by Matt Moss
“Arkin, stop!” Rico cried as he fell to the ground, no longer able to stand.
Hobba tucked into a ball, protecting himself from falling debris. Sarie held onto Lucian through the quake. “Arkin!” she cried.
Flames appeared in Arkin’s mind.
It’s your fault.
No.
You killed them.
He shook his head, not wanting to believe it. His power surged, raging more and more out of control.
I’ve lost so many people that I love. I can’t take it anymore. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP!
The world around him began to break.
“Arkin! Son, stop!” Sarie cried out one last time.
Breathe.
Flames filled his vision and he couldn’t stop it from consuming the world. His feelings overtook him, and his body trembled as he reeled against what would control him.
And now you’re going to destroy everything. I was suspecting Victor to do so, but it doesn’t matter. The world will burn, as it should.
NO! Stop talking. STOP TALKING!
“Lucian, stop him. Before it’s too late,” Sarie yelled over the noise.
On shaky ground, Lucian ran to Arkin. Arkin was doubled over in lock with his power, and Lucian bent down to speak to him. His words fell on deaf ears, and the power reverberated from Arkin’s body, threatening to rip everything apart. The force repelled Lucian, driving him back in a furious wind. Lucian fought against the force and pulled his knife. “I’m sorry.” He sunk it into Arkin’s side, careful not to hit any organs.
Arkin’s eyes shot open as he felt the blade go into his body. In instinct, he threw his arm out and struck Lucian in the chest—the blow sending him crashing into the beam of the church, nearly snapping the thick wood in two. Lucian grunted and saw that Arkin had let go of his rage—the world becoming calm once again as he gathered his bearings. Lucian’s eye went to Torin that lie on the ground next to him. He looked up at the scar on the beam.
“Arkin!” Sarie cried and ran to meet him.
Arkin heard his mother’s cry but knew there was no time to say goodbye.
He looked to the sky. Victor rose higher into the sky with the stone. Electricity surrounded him and the stone grew brighter as his power continued to increase.
I know what I must do. It’s time to end this.
Arkin placed a fist on the ground and focused.
Sarie screamed.
Maximus held her from behind and put a knife to her side.
Lucian stood from the ground and marched towards them—his body tense and ready to rip Maximus apart. “Let her go,” he warned.
Maximus cocked his head, then put the blade to her throat. She tensed up and raised her head as a thin red line appeared on her throat. “Now doesn’t this look familiar?” Maximus said, and smiled at Lucian. “Shall I follow the line you carved, or make a new one?” The blade tip broke the skin. Sarie winced in pain and at the thought of her final moments.
Lucian froze in place. He tossed the sword to the ground and held his hands up. “Alright. You win. Just let her go.” He took a step towards them. “Disappear. I won’t follow you, you have my word.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Maximus said and sniffed Sarie’s hair. He pulled the blade away from her neck and gripped her by the shoulder. “Your life—her life—none of it matters.” The blade flipped in his hand, and he stepped in front to drive the knife through her neck, his hand thrusting towards her throat. The blade stopped shy as Arkin held his hand out, his power fixing Maximus in stasis. Maximus strained against the bond, but to no avail as Arkin held him in place.
Lucian picked up his sword and walked beside Maximus. The governor’s eyes snapped towards Lucian just as the sword fell. The blade sliced through his neck with ease, and his head rolled into street. Sarie cried and threw herself into Lucian’s arms.
The look on her face—happy and secure—made Arkin content. He was glad that she had someone in her life to cling to, even if it was Lucian. As long as she was happy and safe.
He looked up at Victor. Arkin closed his eyes once again and, this time, the flames weren’t there. Instead of flames and destruction, his thoughts turned to Lyla, and she filled his mind. He pictured himself running through a green field, chasing his son and rolling on the grass as she stood nearby, looking on with love.
Tears fell from his face as he thought of his family; love filled his soul, enough so that he thought his heart might burst.
Above him, Victor’s power had reached an unknown level as he prepared to use the stone—light emanating through the cracks and fissures. Together, Victor and the stone were pure power in its most devastating form.
Ultimately focused and with a fist to ground, energy pulsated and dust flew from around Arkin, washing over the town. His power rose until he couldn’t contain it anymore.
His feet left the ground. Soaring through the air, he felt more alive than ever before as he surged towards the green, glowing stone.
A look of terror appeared on Victor’s face as he saw Arkin surging towards him, flying though the air.
He left the stone and met Arkin in the sky. The two collided with such a force that a shockwave rippled from the point of impact, going in all directions as far as the eye could see. They fought hand-to-hand as they zipped and darted in the sky, both pressing the attack with ferocious speed and power.
“Impressive,” Victor said after breaking away. “But it’s not enough. You cannot stop the
stone now. It has been set and, in a matter of moments, will deliver this world into a new era.”
“I don’t think so,” Arkin told him, and tapped even further, his eyes going from solid white to luminescent. Even his hair and skin were glowing from the power within. The feeling was like nothing he’d ever known. Arkin grinned at Victor. “And judging by the look on your face, you think I may be right. Now, let me show you the true power of the soul.”
