by Damon Glatz
Please be careful, Nicholas. I’d rather have you alive than have swords, Ohitekah thought.
Nicholas held his sword with two hands now and faced the samurai. The samurai quickly drew his sword and spun it around impressively, making it look light as a feather. He danced and twirled the sword in a set of movements that seemed well rehearsed. The crowd applauded, he waved at them and smiled. He was showing off too.
Cocky, but still impressive, I wouldn’t want to fight him, Ohitekah thought.
The samurai motioned for Nicholas to begin.
Nicholas rushed at him and swung his mighty sword down, the samurai sidestepped it and dodged to the left. He slashed at Nicholas’ side, which was blocked quickly by his sword. The two danced around inside the circle of people, Nicholas swinging and the samurai dodging. It was made clear to Ohitekah now why the samurai and Ronin do not wear armor. They use their speed to dodge attacks.
“That’s Aoki Kazushige,” a bystander next to Ohitekah spoke to someone else. “He fights all the time in the square, he never loses.”
“Uhh, be careful Nicholas!” Ohitekah shouted, now a bit more worried.
Nicholas made a broad swing and missed, the samurai dodged again and slashed his sword effortlessly into Nicholas’ chest.
Ohitekah flinched, but to his immediate relief the samurai sword scraped over Nicholas’ heavy armor leaving behind only a scratch. Both fighters froze.
His armor is too thick for the sword to slash through!
The samurai swiftly slashed again at Nicholas’ side, then his back, both cuts not getting through the armor. Nicholas stood boldly and didn’t bother to move, amused at the Ronin’s attempts to slice through his Vatnic steel.
Nicholas stood and laughed. “This is why you wear armor, friend. I don’t have to be fast.”
The samurai grew frustrated and without pause leaped into the air and made a slice at Nicholas’ neck. He wasn’t about to be made a fool of in front of his crowd. Nicholas blocked it at the last second with his sword and the fight resumed. Nicholas, realizing his throat and face were now his weak spot, and the northerner had the ability to reach it, had to act quickly. The samurai was making every attempt he could to jump into the air and attack Nicholas’ face. Nicholas, who was accustomed to fighting smaller opponents, was not used to blocking high attacks. The samurai’s strikes and dodges seemed effortless. Nicholas was beginning to tire himself out with his blocking.
The samurai sensed his weakness and made a strong swing at Nicholas’ face, which was blocked barely by his sword. The samurai followed the blocked strike with a hard kick in midair. The unsuspected kick knocked Nicholas’ sword from his hand. The samurai landed, glanced at Nicholas who was fumbling to pick his sword back up, and rushed forward to make an upward slash to finish the fight. The crowd roared in excitement.
Ohitekah’s looked away instinctively.
There was a loud clash of steel and a gasp from the crowd. Ohitekah looked back and had a moment of confusion. There was someone new standing between Nicholas and the samurai.
He was a Ronin, one that was not a part of the group of thieves. His robes were black and red. He had black hair that, unlike the other Ronin, was let down and partially covered his face. He had rugged facial hair and dark piercing eyes. Where he had come from was a mystery and he blocked the attack before anyone realized he was there.
He held out his still sheathed sword, one hand on the handle and the other on the sheath itself. The sword was only pulled up about an inch from the sheath, revealing the base of his blade, which is all he needed to block the samurai’s attack. The world froze for a moment as the opposing samurai realized what happened.
Akoi staggered back, away from the new opponent.
“What’s with this guy?” Akoi stammered, glancing to Nicholas.
The new Ronin said nothing, clicked the sheath back to the handle, lowered the sword to his side and turned his back to Akoi. Nicholas looked past the Ronin to Akoi and shrugged, having no idea what happened.
“Well if he is throwing his lot in with you, then that’s fine with me!” Akoi shouted as he raised his sword for another attack.
