by Stuart Jaffe
Harskill’s lustful eyes watched her. Let him watch. She would never let him get any closer.
While his attention focused on her body, she took full advantage. In one swift motion, she swiped Viper upward as she stepped forward. Harskill never had time to react.
Viper’s sharpened point caught him just below the rib cage — a perfect strike to gouge open a man’s chest. But the blade did not sink in. A spark flew off and Viper deflected in the opposite direction.
Harskill snickered. “Just because nobody else’s do-kha works, doesn’t mean I’d be stupid enough to make my own cease functioning. The whole point is to draw in the energy of all those do-kha. Every single one from every single world. Through the Library and the Soul of the Sun, I am gaining the power of all do-kha.”
Harskill lifted in the air, his eyes dark and wide. “This, my dear Malja, this is what I have been trying to make you see. When I said we would be gods, I meant it. I will be the new god of all. With the power of all do-kha under my command, I will rule all worlds.”
Malja had seen Harskill display his power before, but not like this. Not with this manic energy. Not with this degree of madness. Her fingers jittered, and her heart pounded. She breathed in slow and deep but could not calm her system.
She snatched a peek at her do-kha and wiped her brow. The heat pressed against her skin. It seemed that nothing would cool her body. Even the slight breeze that tickled her legs only reminded her that the rest of her skin had become slick with sweat.
Harskill spoke and his do-kha amplified his words over the entire battlefield. “All Gate, all soldiers, all monks, all people, every living being before me — bow. On your knees to praise your new god.”
Most obeyed. The soldiers were first to drop. They understood command structures and could tell when new leadership had taken over. The monks followed — hesitant, but smart enough to know they had no choice. Finally, the Gate bowed. Without their do-khas, they looked small and afraid. A few, like those that had arrived with Harskill, bowed in reverence. They would probably be rewarded well for their loyalty.
Malja noticed those who remained standing. It swelled her heart. A handful of soldiers, a dozen or so Gate, and at least a quarter of the monks — all with their heads lifted in defiance.
Harskill pulled his arms back as if winding up for a huge punch. He looked down his nose at her. “You, too, my dear. On your knees.”
Malja shook her head slowly. “I stand against you with those brave enough —”
“Foolish enough.” He punched out one hand and the Library let loose a dark energy swarming like a plague of insects. The energy sped across the bloody field and slammed into a clump of rebellious souls. Monks, soldiers, and Gate were thrown high off their feet and into the gorge.
Harskill chuckled. “The creatures that live down there are getting quite a feast today.”
Malja stared at the empty spaces where those people had stood. She could not believe Harskill had done this. He had always been more bluster than bite. He relied on others to do his fighting.
“Must I kill more?” he asked.
“No,” she said under her breath.
“Then do as I command.”
The expectant look on his face disgusted her. She bent at the waist, and her mind toyed with the idea of springing forward, tackling Harskill, and flaying off his skin. But she knew it would not happen.
He pulled back his arms again, revving up for another attack on those who stood in defiance. Though her stomach churned, she lowered down. Bits of stone dug into her knees as she bowed her head. She placed Viper in front her and felt the platform scratch her knuckles as she let go of the grip. The smell of her body disgusted her — it smelled of fear.
Harskill’s shadow covered her. His hand reached down and lifted her chin. “I wish things could have been different. I wish you had taken my many offers.”
She did not respond.
“I know you well, my dear. I know that right now, though you have lowered before me, you are cursing my name, promising yourself that you will refuse me forever. You are vowing revenge. I admire that quality in you. It is another reason I wanted you to join me. You are the most persistent Gate I’ve ever come across.”
Her mind raced through scenario after scenario, searching for some way she could change the situation. Nothing she could think of would work. He had too much power.
“If only I could have convinced you, your strengths would have helped me solidify my rule with far less bloodshed. But I suppose there’s no more chance for that. I can lie to my heart no longer. Maybe someday, after you’ve seen the peace I bring, maybe then you’ll change your feelings.”
