by Greg Dragon
“Well this is convenient.” Alysia laughed. “I travel all this way to find a way to kill you all, and I manage to find you, burning a village.” She put her forefinger up and waggled it from side to side. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. There has been enough mischief from you. Time to die.”
“What is your name, girl? Tell me, so that I can share the story of the human girl who traveled all this way to burn.” He began to laugh, then stopped suddenly, looking her over with burning red eyes. “Actually, you are quite comely. I will take that Ert sword out of your hands and bring you to my brothers.” He licked his lips and smiled cruelly.
Alysia took up a stance, held Euphoria high, and beckoned the demon to come forward. “This is boring now. I want out of this oven, and I think that killing you is the only way.” She cat-walked close to him and he pulled out the great sword and raised his free hand up to the night sky. A bolt of red lightning swung down to engulf his hand and when he touched his sword, the flames went from dancing to roaring.
Alysia feigned a side step, but moved close enough to run him through. The big demon knocked Euphoria to the side, and countered quickly with an answer. She barely had time to roll away as the flames from the great sword cut the area above her.
She saw an opening after the swing and jumped high into the air, bringing the Ert blade down. But again the demon was a step ahead and threw up his leg to knock her away.
When Alysia landed, she didn’t give him time to recoil. She sprinted at him, swinging wildly, but his counter was so quick and violent that the wind from his swing made her check herself to see if she was on fire.
They continued this dance for many long minutes, and Alysia’s skin was so sweaty that it looked as if she had been dipped in oil. The demon seemed to realize that his sword was too slow, so he swung one more time, forcing her to bounce to one side, then dashed in and caught her with a punch to the abdomen that forced her to double over.
He followed the punch by placing both hands on his sword and raising it above his head. Alysia threw up Euphoria, angling it away from her face, and the blades clashed with the heavy giant sword sliding off and kicking up dirt next to her.
Alysia rolled to the side, away from the demon, and climbed to her feet, seeing large white spots that threatened to obscure her vision. Come on CeeCee! she thought to herself, blinking away the tears. It felt as if her spine had been pushed back a few inches, and every step was painful.
“What is with you V’Kosha and the need to hit me in the stomach?” she managed, hoping to buy herself some time by way of conversation.
“What are you?” the demon asked, pulling the fiery blade from out of the ground and lifting it aloft to regain his stance.
“I am Alysia Knight. My father is James Knight, a—”
“Don’t play with me. You aren’t what you seem. Why can’t I hit you? Are you a high knight in disguise?”
“You mean, an Ert Knight? No, but I”—she squeezed her eyes shut to fight against the pain—“I appreciate the compliment. Haven’t had a proper fight in a while, eh?”
“CeeCee, no!” a voice called from behind her, and she spun to find Amarah limping towards her. The girl seemed to have come from out of the fire; her clothes were singed, and her skin showed third degree burns. “He’s much stronger than he looks,” she said, “and I don’t doubt your skill, but this is his world and you will be bound by his rules.”
“You called me, CeeCee … I never told you that name,” Alysia said as she spun and swung Euphoria into her neck. The girl exploded into ashes, which let her know that it was a V’Kosha in disguise. As Alysia recoiled from the ruse, she had just enough time to drop low to the ground to avoid the great sword’s swing.
The big demon was pressing his attack, his speed impressive, especially for his size. Alysia dared not block it, thinking that it could shatter her blade, so she ducked, jumped, somersaulted, and whatever she could to avoid its contact.
When she landed from a somersault, the black demon launched himself into the air and brought the burning blade down to split her in half, but Alysia felt the magic for the second time since opening the portal, and she allowed it to take her. With ice pulsing in her veins, she side-stepped the downward slash and brought her sword up, jumping to meet him as he came down.
The impact of the blade, infused with the strength that the magic had given her, took his ear off cleanly on her ascent. Alysia turned the blade and brought it down as she landed, cutting into his shoulder, which made a loud metallic sound, and she realized for the first time that he too was in armor. She jumped back again, barely avoiding his counter, but the flames from his sword burned a black mark on her upper right arm.
