“Harbinger,” said the sensei. “You are not welcome here.”
Rael drew his swords and assumed a fighting stance that held both swords low.
“Oh, I know that. I am not welcome anywhere, sensei, but this isn’t about you. I need a certain warrior to come out of hiding. The only way I can do that is if I— what’s the term I’m looking for? — dispatch ascendants.”
“You will never succeed in releasing your master. The Warriors of the Way will not allow it.”
“Allow? Allow? Who are you to allow anything? Who appointed you as the lords of the planes? This is the problem with your group. Too self-important. It’s time for a change in management,” said Rael.
The sensei stepped forward, thrusting with his bo. Rael stepped back, avoiding the attack. Moving to the side, he threw one sword at the sensei while closing the distance. The sword sliced the arm of the sensei as he rotated away from the blade. He brought the staff in a low arc in a strike designed to shatter knees. Rael leapt over the attack. The sensei anticipated this and lashed out with a side thrust kick, connecting with Rael midair. Rael was sent back and landed on his feet, one of his ribs broken.
“Excellent. I am going to enjoy this more than usual,” he said. He took a deep breath, focusing his chi and knitted the bone in his side. The pain made him catch his breath. The Gyrevex began to move forward.
“No, this one is mine. Stand by the door,” said Rael.
The Gyrevex moved to the entrance and stood there, a silent sentinel awaiting a command.
The sensei took a deep breath and focused his chi. The staff took on an orange glow as he moved it into a defensive position.
“Finally, a challenge,” said Rael as he extended his hand to bring his fallen sword back to him. As the sword travelled back to Rael, the sensei launched an attack. Intercepting the sword and sending it flying across the dojo, he lunged at Rael. Rael parried the attacks as the sensei pressed him with a flurry of thrusts and downward strikes. Rael backpedaled as the attacks intensified. The sensei slid back and launched his staff at Rael’s head. Rael slipped the strike, letting the staff rest on his shoulder and slid in, stabbing the sensei. The sensei grunted in pain as the sword entered his abdomen. Rael summoned his other sword to his hand. The sensei brought his staff across, striking Rael in the temple. Rael stepped back, stunned, as the second sword entered his hand. He shook his head as he redirected chi into his swords. Energy arced between the blades and they took on a dark blue hue.
His uniform was soaked in blood and still the sensei attacked. He seemed to pay no mind to the wound as he ducked a sword slash and raised his staff to deflect the energy lancing at him from the swords. The force of the bolts made him take several steps back. Rael advanced as the sensei sidestepped a lunge and then a downward slash. The wound hampered his movement and Rael connected with the next attack, a horizontal slash across the chest. The dojo was filled with the smell of burnt metal and charred flesh as the sensei was hit with repeated attacks of arcing energy. The last bolt of energy caused the sensei to drop his staff. Rael stepped in and kicked it away.
“You lasted longer than most,” said Rael.
“My death will not bring you victory, Harbinger. In the end you will fail,” said the sensei through clenched teeth.
“I saw this great movie once. Immortal warriors were going around removing each other’s heads. They were fighting for a prize and only one of them could have it. They kept saying ‘in the end there can be only one’. I’m not fighting for a prize—” he stabbed the sensei in the chest—”but in my version of this story everyone dies. In the end there can be none,” said Rael as he removed the sword. The sensei fell to his knees, his blood pooling on the floor beneath him.
“The Warriors of the Way will fight you,” said the sensei as he fell on his side.
Rael stood over the sensei as his life flowed down the dojo floor. He crouched down and wiped his blades on the sensei’s uniform, leaving a trail of blood and gore.
“Their time has passed. I am here to usher in a new rule,” said Rael.
“No one will submit to your master.”
“There won’t be a choice, sensei. It’s submit or die.”
“They will stop you,” said the sensei with his last breath.
“How can you stop something you don’t believe exists?” said Rael as he stood and left the dojo. The Gyrevex followed silently behind.