His chin quivered. A trickle of sweat rolled down his cheek. He said nothing for a moment, laboring for a few breaths.
Something from the corner of Malja’s eye caught her attention. She turned her head enough to see but not enough for Harskill to notice. Tommy. He had bowed with the others, but while the rest looked down in fear, he studied the tattoos on the back of his hand.
Trying to ignore the hope rising in her, Malja studied her enemy closer. His blast of magic through the Library had taken a toll. And not just on him — his do-kha did not cool his body or calm his nerves. It, too, had been overwhelmed by the energy of the Library. Harskill was powerful, but no god.
He stroked her chin and his face brightened. “You’re smiling. That’s wonderful to see. That gives me hope for us. Because you must understand now, you must see for yourself that I will win every world I take. I’ve already won — they simply don’t know it yet. Just as I have won you. I’d rather you have come willingly, but either way, you will be my Queen.”
Letting her smile break free into a wide open, teeth-baring roar, Malja hurdled upward while snatching Viper. “Never!”
Chapter 30
Reon
When Harskill swept his followers into the gorge, especially his fellow Gate, he also swept away the last strands connecting with Reon. His actions denied all the words he had given to her over a lifetime. Where was the peace? All she saw was anarchy and ruthlessness.
She would have been happy enough to find a horse and ride away with Owl, to see what, if anything, existed there. Not that she sought romance. The idea of her as a pining girl was laughable. And sad. Harskill had taken away that little girl’s dream — the pining princess.
But she had her own dreams. Dreams that may have originated with her Lord Harskill but still held merit. Dreams of peace. What better way to start then by bringing peace to the man she had nearly destroyed? Besides, nothing she had understood connected anymore. Nothing except for Owl.
He made simple sense. They were both warriors. Maybe they could regroup with other survivors and mount a defense against Harskill.
Is that what I want? she wondered.
She lifted her head slightly, glancing around for a horse. Whether or not she wanted to lead a revolt against a maniac with near-godlike powers didn’t matter. That looked to be her purpose in life. She grimaced — now she sounded like her mother rambling about how Dulmul created each person with a specific purpose.
Reon shuddered. If she could just find a horse, then — too late. Malja screamed the word Never! and attacked Harskill.
The sudden action and noise snapped everyone loose from the fear that tethered them to the ground. Reon could practically see the realization cascade across the battlefield — if Malja could attack Harskill, then the fight could still be winnable. If Harskill had taken the do-khas’ power, then the Gate were no longer more than mere men and women.
The monks assailed their enemies with renewed vigor. They threw punches and kicks like . berserk machines. The Gate tried hard to defend themselves. They did poorly. They had spent a lifetime relying on their do-khas and had thus trained their bodies to behave with the do-kha in mind. Their muscles reacted to each attack as if their do-khas would still function.
One monk kicked high toward a Gate’s head. The Gate raised her
arm to her waist, expecting the do-kha to expand into a hardened shield. Instead, she had her skull rocked to the side. Dazed, she failed to block the next three hits and smashed into the dirt, unconscious and bleeding.
Harskill’s original army of locals, the ones he considered fodder, saw the change and took full advantage. They exacted their revenge in brutal gang attacks on every Gate within reach. What before had seemed to be madness devolved into rage-filled bedlam.
Reon grabbed Owl’s sword and struck out at anyone who came near them. A Gate managed to escape from a crazed soldier and ran directly at Owl. Reon jumped to her feet and stabbed the man. He didn’t even block the attack.
She heard footsteps behind her. Swinging wildly at head height, she spun around.
“Hey!” Fawbry said, ducking the attack. “I’m here to help you and Owl.”
“Who are you?”
“General Fawbry.”
Upon closer inspection, Reon said, “You’re no General. I know you. You’re Malja’s lackey.”
The fool returned her appraising look. “Wait. Aren’t you the enemy?”
