The Gift of Volkeye

by Marque Strickland

This beast was not a breed of Murlach’s. Almost three years ago, the two of them met at Beazul’s Market when Zu held a job there as a wrestling Titan. Murlach had been so impressed by Zu’s size and strength that he offered him employment with Phyllamon. Zu took the job without hesitation, for he was tired of sleeping on dirt within a filthy tent every night. Since then, he’d been the favourite of his masters, allowed his own private quarters, away from the other beasts.

  Zu was a magnificent spectacle. He had white skin with black spots, which was stretched to capacity, for he was so muscle bound. His chin and jaws bulged outwards, having a peculiar bone structure, and his nose was tinier than a cashew nut, as were his eyes, red and beady. The only hair on his body was three upward standing, extra thick strands on his head. Zu’s feet consisted of two enormous toes with an extraordinarily wide heel, the middle of the foot being rather short. Also, there was a steel linked chain circling around a rather thin waist for his size, and, attached, was a long and wide strand of leather, covering his parts.

  Murlach was considering Zu’s dislike of the laser rifle, noting the size of his hands and body.

  “Or perhaps you just need a weapon to match up to your size?”

  “Definitely. I’ve already destroyed three weapons today, and I nearly crushed that one,” Zu said, glancing at the rifle.

  “I’ll see what I can do. In the mean time…”

  Murlach turned and addressed his minions, waving them closer as to give instructions. They crowded around in a circle, towering above him. Some still had their rifles, and those he’d just let out of the cells held fast to their body scraps, acting as if the others aimed to steal their food. Murlach’s underlings listened intently.

  “Phyllamon and I have an idea…”

  As Murlach dished out orders, explaining the plans to his subordinates, he had no idea that somewhere deep in the castle, a young woman was making plans of her own.

  3

  She paced back and forth and twirled her blade about, ready to stab Phyllamon or any other unfriendly face that came through the chamber door. Her name was Sing Tzi Yi. Sing, or Sing Yi for short. Her lips pointed downward in a pout, contrasting her cheekbones, which were high and proud looking. Her eyes, already thin and slanted at the edges, were even narrower due to the fact that they were always strained in an unfaltering gaze of concentration. This young woman of twenty might have been attractive had the years of servitude, injustice, and loneliness not robbed her of such features.

  Sing’s fire red hair protruded outwards in a uniquely random fashion. It was as if her hair had a life and personality all of its own, matching well with her angry, belligerent spirit. In a rage, she spun her knife several times in a circle and turned to face the others. They had been watching her closely, praying that she wasn’t bent on doing anything to get them all killed.

  Sing snarled. “Mason is dead! We must act, or one day our fates will be the same as his! Let’s get out of here now…we’ll have strength in numbers!”

  “Girl, we are not all so young as you,” said Ash, the sixty-one-year-old servant, who had just seen his friend murdered by Phyllamon. “I say we sit it out,” he added, shivering with rage. Ash looked around to the others, and they nodded in agreement.

  “And wait for what? This Zynathian Volkeye—our precious saviour, whom none of you have heard the faintest whisper of in two decades! Are you all mad? If he does exist, and he’s as powerful as you say, then that means he knows absolutely nothing of what goes on in this castle! If he did, he would have confronted Phyllamon by now, for that is the mark of a true hero!”

  “Be quiet, girl, you know nothing!” a servant said.

  “Yeah, your mind is filled with garbage from all them fairytales you read! You don’t know our beloved Zynathian,” said another.

  Little did they know, Sing was spot on. Had Zynathian truly known there were so many lives bound to Castle Xyecah against their will, he would’ve shown his face long ago.

  Sing angrily tucked her knife back inside the pleat of her dress. “You’re all just scared,” she said with pity. “How can you prefer enslavement over death? That makes no sense to me!”

  “Well, I get me meals here, for one, missy! And, two, I been in this bloody place for six decades! Born into slavery, I was! So I, like most of us here, including YOU, Sing Tzi Yi, ain’t got nowhere to go on the outside! Long as I’m mindful and don’t be gettin’ cheeky with the Master, he’s stays out me way, he does,” said an old, withering man from a rocking chair in the corner.

