by Matt Moss
“How you doin’ today, Ms. Lyla?” Jamesh asked, hobbling to her on a crutch, favoring the broken leg that Lyla had splinted. “You’re ‘bout as hard to catch as a minner lately.”
She brushed the hair from her face and smiled. “I’m well, Jamesh, thank you. Just trying to stay busy, you know me.” She didn’t tell anyone about Joko. He was extremely adamant that no one was to know about him. All aspects of her training were to remain secret, or else people might start asking questions. She didn’t know why it was such a big deal, but vowed to respect his wishes.
“How are you? You should go easy on that leg. I thought I told you to stay on bed rest.”
Jamesh grinned a toothless smile. “Ya know me, Ms. Lyla. Cain’t stay still fer long.”
“I know. Promise me you’ll take it easy.”
“Promise.” Jamesh pulled a bottle from his back pocket and took a drink. He paused to let it settle, his eyes rolling a bit in what looked like ecstasy. He cocked his head and handed it to Lyla. “You gotta try tha whiskey.”
She laughed. “No. Thank you, though,” she said, waving him off. “But I do see that it is aiding your recovery,” she said in jest, noticing his chipper mood.
“Best medicine money can buy,” he said with a wink before hobbling away.
She shook her head and went back to work. Work made her feel good — the sweat, the dirt, the satisfaction of a day well spent. Her father was right about how work made a person feel good at the end of the day. The garden, and the training with Joko. Especially the training with Joko. She was learning to be a fighter! It excited her just as much as becoming a doctor and training with Master Arze. The physicality of it all made her happy along with sleeping well at night despite the recent tragedies in her life.
It also helped to take her mind off of Arkin.
She missed him and thought about him everyday. She prayed for his safety and she prayed for him to find his way. She knew that he was something special and that the Almighty had a plan for him if he would only accept it.
She tilted her head to the sky and smiled in assurance that the Almighty, indeed, heard her prayers. Arkin would be alright, and he would return to her safely. She knew it.
Afternoon came fast, and after checking on the injured to make sure they didn’t need anything, she made her escape. Everyday, she was to meet Joko on top of the plains where they first met. As she crested the hill, she saw the young, hairless man dressed in a simple brown robe, standing beside the river that snaked its way through the plains. When he saw her, he marched to the spot where they would train — a hidden valley that lie behind two large knolls that provided them cover from a stray traveler or anyone wandering from camp.
She followed him after he went out of sight and found him standing like a statue with two staffs in hand. As she approached, he tossed one to her. It felt good in her hands — similar to the tools that she used in the garden and on her father’s farm. They bowed to one another, which was customary before training, and then took a fighting stance. Lyla shifted her feet, trying to remember what Joko had shown her from before, and bent her knees slightly, readying herself. She brought both hands up beside her head and held the staff, poised.
Joko’s feet shuffled against the dirt as he settled in. He held the bow behind him with an outstretched arm. With a flash, he lunged and delivered an overhead strike. Caught off-guard by the speed of the attack, Lyla barely checked the blow in time. She felt her hands go numb as the staffs cracked against one another.
Joko jumped back and held the weapon at ready. “Good. Now, you. Hit.”
She loved that he barely spoke her language. In a way, it made everything simpler. She brought the staff overhead, tightened her grip, and took two long strides towards him. At the last moment, she switched her tactic and brought the staff down, attempting to surprise him by delivering a leg strike. He side-stepped the novice attempt and disarmed her with ease before giving her a sharp blow to the shoulder.
“Ouch!” she cried. “What the hell?”
Joko shrugged. “What? Joko can’t hit girl?” He pointed for her to go and retrieve her weapon.
She rubbed her arm while glaring at him. “I didn’t say that,” she scowled before picking up her staff.
Joko threw his weapon aside. “Put staff down. No more today.”
“No more training? But we’ve just started,” she protested. “When are you going to show me how to soul tap?”
He shook his head and laughed. “I cannot show you this because only you can show yourself.” She felt her heart sink at his words. He walked to her. “We will still train. Here,” he tapped her on the head. “And here,” he tapped her on the heart. “Those must come first.”
“Alright. Show me.”
“Sit.”
They both sat on the ground. Joko closed his eyes and didn’t move. Lyla watched him, curious as to what this training was supposed to be.
“What are you doing?” She finally asked. He didn’t reply. She began to grow impatient. “So the answer is nothing. Alright then, I can do that.”
“I am not doing nothing. I am breathing.”
“Breathing?” Lyla said sarcastically. “How is that training?”
“You talk too much. Just breathe.”
She settled on the ground, frustrated at the stubbornness of her teacher. She sighed and gave into it. With eyes closed, she breathed in time with Joko, cracking her eyes open to see the rise and fall of his chest as he sat straight-backed with legs crossed. She crossed her legs as well and tried to mimic him. After a span, her mind drifted away from what she was doing and began to wonder into the unknown. She saw herself standing upon a mountain, alone and above the clouds, a cool breeze blowing in her hair. The sun was high, but as she looked into the sky, the universe unfolded before her and she melted into the endless sea of stars. They passed by her, or she passed by them, taking in the glory of the heavens.
