by Matt Moss
Arkin held his hands up, smiling. “You speak my language? I can’t believe it! This is great. It’s the first…”
“Silence!” the chief shouted and pointed the sword at Arkin’s face. “Why are you here? Did the Ungaki send you?”
Arkin drew his head back from the sword tip to speak to the man. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m here to...”
“He lies!” a warrior barked and charged Arkin, his sword thrust out, aiming to pierce the chest. Arkin’s sword flashed from his side and knocked the blade from the man’s hand. He planted a palm to the man’s chest and sent him flying back—a restrained strike, not a lethal blow. The chief drew his sword back and the other warriors prepared to strike.
“I mean you no harm!” Arkin said and tossed his sword on the ground.
The chief gave him a cautious glare and pondered for a moment, looking Arkin up and down. “You know the ways of the unknown. I see it in you.” He reverently lowered his sword and commanded his men to do the same. “Why have you come here?”
Arkin surmised that he was referring to his ability to soul tap. He made a note to ask him about it later, if given the chance. “I’m on a mission to unite the clans.”
The chief laughed out loud. “That cannot be done.”
“What do you mean it can’t be done? Why not?”
“Because it is impossible,” the warrior said, rejoining the group, rubbing the place on his chest where Arkin struck him. “The only way to keep peace between the tribes is to make war.”
“That makes no sense,” Arkin said and relaxed his stance.
“You make no sense,” the chief stated, giving Arkin a pointed look.
“You’re the chief, yes?” Arkin noted. The chief nodded. “And who’s he? He speaks my language very well.”
“I am the translator for the tribe. I speak seven different languages,” the warrior said.
“Seven. I’m impressed,” Arkin said. Moses was right. The world is much bigger than I thought.
“What do you want? Why did you come to my village?” the chief asked again, his tone more urgent.
“I told you already,” Arkin snapped back.
The chief crossed his arms. “And I told you. It cannot be done. If you’ve nothing to offer, then be gone.”
“Fine. I’m used to being turned away anyways. Starting to get used to it,” Arkin spat and turned to leave.
“Wait,” the translator said. He pulled the chief to the side and began talking in earnest. After listening to the man’s counsel, the chief walked to Arkin. “You are skilled warrior, yes?”
Arkin shrugged and gave a nod. “I manage.”
The chief looked to the east, towards the rolling hills scant with rocks and shrubs. Grass and trees were rare in this part of the world, Arkin noticed. The chief breathed deep, then turned back to Arkin. “The Ungaki march to destroy us. They arrive at nightfall.”
So that’s why the village is so on edge.
The chief continued. “Their numbers are far greater than ours. They bring many men on horseback and will destroy us all—men, women, children. They consume the dead when they’re through.”
“Consume?”
“Eat,” the translator noted. The chief put a hand towards his mouth as if taking a bite.
Arkin shook his head in disbelief. “There’s people that do that?”
“Yes.” The chief stood proud. “But we are brave warriors. Before we die, we will take many of them to the other world with us.”
“You are a man of the west and possess a great warrior spirit. Will you help us?” the translator asked in desperation.
Arkin looked at the children running about the village, laughing and playing as their mothers tried to usher them inside the huts. A row of men were making quick work of fletching arrows and lashing sharpened stones to the tips. Death was coming to this place, and even if the number of the invaders were equal, the people here would still be slaughtered because the Ungaki ride on horseback. They would tear through this village like a knife through silk linen. Memories of the Grand Highlands washed over Arkin, and he could see the same thing happening here. His fists clenched tight at the thought.
“If I fight, will you help me unite the clans?” Arkin asked the chief.
The chief stomped a foot on the ground. “I will help you unite the clans, man of the west.” He shook his head and grinned at the proposal. “Though, I fear that fighting the Ungaki tonight may be an easier task than that.”
THREE
Victor sat at his desk in the high priest’s room. His hand scribbled fervently at a piece of parchment as many others lie littered and crumpled around him. Even as a knock came at the door, his focus could not be broken. Karn stepped in.
“You requested me?”
“Have you seen Sarie lately?” Victor asked, not taking away from from his work.
“Not since yesterday. Why?”
Victor waved a hand. “It’s of no concern. Close the door.”
The giant pushed it shut and walked to the desk. “What is this?” he asked, picking up a discarded piece of paper for observation. “Symbols?”
Victor placed the pen down. “I’m trying to decode one of the ancient texts,” Victor sighed and leaned back in the chair as he massaged at his temples. “I just can’t remember some of it. I need the book.”
“The Path of Man?” Karn asked, tossing the paper to the desk.
“Yes. There is power in that book—ancient power that needs to be unlocked.”
Karn smirked. “If you had sent me to The Crossing instead of Lucian, both Levi and his brat would be dead and the book would be in your hands.”
Victor glared at him. “Perhaps. Or maybe, you wouldn’t have stood a chance against Levi and I’d be short a general in my army.” The remark drew a snort from Karn. Victor continued. “But the past is the past. We are living in a new age now, and I want to see all of our progress secured. The Religion must become the cornerstone upon which the world stands. To ensure total victory, we need to wield more stones and show the world our power.”
