by Jake Stone
“Stay sharp,” Atia says over the com. I look to my right, finding her walking in step with me. “The deeper we go, the worst we should expect.”
“Agreed. How are the wounds?” I ask.
“They’re fine,” she replies curtly. “Yours?”
“The same.”
A line of stalagmites rises from the ground, and we’re forced to swerve to the right, leaving the rest of the group to drift to the left.
“How about your girlfriend?” she asks.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say.
“She’s not?” Atia glances over her shoulder at the girl. “Sure looks like it. Every chance she gets she’s hanging on your every word. Poor girl. I don’t think she’s ever seen a male before.”
“Why do you hate her so much?” I ask.
“Who says I hate her?” Atia replies. “I actually feel sorry for her. She’s put her entire world at risk.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Think about it, Xander. The Republic doesn’t take transgressions against the church lightly. I’ve seen entire worlds cleansed for less than what Tora and her people did. If the church finds out that they’ve been hiding a witch from them for over five hundred years, there’s no question what they’ll do.”
“Incarceration?”
She snorts. “How little you know of our church.”
“What then?”
“Extermination.”
“Extermination? Are you serious?”
“The extent to which the Republic will go to guarantee the survival of mankind knows no bounds, Xander. Genocide. Eradication. Torture.”
“Torture?”
“You remember Candatoria,” she says, reminding me of that frightful afternoon in the confessional. A statuesque brunette in black leather with a whip ruling over a dark dungeon, Candatoria was the church’s inquisitor, a psychic with no remorse. “She was but a dream compared to the genetic scientists who’d want nothing more than to dissect an abhuman.”
I shiver from the thought. “Is that why you never mentioned me to the Battle Saints?” I ask. “Why you never brought up the prophecy of the Light Bringer to them?”
“If they suspected you were something other than a normal human being, I doubt you’d still be here with us.”
“But I thought you said your oath is to the Republic?”
“It is,” she says. “But I believe you and Rachel have a part to play in this war. What that is exactly I’m not sure of. What I do know, though, is that your utter lack of faith puts us all in danger.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault we’re in this shit?”
“Not exactly,” she says. “But the sooner you wake up to your role in this war, the better off we’ll be.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” I ask.
“That’s a good question,” she says. “One that you’ll have to answer for yourself. For me, absolution only came when I was on the verge of losing everything. It’s only then that we have no choice but to turn to the light.”
“Well, I’ve got news for you. I’ve already lost everything, and I’m still plain old Xander.”
“Unfortunately,” she says. “That is true.”
I watch as she hangs back, wanting to ask her what she meant by that. But she falls in step with Petronelous who quickly makes room for her.
“Is everything okay?”
Tora draws my attention as reaches for my wrist. Her hand is small against the gauntlet of my armor, but there’s an elegance to it, an artistic slimness in the way her fingers bend as they clutch tightly to my armored fingers, almost desperately. It makes me feel wanted, needed. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”
“Better,” she says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve expended myself this much. Bantha never let me stray too far.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But you’ll never have to worry about being a slave again. I promise.”
“You can’t promise me such a thing, Xander, but I appreciate it nonetheless. You’re sweet with a good heart. Just spending time with you has helped more than you can imagine.”
She gazes up at me, her eyes blinking as a smile comes to her face. Her beauty is natural, innocent, the kind that touches your soul the moment you see her. I hate to think of what she and her people went through under such conditions.
“Can I ask you something?” she says, blushing as she peeks up at me.
“Anything.”
She covers her mouth, embarrassed by what it is she wants to know, and my heart skips a beat, worrying that it might be something too personal. “Do you have any more of those protein bars?”
I snort, unable to hide my amusement. We’ve been walking for some time now and she’s probably still spent from her time in the lake. Being a Saint, I forget sometimes how fast a regular human’s metabolism is. “Sure,” I say, reaching into the supply bag hanging on my shoulder and digging out one of the last bars we have.
Tora snatches the bar from my hand and beams me with a proud grin when she rips the wrapper open and chomps nearly half of it in one bite.
“Mmm…” she moans, her eyes resting shut as she savors the taste.
“You like it?” I ask.
“Not really,” she says, taking another bite. “But when you’re starving, you’ll eat bug shit to stay alive.”
“You’ve eaten bug shit before?” I ask, with a frown.
“It’s called humor,” she says.
“Oh,” I say and laugh. Her spirits are up. That’s good.
The passage Tora leads us into is long and narrow. No different from the other passages we’ve had to circumvent in the past. Yet, by the way this passage winds and winds, leading us forever deeper and deeper into the mountain, it makes me feel as if we’re lost somehow.
A real sense of claustrophobia starts to creep up on me, and I do my best to block out the fact that we’re miles and miles beneath tons of rock. Even if I could, it would take hours if not days for me to escape to the surface.
Out in the world, beyond these cavernous walls and solid rock, I’m a powerful warrior, a Battle Saint whose strength and ferocity rivals that of a demon’s. But here, within this mountain, within this tiny opening Tora calls a passage, I’m nothing but a nervous tourist looking to their guide for comfort and support.