She snapped out of it, amazed by the feeling.
“You felt it, yes?” Joko said, noticing her demeanor.
“I felt…something,” she said, searching for a word to describe it.
“Good. Again.”
She closed her eyes, settled back in, and focused her breath.
Just breathe.
Now she was back on her father’s farm. She walked around, calling for her family, but they weren’t there. A few of the animals were still in the barn, making sounds that caught her attention. She consoled them with a stroke of her hand and told them it would be alright. She was there to take care of them. Turning to the to door, she saw Arkin standing there, sunlight streaming in from behind him. He slowly walked towards her with that timid smile that he always wore when they were together. He took her into his arms and she melted into him.
“How do you feel?”
“Amazing,” Lyla sighed, smiling. “Arkin…”
“Who is this, Arkin?” Joko said.
Lyla’s eyes snapped opened, and she shuffled about to her feet, embarrassed. But she was there, with him. It felt so real! “He’s… a friend of mine.” She took another deep breath and realized that it had been a long time since she felt so good. She felt refreshed.
Joko rose to his feet and looked at her as though he could sense something different. He opened his mouth as if to ask her another question, but stopped, apparently reserving it for another time. He patted her on the shoulder. “Good then. You do that every day when you wake. That is all for today’s lesson.”
She would have protested at the absurdity of the day’s training session, but she suddenly didn’t feel it in her. “Alright. I will practice.”
“Every day,” he said in earnest.
She nodded. “Every day.”
“Good.” He nodded and walked away, toward the mountain from which he came. She didn’t know where he camped or what provisions he had, and when she invited him back to the camp after the second day of training, he refused. She offered him food and supplies too, but it was no use, he decl
ined anything she had to offer other than her willingness to train. So, willingness is what she gave him.
Even though there were times that she didn’t agree with his methods, one thing was for certain — she was willing to learn and become something more; something great. It would happen. She believed it would.
After she watched him fade into the distance, she turned and made her way back to camp. Still feeling a rush of energy and clarity, a small part of her wondered if that was what soul tapping felt like.
EIGHTEEN
“Governor Maximus,” general Brandon greeted.
Maximus waved him in. “Please, come take a seat.”
The governor’s war room in Stonebridge was a sight to be seen. Though Brandon had been there before, he still marveled at the place. Rare weapons and armor of great value hung from the walls, giving the room a cohesive feel to the dealings that took place here. This was the room in which the governors of the independent cities convened to discuss the affairs of their alliance and any matters of note within the kingdom.
Brandon nervously smiled in greeting as he sat, finding the room to have an odd feel without the presence of the other governors.
“I know that you were just here no more than a few weeks ago, giving your report of the Grand Highlands to the governors and myself. It pains me that you have again seen more death so soon,” Maximus said, reclining at the head of the table. Tell me what you saw in Kingsport, general Brandon.”
“It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen, sir,” the general replied.
Maximus waved him off. “Please, plain Maximus will do. We are friends, are we not?”
Brandon nodded and leaned from his chair towards Maximus. “The power that was told of in the Grand Highlands, I wasn’t there to see it. But I witnessed it in Kingsport.” He tilted his head. “Or something like it.”
“Give me a precise account. What is this power that you speak of? Soul stones, I believe they are called?”
“No stones,” Brandon said. He shook his head in disbelief as he recalled the day. “It was one man.”
“One man?” Intrigued, Maximus shifted in his seat and rested his chin on his fist.
“Yes. Well, there were others as well, but nothing like him. He intervened at the last moment to save the others, and opposed Victor and his army.”
“How could one man stand against the king and his guard? Something doesn’t add up, General.”
Brandon looked away, collecting his thoughts before looking back to Maximus. He recalled the event as best he could, leaving nothing out no matter how irrational the story sounded.
“It seems Victor has powerful enemies,” Maximus noted. “For us, that is a good thing. And this mark, you say, is something that is now required for the King’s Generosity?”
“Yes.”
Maximus rubbed his head. “It won’t be long before the mark and the Religion spread. I dare say that Victor would see it reach to every corner of the world.”
Brandon nodded slowly and remained silent, allowing Maximus time to let it all sink in.
Governor Maximus walked to his balcony and overlooked Stonebridge. Deep in thought, his eyes surveyed the city. He watched the people as they flowed through the streets — the lifeblood of the independent city.
Unable to contain his frustration any more, he let go of a loud cry that echoed through Stonebridge. After regaining his composure, Maximus turned back to Brandon. “Just yesterday, I received word of the destruction in Greenehaven. I still do not know if my brother lives or not.”
“I am sure Hebron is alive and well,” Brandon comforted.
Maximus shook his head. “There has been so much chaos over the last month. So much that cannot be explained because it is so unbelievable. People will speak of these times for thousands of generations to come.”
“And they will speak of your name with honor and praise, Maximus.”
“Will they?” Maximus walked about the room, pausing to look at each of the rare weapons that decorated his walls. “And what will they say when they speak my name?”