“Things change.”
Fawbry checked Owl. The injured warrior nodded. With a shrug, Fawbry said, “Okay. Help me drag him out of here. I’ve got a horse tied to a tree in the back.”
“You’ve got to drag him yourself. I’ve got the sword.” To prove her point, she dispatched one of Harskill’s army who rushed them like a rabid dog. “Don’t worry, I can handle them. These Gate have no skill without their do-khas.”
“Not all of us,” a distinct voice said.
Reon looked to her right. Not far off stood Bell Wake brandishing her sword in one hand, the sword formed from the belt she wore, and a metal shield in the other hand. The shield had a dent near the top corner and fresh blood trailing down the front.
Reon widened her feet and lowered her hips. Without taking her eyes off of Bell Wake, she said to Fawbry, “General, I think you better get out of here.”
“I agree. I’ll handle Owl. Don’t worry about him. And if it means anything, I’ve seen you fight and I’ve seen you fight Malja. You can beat this woman.”
“Shut up and go.” Reon didn’t intend to be so harsh, but she had never heard somebody speak to her that way before. Encouragement? It felt strange, wrong. And it distracted her.
To regain her focus, she circled her enemy. Bell Wake followed the motion. Both sized up the other as they moved. Reon stepped side to side while Bell crossed her legs with each stride. An amateur move, one she hoped to use to her advantage later, but Reon knew not to get cocky. Even amateurs in footwork could prove skillful with a sword.
As they turned to the right, Reon noticed Malja and Harskill battling upon the platform. Malja delivered a maelstrom of blows, but they were slow and shaky. Harskill evaded most. Others he deflected with his do-kha. He did not counter nor did he instigate an attack. He must have been stalling, recharging his power — otherwise, he would have decimated her with the Library’s power.
Oddly, the young man — Tommy was his name — remained bowed before the platform. He did not stir. She couldn’t fathom that one of Malja’s allies would sit prone and fail to aid her. Perhaps he had been killed, and Reon witnessed his corpse.
Bell Wake continued to circle, forcing Reon to move as well. She lost sight of Malja and Harskill — good thing, too. She needed to pay attention to the threat in front of her, not the threats for another day.
Bell hunched behind her shield. “I had intended to kill you less overtly. After all Gate became gods, I thought I’d send you through a portal that never reopened. Erase you from existence by trapping you between worlds. At least, that’s what I had hoped to do. Never tried such a thing before, but I guessed with the added power I expected to gain, I could have made it happen.”
“Looks like Harskill’s little surprise screwed a lot of our plans.”
“Don’t equate yourself with me.”
Reon liked the feel of Owl’s sword — perfectly balanced, a firm grip, and near flawless. No nicks, no warps or bends. Lacking a shield didn’t bother her with this blade in her hands.
“We don’t have to fight this out,” Reon said — not because she believed it but because she wanted Bell to attack first. Oftentimes, it was easier to counter an attack than launch one. And since Reon only had a sword, she needed all the advantages she could find. “You know you’ll lose if you fight me.”
Bell Wake scoffed. “You know nothing about me or my ability to fight.”
“And you know nothing of me.”
“Don’t be so stupid. You really think Harskill brought you to us out of nowhere? While you were prancing around your school gym, trying to impress your instructors, we were watching. Harskill reported to us every year. I know all about you.”
“Then prove it, you hag. Or are you afraid without your do-kha?”
“I’m far more than my do-kha. Harskill picked me to be with him long before he bothered with you. Long before you were even a speck of goo in a petri dish.”
“You’re telling me you’re really old?”
Keeping her eyes on Bell Wake, Reon stopped circling and braced her back leg against a corpse. She knew her enemy would strike soon. She needed to goad Bell one last time. So, Reon winked.
It was a small thing, but those often are what cracks through a person’s dam. Bell Wake charged. She stayed behind her shield and rammed right into Reon.