As she reached to examine it, he was in the air again, a move so fast and unrealistic that she barely had time to avoid his big boot kicking her in the face. Rolling away to spring up and escape, Alysia was unfortunately too slow. His sword connected with the arm she raised but armor of the dragon ring absorbed the cut. It was a vicious slash that should have split her in half, but it was all that the ring could take and it retracted her armor. The impact, however, still did its job, and Alysia was thrown into the side of a burning building where she fell to the ground, screaming in pain.
“Who are you, girl?” the demon asked, holding his ear. “You fight like an Ert, yet you have nothing of their look, or smell. Bloody Garot, I bet. Another one of Chaos’s pets. I’ve destroyed hundreds of you, girl, didn’t he tell you? He sent you here to beat me, but in reality he sent you to your doom!”
Alysia didn’t know what got into her, but fear and pain was not it. She sprang to her feet and jumped forward with a slash. Her speed was inhuman, a product of the magic perhaps, but Euphoria bit into the demon’s arm, cutting into cables and bone. He roared in frustration, and the fiery blade was lowered as he switched it to the other hand, giving her another opportunity.
She leaped forward again, bringing the sword down in one slash, then another, and another, and a low, spinning cut that knocked him off of his feet and planted him on his back. She was sure that he was done, even though her slashes had only caught his armor, but the big demon was laughing, and climbed to his feet as if he was merely playing with her.
“You fight well,” he said, and then fell to one knee. The robe parted at the shoulder where one of her slashes had gotten through, and black blood squirted from his neck as he reached up and tried to touch it. “You’re not human,” he continued. “You’re from here, somewhere. I recognize your fire, Chaos pet. He may have caused you to forget who you are, but no human can do what you do.”
Alysia noticed that his sword’s fire was gone, and it lay on the ground, black and disfigured, like a twisted piece of corroded metal. She kept her guard up and waited for him, unsure of what he was plotting. But, he merely looked at her slowly, then smiled with irony, and fell forward on his face, exploding into ashes.
The fires of all the surrounding buildings began to die down as well, and the smell of burnt flesh became overpowering as a wind began to blow through the village. As she limped back, the demon’s words played over and over inside of her head. There was something off about everything in Yalem, and she knew that it had more to do with who she really was than any other reality.
She had always been Alysia Knight, but since coming to Yalem, she wondered if Lancert’s fathering of her was merely a journey instead of a beginning. Her sword skills, honed from thousands of hours practicing, were beyond those of legends that had been praised back on Earth. If it was merely the enhancements that Isobel had given her back when she was in the Bloody Garot, wouldn’t Dibolosa—the supposedly best warrior that Chaos trained—have been able to beat her, the new recruit?
She had destroyed Dibolosa, almost as easily as she destroyed numerous demons and giants, but it took until now for her to really wonder why she was as good as she was. Ert blood wouldn’t be enough, but who would provide the answers? Lancert, her father, who had only appeared to her t
wice in her life?
Next time, he’s going to be the one doing the listening and answering, she thought to herself. But then her right side throbbed with immense pain, and she had to focus on staying conscious.
Alysia was weak and tired, but she knew that she had to leave, so she walked all the way back to the building that she had first emerged from. She went inside and found the hole she had crawled out of. When she was back on the other side, the steam was still thick, but a fiery ring outlined the portal to take her back to Lorus.
It was daytime when she stepped through, and her friends were at a table in the cottage playing at dice and talking in hushed voices.
“Alysia!” Cyrio said, hopping up and rushing over to help her sit.
“Where were you guys?” Alysia asked as she limped up to the table. Her sides were hurting, and her muscles ached to the point where her skin felt like a sheet of sores wrapped around her body.
“Thank the skies,” Amarah remarked and glanced at Bortex, who exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for an extremely long time.