“The independent cities got you worried?” Karn asked in amusement.
Victor grinned. “Not in the slightest. Maximus will secure their patronage to the crown and they will join us, soon. Those who refuse will… well, you know. After we secure the kingdom, the Religion will spread to the ends of the world.”
Karn smiled and walked towards the door. He cracked it open as if to leave, then spoke to Victor. “I’ll get your precious stones for you.”
“The garden will be guarded, you know that. Whoever it was that destroyed the three might be there.”
Karn gaped his mouth in anticipation, showing two rows of sharpened, stained teeth. “Let’s hope so. Oh, what sweet redemption that would be.” He left the door open as he marched his way down the still hall.
Victor shook his head. He looked at the littered desk, not wanting to think about it anymore. He needed the book to complete his mission.
He rubbed at the shard that softly glowed inside his palm. “Cain, I have a task for you.”
“How may I serve you, master?” Cain replied through the power of the stone.
“Find the book. The Order has is it. Do what you must, but do not fail me.”
“I will not fail you, master.”
Victor walked to the balcony and overlooked his city. He smiled as he watched the palace being torn down stone by stone, one piece at a time. “The new age of man is here!” he shouted to the people below, his voice falling deaf against the commotion of Kingsport.
Everything was going according to plan, and he basked in the pleasantries of his own design. Even if Cain failed to find the book—even if Karn failed to bring the stones from the garden—he could not be stopped. He knew within the depths of his soul that his purpose would be fulfilled in accordance to the Almighty’s design. He was the hand of God. And he would smite the enemies of God for his name’s sake.
His eyes filled with tears of
emotion at the power and grace bestowed upon him, and he looked about the streets of buildings in Kingsport. He scanned over the market and the docks, past the inner city, all the way to the impoverished outskirts and slums of the town.
He searched for Sarie, wondering where she was and what she was doing.
FOUR
“Torin, we have to do something with all these stones. They can’t stay in the camp. Wouldn’t they have been safer inside the garden?” Lyla asked, looking over the heap of glowing soul stones that they piled inside a cave located at the edge of the camp.
Torin unloaded a sack full of stones onto the pile, stretched his aching back and shook his head. “The garden isn’t safe now that they know of its location. Nobody knows about this place, and that’s a good thing. And besides, Joko is standing guard vigilantly at the garden.”
“But what makes you think they won’t find this place?”
Torin put his arm around Lyla as they walked through the mouth of the cave. “Look, I know it’s not the most secure, but it’s the best we can do for now. The Grand Highlands was thought to be the safest place in the kingdom, and you see where that thinking got us.”
“I suppose,” Lyla said with her head down. They walked in silence back to the camp, passing other villagers with sacks full of stones as they made the trek towards the cave. She smiled at everyone she passed and nodded her thanks, giving whatever hope she could, whenever she could. The people looked to her for inspiration, and she would do her best not to give in to doubt.
Arkin would return soon, she just knew it.
Back in camp, she gathered her things for the journey. Torin took note.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“It’s been too long since I’ve been home. I need to see my family,” she said, securing a blade inside her boot.
“No. Not now. I won’t allow you to go,” Torin stated and crossed his arms.
She stood tall and wiped the hair from her face. “It’s not your call, Torin. I’m going.”
“But it’s not safe. If ever there was a time to not separate from one another, it’s now. The people need you more than ever.”
“I have to go. This might be the last chance I ever have to see them again,” she said and shouldered her pack. “Move aside, please.”
“Lyla…” Torin pleaded, but he knew it was no use. He reluctantly stepped from the doorway, allowing her to go.
She lovingly touched his face, saying goodbye. “I won’t be gone long, I promise.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No. You have to stay here,” she said. “The people need you more than they need me. You are their leader. Keep them safe.” Torin nodded and she could see the pain in his eyes. She laughed in attempt to stifle his fear. “Don’t be so worried about me. I can handle my own.” She gave him a reassuring wink.
He offered a sad smile in return and glanced at the bo staff in her hand. “I know you can, Lyla. I’ll look for your return. Two weeks,” he said, holding two fingers up. “No later, or I’m coming after you.”
“I’ll be back in ten days.”
“You better be.”
Lyla smiled, pulled the pack tight and tucked her head low as she left, trying to sneak away unnoticed. At the stables, a warmness filled her heart as she glanced over her shoulder and saw Torin instructing the people on how to build the fortifications for the camp. Keep them busy, Torin. Keep their minds off of everything else.
Securing her things to the mount, she rode away from the camp without any of the villagers noticing.
“Ten days, girl,” she said, patting the horse’s neck as it walked along the trail. “Ten days and we’ll be back. Have you ever been to The Crossing?” The horse snorted in reply, drawing a laugh from Lyla. “Well then, let’s go. I’ll show you Arkin’s home on the way.”
What I wouldn’t give to see you there, Arkin.
The mountain pass proved to be favorable and she found herself in the plains before nightfall. She bypassed the Grand Highlands, opting to take the longer, safer way. Like the Garden of Stones, it wasn’t safe there anymore. It wasn’t safe anywhere. In part, that’s why she wanted to return home. She new Fortuna would be safe and that she would find comfort in her own home. It had been a long six months and she yearned to see her family.