Akoi swung down on the man’s exposed back. The stranger caught his hand and pulled him forward. In one motion he disarmed Akoi and hit him in the head with the blunt side of his own sword. Akoi fell to the ground. Using Akoi’s sword the new Ronin stabbed him through the hand, driving the blade deep into the dirt, pinning him down.
Akoi screamed in agony and struggled on the ground. The Ronin turned to face the other four samurai, they all drew their swords and rushed at him.
There was a blur of blades and blood. The new Ronin smoothly moved through them, dodging every attack. With his own sword still sheathed at his side, he fought them all at once. The stranger would dodge a swing by a fraction of an inch and disarm the man who attacked. He would strike with lightning attacks, his movements appearing fluid and effortless. This warrior did nothing flashy like the other samurai, using only quick strikes to pressure points. Within seconds they all fell to the ground badly defeated.
I can hardly see what’s happening, he’s so fast, Ohitekah thought as he tried to follow the action.
The unknown Ronin stood over the men around him, all moaning on the ground. He slowly stepped over them and calmly picked up Ohitekah’s things. The mysterious man quietly carried them back across the street, handing them over. Ohitekah was nervous to accept them from this dangerous stranger.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Ohitekah. You may call me Red.”
Chapter Eleven:
Unanswered Questions
“How do you know me?” Ohitekah asked. “Why did you help us?”
Red turned around, motioning with his hand for Ohitekah to follow him. He walked into the crowd that was completely in awe of what they had just witnessed. Nicholas picked up his sword and dusted it off. The once silence of the crowd soon exploded into a riot. People ran forward to help Akoi. The sword keeping his hand pinned to the ground was driven deep, any movement on the blade caused him to scream in pain. His embarrassment in front of the crowd is what made it worse. The rest of the fallen men were afraid to move. The crowd slowly transformed into an angry mob. The trio of Nicholas, Ohitekah, and Red was their source of anger.
They needed to leave.
“I honestly have no idea what just happened,” Nicholas said. He looked bewildered.
“Come on!” Ohitekah motioned for Nicholas to follow him away from the impending riot. They moved as quickly as they could to keep up with Red as he led them away from the scene of the fight.
The mysterious man walked swiftly and silently through the people crowding the streets, sometimes vanishing from view only to reappear seconds later. It was as if the people he moved past had no idea he was even there. He was like a leaf floating down a stream. Yet he seemed to know when he got too far ahead and would slow down, only to vanish again. Ohitekah struggled to keep up with him, and Nicholas began to just plow people out of his way.
“You sure about this guy, kid?” Nicholas shouted over the heads of the crowd. It was hard to say anything over the volume of the city.
“At least he can pronounce my name correctly!” Ohitekah shouted back. “Anyway, he saved your life back there!”
“I woulda ducked it!” Nicholas yelled, followed by a laugh.
No, you were gonna die. He saved you.
Ohitekah jogged forward into a clearing of people. Nicholas caught up with him, huffing and puffing. Red was nowhere to be seen. Ohitekah panicked for a second.
Did we lose him?
“This way,” came Red’s voice from an alleyway to their right. He wasn’t visible, however. As Ohitekah walked down quietly, Nicholas stomped behind him in his steel boots. Ohitekah gave him a glare.
“Be quiet.” Ohitekah hissed.
“In here.” The voice came from behind a wooden door that led into an empty dirt room.
The room was large, open, and dark. T
he floor was nothing but some straw and dust. It seemed as though this hideaway was distant from the bustling city outside. The air was thick in a dirty musk. A familiar smell lingered here as well. There was the sound of a horse and Ohitekah spun around. Bolt and Nicholas’ horse were munching on hay.
“I brought them here this morning, after you left the inn.” Red was resting on his knees in the dirt on the other side of the room. He was sipping tea from a tiny cup. In front of him was a small fire heating a kettle of tea. Red motioned for them to sit.