Tora glances at me, her face tightening in confusion as her gaze lowers to my feet. I’ve slowed down. And because of this, the women behind me have halted as well.
Tora smiles. “Come, it’s fine.” She waves me to follow. “Just a little bit farther. I promise. And then we’ll reach a much larger cavern where you can relax in.”
“Alright,” I say, taking a deep breath as I press on.
After a while, the tunnel opens up, and I find myself in a larger cavern just as Tora had promised. The relief I feel as I’m able to stand upright is indescribable, and I’m suddenly bending backward like an old man who has a crack in his back.
“Thank the corfew,” Zorel says, her voice sparking through my helmet. “I thought my back was going to break in that little anus of a tunnel.”
“Right?” I reply. “Hopefully, that’s the last one.”
“Doubt it,” Atia responds bitterly. “The way these passages have been I wouldn’t be surprised if we encounter a couple more of them. It’s almost as if Xander’s little girlfriend is purposely trying to make us crazy.”
“Agreed,” Petronelous replies.
“What are they saying?” Tora asks, unable to hear our communication over the com.
“How lucky we are to have you as our guide,” I tell her.
The revelation brings a smile to her face, and she offers a welcoming nod to Atia, who rudely remains still.
Goddamnit, Atia.
“Come,” Tora says, reaching for my gauntlet once again. “We’re almost there.”
The cavern is lined with fences of stalagmites that are large enough for tiny hellions to hide behind. I hear the zing of rectifiers charging with pulse blasts b
ehind me, and I know that the women are thinking the same thing. We need to be careful, for anything.
Above us, stalactites hang like the bodies of dead men, dripping with pearls of water, that splatter against the plates of our armor. Tora’s hair quickly goes wet, while at our feet, a tiny stream runs gently alongside us, filling the cavern with the sound of rushing water. I glance at it suspiciously, worrying that something might jump out and attack us if we’re not careful. But the water is so thin that I can actually see the black ground beneath it.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tora says, igniting a ball of fire in her hand that’s large enough to illuminate the entire cavern.
The tiny flame overpowers the thermal vision of my helmet, causing my screen to bloom into a white light.
“Not again!” Petronelous complains as she and the other women behind me rush to do the same.
“I’m sorry,” Tora apologizes, extinguishing the fire from her hand. Without the flare, the cavern suddenly turns completely dark, and we’re left blinded in the cavern.
“Now I can’t see,” Petronelous says, annoyed.
I do my best to keep from laughing, knowing that it’ll only make the redhead angrier.
“Relax,” a voice says.
Behind us, a miniature ball of light appears in the darkness, and I see the face of Zorel who’s holding it in her hand. Our eyes meet, and she grins. Tora follows her lead by reigniting the fire once more, and with that, we’re able to see again with our own eyes.
“Turn them off,” Petronelous orders.
“Why?” Zorel asks.
Petronelous hesitates as she struggles for a reply. “The light casts shadows. We won’t be able to see behind the stalactites.”
“Perhaps it’s because you have poor vision,” Zorel says, holding her sister’s gaze.
“My vision is fine,” Petronelous replies in defiance. She pulls her blade from her back, the whoosh of its movement slicing through the silence of the cavern, and aims it at Zorel. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”
“Ever the soldier,” Zorel says. “Always relying on blade and honor.”
“What else is there?” Petronelous asks. “Laughing and amusement?”
“At least I’m not boring,” Zorel replies.
I notice Chun Hei moving in between the two women. It’s a subtle twist of the body, one meant to appear casual. But I know what’s going on. We all do.
“This isn’t the time or the place,” I say, hoping that they’ll heed my words. But they don’t. They remain fixed with their heated stares.
I turn to Atia, hoping that she’ll do something. But our captain appears entertained by the standoff.
“You need to end this,” I whisper to her. “We’re wasting time.”
My voice stirs her from the entertainment, and she looks at me, eyes suddenly becoming aware. “Stand down,” she orders. Her voice has returned to its usual tone, strict and unemotional. It’s enough to pierce through the women’s focus and they each turn away.
“We march on with the natural light,” Atia decides. “Thermal has its limits, especially against ghosts.” She turns to me and nods in unexpected appreciation.
“Sounds good,” I say.
The cavern continues deeper into the mountain, twisting into a narrower passageway that reawakens my claustrophobia. But my thoughts are somewhere else. I’m concerned about what is happening with my friends.
I’ve never seen them like this before. I fear that something might happen between them, a spark that ignites into a combustible explosion that will leave us in worse shape than when we began.
“Your friends are on edge,” Tora says in concern. “I fear they might fight again.”
“You and me both. Is it the witch?”
“Most likely,” she replies. “Her power comes in subtle forms. You should say something. Remind them of the situation.”
I glance back at the women, finding Atia and Petronelous walking side by side. Chun Hei and Zorel trailing just behind them.
“They look alright for now,” I say. “Besides, we’re in a hurry. The Republic army will be forced to march soon, and we can’t stop to have a therapy session.”