“How long have you all been out and waiting for me?” Alysia asked, and they all exchanged puzzled glances. “Oh, boy. Are you all about to tell me that I was the only one to make it through the portal?”
“Well, yes, Alysia,” Orwan spoke up for the first time. “You went in and, poof, the portal vanished.”
“Seems oddly normal around here now compared to what was going on last night,” Alysia said.
“Last night? What happened last night?” Bortex asked, as if he had been left out of something exciting and had to know about it.
Alysia looked annoyed. “Well, you know, walking dead people, the wounded guard ... my portal?”
“You mean, three days ago,” Amarah corrected her. “Portals don’t respect time, as you should know better than us. You’ve been gone for a couple of days. Actually, before you showed up, we decided to wait one more day before considering you gone forever. Where did that gate take you, Alysia?”
“Guys, please call me, CeeCee. Only my mother called me Alysia, and it was never for anything good.” She adjusted her weight away from her throbbing side, then looked around, noticing that the cottage seemed cozy and clean. “Did you guys clean up?” she asked.
“First tell us about the gate, CeeCee,” Amarah said. “Tell us what happened there, and we will fill you in on what happened here. Did you get a glimpse of the Archon?”
“If the Archon was a black beast with a flaming sword, then yes. But I more than glimpsed him. I sent him to whatever afterlife V’Kosha go to when they die.”
Cyrio leaned in close to her and whispered, “You … you defeated him?”
“Yes,” Alysia said, noticing the change in their expressions when she admitted to it. “What? You guys are looking at me as if I’m a ghost or something. Did the curse or whatever get lifted here, or is there more to do?”
“Killing him saved the village, CeeCee, but the fact that you were able to slay an Archon… You have a lot more power than we assumed.”
Chapter Four
Alysia felt tired and drained. For hours they had been up talking, discussing her past from as far back as she could remember. Amarah had come up with a theory that the knight, Lancert, had not been completely honest about her origins. That she was much more than just his estranged daughter, and her origins were of Yalem, in an age long gone.
“That’s mighty high praise, you calling me one of your warrior ancestors,” Alysia joked, but the young demon girl didn’t seem to find it funny.
The two of them were seated outside one of the abandoned cottages near the edge of town. It was dusk, at least the version of dusk that Yalem could emulate, and there was a light breeze blowing through, bringing with it the sweet scent of roses. In between the women was a jug of some sort of fermented fruit juice, and Alysia was in a good mood.
Since the horror of undead members walking through town had ceased, it was much easier now to actually enjoy the slow life of a small village. The people saw Alysia and her group as heroes, and whenever they would sit together like this, someone would bring them a baked dish, a helping of tasty food, or a jug of something to drink.
“I’m not joking, CeeCee. You killed a legendary creature when you stepped through that portal, a menace that parents use to scare their children into behaving. Tell me, was he as good a swordsman as legends say? Did he try any tricks, like magic, or, I don’t know, something else amazing?”
“He turned a V’Kosha into you, actually. He used her to distract me when he realized that he couldn’t win the fight.”
“Whoa, now that is frightening. How did you get out of that one?”
“He made the mistake of having false Amarah call me by my nickname. I hadn’t told you about my name before that, so I suspected he was tricking me. I gambled and got lucky. I can still feel the aches from that fight and it's been, what? Two weeks?”
“We’re in no rush, CeeCee. Time is somewhat meaningless here. This is why it is likely that you are an ancient, reborn. The high order of knights—Lancert being one of them—have been looking for a way to crush Chaos for ages. If I were a gambling woman, my money would be on my theory being true. Lancert set you up for Chaos’s arrival, but with the added bonus that you carry the soul of an ancient Yalemite.”
Alysia didn’t have anything to say in response, so she sipped the sweet, honey-tasting drink and kept her eyes on Amarah. The thought of her being some sort of reincarnation both excited and frightened her. It cheapened the time that she had spent with her parents, and it also conflicted with her hope of ever seeing them again.