Ohitekah approached and began to speak, “I don’t know how we can—”
“Do not thank me, I did what was necessary. Please, sit down,” Red spoke in a refined and sharp tone. It was the kind of voice that commanded respect and attention. He spoke with a slight Northern accent, not as thick as others however. Nicholas figured he had been living in Ashland for a while.
Ohitekah sat cautiously, facing him cross-legged. Nicholas thundered down next to him and shook the building.
“You have questions. Now that we are in private, you may ask me anything you wish.”
“Who are you?” Nicholas asked before Ohitekah could speak.
“You may call me Red, I was once a samurai from the north, I now travel here as a Ronin.”
“Now I know your parents did not name you after a color,” Nicholas interrupted him.
“I did not say that was my name, I said that is what you may call me.” He gave Nicholas a stern look and Nicholas fell silent.
“Why did you help us?” Ohitekah asked quietly.
“Because you needed help, and I am going to continue to help you. I know what your quest is, Ohitekah. The boy from the plains. Do you understand the magnitude of your journey?”
Ohitekah stayed quiet, and shook his head.
“The spirits gave you a vision to slay the Thunder Mythic. I know because they gave me similar visions to help you. I have been following you for some time.”
Ohitekah froze.
The arrow at the fort! It must be!
“I am sure your tribe has told you stories of the other gods and Mythics. How familiar are you with these legends?”
Ohitekah snapped back to the conversation. “I only know about the Thunder Mythic, and a little about the god of storms. Plus, what Nicholas has told me about the Water Mythic. So not really much, I guess.”
“Well, in order for us to continue with this, you need to be familiar with what we are up against. This is the story of our world, and the next world beyond.”
He took a deep breath.
“First, there was only The One, the source and beginning of everything. Your culture calls him The Creator, my culture calls him Meimei Kare or ‘He Who Names.’ But he has many titles.
“The One built the Overworld, creating the heavens for himself to live on. It is a perfect world. The One then created the Underworld, a dark realm far below. Lastly he formed the world we live on in the middle, Earth, a flat and simple world. He then created animals, plants and mankind to live on Earth and worship him. He then created lesser gods to live above with him:
“The first god He created was the God of the Sun and War.
“The second was the Goddess of the Seas and Desire.
“The third was the God of Storms, and The Hunt.
“The fourth was the Goddess of Wind and Love.
“The last was the God of the Earth and Death.
“In the beginning. It was just the gods above and the mortals below, all living in harmony and peace. This was the First Age, an immeasurable length of time with peace, magic, and prosperity. However, this all changed in the dawn of the Second Age, as the five gods grew jealous of the loyalty and worship the humans gave to The Creator. Each god created a Mythic, their personal avatar, to reign below, and force the worship onto them.
“The God of the Sun created the Mythic of Fire, a great eastern dragon.
“The Goddess of the Seas created the Mythic of Water, a great sea serpent.
“The God of the Storms created the Mythic of Thunder, a great bird.
“The Goddess of the Winds created the Mythic of Air, a great oriental dragon.
“The God of the Underworld created the Mythic of Earth, a great stone giant.
“These immortal Mythics, using the godly elemental powers given to them, reigned with terror over the peaceful world below. They formed the mountains, the seas, the volcanoes, and the weather... They transformed the world into what we know now. They divided the people into kingdoms, each dedicated to worshiping their own Mythic and god. These kingdoms waged wars amongst themselves for the glory of their god. After an era of unrest and holy wars, The One decided to place the power back into his creature’s hands, and gave humanity the power to kill the Mythics.
“The modern age began when the Eastern Dragon was slain in battle by a Shogun from the north, ending the war between the Feng Dynasty and the kingdom of Ashland. That warrior was then given the powers of the Mythic of Fire, and he has disappeared for over two hundred years. Since that day, the Mythics have been seldom seen, for they know the power of mankind now. The Mythics are very real, and the gods are watching every move we make. The gods do not want their pets killed.
“Yet, you, Ohitekah, are clearly destined to slay the Mythic of Thunder. The rest we can figure out along the way.”