“One less ascendant standing in the way. We remove a few more and I’m certain we will be paid a visit from the Warriors of the Way. Won’t they be surprised to find out I’m real?” said Rael.
The Gyrevex remained silent.
“The next ascendant is not too far from here. Let’s go pay him a visit,” he said as he sheathed his swords.
TWENTY-NINE
I COULDN’T BELIEVE Devin was still alive.
Time was an alien concept to me in my cell. I had no way of marking its passage. It could have been days or hours, I didn’t know. The only thing that helped me keep track of time were the regular doses of manar. They seemed to know when I would get hungry and then bring my small cup filled with the clear liquid.
I started accessing my chi in small increments. The prism allowed me to circumvent the suppressor bands to a large extent by focusing my chi. The bands seemed to react to the internal buildup of chi use. Once past a certain threshold, they kicked in the same way a circuit breaker trips when there is too much current flowing. The difference being that the bands didn’t interrupt the flow of electricity but the flow of chi. They suppressed the flow while engaging all the pain receptors of the body. It was a perfect design if you needed to control someone who could use their chi. Once the bands were on, the flow of chi was cut off and the pain insured there were no further attempts to access it.
The prism allowed me to bypass the design of the bands by acting as a focal point for the flow. As long as I held the prism I could focus my chi through it and not exceed the threshold controlled by the bands.
I started building a tolerance to the pain. I had to escape. As long as I was being held, the ascendants were in danger of being wiped out. I couldn’t let Meja cut off the other planes either. Something told me that would have far-reaching repercussions. The negative kind. I needed to get out before it was too late. I didn’t know who to trust, but I knew ascendants existed and had to be protected.
I gradually increased the amount of chi I could use until I could get a feel for where I was. It seemed to be a free standing cube, unconnected to anything else. Where on earth was I?
With the prism I was able to expand my awareness even further and found nothing. I went over every square inch of my ‘cell’ and found that no door existed. It was then I realized that the rectangle of light I saw when they brought me the manar was not a door. It was a portal. I was in the mirror.
Monique’s comment made sense now. There was no way anyone could find me here. I didn’t even know where ‘here’ was. My only hope of escape was the manar. They needed to open a portal to bring me the manar.
I needed to escape this cube. The problem with my plan was threefold.
First, I didn’t know if I was strong enough to stand. A steady diet of manar kept me alive, but didn’t strengthen me. The bands prevented too much motion because our bodies use chi as the driving force of life. Too much activity meant pain. I kept having to tighten the drawstring on my pants, which meant I was losing weight.
Second, the haze of pain was still there. I needed to get the bands off before I tried anything.
Lastly, I didn’t know where I was ‘escaping’ to. I could jump in that portal right into Monique’s arms for all I knew.
With the prism, I started by siphoning chi back into my body. I needed to get my strength back. Once I knew I was in the mirror I didn’t have to worry about being seen. I tied the prism to the inside of my pants and kept it in close contact with my skin at all times. Taking off the bands was going to be difficult and painful. If my circuit breake
r theory was right I would need to overload the bands with the use of chi. I could only think of one way to do that.
I would have to manifest Maelstrom.
THIRTY
SYLK OPENED THE portal across from the home of the healer. Only Zen had to be supported. The rest of the group were able to walk on their own. Luna approached the door of the small home and knocked. A shuffling step came close to the door.
“Who’s there?” said an elderly voice.
“Peace, grandmother. We are in need of your services,” said Luna.
“Come back later, it’s too damn early,” said the voice.
“I’m afraid we will not be able to come later.”
The door opened a crack and an elderly woman peeked out from behind it.
“That you, Luna?” said the old woman.
“Yes, grandmother, it’s me.”
“Well why didn’t you say so? Come in, come in. Who are your friends, Luna?” The old woman sniffed the air and then grew still. “These are not Rah Ven.”
