Pyrus

by Sean Watman

  “Unfortunately, you will not be around to see him,” the woman replied in a nasty tone. As soon as I turn the corner, now at the source of the quarrel, older me gets thrown at me by a giant white snake. Frost came out of the snake's mouth, and she coated whatever she breathed on with ice. Black markings ran all the way down her back.

  “Jack! Glad to see you have arrived. I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting, but I suppose that you already know the reason,” older me stated. I push him off of me—I think he may have almost broken a rib—and walk toward snake-lady.

  “I take it as this is your animal form, Glace?” I ask her, trying to sound more confident than I actually was.

  “I am impressed you recognize me,” she responded. “Too bad! I was hoping to hunt you down rather than have to kill you—it would have made it so much more amusing for me!” She instantly lunged at me, barely missing my chest as she did so, but it didn't go without a price. My ripped shirt from Earth, which had survived worse trials than this, was now frozen solid. I did the only thing I could do: punch it in order to give me more mobility. The only thing I had left of Earth now was my jeans and boxers.

  Glace was taller and older than me, but it may be just here in my world that she's taller. We're fighting in a square room that has pockets of ice around the floor, and she's set herself up in the best position by covering all the exits and maintaining a range so that she can strike us. I've been underestimating my opponents and suffering massively because of it, but they also haven't given me enough consideration. I could be deadly when I actually wanted to be, and I am formulating a plan.

  I rush recklessly at Glace in a straight path, channelling enough magii for one big punch, when she whips her tail at me. In normal circumstances, I would be screwed right now, but I remembered is that this is my world. I could make myself invincible if I wanted to, but I'd rather keep that ace in the hole for later—the less she knows about how much I know, the better. Instead I decide to barely dodge the strike, and I jump on her tail and aim directly for her face.

  As I flew toward her face, I speed up time and get at least fifteen punches instead of just one. The one thing that I'm counting on is that she thinks I'm using magii to do everything. If not, I may lose my advantage. She's glaring at me now, hopefully unaware of my plan; if not, then I'll have to finish her off quick. How can you say think about that so casually? I question myself. Do lives not matter to you anymore? Are you so afraid of dying that you're willing to kill others to survive?

  Glace doesn't give me time to ponder on these thoughts, because the moment I zoned out, she hit me so forcefully with her tail that I fly across the room into the ice wall. I cough out some blood, stunned by the force of the smash. My vision is getting a little blurry, but I refocus. I was running out of time, Glace was slowly inching toward me, but I couldn't move at all. More importantly, older me has done nothing to help me. He's just observing a few feet away from her tail, and she hasn't even attacked him yet.

  “It has been fun, boy. I cannot remember how long it has been since anyone has actually put up a real fight.” Glace gleefully cried out, “Once these fangs touch your skin, though, you will be finished.” Wow, you'd expect someone this powerful not to exploit their secret weapon so soon, I thought. Oh well, whatever keeps me alive, I guess. I clench my fingers into fists but don't move—not yet, anyway.

  I slowly push myself off the wall. My heart is racing as a plan begins to form in my mind. It was an okay plan—I mean there weren't any special instant kill motions in it. It all depended on how good of an actor I was.

  “What are your goals?” I scream at her. “Why target me of all people? I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time!” I try to make my voice sound as scared as possible, and she stops. It takes every single bit of self-restraint to crack a smile. If I gave her even a tiny hint that I was acting, she would kill me.

  “The magii waves emanating from your body resemble that of a Pyrus magician, meaning you did not show up at the scene of the battle by accident. Also, it has been a while since I have tasted Pyrian blood; Ivan hasn't let me kill any Pyrians since the Pyrus Kreydur, so it will be nice to have a refresher,” Glace said in an overconfident tone. I listened to what she said, but it took another twenty seconds or so before the words actually hit me. At first I'm shocked that the Kreydur was a murderer, but the shock was quickly replaced by rage. I didn't even know the person, yet somehow my anger's burning, rising, until I lose control of my thoughts.