It took Ohitekah a moment for it all to sink in.
Red took a sip of his tea and asked without looking up. “Any more questions?”
“So, if you kill a Mythic, you get its power?” Ohitekah leaned forward.
“Yes.” Red set his cup down. “You will maintain your physical form, yet all the powers and abilities of that Mythic will become yours to control. In essence, there must always be a Mythic of that element, you will simply become the next one.”
“What else happens?”
“You would age until your body peaks, then it will only improve in strength and intelligence. Mythics have no need for rest or food. They live forever until they are killed.”
“How can they be killed?”
“They are incredibly ancient and powerful beasts, stronger than any of us could imagine. They have the powers to destroy mountains or raise the seas, powers to turn the world to ash... They can only be killed two ways by man: a wound to the heart or decapitation. But your weapon must be able to penetrate their natural armor, which for the most part is harder than anything we can create on earth. Your combat skill must also be tuned to perfection. Mythics fight to kill.”
“How do you know all this?” Nicholas asked.
“I was raised in a wealthy household, we were made to study religion daily. In the military we were taught the weaknesses of all our enemies, including the Mythics.”
“Have you ever fought a Mythic?” Ohitekah asked.
“Why would I ever need to?” Red responded, taking another sip of his hot tea. “Now that I think we are done here, Ohitekah and I are going to return to the plains for his training. Nicholas, we will not be needing you anymore.”
Chapter Twelve:
Fate
Nicholas’ face flushed red with rage, he stood up. “Now wait just a minute! We had a deal!”
“I am here to help Ohitekah only, I do not care what you are using him for,” Red said coldly.
“Using him!? We made a deal, we agreed to help each other! Who are you to break us apart?” Nicholas continued, flailing his arms in anger. He didn’t care who this guy was; he was ready to stand his ground against him.
Red looked at Ohitekah, who also stood. “I am not going anywhere until we help Nicholas first,” Ohitekah said sternly. “He saved me and I saved him and we promised to see this through. If you are going to help me you need to help him first.”
Red sat silently, saying nothing for a moment, and finished his small cup of tea. He then stood up and walked out the door without saying a word. Nicholas and Ohitekah stood alone in the dark room.
Ohitekah looked at him. “Well, now what? We finall
y had someone who would help us and now he’s gone!”
“There’s plenty of them northern warriors around, we can find another,” Nicholas argued, glad he was gone.
Not like him, Ohitekah thought to himself. After a moment, they walked their horses out the door and began to ride back through the streets.
They deliberately stayed away from the scene of the fight earlier. Red was nowhere to be found, but Ohitekah did not expect to see him. Ohitekah dwelled on some of the things Red had told him. How the Mythics and the gods came to be, how they have been controlling the world for thousands of years. It reminded him of Nicholas’ story of battling the Water Mythic, how the Mythic demanded sacrifices. If The One was so powerful, why did he let this continue? Why couldn’t he just end all this? Ohitekah wondered if any of what Red said was true, or a lie, and why he called himself by a different name.
The usual commotion of the street began to increase in volume. There were hushed voices telling others to duck and hide. People packed up their shops and closed windows. The streets cleared in moments. Unsure of what was happening, Nicholas cautiously backed his horse up to get off the main street, and Ohitekah followed his example.
Entering the wooden walls of the city were marching lines of brilliantly armored men riding elegant horses in military fashion. They were flying the banners of the capitol of Ashland. Unlike the usual Ashland flag, which was a black dragon on a red banner, these men flew a silver dragon on their crimson.
“It’s the Royal Guard. They serve the king and the royal family of Ashland. I wonder what they’re doin’ ‘ere,” Nicholas said quietly. The peasants who were reluctant to flee were lining the streets bowing, trying to avoid a beating.
There was a man riding in the center of the guards, and they both recognized him at once. Ohitekah had seen him before, at the fortress.
“That there’s the prince of Ashland,” Nicholas whispered.