  “He stays out of your way, old fool, but we are not all so lucky to be decrepit and unattractive as you!” spat a woman, named Jamese, scowling at him. This forty-three-year-old handmaiden was sexually assaulted daily by Phyllamon.

  Sing looked upon Jamese with sympathy. “Then that’s all the more reason for you to leave.”

  “I just can’t. I’m not as strong as you, Sing.”

  “That’s nonsense. Anyone who can be raped for years, day after day, and still be alive is incredibly strong, only it’s been hidden from you all this time. I pray your strength finds you before death does!”

  Sing turned to leave the chamber, but Ash grabbed her arm.

  “Phyllamon’s plan is to draw Zynathian out. When that happens, Master Volkeye will come to our rescue, Sing! Why can’t you just be more patient?”

  “First of all, how do you think he intends to provoke Zynathian? I’ll tell you how—Phyllamon will spill the blood from your very own veins, Ash! Who will Zynathian have to rescue when you’re all dead?

  “And, to answer your question, I’ve been patient for fourteen years, ever since I was brought here. Now I’m a grown woman with all the strength necessary to get away from this place, and I must do it now before I wake up one day, and I’m your age, unable to do anything about my state in life because I’ve lost my will,” Sing said, her words further injuring Ash. He lowered his eyes.

  “How can you have the courage to spy on Phyllamon, but lack it in every other way, Ash? Does hearing the name of Zynathian Volkeye, tossed about ever so often, give you that much hope? You’re sixty-one, Ash…how much longer are you going to wait on him? If this Zynathian does in fact exist, I don’t believe he’s coming. I refuse to wait for a miracle!”

  Sing gently shook loose of Ash’s grip and then opened the door, hearing them all catch their breath. They were paralyzed in fear of what she was about to do. Sing scowled in disappointment.

  “For your sakes, I won’t go out there and start cutting throats right now. But mark my words…my time in this place is just about finished!”

  II

  Father, Daughter, and a Dying Son

  1

  “You should know I’ll always defy the likes of you, Drakys! Injustice will never go unchallenged while I live! Your only chance is to destroy me, and since you’ve always fancied me dead, why not have a go at it now? Don’t muck about at this…LET’S GET TO THE SCRAP!”

  Zynathian woke with a start. Not being one to dwell on the past, he hadn’t thought about this battle in many years, let alone dreamt about it. Though it was unusual for him to have bad dreams, within the following weeks this nightmare would definitely seem to him as a sign of times to come.

  It was late afternoon of a windy Fall day, several hours since he’d retired from an exhausting night of child’s play with Khyeryn and Lyn Sha—his son and daughter. He ran his fingers through his long tangled, salt-and-pepper beard. Never letting a day pass without exercising his mind and abilities, he contemplated the rest of the evening. He was a passionate man—a lover of knowledge, toys, nature, and, most of all, his family.

  Love all people, love yourself, protect and nurture your children, and whatever you do, do it the very best that you possibly can! His motto.

  Zynathian was also an incredibly spiritual man. Not that he attended church or anything of the sort, but he did, however, listen to his inner voice when under stress. Zynathian knew this inner voice to be the voice of God, fo
r only a supernatural being, like She, could invade a mind as complex as his and get him to think clearly whenever flustered.

  Though he was spiritual, Zynathian observed none of the typical customs, such as praying at certain times a day or getting down on his knees to do it. He thought these practices silly, knowing that God was pleased with anyone who was doing what She’d put them in the world to do. To Zynathian, his work was prayer. He knew that the closest he could get to having an intimate conversation with God was to put his mind to work.

  Aside from specializing in medicine and biomechanics, he could repair, modify, or build anything. Zynathian was beyond exceptional, and the extremity of his ability would soon be his downfall, for such talents can’t possibly go unnoticed. He often lied to himself, thinking that he was being discreet with his gift, but the charities he performed were far too lavish with his brilliance.

  This man commanded an army of mechanical beings to carry out his wishes in the finest detail, building aircrafts and a secret village. He gave artificial (but exactly human-like) limbs to the handicapped, bestowing the crippled with enhanced, perfectly functional bodies. And he even built castles, cloaked in fog, which floated in the sky!

