“Yes sir…” came the immediate reply.
After placing the walkie-talkie back on his belt, Reeves looked at Lydia and suggested, “Let’s get inside ourselves…perhaps there is something in the air that is causing this plague?”
Looking in the skies warily for a few moments, Lydia replied, “I don’t know that answer, but I do know I have a new friend with me—his name is Baltor.” She jabbed her thumb in the boy’s direction.
“Okay, that’s fine, but let’s go quickly.”
“Okay…come on, Baltor.”
“Coming,” he replied, before getting out of the car, shutting the door, and following behind the two at the same pace, as they all jogged to the mansion.
About thirty seconds later, they were all inside the front entrance—Lydia and Reeves still in the lead. Another man dressed in a black business suit and sunglasses shut and locked the large door behind them all.
Baltor observed a large and beautiful foyer that led up to a grand spiral staircase, which led up to the next floor—as well, there were three other mahogany doors leading out of the first floor of this hall, all doors being closed. In the very center of the room, there sat four elegant couches, which formed a loose square so people could easily get in and out. Finally, there were ten elegantly dressed people, males and females, either sitting in those couches or standing around them. All were sociably chatting with each other…none were zombies, yet.
After arriving at the door to their right, Reeves opened the door and gestured for Lydia and Baltor to enter—they did.
Instead of entering the hallway, however, he turned around and stated just loud enough to silence this group of people, “Hey everybody! Just so you all know, I wouldn’t leave the gates…there are zombies out there now. If you don’t believe me, you can check on the security cameras, or go see for yourself at the gates although I wouldn’t recommend this last option as there maybe something in the air causing all of this. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. The only good news I have is that none of us inside the walls have become zombies, yet. So be careful and run away if anybody begins to transform into a zombie. Okay?” Of course, Baltor and Lydia had turned around, in order to listen to this announcement.
One girl replied, “Okay. We’ll check it out for ourselves.” Most nodded their heads in shock, but a few had a look of complete disbelief on their faces. One man even laughed with disbelief.
Without any further delay, Reeves turned back around and said at a normal volume to Lydia, “I’ve got a few important missions I need to do…you two will be fine from here. Okay?”
“Okay.” She turned around, gesturing for the boy to follow—Reeves remained in the foyer as he closed the door.
She and Baltor walked side-by-side as they walked down this lengthy-yet-elegant hallway filled with a dozen doors on each side, and one final door at the end. That last door turned out to be her next destination, as she opened it and gestured for him to enter.
Inside existed a massive room filled with tons of art of all sizes and shapes—from the paintings hanging on the walls, to the sculptures in various poses sitting on pedestals, or on tables, to the very floor itself. This white-tiled floor bore a red and black swirly design meticulously painted onto each tile.
After walking to a life-size sculpture of a bikini-clad woman who held out her index finger that pointed to the sculpture of a life-size bird near her feet, Lydia pushed a hidden button, and one of the tiles lifted up—underneath was a hole that led down.
As Baltor had seen Lydia gesture with her hand for him to climb down the ladder, he did—climbing down nearly a mile before they reached the bottom.
There dwelt a tunnel had been molded out of metal—tiny slits could be seen in the smooth ovular-shaped walls, as well watchful eyes and pointing guns from the other side—fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling stretched down the entire length of the corridor.
A little more than a mile did this stretch, before ending where stood another wood door that was closed.
After she had opened it, the two passed through into a massive underground room equipped with not only weapon racks filled with weapons of every kind, yet punching/kicking bags, workout equipment, obstacle courses, and even firing ranges. In the middle of the room was a boxing ring, of which there were two people currently fighting away utilizing mixed-martial arts!
Lydia found who she was looking for, just before she called out, “Drill-Instructor Humonus…do you have a moment’s time?”
Yet another all-too-familiar face looked Baltor’s way…Humonus even had that familiar scar that ran up and down his left cheek.
Humonus asked, “Yes, my lady?”
“I have a student who needs to be trained—are you currently free and available?”
“As a matter of fact, I am…but this piece of crap looks like a coward who will cry like a little baby.”
Baltor heard his voice say with defiance, “No I won’t.”
In the next moment, Humonus walked over, clapped his left around Baltor’s throat, squeezed real tight, and asked, “What did you say, boy?”
While choking and coughing all at the same time, Baltor managed to answer, “I…said…no…no, I…won’t cry, sir.”
After letting go of the boy’s throat, which caused him to drop to his knees, Humonus said, “Better not cry, you little punk. If you want to survive the zombie crisis, of which I’m already fully aware of, you better hang tough through my hardcore training.”
“Yes…sir…” Baltor said, still panting all the while.
With that, Humonus ordered, “Follow me.”
He stood to his feet and did as ordered.
For an unknown amount of time to pass, Humonus once again trained Baltor in the martial arts—but this time, unlike in real life, the boy was rarely ever successful with any of his martial arts feats and tests! In fact, just about everything he did was very weak, uncoordinated and sluggish—never once did he remember that he already knew all these moves, or that he was dreaming in this “chaotic nightmarish hell.”