The clear night sky and cool weather made for a restful night of sleep, and in the morning, she left with the rising of the sun. “We should make The Crossing by tomorrow, girl.”
Taking the detour just to see Arkin’s home would put her behind by almost a day’s ride, but she’d never been there before, and something inside told her to go. She didn’t know why. She just had to see it. Even though there could be danger waiting for her there.
When she stopped to let the horse feed, she practiced the fighting skills that Joko had taught her. The bo staff danced in her hands and whirred around her body as she pivoted and turned against an imaginary opponent. She cleared her mind and focused her breath while performing the dance, mindful of every move that she made. Recalling the fight with Ros back in the garden made her want to train even more. She made a promise to herself that she would never let her guard down again. Last time, it almost cost her everything.
On the third day, a soft, constant rain made the journey miserable. She passed a few travelers the closer she got to The Crossing, but only waved at them in the distance as they too were slogging along through the weather. Soaked and cold to the bone, the only comfort she found was knowing that she would make it to the town before dark. Up and through the mountains, the horse carried her, its gait slow and head bobbing from left to right with every step. “We’re almost there, girl,” she comforted her while patting her neck. “Just a little while longer, I promise.”
As she crested the last peak, her heart soared at the sight of the small town nestled in the valley below. Amidst the dark, gray sky, she could see smoke rising from a few chimney tops and was eager for a hot meal and a warm night of rest.
She hoped that the people in town wouldn’t ask too many questions.
If I keep to myself, nobody will take note of a half-drowned girl on her long journey home.
She rode along main street and into town undisturbed; the folk seeking shelter from the rain as any sane person would do. Through the sloshing sound of the horses gait, she could hear the commotion of the townsfolk inside the warm shops and taverns. It was a small town and travelers frequented it often on their way to and from the capital city of Kingsport, so there was no shortage of patrons looking for strong drink and a hot meal.
A body crashed through a window and rolled into the mud. The tavern door slammed open and a large, grizzled woman stepped onto the porch, threatening the man to never come back as he slowly rose from the ground. Lyla reigned her mount to the other side of the street to avoid any confrontation. She comforted the horse, lashing her to a post. “It’s okay, girl. I won’t let anybody hurt you.” She glanced at the sign above the door.
The Whistlestop
Arkin’s home.
Lyla went to the door and stole a peek up and down the street before easing it open. Inside, it had the smell of a shop left to its own tending. Like an orphan left to fend for its own, it was in need of a good cleaning, some warmth, and someone willing to care for it. Her muddy boot found a piece of paper as she stepped inside. Peeling it away, she held it up and wondered if it was Levi’s handwriting.
I wish I could have known you. Thank you for Arkin. You raised a great and honorable man.
She began gathering the scattered pieces of paper and books that lie on the wood floor, tidying up a bit. Placing them on the desk, her eyes raised to the ravaged bookshelf on the back wall. Looking to her left, the main room of the shop was dark, mysterious. She slowly stepped inside the room, finding it full of artifacts, antiques, and collectibles; each of them looking as though they could tell a hundred stories of their own. The soot-covered fireplace caught her eye. For a moment, she thought of building a f
ire and sleeping on the floor for the night. She’d gone without a meal plenty of times before, and there was still some dried meat in her pack along with a bite of bread. But fires bring smoke, and smoke brings prying eyes. People would wonder who was in Levi’s shop.
It wasn’t safe here. Maybe at one time, but not anymore.
She did, however, find a candle with some matches lying on the mantle.
The light breathed new life into the place as she carried it in her hands. Her foot kicked something loose on the floor, and she brought the light down to inspect the broken pieces of what used to be a little wooden puzzle box. She grinned, thinking of Arkin and how he got so frustrated with the one he had back in the Grand Highlands. She took her time walking around the room, inspecting each piece of furniture, each precious keepsake; every item told her a little more about Arkin and where he grew up. A shield with the Order’s crest hung on a lone wall in the back of the room, a hook on each side that lie empty and not serving its purpose. She figured it once held a sword to go along with the shield, but there was no blade there.
Her eyes trailed along the wall, across the barren shelves with a few knick-knacks, broken glass figurines, and mangled books. Slow steps led her way and she stopped in front of a closed door. Boards were nailed tight across the frame to keep unwanted guests out. Notches on the frame reminded her of her father and how, over the years, he carved a knife into their home’s front door frame, marking the heights of her brothers and sisters as they grew. She smiled and traced her fingers over the scars. A tear welled and fell to the ground as she closed her eyes and offered up a prayer for his safety.
Please return home safe.
Please return home soon. I’ll be counting my breaths every day until you do. Until you take me in your arms once more.
Drunken voices laughed and cursed as a group emerged from the tavern across the street. They drew closer to the shop and Lyla blew the candle out so they wouldn’t take note. She crouched behind a chair and held still as the gray shadows moved past the windows. Through the cracks in the boards that covered the windows, she counted six figures. After they’d gone, she lit the candle again and made her way to the desk in the front of the shop. There were still a few books on the shelf and scribbled notes among the ground that she wanted to scan over.