  Who can keep such secrets? No one.

  It was only natural for a person of this ability to wish to share it with others. After all, what good is talent if not a soul knows that one has it? However, realization of unmatched intellect can lead to arrogance and naiveté.

  The Amazing Zynathian Volkeye! he thought to himself behind closed doors.

  It was this type of haughtiness that caused him to perform more miracles than he could possibly keep track of. As a result of his foolishness, rumours would occasionally get back to Phyllamon. However, as soon as Phyllamon thought he had him in his grasp, Zynathian would always elude him, saved by the fact that he lived in the sky!

  Zynathian knew of Phyllamon’s vendetta against him but paid it no mind, as he wasn’t worried for himself, only his children. For this reason, he kept Khyeryn and Lyn Sha at home most of the time, and wouldn’t let them go below unless they were visiting the family. Because of his fatherly duties these last twelve years, Zynathian had gotten rather lax with keeping watch of Phyllamon. Hence, there were many atrocities that escaped his notice, such as him having a castle filled with slaves that he abused and murdered at will; or the good people in the towns below, some of whom randomly turned up missing and were never heard from again.

  Once again, it was Zynathian’s arrogance, which made him assume that the fear he’d instilled in Phyllamon (at their first meeting) would keep him in line. And again it was the same, which led him to believe he’d destroyed the Xyecah family by killing Drakys those many years ago, only to find out later that Drakys had a son. Then not only did Zynathian learn that they were still a powerful family, but Phyllamon Xyecah might even be worse than his father had been!

  Still, he had to put the negative aside. Focused on being a good husband to his first wife, Ya Minj, Zynathian hadn’t actually forgotten about Phyllamon…he had plain and simply dismissed him.

  He had, however, punished him once in the last fifteen years, and that was when he’d learned of Phyllamon taking over businesses in the city of Mashyuvah, having put up no money to claim ownership of anything! Phyllamon’s greed had displaced many families and, of course, called down Zynathian’s wrath. This was when he plundered the new mining locations that Phyllamon had acquired, sucking them dry of every bit of Arhyz rock (the source of power for their energy deficient planet. It was also their bartering material, acting as money, and its worth varied between the size and colour of the stone). With much time and resourcefulness, Zynathian tracked down the families made homeless by Phyllamon. He distributed the stolen money amongst them equally and set up a new living situation for them—a hidden village he built, called Rhameeryla.

  Contrary to what Zynathian had expected, publicly embarrassing Phyllamon by robbing him blind wouldn’t be enough to quell his antics. He’d assumed that Phyllamon just wasn’t bold enough to continue pressing his buttons. Pride had always been, and would yet still be, Zynathian’s downfall.

  He remained in bed, thinking about the castle’s chores.

  What to do?

  The one thing that he would do was get up in a moment and turn up the heat. It was very hard to keep a home warm when it hovered so high in the sky.

  Any repairs?

  It was obvious that the fog inducer was working properly, or else he couldn’t have lived this many years amongst the clouds without notice. Also, there were powerful, rocket-powered engines attached to the castle, resting underneath the huge concrete towers at every corner of the complex. However, he felt no need to check them either. In fact, he chuckled at the thought. The rockets were mainly built for fast escapes, and since he and the children were not being chased by anyone other than Phyllamon (who was incapable of finding them anyway), why bother?

  Okay, Zynathian, let’s get your pale white keester out of bed!

  He pushed back the blankets and rose, stretching a very powerful body that would have led one to think he had been a lifting champion in his youth. Though the last decade had given him twenty-five pounds of excess weight, Zynathian was still in great health. He held his arms high above his head, squeezing his hands into fists. Next he bent over and touched his toes, yawning.

  Noticing that there was a freezing draft coming from somewhere, Zynathian assumed that the kids had gone out with Jalum earlier that day and left one of the windows open. Though he preferred Khyeryn and Lyn Sha to tell him when they were going below, he thought he’d let it slide just once, because he didn’t want to ruin a great night by being cranky.