Victor kept his expression blank as Arkin spoke, knowing that Arkin’s power had
surpassed his own. He snarled and tapped further. “Shut your mouth, insolent dog! Nobody is more powerful than me!” In rage, he attacked Arkin. His fist struck into thin air as Arkin disappeared, his body flashing out of existence.
Arkin reappeared behind Victor and drove his fist straight into the priest’s back, launching Victor towards the ground like a comet. The ground shook on impact, and dust filled the air all around where Victor crashed. Arkin looked back to the stone.
Victor yelled as he soared back towards Arkin. He tapped to his soul’s fullest potential and wrapped his arms around Arkin’s body. Electricity came from Victor’s body and enveloped Arkin, shocking and burning him from the inside out, disabling his body. “The end is near!” Victor growled.
In the distance, the stone began to reverberate, and the pulsing light from within quickened.
Arkin closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
He threw his head back and busted Victor’s nose. The blow stunned the priest and Arkin spun around. One hundred strikes from Arkin’s hands hit every vital organ in Victor’s body before he could even blink an eye, bursting blood vessels and rendering them useless. Blood filled Victor’s eyes as Arkin held him from falling. Blood flowed from his mouth, ears, and nose.
Slowly, the stone began to descend in all its fury.
Arkin closed his eyes and thought of his loved ones one last time. He snapped them back open and locked his gaze upon the stone as he tapped to his fullest potential. He grabbed hold of Victor and drove him in front as he surged towards the stone.
Victor’s hand twitched and gripped Arkin’s arm.
The stone flashed.
Arkin kept his eyes open.
Lyla met Joko where Arkin and Lucian fought Victor before chasing after him. They looked back at the battlefield. The free men and the tribes were dispatching the last of the Religion’s forces. They raised their weapons in victory and cheered. Around the gorges and canyons, the horses
ran free around the broken and fallen men.
Lyla spit to the side and drank deep form a waterskin. She passed it to Hobba. “Well done. Against the odds, we still stand,” she said.
He wiped the blood, water, and sweat from his mouth. “It is finished. Well fought,” he told her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Thirty men from the tribes came running up to join them. “We have to help Arkin. They can’t be too far ahead.”
“That was hours ago, Joko. We’ll never catch them,” Lyla noted
“We should try,” her mentor replied.
She shook her head and looked across the battlefield. “We need to bury the dead.” Her mind went to Cain and the sacrifice he made. She nodded slowly, tears creeping back into her eyes. “We must lay our brothers to rest. Arkin will defeat Victor. He’ll win the fight, I just know he will.”
“I believe he will, too. You’re right. Let us bury the dead,” Joko said.
A green light rose over the distant mountains, small, and shining as bright as the sun. Lyla squinted and put a hand over her eyes as she gazed at the sight.
“Arkin.”
“What is that?” Joko asked, turning towards the sight.
“A soul stone,” Lyla said in wonder. As they watched, a wave of energy exploded somewhere beside the stone. She turned back to Joko. “Joko, tell your men to stay here and bury the dead.” She pointed to the stone. “If that’s what I think it is, we need to help the others in stopping it.”
“How will we be able to do this? There isn’t much time,” Joko said.
She turned back to him and shook her head. “I don’t know, but we have to try. We have to…”
As the words left her mouth, the soul stone exploded—a beam of light breaking from all sides across the horizon, a green halo filling the sky. The shockwave rolled over her and the battlefield, and everyone shielded themselves and stood their ground. All sound disappeared as a vacuum sucked the air back by them towards The Crossing, and Lyla gazed into the aftermath of the blast—particles of dust and light dissipating into the sky from the point of explosion. In that instant, terror gripped her heart and she knew that something was wrong.
Arkin.
She jumped on a horse and rode hard towards The Crossing.
FOURTY
The Crossing lie silent in mourning. Blood soaked the streets of the quiet town, and the story that would be told of that fated day were held safe among the wooden beams of the buildings and shops—among the bricks and stones of the stores that had seen the turn of many years.
Sarie lamented as she stared overhead, desperately searching for her son among the particles and stone debris that filled the sky.
FORTY-ONE
Breathe.
The void found him once more. It had been patiently waiting.
He belonged to it, and it belonged to him.
Everything happened so fast, Arkin couldn’t tell if it was real or just in his mind. Darkness surrounded him as he floated in oblivion. He soul tapped, trying to connect with Lyla—with anyone. His attempts were futile and he knew that, this time, he must surely be gone.
God, save my family. Keep them safe. May they know how much I love them.
Tears fell from his eyes and he shut them tight.
In a flash, he found himself inside the Lodge. He walked through a line of familiar faces—all brothers and sisters of the Order. Paul was there, smiling and drinking his tea. Arkin knew it must be morning because that was always the time that Paul enjoyed a cup of tea. The Prophet gave a knowing chuckle and a look of pride at Arkin before taking another sip. Arkin kept walking.
Torin stood next to Paul and folded his arms as Arkin came near. He didn’t speak, but Arkin could tell that the big man was thinking about calling him ‘boy’ along with some sort of condescending instruction that was filled with love. Arkin nodded at his brother and his feet kept moving.