“Therapy session?” Her brow creases.
I laugh softly. Of course, she doesn’t know what therapy is. She’s been trapped on this ice planet her entire life, forced to survive in frigid temperatures, where demon slavers have come to rule. I think she’d be more inclined to understand a trial by combat rather than sitting on a couch and pouring out her feelings to someone who gets paid by the hour.
“It’s nothing,” I say. “Never mind.”
“Tell me about your world?” she asks suddenly, her eyes beaming with excitement. “Is it beautiful?”
“Earth?” I shrug. “It can be. There are some really lovely parts, like oceans and beaches.”
“Is there snow?” she asks.
“On some parts,” I say. “But not as bad as here. On earth, we have seasons.”
“Seasons?”
“Months where the planet enjoys different climates and temperatures,” I explain. “Some months it’s hot, some months it’s cold. It just depends.”
“Ah,” she says, nodding. “Seasons. Yes, I know what these are now. According to my father, Korath used to have seasons as well. Times when the sun would hover in the sky well into the day and the people wore little clothing. It must’ve been a wonderful time to be alive back then, to live so peacefully and in such a safe place.”
“I bet.”
The thought of Tora dressed as she is now running under a hot sun, moments before jumping into a pool of water ignites my imagination, and I begin to feel my pulse rise.
“Sounds fun,” I say.
“It does, doesn’t it?” she asks. “But that was before the War of Darkness, before the witch.”
“Hopefully, we can put an end to all of that,” I say.
“Do you think that’s really possible?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll try. Who knows, maybe in a couple of years, the snow will thaw, and things will go back to the way it used to be.”
“That would be nice,” she says, her arm linking into mine. “I’d love to see it with you one day.”
“Me too,” I say, meaning it with all of my heart.
We walk for a while, the echoed sound of our steps and the splash of water our only companions. I feel good walking with Tora, or as well as I can expect in this dark mountain.
“I never thanked you,” Tora says.
I glance down at the young woman. Her face is red against the flame in her hand, but I can tell that she’s blushing.
“You don’t need to thank me,” I tell her. “We were just doing our job.”
“Your job?” she asks, frowning.
“Yeah, you know, our duty?”
She makes a sound of disappointment. “So that’s why you helped us, huh? Because it was your … job?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I quickly say, trying to correct myself.
“How can it not be what you meant if you said it?”
“You’re mixing up my words.”
“No,” she says, “You’re mixing up your words.”
Inside, I feel a flicker of anger. I’m suddenly irritated with her, frustrated by her sudden aggression. What the hell’s wrong with her? We just risked our lives to save her and her people? And now she’s upset because she thinks that I didn’t want to?
“You’re being ridiculous,” I say.
“And you’re being unkind.”
I see her eyes filling with anger, and the flame in her hands suddenly growing. My eyes widen at the fire, and I suddenly feel the need to grip my sword and defend myself.
“You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” Tora asks. “That we’re nothing but a nuisance the Republic has to endure to achieve its strategy?”
“Not at first,” I say. “But now that you mention it, yeah that sounds about right.”
T
ora’s about to reply with a scathing comment when I hear the sound of rocks cracking from the wall behind us.
Spinning around, I see Chun Hei tackling Atia from behind, the two of them falling on the ground where they engage in a wrestling match.
They must’ve been arguing behind us the entire time, flicking their fingers in the dark at one another over some petty squabble.
Zorel halts in her tracks, her eyes growing wide at the fray, while Petronelous moves to make room, ending up on the opposite side of the fight. I watch for a moment, frozen by the display before I rush in to break it up.
“Stop it!” I demand as I pull them apart.
I’m bigger than either woman, but they’re still strong and deadly. Atia especially. She has Chun Hei in some grappling hold that was never taught to us at the Monastery. It takes everything I have to pry her legs from Chun Hei’s waist. But still, I’m not strong enough to rip them apart.
Desperate, I glance up at Zorel and Petronelous who are watching the fight from feet away. They don’t help. Instead, they glare at each other, feeding off the anger and hate that’s irradiating off the two women.
Finally, I’m able to pull them apart. Atia wrenches herself free of my grip, her blue eyes steaming with vengeance, while Chun Hei is silent in her defiance.
“What happened?” I sign to Chun Hei.
“The captain has gone crazy!” she replies, her fingers trembling from the adrenaline pumping through her system. “She thinks that I’m undermining her.”
“She is!” Atia yells, her eyes lost, her hair frazzled. She reminds me of a belligerent homeless person yelling at anyone who’ll listen to her. In her despair, she turns to Petronelous for help. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Petronelous pauses for a moment, her gaze shifting to Zorel, where it remains for a heartbeat. “Yes,” she says decidedly as if suddenly remembering the incident clearly in her mind. “Yes, Captain. She was.”
Petronelous reaches for her second blade, pulling it out and taking a step forward. The act draws Zorel’s attention, and a bemused grin tainted with sadistic pleasure peals across the elemental’s face.
“You’re all doomed,” Tora says.