Reon hopped back over the corpse. As expected, Bell pushed onward and tripped on the body. She stumbled but did not fall. Reon cut downward, but Bell let her shield take the hit as she regained her footing.
They bashed at each other like starving beasts fighting over a recent kill. Bell jabbed with her blade. Reon parried or sidestepped every attack. Her own offense met with Bell’s shield.
Remembering the way Owl used the weapon, Reon took a chance. She dropped low and swiped at Bell’s knees. Bell jumped over the attack and came down swinging. Reon had to roll through the mud and blood to avoid getting hit.
Bell stabbed at the ground again and again, but Reon continued to roll. “Stay still, you pathetic whore.”
Finally, Reon popped back to her feet, and the two adversaries began their circling dance once more. “Why are you even fighting me?” Reon asked. “Harskill betrayed us all.”
“Betrayed you. Not me. I never expected him to keep his word. I’ve known him too long.”
“Look at him.” Off to the right, Harskill continued to battle with Malja. His do-kha shot out tendrils that she evaded with great skill. She whirled back and cut one tendril off. The loose bit of do-kha flew over her head and attempted to attack on its own. With one desperate move, Malja blocked and continued the motion into another strike at Harskill. “He won’t give up on her and make you Queen. He’s trying to win her over.”
“You’re such a silly child. He’s trying to kill her, and you refuse to believe that I care nothing for being Queen because you still seek it.”
“Then what? If you never believed in his cause, why are you here now? Why are you risking your life fighting me?”
“I risk nothing fighting you. You’re weak. I want nothing from Harskill today. But you — I’ve wanted to kill you for a while now. And since you are no longer favored by him, you die today.”
Bell surprised with an arcing strike — different from the way she had fought before. Her footwork changed as well. She took wide steps opposite the motion of her sword. It was confusing, which Reon realized was the point.
Bell’s sword bit into Reon’s left shoulder. As Reon adjusted her grip to favor her right hand, Bell attacked once more. She didn’t wait to pull her sword free, though. Instead, she crashed her shield into Reon’s wrist.
The bones audibly cracked. Owl’s blade flipped over once and stuck in the ground. An awful slushing sound and a deep burning in her shoulder told her what her blurring eyes could not — that Bell had ripped her sword free. Reon wanted to rub her eyes, shake her vision f
ree, but there was not time. Bell Wake had proven that she understood combat to some extent — enough to change tactics mid-battle — and that meant another thrust of the sword was coming.
Reon did the only thing she could think to do — she ran.
The world around her shrunk into a narrow corridor where she only concerned herself with the next step, the next step. Blood and bodies, dirt and debris threatened to catch her legs and send her to the ground. With her wrist crying out and her fingers unable to close, she could never hold a sword to fight back. Keep running. That was her only option.
She wanted to look back, to see how much distance she had traveled, to see if Bell Wake had pursued her. But she could not turn her head. That would risk falling on the infinite obstacles that seemed to multiply around her. Besides, she knew the answer — Bell Wake had to be right behind her, ready to kill her the moment she stopped running.
She had the presence of mind to shift her skin. In seconds, it matched her surroundings. But her do-kha did not function anymore. No matter what her skin color, her do-kha stood out, easy to see.
Her mouth tasted of her own blood. The acidic smells of urine and feces assaulted her as she plowed over numerous bodies. Not far behind, Bell Wake laughed.
Reon’s foot caught on the clothing of a dead monk. She slammed into the ground and rolled without control until she came to rest with her head against a small mound of several bodies. Bell Wake stood in the distance — but not distant enough.
As Bell sauntered towards her prey, Reon’s pulse eased back. The jolt of hitting the ground had rattled her senses back. She admonished herself for panicking. If she wanted to live, she had to keep thinking.
“I’ll take some of your skin off before I kill you.” Bell’s face warmed with a visible flush. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of torturing someone so deserving, and your skin is quite interesting.”