  I scream some sort of war cry, momentarily stunning her in the process, and then I whale on her. At first she laughs at my punches lack of effect, but then she starts to retreat as I play my trump card: my imagination. My fists now begin to land on her like blocks of concrete. I can see indents from where my punches are making contact on her skin, and she is completely stunned. After a few more minutes, I regain enough control to say five words “This … this is my world!” By now, she's almost dead. Seeing her almost motionless makes my fury drain away, but not before I deliver one last blow to her head, crushing her skull. There was no blood, not even a scream of pain, just silence.

  Then there was a clapping sound. I look to my left to see older me giving me a round of applause. I thought of bowing, but immediately scratched it out of my head—the deed I just did was not something to be proud of.

  “That ended rather well,” was all he said.

  “Well?” I replied in a steely tone. “Because I killed her? I'm no better than she is! None of this would've happened if I'd just stayed in the cave.”

  “That is true,” he responded. “But think about it this way: if you had not gone to investigate, would the girl still be alive right now?”

  Lyra … My mind goes back to when we first met; how she yelled at me; she even looked beautiful while doing that. I really know nothing about her, so I have no idea why I feel the way I feel toward her. But then my thoughts almost instantly switch to home, and I wonder how things truly are back there. If the image I saw of me lying on a bed dead is true, was my family worried about me?

  “Of course, she will not be alive much longer,” older me said. “Not unless you do something about it.”

  “Me? What can I do? I'm frozen solid back in reality,” I counter. “And unless you have a flamethrower, I don't think I'll be getting out anytime soon.”

  “If you want to save her, you need to find a reason to fight. Here, time is extremely slow compared to the real world, so you have about three minutes to decide before she dies.” He said, and with a wave of his hand, a timer appears, counting down from three minutes.

  I sat down and said no more. There were no hints for this question, no clues. This was something I needed to figure out on my own. I remember the first time I showed up here, how I watched all of my battles take place from the sidelines. I've been fighting for myself really; there was no good reason, no justice or anything the hero in a movie fights for, just fighting because that was the way to solve my problems.

  As I continued reflecting, time seemed to stop. I didn't need to look at the clock; I already knew how much time I had. The question was could I forgive myself and change my beliefs? I realize now that the fights I've been picking were always because things didn't go the way I wanted them to, but I need to truly accept it. My thoughts turned to Lyra and the predicament she's in. She needed me right now, and I had to help.

  “You have ten seconds left,” older me said. “Have you made your decision?” He stared at me impatiently; his eyes burning into my skull. I stared at him, looked at the clock, and nodded.

  “Yes,” I said, “I need to fight to protect her.” Older me gave me a huge smile, and the whole room erupted into flames. The pillars of ice melted, and the maze itself melted, replaced by the walls of flame. As I spun around, watching my mind as it changes back to its original state. I heard older me's voice. “It is time to finish this. Do not let me down.”

  Life returned back into my eyes, and I stare at the scene in front of m
e. The Kreydur called Ivan was advancing on Lyra, who had fallen and is now pushing herself away from him, trying to escape. It didn't look like she would get very far. Ivan was now without a weapon for some reason, though; I suspect it's because I killed Glace in my mental realm. The ice between my fingers has melted, and I clench my hands into fists. I can't break free from the ice, but at least I'm not dead!

  “Call me, Jack.” Older me's voice rung in my head. “Just shout this and I will come to you: Kreysire! You can do it! Say the word!” he shouted.

  “Kreysire!” I scream at the top of my lungs, but since I'm stuck inside the block of ice, my voice is inaudible. Nothing happens, so I wait. Then I start to feel very, very hot. It was like I was right beside the sun, but it kept getting hotter. The heat was driving me insane. I needed to find somewhere to cool down, but where could I go? I started shaking violently, urging the heat to subside. I end up shaking so much that the ice begins to crack. Ivan turns his head to look at me, and he actually looks rather scared.