Whether a single second’s time had passed or an eternity times an eternity, he did not know as he became wounded and/or killed thousands of times in just as many different ways, and was soon after healed and/or resurrected. From sharp spikes penetrating through his body, to falling down pitfalls, to getting sliced open by swords, to getting shot with guns or even grenades by just about everyone in the thieves’ guild. The worst deaths of all for Baltor came from Humonus, which occurred hundreds of times alone!
All the while, the drill instructor never stopped demoralizing and tearing the student’s spirit further and further each day and night that transpired, of which he was never granted rest breaks or periods to sleep…weaker and weaker, in fact, was the boy’s spirit getting. Never once was he allowed any time to calibrate his thoughts, so that he could once-and-for-all realize that this was all just “a twisted-up nightmare!”
Finally, that eternity passed, and Humonus congratulated, “Good job…you have passed the last of my tests. Now it is time for you to move on. The High Council will send you on a mission in an hour, of which you will have to complete. I will lead you now. Follow me.”
The boy did—the two made their way through a dozen tunnels until arriving at a door that led into a lengthy hallway.
After entering the hallway, Baltor happened to observe a mirror up ahead and to the left. This was the second time he had seen a mirror since his dream began, of which dream he was still not conscious-conscious. As he walked by, his subconscious eyes glanced at the mirror, saw his own reflection, stopped in his tracks, and turned to face the mirror…during this timeframe, he began to see his boyish face slowly change to his adult face, and his peasant attire and boots turn to armor, boots and helmet!
Suddenly, goose bumps began to surge up and down his back as he now began to feel that something wasn’t right about his current reality. For the first time in a very long time, Baltor heard his manly voice ask his reflection, �
�Wait a second—what’s going on around here? Am I dreaming?”
Humonus casually walked right in between Baltor and the mirror, before he said, “No—not exactly. In a nutshell, you’re seeing and hearing your future self when you finally do become a man, of which you are not even close yet. But it’s not a good idea to get too much of a glimpse, as you don’t want to spoil your future. Know what I mean?”
“I—I guess,” Baltor heard his boyish voice say, though already in the back of his mind “the seeds of doubt” had been planted.
“Let’s go, my friend, for you have graduated my course with honors, and for that, I am exceedingly proud,” Humonus said with an equally proud smile.
“Thank you, sir…but will you let me look in the mirror for one more second?”
“Sure,” he said before moving to the side.
This time, as Baltor gazed at his reflection, he saw just his peasant clothes and boots, and his boyish body and face stare back…his boyish mind thought, I must’ve been imagining things.
“Ready?” he heard Humonus ask right away.
“Yes,” he heard himself answer, just before his feet began to move of their own accord, as he walked side by side with Humonus.
Not even two hallways later, they came across a set of double doors to the left. After Humonus had opened the right door, he gestured for Baltor to enter.
Already assembled in this very elegant throne room was the High Council, twenty-four of them sitting upon their modern-day thrones—Baltor recognized only Lydia and Salmot…
Without any haste, Lydia stood out her seat, pointed her finger accusingly at Baltor, and said, “Before we brief you on your mission, which mission you must successfully accomplish or we will torture you beyond oblivion upon your failed return, you must first be whipped thirty times. Now, take off your shirt, so that Humonus can flog you with his whip!”
Salmot had just begun to laugh very evilly.
“But why,” Baltor asked.
“No buts or questions. Do it! One more question and we will increase the punishment to sixty slashes. Ah, just slash him with his shirt on…I don’t care.”
By this time, Humonus had just finished unrolling the wicked-looking whip in his right hand. Cocking his head to the left while simultaneously throwing a smile, he asked, “Ready?”
Sounding once again sluggish, Baltor said, “No…this…this isn’t right…this can’t be real…nor can any of you! This must be a dream. I—”
He was interrupted as he felt the whip’s painful sting slash open his back!
“Am—”
As before, he was interrupted by the whip’s painful second slash!
“In—”
Thus came the third slash—by then, the first slash had already healed!
“Control!”
This time, when the whip was about to slash into his back, his right hand instinctively caught it, and he yanked it as hard as he could!
The end of the whip became yanked out of Humonus’s hand…in the next moment, Salmot screamed, “Kill him!”
With that, the Guild charged out of their seats…all now bearing a wide barrage of weapons that had “popped” into his or her hands!
Baltor instinctively assumed the ready position—his feet remained at a ninety-degree stance, and his open-palmed hands hung loose by his sides.
Even though he still could not technically remember any moves at all, he continued to allow “instinct” to guide his body, as to what maneuver he should perform next, ranging mostly from defensive rolls or blocks. Occasionally, he was allowed to execute an offensive strike and knock someone out.
Though wave after wave of attacks came from Lydia, Salmot, and the rest of the High Council, none had hurt Baltor even once by the time this battle inevitably ended, an unknown amount of time after having begun. Everyone but Baltor…knocked out or dead!