They stood in her kitchen, which was full of jars of every sort. Vials sat on shelves and the table. It seemed every available empty space had some kind of container on it. They sat Zen down in one of the chairs. His head lolled to one side. Samir took a chair next to him to keep him propped up.
“No we are not, but we need your help,” said Sylk. The old woman noticed the pendant around his neck. She drew close to Sylk and reached up. Her yellow eyes glistened as she spoke to him.
“How did you get this?” she said as she held the pendant in her hand. “This is Grawl’s mark.”
“He gave it to me,” said Sylk.
“Did he now? Or did you take it from his cold, lifeless body? Do you know about this, Luna?”
“I do not, grandmother,” said Luna looking at Sylk, urging him to explain.
“Grawl told me to show this pendant to all who would question me in my search for those who hunt the Rah Ven,” said Sylk.
“They take the little ones, you know,” the old woman said, mostly to herself as she let go of the pendant. She fussed around the kitchen, moving jars and vials as she spoke.
“You will do this thing?” said the healer. “You will find them? Stop them?”
“I gave Grawl my word,” said Sylk.
“You word, bah! What is your word to me? Why do you bring these two-leggers into my home, Luna? They reek of arrogance.” She turned to face Sylk, craning her neck at him as she spoke. “Your word is nothing to me. I am not Grawl, I need more than your word,” the healer said.
“Grandmother…” began Luna. The old woman pointed a finger and silenced her.
“Quiet, pup. He may look young, but this one is old like me. I can smell the years on him. We will do this the old way,” she said as she pulled a large knife from one of the drawers.
Sylk stood still, not knowing if this was an attack or some strange ritual. She stepped close to Sylk and pulled the knife across her left palm, cutting a deep gash. She handed the knife, handle first, to Sylk. He grabbed the knife and repeated her action, cutting a deep gash in his left hand. The knife was so sharp he didn’t feel the cut for several seconds. When the blood began to flow, the old woman grabbed his hand with hers, mingling the blood. Her grip was a clasp of steel.
“Now you tell me what you will do for the Rah Ven,” she said.
“I will hunt those responsible for taking your young and I will bring a reckoning for their actions,” said Sylk.
As Sylk spoke the joined hands began to glow red. A fine red mist formed around their hands, and Sylk could see it was their blood infused with chi.
“Your word is your bond, our blood is one now. You are one with the Rah Ven. Our sorrow is your sorrow, our joy your joy,” she said.
When she finished speaking, the glow flared for a few seconds, sending warmth through Sylk’s hand. The mist dissipated and she let go. Sylk looked at his hand and found the wound had healed, leaving a red scar that seemed to pulse.
“This is a blood scar,” she said showing him her palm. “It weighs more than your word to Grawl. Put that thing away,” she said, pointing at the pendant. “It will bring you more trouble than it’s worth; don’t know what Grawl was thinking. If you are stopped you show them this,” she said, and pointed at the scar on his hand, which matched hers. “Every Rah Ven will know you are a friend of the pack and show respect.”
Sylk bowed to the old woman. “Thank you. Will you treat my companions?” he said.
“Don’t thank me just yet. There is a good chance you won’t survive your hunt. You are after the night shadows, after all. They are the ones who steal the young,” she said.
“The Mikai,” said Sylk.
“You may be old, but not old enough to correct me. We know them as night shadows,” she said.
“Yes, grandmother,” said Sylk.
The healer turned to Luna. “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s take care of you and your friends.”
“Yes grandmother, they are afflicted with—”
“I know what they are afflicted with. It’s the blind death. What kind of healer would I be if I didn’t know?” She turned to Sylk. “You aren’t afflicted. I don’t smell it in you. You will be my hands.”
Sylk nodded as she handed him vials filled with different liquids.
“This is an evil poison, made by you two-leggers. We call it the blind death,” said the healer.