  “Glace, Kreysire!” he cries out, and she materializes out of a snow cloud in her weapon form. Wait a minute, if that word makes the Kreysor go into weapon form, then that means…

  The iceberg explodes, shards flying in every direction, followed by a cloud of steam forming a veil around me. All of the heat in my body subsides into a warmth that flows down into my right hand. All the heat is concentrated into my palm, and I instinctively clench my fist. I feel something in my hand, something soft, and when I turn my palm and look at it, I notice a rectangular handle wrapped in blue cloth.

  “Focus your magii into the handle, and I will do the rest,” older me's voice said. I did as he asked, channelling every last ounce of energy I had left in my other chambers into my palms. As I did so, the top of the handle opened up and expanded and a flame burst out of it. I was so astonished, I lost my concentration, and the flame immediately died and the handle closed back up. I concentrated on releasing my magii into the handle, and it reopened with the flame, and when I cut it off, the flame died again.

  This is so cool! I thought. I'm experimenting with the flamethrower like a three-year-old at his own birthday party. All this is interrupted when Glace brushes right past my face, freezing parts of my hair in the process. Ivan definitely wasn't letting me find out the abilities of my Kreysor—he'll probably kill me before I have the chance.

  Maintain a steady flow of magii, Jack! Older me's voice rang out, nagging me. Sure, you can use it as a flamethrower, but watch what happens when you give it a steady flow. I first considered my options, but during that time, I felt my magii leaving as if someone else is taking it from me. The box reopened up and the flame shoots out. This time though, the flame condenses somewhat and is becoming less wild. The box then expands, the base stretching upwards and the flaps growing larger and stretch sideways, forming a hilt. In the center of the hilt, a red gem blazed, beckoning me to touch it.

  I touch the gem, and the flames stop wildly thrashing, and they form the outline of a sword. The flames then cool, and the template fills with burning steel. I stare at my newly made weapon, flames dripping off the steel like blood. It's a fiery red color, while the guard and hilt retain their ocean blue color, and the handle is still wrapped in cloth. I give myself a few practice swings. The blade feels as light as a feather in my grasp, and its easy to manipulate. I have no idea what I'm talking about right now, or how to even fight using a sword, but it can't be that difficult, right?

  I turn to face Ivan, who looks like he's about to launch another attack on me. If I had been a moment sooner … No! I can't think about it. I need to focus. He launched Glace at me, extending her needles until they were at their full size. I had nowhere to go, nothing to protect myself against the onslaught. I had fought through so much to get here, only to die. It can't end this way … I won't let it end this way.

  Something stirred in my central magii chamber. It's as if my body's possessed. I'm suddenly watching the scenes from the sidelines. . All of my magii is being diverted into my hand, and my legs and chest feel like there's a huge weight on them. Ivan launches another attack on me, but it's as if the attack is in slow motion. I easily step out of the way and rush up to him. My arm moves instinctively and moves the sword into an attacking position. I need one second to slice right through his arm, but spikes of ice are shooting up from the ground, surrounding him and preventing me from finishing my attack.

  “Who are you?” Ivan questioned me. “Your skill is beyond that of a beginner Kreydur, yet you hold the blade as if it is your first time using it. You truly are phenomenal.” I stare at him for a bit, taking in all of his compliments. What's he up to? I wonder. If he's changing his game up, what's he up to?

  “I am giving you one last chance to join me. We can delve into magic and arts that haven't been seen or spoke of for a century,” he said. I'll admit his words gave me a scare. Not because of his motives, but because for a second, I actually listened to his words. My resolve was weakened, and the flaming sword dimmed a little. A sly smile forms on Ivan's lips, glad that his words have an effect on me.

  “This is a once in a lifetime offer.” He spoke softly. How and why am I listening to this wacko? I ponder. I've made my choice, and I can't let this guy change it. It's time to end this.

  “You …” I begin, “you are a twisted man. Do you honestly think that I'm going to listen to you? If anything, I'll be the one that crushes your plans into dust!” My sword exploded once I finished, the flames bigger than before. Ivan doesn't look that disappointed; in fact, he seems rather delighted that he gets to fight me instead.