Cain met him next. He nodded in approval and pride, clapping as Arkin walked by.
The familiar scent of the Whistlestop filled Arkin’s senses, and he looked around the Lodge for the source.
Billy drank a tankard of ale and raised his glass in salute. Master Coll raised his fist in admiration.
At the end of the line and the back of the room, Moses was the last to meet him, raising his head as Arkin drew near. He smiled with pride and bowed his head low in respect to the sacrifice Arkin made. The grandmaster extended his hand towards the back door, blinding light flooding through the cracks in the old wood. Slowly, Arkin approached it, opened it slowly, and walked through.
Outside of the Lodge, he found himself in The Crossing.
It was the way he remembered it growing up—clean and not so busy. Simple. Smiles on his neighbors’ faces as they greeted him in passing. He walked by the inn and peeked inside, finding a few people enjoying a hot meal and light conversation. The barkeep poured a drink and wiped down the countertop.
His boots thumped the porch as he walked on, and that familiar sound echoed within a thousand memories.
He looked at the church as people were gathering outside for the morning’s sermon. The place where his father died no longer scarred the beam—erased from time as if it never happened. Arkin looked up and found the sky blue, spotted with white clouds, a gentle breeze blowing through the air carrying pine and floral notes, the temperature, just right.
Breathe.
His head leveled and he looked at the Whistlestop. There stood his father, Levi.
Arkin kept his steps solid, though his legs wanted to give way. He stood by his father in front of the shop.
“I’m proud of you son. Welcome home.”
Arkin nodded as tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t find words for the moment, and fell into his father’s arms. With brothers and kin all around, and with Lyla in his thoughts, love filled Arkin’s heart. More love than he’d ever felt in his life. He felt that Lyla was thinking about him and sent his love out to her.
Birds chirped as they flew overhead, and Levi held his hand out for Arkin to go inside the shop.
Arkin looked at the door of the Whistlestop, then back to his father. Levi nodded for him to go. “It’s time, son.”
Arkin nodded, then gave his father his best smile. Up the two steps he went one last time, the second one creaking as it had for many years because Levi liked the sound. Arkin did, too.
A pure white light came from inside the shop, shining through the cracks in the wooden door. It beckoned him inside and Arkin knew that he had to go. He placed his hand on the door and felt it warm to the touch. He looked back at his father one last time. Paul stood by Levi’s side and they both looked at Arkin with the utmost admiration and love. The Prophet gave Arkin that old familiar wink—the one that let him know that everything would be alright.
Breathe.
Arkin eased the door open and stepped inside.
He closed the door behind him.
FORTY-TWO
Kingsport was busy as merchants and traders sold their wares in the early spring months, signaling the beginning of the trading season. Craftsmen and artisans set up shop near main street and the market, displaying their goods to thousands of potential customers. Free trade and the workforce had returned to the Kingdom, providing opportunity to those who were willing to chase their dreams. Drudge was still a commodity to be used, and still brought a profit, but wasn’t as widespread as it once was.
The King’s Generosity was no more.
The opportunity to grow food with moderation gave many people an avenue to make money and feed their families. Free markets reigned and competition became aggressive, promoting more growth in agriculture and trades. To drive the market more, the realm opened up trade with the tribes to the east—something that had never been done before. King Hobba knew that both lands would benefit from trading with one another, as each had something to offer, and gladly made a pact with the newly elected governors of the independent cities.
The Religion was broken and no longer held sway over
the majority. But, like any religion, there were still those who held strong to its belief, disputing that it was holier than the Faith and offered true salvation to all believers.
The temple would remain the holy place of worship for the Religion.
Rico glared at the temple and spat in its direction as he stood in front of the steps of the church. The guards eyed him with caution and stopped him as he began to climb. He gave them a look, commanding his authority in the capital as chief prosecutor, and they backed off, allowing him to pass. He marched into the church and through the main hall.
Priests lined the walls of the church, silently praying for the salvation of mankind.
Rat stood at the alter, his back to the priests as he led them in the devotion. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned. “Rico, what brings you here?” he asked, nervously. “Surely the chief prosecutor has better things to do than visit a priest during service. Unless, you have something to confess…”
“You know why I’m here,” Rico said with a wry grin.
Wearing the white robe of the high priest, Rat held his hands out and gave a slight bow. “If it is your soul that needs saving, then you’ve come to the right place, brother.”
“It’s not my soul that needs saving, priest.” Rico pulled a knife. “Where’s the book?”
Rat’s eyes went wide upon seeing the blade, and darted around the room, looking for help. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What book?” he stammered, and took a step back.
Rico stepped closer. “Don’t play games. Where is it? If you tell me, I might let you live.”
Rat thought. He spoke in a nervous rush. “Promise me no harm. Do you promise?” he asked and gazed into Rico’s eyes. “Let me go and I’ll give you the book.”
Rico nodded.
Rat stood tall, mustering the remains of his courage and straightening his robe. He walked behind the alter and retrieved The Path of Man. He handed it to Rico.