She walked into a room adjoining the kitchen that had a large sink and more tables covered with mortars and pestles. She grabbed a powder from one shelf and put some in a bowl. Grabbing two powders from another shelf she put it in the same bowl. Taking one of the vials she poured the contents into the bowl.
“Mix that, careful not to get any on you. You will be no use to me asleep,” she said.
Sylk began mixing the ingredients until they were a thick paste. The room next to the one they were in was full of beds. The healer pointed to it.
“Get your friends in those beds. We need to do a blood exchange and they can’t be moving about while it’s happening,” she said.
Sylk nodded as he left to get the others.
“Get the large one first— he’s the worse of the lot,” the healer yelled after him as he went to the next room.
Sylk came back carrying Zen and placed him in a bed, and in a few moments every member of the group was also lying in one. The healer had jars filled with a viscous red liquid.
“This here is Rah Ven blood, freely given and freely taken,” she said, making a guttural sound that was half growled and half spoken. The liquid in the jars took on an incandescent glow.
“What is this process? This blood exchange?” asked Sylk.
“For the warrior there is blood in life and life in blood. With the blind death the blood is tainted and must be replaced or strengthened to fight the poison. That’s what these beds are for and this is why you need a blood healer.”
She placed one jar in one of the openings at the head of each bed. For Zen she placed two jars of the blood. Over Meja’s bed she placed a jar of blood and a clear liquid.
“We will bring back your sight, young one,” she said as she patted Meja’s arm.
All the beds had channels running alongside the edges. Each jar had a spigot on the bottom. Once the jars were in place she turned the spigots, releasing the blood. The blood flowed into the channels and surrounded the body of each poisoned member of the group. She handed Sylk a brush.
“Put the paste on them. Careful not to get any on yourself. You’re too big and heavy for me to have to move,” she said. “The rest of you” —she looked at Mara and Kal—”can wait in the other room.”
Sylk applied the paste to each of the group, and within seconds they were in a deep sleep. The healer stood at the foot of the first bed, which was Zen’s. She put her hands in the blood. Nothing happened for a few moments and Sylk began to wonder if there was any truth to this healing process. In seconds, tendrils of blood shot out from t
he channels and embedded themselves in Zen’s body. She repeated the process with each one and then sat in a chair beside the beds, visibly tired.
“The process has started. No stopping it now until it’s run its course. A few hours and your friends will have the poison out of their bodies. There is nothing you can do now. You may as well wait with the others.”
Sylk turned to leave the room and she grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“You have much conflict in you. I smell darkness around you, fighting the light. You must get rid of this taint or it will destroy you and those around you.” She let go of his arm and turned to watch the flow of blood over the beds.
Sylk remained silent as he left the room to join the others.
It was then that the growls started.
THIRTY-ONE
I FELT STRONGER with each passing day. I don’t know if there were days that passed or not. I counted by manar servings. I expected I would get one cup of manar daily. It was enough to sustain me the entire day but then I would feel hungry come the next day. If I was being given one cup per day, it had been ten days since I had gotten the prism and began redirecting my chi.
I was exercising and I could feel my strength returning. I started pushing on the bands, drawing more and more chi until the pain was too much to bear. Then I would stop and rest. Each day I was able to hold out a little longer. Being on the manar diet didn’t help much but I thought I was ready to test the bands. I waited until the manar was given for the day.
I sat in the center of the room and slowed my breath until it was completely under my control. I focused my chi and began to project outward. The pain was intense, but manageable until the prism literally shattered. A wave of pain washed over me. I was in and out of consciousness a few times when I stopped. My breath was ragged and I was drenched in sweat.
I gathered up the pieces of the prism and joined them together. I tried focusing my chi through it but it wouldn’t work as a focus. I threw it against the wall in frustration, realizing what a bad idea that was after the fact. Pieces of the prism would be all over the floor when the next delivery of manar would arrive.
Warriors of the Way-Pentalogy Page 31