  He switches into his fighting stance—Glace poised as if to strike without warning—and I twirl my blade a few times and then lower it into a comfortable position. We stare at each other, locked in a battle of nerves, hands twitching as if we're drawing guns in an old Western. Then, almost simultaneously, we raise our free hands and scream at each other.

  “Tundriemoy!”

  “Magmoras!”

  Chapter 11: The Conflict

  The blizzard shot out his hand, aiming to freeze me to death, but was countered by the magma flowing out of my hand. How do I know this spell? The only one I knew was Fuhrhealminok, and even then, it's a minor spell. Aside from that, it was a clash of opposing elements, as well as a clash against beliefs. I feel as if I'm representing justice and he is representing malice. Blue and red sparks were flashing at the centermost part between us, creating a core of energy at the clashing point. It was anyone's game, all it took was someone to lose their focus, and they'd be dead.

  Even though it was an even match, that did not mean there weren't points when one of us almost overpowered the other. Ivan's blizzard reached my hand, but he had to withdraw because he was using too much magii. Realizing my chance, I start increasing my amount, throwing all the undiverted magii to my sword's flow. I almost make it to him—I burn his eyebrows)—until the exhaustion and magii compression is so huge that if I don't withdraw, I will die. I'm getting to the point that my spell will die soon, and then the real battle will begin.

  Knowing full well what will happen if I don't get the hell out of there soon, I channel about a quarter of my magii—half is going to my sword, a quarter to my spell—into my thigh chambers. This is a very risky move! I thought. If he realizes what I'm doing and releases another burst of magii, it's all over. I just hope I'm channelling enough to maintain the spell's strength until I get out of here.

  Luck is on my side today, because it looks as if Ivan has no clue what I'm planning; as a matter of fact, his spell seems to be getting weaker. My confidence soars as I finish preparing my chambers. When I finish my channelling, I wait. My plan is an all-or-nothing gamble, and the odds are stacked against me.

  I use up the rest of my natural magii (When I say natural, I mean without going past the limit that results in the appearance of aging), and in one gigantic burst, I unleash the full fury of my spell. He scowls at the sudden attack but doesn't seem to be too w
orried. Right before contact, he channels enough into his spell to push it back to me. This is all according to my plan, though.

  As soon as the blizzard is a few inches from my face, I end my spell and open my leg gates so I can sprint out of the path of the spell. This gave me a huge advantage because he's using up all of his magii countering my assault. He did it effectively, but the whole point was to cripple his magii chamber and force him to go past his natural magii. I take a deep breath, trying to recover as much magii as I can before he attacks again, until I feel a burning cold sensation. Is it even possible to feel both at the same time?

  “That was a very clever plan, boy. Yes, very clever indeed!” Ivan said with a tinge of hatred in his voice. “Unfortunately, I had the same plan myself, and it appears as if I have hit your weak spot. Do not bother getting up; I will just kill you right now.”

  “You know,” I begin, coughing up some blood and still on the ground, “I am really getting tired of you saying that you'll kill me. I mean, gosh, if you say you're going to do something, then follow through. How many times has it been now? Three? Four? Come on, just hurry up and do it!” Talk about striking weak spots; I think I said more than necessary, because he skips whatever he was going to say and stabs at me. Without thinking, I roll out of the way, and then roll back toward the whip, using the momentum I create to stand.

  Ivan attacked me in a wild frenzy, his snow white face now red with embarrassment and anger. He looks as if he's completely disregarding strategy and just wildly flailing now, making his strikes easy to predict and block. I'm not even going to try going on the offensive—he's attacking too much for me to find a good opening. His slashes are relentless, and it's taking all of my energy just to block them. There is an opening, though—something you wouldn't consider unless you are desperate or willing to fight dirty. This really isn't something I should do, and I secretly chastise myself for even considering the option. He has a lot more experience than I do, and I'm pretty sure I'll die otherwise. For the record, though: Why does everything I get involved with have a choice of life or death? Couldn't I have a peace-loving mission? But I take a step back, hold my breath, point my sword at him, and do the first thing I did when I got my Kreysor: unleash my magii in a giant burst of flames.