’t know, Jafaar. Let’s find out.”
Ares winced. This was bad. There were so many civilians around them. There was no doubt that many innocent lives were about to get caught up in this battle. He gripped his spear tightly in his hands and pointed it at the two Magi before him. Heartless. These Magi were heartless warriors that preyed on the weak. It was up to Ares to bring justice upon them. The god of war grunted as he shot forward with a surge of speed, appearing right in front of Sahad in an instant.
The Magus’s eyes widened when he witnessed Ares’ supernatural speed. He crossed his arms in front of himself, blocking a heavy kick from Ares. The god’s blow sent the mage flying backward through an entire building. The structure groaned as it collapsed on top of Sahad, sending a wave of debris and dust sweeping outward.
“Whoa! That’s fast!” Jafaar burst out laughing cheerfully. He twirled his sword in an elegant fashion, moving the weapon at such a blinding speed that it was a mere blur to the ordinary eye. He stomped his foot into the ground and suddenly the earth shifted, cracking beneath the Magus’s feet. A spike of rock tore from the earth beneath Ares, smashing into his stomach. The god was launched backwards, smashing through several buildings, causing the structures to collapse instantly. Jafaar raised his sword and licked his blade gently, giggling maniacally. “But you aren’t fast enough to match the two of us, god.”
Ares groaned, his head spinning as he gazed up at the blue sky. He leaned forward and saw that Persian civilians were scattering in all directions, screaming in terror as buildings collapsed around them. This was utter chaos; too many people were getting caught up in their battle! He clutched his spear and pushed himself to his feet, glaring at Jafaar. His eyes then flitted to Sahad, who was walking from the ruins of a collapsed building, brushing some dust off his expensive clothing. He dragged his chain scythe on the ground behind him and smirked as he looked at Ares. “Man, that tickled.”
Ares clenched his teeth, knowing how strong Magi were. These guys weren’t just some random chumps. They were highly trained and extremely powerful. He wouldn’t be able to defeat the two of them if he was holding back. He glanced around him at the scattering civilians were scampered away in all directions. But how was he going to minimize the collateral damage from the battle?
***
“This plan is so dumb,” Ramses murmured, paying for the bag of medicine that Kira would need to heal Cassim’s grandmother. His hood was pulled tightly over the top of his head so that the cowl covered his facial features. Luckily, the merchant only cared for his coin rather than whose money it was. “Tetsu’s execution is going to be heavily guarded. It might be a trap that Cambyses’s set up. If we all go there we could be killed.”
“We’re not going to leave him to die if that’s what you mean,” Kira snapped, snatching the paper bag from Ramses. The young woman also was wearing a cloak that she had borrowed from Cassim, who was standing next to her in Persepolis’s marketplace. The plaza was a flat open area of dirt where merchants set up tables, tents, buildings, and stands and sold their products. “After all, Tetsu is the reason that we got away. He’s the reason your family is still alive.”
Ramses scoffed but said nothing.
“Do you at least know where the execution will be held?” Kira asked the Persian Magus.
“District Four, the middle class district,” Ramses said. “The lower class and upper class gather together to watch executions. It’s a pastime for everyone in Persepolis. Except my family and I, that is. I’ve never really been to one.”
“We only have an hour before the execution starts. We need a plan!” Kira exclaimed, handing Cassim the bag of medicine. “Here, take this to your grandma and have her take two of the pills with some water. Make sure that she stays hydrated until I get back.” The mage watched as Cassim nodded and left, rushing back in the direction of his home. “It might be difficult, Ramses. But I know that if either of us had switched roles with Tetsu, he’d come and save us. We can’t just leave him to die.”
Ramses shrugged, beginning to walk in the direction of District Four, strolling down a street that left the marketplace. He slid his hands into his pockets. “Alright, I have an idea. I’ll explain it to you on the way.”
***
A bag was clamped over Tetsu’s head, making the air inside thick and warm. His breath was heavy as he was led through the city streets in a metal cage on a wagon pulled by three horses. His head was lowered as he felt the juices of thrown fruit splatter at his feet. Insults tore through the air, ripping at his ears. He licked his chapped lips and swallowed hard, rubbing his thumbs against each other as he sat in the wagon, enduring the waves of verbal abuse that were thrown at him.
“Die along with the rest of your accursed clan!”
“Filthy demonic blood, I can’t wait to see your head roll!”
“Death to the Hayashi!”
Tetsu clenched his jaw. How had things become like this? Why did these people hate him so? The chains on his handcuffs jingled as the cart slowed to a stop and suddenly the bag on his head was torn off, revealing the blinding light of the afternoon sun. He squinted as he was pulled to his feet and thrown out of the cage and onto the dirt street. The prisoner grunted, glancing upward to see mobs of angry people, suppressed by guards, surrounding him. Their insults kept coming. Their rage radiated like an aura and Tetsu’s heart raced as he was shoved forward.
Three Persian soldiers, fully armed, were right in front of him, leading him through the crowds of people to a stage where an executioner stood. The executioner had a heavy, bloodied axe, and wore a red mask that was painted with the face of a demon, indicating that everyone that he executed went straight to hell. He was heavily built and extremely stout, his chest puffed out as he showed off his rippling muscles to the crowd.
Tetsu looked around him at the endless sea of Persians that had come to witness his death. All of these people had come to see him die? He watched as a child raced through the lines of Persian guards and rushed forward to Tetsu, driving a kick straight into his shin. The Hayashi clansman winced, leaning forward and grunting, be
fore the guards quickly yanked the young child back. The kid couldn’t have been older than seven.
“Burn in hell!” the child screamed.
Tetsu stared at the youth, his hands balling into fists that trembled with uncontrollable rage. But he did nothing. Cambyses … how much have you brainwashed your people? He grunted as he was shoved forward once more towards the stage.
Slowly climbing up the steps that led up to the stage, Tetsu felt chills tingling through his skin. He didn’t want to die. This was too soon! His heart pounded and his mouth was dry. His eyes darted around in a desperate attempt to find something that could save him. A weapon, something to break these chains, Ares, something! Someone! His eyes lowered as he stood wearily next to the executioner. Anyone....
“This man, Tetsu Hayashi, has been condemned to death for attempting to assassinate King Cambyses and High Magus Zahir. He is also a member of the Hayashi clan and according to the Demonic Cleansing Act enacted by Cambyses, the Persian government, and the Heaven’s Court, all members of the Hayashi clan are to be exterminated immediately for they are a plague to society and to all mankind. Prepare to return to hell, demon.”
Tetsu was forced onto his knees and he gasped, breathing faster as sweat raced down his face. The executioner tapped the cold steel of his axe against the back of Tetsu’s neck, ready to wind up and decapitate the prisoner. So this is it, huh. He scanned the crowd and blinked when he saw sudden movement shoving through the sea of people. It was Kira! She smiled and put her hands over her eyes as she held her staff high into the air.
Tetsu acted immediately, shutting his eyes as a bright light radiated from the staff, expanding outward and filling the entire crowd with a blinding flash. Small blots of light were still flashing before Tetsu’s eyes despite the fact he had closed his eyes and he turned to find the executioner lying dead beside him in a pool of his own blood. He glanced up and saw that Ramses was standing next to him, helping the prisoner to his feet. “We’ve got you just in time, huh?” Ramses said with a small smile, unsheathing his sword at his side. “Let me break those chains—”