  Suddenly, Zynathian was surprised by a gust of cold wind that raced through the house. Unfortunately he didn’t notice that the flap in front of his pajamas was open.

  Wooooooooooooooooooooooosh…

  “Dammit!” he shouted, grabbing a handful of frozen genitals.

  He gave a slight chuckle at his maleness. The very first instinct was to always protect the jewels! A man could be getting hacked to pieces, but if his fondling flesh remained in tact, everything was going to be just fine.

  Kids, they can always remember to tell me when it’s time to go to the market and get fruit pie, but they can’t do me the favour of remembering to keep windows closed, so that I don’t freeze my fifty-two-year-old balls off! …Ungrateful, cute little boogers! Now where’s that window?

  Zynathian went downstairs. Upon exiting the elevator, he heard one of the window shields close, locking out the cold air.

  Ah, the kids are home after all.

  When he reached the bottom of the steps, he heard the pitter-patter of two little bare feet walking on the cold stone floor. Then several feet ahead, out of the room on the right, walked a petite black girl, just shy of ten years old.

  2

  Nyp, a tiny bespectacled man, was held still to face Phyllamon. A Cyclops (the larger of two beasts restraining him) backhanded Nyp with one of his four arms. The other, a squat and wart-faced creature with teeth protruding from the inside of its mouth, held him tightly, for Nyp probably would’ve followed his spectacles off the mountainside otherwise.

  Blood leaked from his mouth as his surroundings blurred and he attempted to stay conscious. Nyp begged for his life.

  “Sir, please, it was not my intention to come up short!”

  “It’s too late for that, my friend! I must make an example of you, as to keep the rest of my employees in line!”

  “There are too many people in the market, Master. I can’t watch every person at once. You must believe me…I am not the only person being stolen from!” Nyp wept.

  “How do I know you’re not just taking it home to your family, feeding those scrawny-assed, hideous children of yours?” Phyllamon said, unaware if Nyp even had children or not.

  It just so happened that Nyp had two twin girls at home, and they were, indeed, scrawny-assed, because Phyllamon had not pa
id him his wages in over a month!

  “I am not, Sir, I swear!”

  Phyllamon just rolled his eyes, looking far off into the distant trees of the forest below. It was in a forest like this one, in which he’d encountered the beast that would plague his dreams till the day he died. He shuddered and quickly snapped out of his daytime nightmare, turning to face Nyp.

  “No excuses accepted!”

  The Cyclops lifted Nyp with the bottom arm on his right side. Dangling from his hair, Nyp could feel his scalp ripping open as blood trickled down his face. The short beast pulled a laser shotgun from its waist, aiming at him.

  Knowing that his life was at its end, and that his twins would surely starve to death without him, Nyp angrily prayed for revenge.

  “Curse you, you bastard tyrant! One day your wicked selfishness will rebound upon you, mark my words! I’ve never met him, but I hope it’s the Good Man in the Clouds that takes vengeance for me! It will be him or his heirs to strike you down from that skyscraper of a palace that you live in, bringing all your wealth, power, and loved ones to death and ruin!”

  Phyllamon’s unibrow arched at the ends, and his heart fluttered with exhilaration. Perhaps this man could serve a purpose other than mere amusement.

  “You know of Zynathian?”

  However, before Phyllamon could force any clues out of Nyp, his beast had already fired. Nyp’s head disintegrated. All that the Cyclops held now was a tuft of black hair that was brown on the end from the laser burn. The rest of the body (from the black and charred chin, all the way down) fell to the earth.

  The Cyclops picked up the body and hurled it off the mountain, smiling as it crashed into the trees below. Phyllamon clasped his hands together and let out a howl.

  “Damn it to hell, I think he knew something of Zynathian! Next time, you don’t fire until I’ve given the order!”

  His nostrils flared, and he stood shaking his head with disappointment.

  Phyllamon had recently discovered that commerce took place within the mountain, and although he didn’t have any interest in retail whatsoever, he still walked in the cave and claimed ownership of several businesses (despite the harsh lesson Zynathian taught him years ago). The people always tried to put up a fight until he threatened their lives.