Brandon stepped towards him. “They will say that you were the one to unite the cities and overthrow a corrupt and evil king. Tales of greatness will be on the tongues of those who speak your name.”
Maximus met his gaze. “Perhaps then, it is time that I do something that warrants the prestige. General Brandon,” he said in an commanding tone.
“Sir,” the general replied, standing at attention, awaiting orders.
“Spread the word and gather the governors. We convene here, thirteen days from now.” He pulled a great sword from the wall and turned it in his hands. “The high priest wants to tax us in the name of his Religion and his Oracle prophesies our destruction unless we obey.” He brought the blade down, a savage slash, and sunk the blade deep into the large wooden table. He contained his rage with a slow breath. “Greenehaven is in ruin and Victor is raising an army by poisoning the minds of the people. General, go now and gather the governors.”
“What should I tell them, sir?”
Maximus raised his eyes from the table. “Tell them we’re going to war.”
NINETEEN
Arkin awoke in a place that was all too familiar. Lying on his bed, he found himself in the Whistlestop, his father’s shop at the Crossing. His room looked the same as he left it. Though it had only been a few months, it seemed like an eternity ago. He heard voices coming from the main room and rose to go meet them. He was amazed, after inspecting himself, to find that he was whole and with no injuries.
“There he is,” Rico greeted Arkin, cradling a cup of whiskey in his hands. He stood in greeting. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said referring to the cup. “Levi made some damn good whiskey.”
“Give me some,” Arkin said, rubbing his head.
Uurs, standing in the corner as usual, walked to Arkin and offered his cup. Apparently the Faceless man wasn’t one to indulge. Arkin nodded his thanks and shot it down, relishing the fiery drink that his father had crafted so well. Upon finishing, his eyes went to the unknown man who sat next to the fire.
“Who are you?” Arkin demanded in an unwelcoming manner.
Rico spoke up. “Show some respect, Arkin. This is…”
“It’s quite alright, Rico,” the grandmaster interrupted. “I am a guest in his house and introductions are necessary.” He walked to stand in front of Arkin, his long white hair draping over his gray robe. Arkin noted his eyes as soft but powerful, different than any others he had seen. He knew that a person’s eyes told much about them, and wondered who this man was.
“My name is Moses. I am Paul’s brother.”
Arkin’s eyes widened as he shook the old man’s hand. “So that makes you my great uncle?”
Moses smiled. “I’ve traveled a long way to meet you. To show you the path.”
“The path?” Arkin said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
Arkin looked to Rico. “I’m gonna need another drink,” he said and went to sit by the fire. “And an explanation on what happened back at the capital and how I am miraculously healed.” He flexed his hand, remembering how it was disfigured and crushed.
Moses walked to sit beside him. “If I had showed up any later, I’m afraid none of you would be here. Truly, the Almighty’s hand was involved in that.”
“You saved us? By yourself?” Arkin asked, unconvinced.
Moses bowed his head, holding his arms out in acceptance as if it were a trifling thing.
Arkin chuckled at the old man. “I see you have my grandfather’s sense of humor.” He looked to Rico. “What really happened?”
After refilling the cups, Rico handed one to Arkin and tilted his head in reply to the question, his eyes cautioning him to show some respect.
“You were broken upon the palace steps,” Moses stated. “We walked out of Kingsport, and when we were a safe distance away, I healed you.”
“We… walked out?” Arkin said, then looked to each man w
ith disbelief.
“Yes,” Moses said.
“Arkin,” Rico broke in, “Moses saved us all. Had you been awake, you would have seen the grandmaster’s power for yourself.”
“You’re a grandmaster?” Arkin said incredulously. “A grandmaster of arms?”
“I am a man who is in search of the soul. Master, grandmaster, crazy old man — those titles mean nothing to me,” Moses humbly stated.
“He has soul tapped beyond what anyone thought possible,” Rico said.
That caused Arkin to change his tone. He immediately was enamored by the old man, wondering how someone that age could accomplish something of that magnitude. It was unheard of. Had it been a legend, then that would be something, but it wasn’t. This was something new, uncharted and extraordinary. Surely Paul would have told him if there had ever been a grandmaster before.
“You said that you healed me? How?”
“By believing that I could,” the grandmaster replied nonchalantly. “Most truths will be revealed once the veil of illusion has been lifted.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Once you break the agreements that your mind has made about this world — the ones that you have believed since birth — you will see everything for what it is and that will give you power. The truth is there, waiting for the mind to be unlocked. That is the path of the soul.”
Arkin shot the drink down. “Why didn’t Paul tell me about this?”
Moses looked away. “He didn’t know.”
Arkin noticed something about the old man’s demeanor when he posed the question. Was it shame? “How could your brother not know that you were a grandmaster, that you found a deeper connection with soul tapping?”
“I left the Order before the Rebellion. I am not ashamed of leaving or of the life that I have lived since. It was in leaving that I found myself. I can honestly say that I have tried my best to fulfill my destiny.”
“It was your destiny to abandon your family along with the Order? Where did you go? And why didn’t Paul ever mention you?”