She held on to the idea that Chaos could set things back to the way they were prior to the V’Kosha attack. Was she being foolish? She hoped not, but the more Amarah spoke, the more she made sense, and the more she made sense, the further away Alysia saw hope slipping.
“Let us put aside this conversation till another time, Amarah,” she said. “For me, being an outsider, now hearing that the world I know and love may not be my home… Let’s just say it isn’t doing wonders for my psyche.”
“I’m sorry, CeeCee,” Amarah began, but Alysia motioned for her to stop.
“Don't be. Hey, do you know—”
Before she could finish her sentence, the brothers Bortex and Cyrio rushed up to the table and both began talking rapidly. After a time they both saw how futile this was and Bortex let Cyrio speak first.
“CeeCee, one of the merchants says that he's seen a sword that could pass for a duplicate of your own.”
“You mean, Euphoria?”
Cyrio spoke up. “The same merchant says that the place where he saw the sword has other treasure that he wants and wants to know if we're willing to bring him with us when we go!”
“And… you told him we would go?”
Bortex cut in. “Yeah! This is why we came here, right? The stranger, he knows, he saw your sword, and then he pointed at it and told Cyrio and me.”
The women exchanged glances knowingly, then Alysia was up on her feet. “Well,” she said, “I guess we better go meet this merchant of yours then, eh, Bortex? Thanks for remembering the reason for our trip. I was hoping to get a little more rest before taking on any more adventures, but opportunity knocks, so lead on, my big friend.”
Bortex led them to a lively inn. He was light on his feet, an image of grace that always surprised Alysia. She had known fighters that were both large and lithe—especially in Kenjutsu—but Bortex was unlike anyone she had met before. Cyrio, on the other hand, was like lightning in motion, which was no surprise considering his athletic build. He darted ahead, slipping off to the side of the inn and disappearing out of sight.
Bortex had them slip in through the side door of the inn, which opened up into a narrow hallway that saw them pass kitchen, stairs, and bathroom. A set of double doors opened up to the bar, and they slipped behind some arguing drunks to find the table where Cyrio and Orwan
were seated.
Across from the two men was a massive man, seven feet tall and hairy. He wore a leather vest, unbuttoned out of necessity rather than want, and baggy pants, decked out with pockets, pouches, and copper jewelry. When he saw Alysia, his eyes found her sword and he gestured at it while showing a large, yellow-toothed grin.
“Yes, yes, YES,” he was saying, “there it is.” Then his eyes moved up to meet Alysia’s and it was as if he saw her for the first time. He pushed back from the table, toppling their drinks, and stood, towering over her by more than two feet. “Where’s my manners?” he muttered under his breath, and when he spoke, Alysia noticed his large, lower incisors.
“Hello,” Alysia said. “My name is Alysia. Bortex here tells me that you may know the location of my sword’s twin. We would—”
“Can I touch it?” the big man asked, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips as if it were a tasty morsel.
Though every muscle in her body told her not to hand it over, Alysia considered her environment and the friends she had present. Reluctantly, she drew Euphoria out, just enough for him to grab the hilt. When he had it, he raised it above his head, examined the quality, and set down as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
Alysia watched him intently, her thumb rotating the ring on her finger in anticipation. The big man examined the blade for what seemed like hours and then handed it back to her. “Thank you,” she whispered, and sheathed the sword, sliding it in slowly until the guard made an audible “click.”
This movement seemed to excite the man as he watched her every move, and when Euphoria was sheathed, his eyes found her again, and it was as if he came up for air. “S-sorry about my awkwardness. That sword is a fabled legend. To see it, hold it, and watch a master put it away the way you just did… Not many men at my age that grew up on the stories would be as lucky as me. Oh, the name’s Arlan Fo. I’m a trader and local merchant. Please, have a seat. Ms. Alysia, was it?”
“CeeCee,” Alysia said as she took the seat that he offered. “You can call me CeeCee. I’m interested in hearing about the other sword.”