Still holding onto a staff that he had acquired from one of the thieves, which was the last of four different weapons Baltor had used throughout the battle, he looked at his hands and noted that they were still boyish—his boyish voice said inside his head, ‘This is all a dream. Look in the mirror to see your true self, Baltor Elysian, and then you will remember everything.’
Before the next second had even passed, he was already running out into the hallway and toward the mirror. Upon gazing at his boyish face and body, it slowly transformed into that of man, as did his armor, boots and helmet just-as-slowly reappear. Right before the transformation was complete, ten seconds later, his beloved swords appeared in their sheaths on his back.
At the same time, Baltor had regained all his memories, knowledge, wisdom and powers. Without any further delay, he focused on Nemis’ location.
Once he had received the rune in his mind’s eye, he drew it out into the air and a mirror-like portal opened.
He walked through to the other side, observed that he was now standing on the wooden porch of a large wooden house that been built into the branches of a cluster of trees—a tree house. In fact, this was the tree house he had seen when Losifer had opened the portal to Nemis’ home.
In the next moment, he opened the front door and entered. Inside he discovered an aesthetically pleasing living room that had two couches and a coffee table in between them. While two of the walls had windows revealing the daylight hours, the other two walls had wood doors. Both doors were open.
While the first bedroom he scanned through appeared to be void of occupants, the other bedroom wasn’t vacant. Inside this wood-paneled room with two windows, there was only one piece of furniture—a wooden bed. Sitting on the far side of this bed was a man with short-cropped blonde hair, very pointy ears. Her back faced Baltor.
Lying over this man’s lap—with a bare bottom pointed up in the air—was a little elfish girl with long brown locks of curly hair—her butt was not just black and blue, yet bleeding quite a bit!
Without a word spoken, Baltor sliced off the man’s head, as he knew that this elf wasn’t real, and that the little girl was Nemis. After sheathing back his sword, he knelt down onto one knee on the floor and extended his hands out in front of him—already had she ran to the corner of the room, and was now cowering in fear!
He said very gently, “I’m not here to kill you, Nemis, I’m here to rescue you…you are not a little girl—you are a powerful magic user—you are my very good friend—you’re just stuck in a nightmare—come back. Your name is Arch-Magus Nemis Harr’n.”
Despite the reassuring words, the girl still looked petrified.
A few seconds later, a brilliant idea popped up in his mind—already his eyes began to seek out the bedroom for any mirrors. Sure enough, there was a mirror hanging on the wall to his left, though he knew-without-a-doubt that he had not seen it before. Perhaps it was because of this dream world?
With a smile, Baltor said, “Hold a second.”
Even though he moved slowly, calmly and gracefully, the little girl still squealed out in fear! After he had pulled the mirror off the wall, he said, “Look in the mirror…you will soon see your true self, Nemis.”
Though fearful, she did…slowly but surely, her girly form changed back into that of a full-grown woman, equipped with all of her robes and possessions, including her staff.
Perhaps thirty seconds later, she stated with clarity and with happiness, “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome…good to have you back, Nemis.”
“Good to be back, Baltor…so, where’s the palace we need to go?”
“I don’t know…we need a map of this world.”
Pointing at a shelf, she stated, “Hey—I think I see such a map on the bookshelf. Maybe it’ll tell us?”
“Maybe…go get it.”
“Hmm…yeah,” she replied, while picking the map up, walking back over to where Baltor stood, looking at the map, and pointing at a spot that had a five-pointed star. With a hint of excitement, she stated, “See, there’s the palace! All we have to do to get there, although I have no idea where
here is on this map. Knowing our luck, which hasn’t been all that great so far, we are on the opposite side of the world as this palace—so, with all that in mind, what do you think is the best way to travel?”
“Well, seeing as we’re still in a dream, how about we take advantage of it and fly?”
She asked, “What do you mean? On the carpet?”
“No. Watch!”
With that, he extended his hands straight up over his head, clinched up his fists, looked up into the air, and willed his body to fly up into the air. In the next second, he not only flew into the air, yet had already blasted a nice-sized hole through the ceiling/roof of the wooden house! A sonic boom erupted a split second later!
After Nemis had flown out the hole, but nowhere near as fast as Baltor, she observed that he was already long out of sight. However, as she did not know which way he had gone, she hovered at fifty feet up in the air and waited.
Perhaps ten seconds later, he flew back into Nemis’ view, and waved for her to fly over to his position—she did.
Once she had arrived, Baltor used to telepathy to reveal “this game plan”: En route to this palace, should we happen to spot any guards or monsters, we will need to land on the ground, make ourselves invisible and then fly past them. Once we reach the palace itself, we will need to follow the same procedure by making ourselves invisible, and then flying past all the guards until we reach the throne room—maybe the Arch will be there, but maybe he won’t. If he is, we should be able to sneak our way past him, push the green button, jump into the river, and enter the final plane of HELL…okay?
With a nod, she answered aloud, “Okay.”
In the next moment, they flew side-by-side at a speed of Mach-3, which was the fastest she could go. Three times the speed of sound…he could go five times.
The War of All Wars Page 24
