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Archer (2)

Posted by Ebonstorm on April 18, 2013
Posted in: 30 Characters in 30 Days 2013, 30 Stories in 30 Days 2013, 30 x 30 x 30, Mythic Qin, Short Story. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 3 Comments

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a tale of Mythic Qin

Ruo-jian Chao walked slowly down the road in the early afternoon toward a device intricately made; a machine whose origins were of an alien design, one combining the majesty of clockwork mechanisms and the power of steam engines. Though Qin had both types of devices, they were never used together and never as weapons of war. The West had different sensibilities, it seemed to the old man.

The device was a giant. It stood twice the height of a tall man and as wide as a man was tall. It moved on two legs, its gait before it stopped was surprisingly swift despite is mass and its wide feet managed to move through any terrain without difficulty. It was made of an orange metal which might be brass, except it was far too red. It wasn’t purely copper either because no verdigris addressed its joints or extremities, areas known to rust on machines made from copper. The machine had a unhealthy shine, something about its appearance drove the eye away from it, making you unable or unwilling to focus on it.

The old man stopped and adjusted his chakra, his inner Qi energies and made a single handsign. Suddenly he could see the enchantments on the armor. A large rune was hidden in its ornate carvings, a powerful but primitive rune of misdirection. A warrior who trusted only his eyes might swing wide or aim too high as the rune altered their perception of the target.

Despite its cunning design as a mighty weapon of war, it was little more than a blunt instrument, like a sledgehammer made for destroying rocks in a quarry. Hardly the right tool for a threat such as he. It was not a tool he would have to fear. He would flow like water around it.

He approached within thirty yards and stopped. “I have no quarrel with thee. Go in peace. Return from whence you came and no more will be spoken of it, no honor lost.” Ruo-jian Chao’s accent was a bit thick but he thought it should be understandable to the drivers of the mechanism. He used the formal speech of the Western Kingdoms as he had learned when they came to this land so long ago.

The device, which looked so much like a man, had a face molded into the area where the head would be. The mouth opened and the clever device appeared to speak much as a man would, its mouth moving in syncopation with its words. “We will pass and you will allow it. You are one and we are as many.”

“Thou means to say, your power is as many, so I should allow thee to pass since you have the might to do so?”

“Yes.”

“It is our custom to reveal your name so that a warrior may tell your kin of your deeds in battle. You may call me Ruo-jian Chao. This province belongs to my family and in the absence of its garrison and guardians, I will send thee away or to thy doom.” The old man seemed to stand straighter, his cloak which he had kept over his slumped shoulders, fell away, revealing a thin shirt and a powerful chest. His arms and shoulders were covered in scars. His legs boasted an equal number of such scars and his brown skin was lined like a worn parchment. His wide and shoeless feet slid into the grass, feeling the earth and knowing its density, its resistance and how it would aid or impede his movement. The quiver of arrows were low-slung so they did not interfere as his cloak fell away.

“We have no such custom where we come from, but know this: We are not alone. You mistook our statement. Behold.” Two dozen men appeared as if they stepped from the shadows. A rune appeared on their armor for only a moment as they appeared, cloaked by magic. Each wore the livery of the Clockwork King, a great gear, a hammer and a sword on their tabard. They were lightly armed, a hardened leather-like armor, much like a fish’s scales. They wore a strange mask similar to the clockwork device’s face, their emotions hidden from view.

Ruo-jian Chao watched their movements, they moved as a unit, familiar with each other, trained together. The archers maintained their distance, while the swordsman, using two swords, one long and the other short approached in a crescent formation. The giant stood at the center of their attack wedge. “Can we broker no peace?”

“None. If you will not yield, you will die.”

The archers tightened their draw. The swordsman waited until the first volley would incapacitate their foe. The Clockwork raised its right hand and a small cannon protruded from its palm.

“So be it.” Ruo-jian Chao launched his first arrow before anyone saw him move. The Clockwork device fired its cannon a split second after he loosed his arrow.

Dà Gōng Nán sang a song of power. The release of the bowstring gave forth a musical note which caused everyone who heard it to hesitate, such was the power of the vibration from the bow. Its first arrow penetrated the great cannon and when it fired, the arm exploded from within. Shrapnel from the explosion caught two of the swordsmen closest to it and blew them from their feet. Their torn bodies were still landing before Dà Gōng Nán sang again. The archer farthest from Ruo-Jian flew from his feet as the arrow caught him in his eye, his turning head caused his arrow to be loosed and strike another swordsman in the back. Spinning from his shooting position, he heard seven arrows pass where he was a moment ago. Two archers held their shot.

The swordsman were fast, two of them closed the old man and their swords were flashing slivers of light as they attempted to carve Ruo-jian apart. Normally he would have had his own sword and they would already be dead. Instead he disarmed one by stepping inside of his swing and turned him around into his companion who would stab him. With the short sword released by the dying man, Ruo-jian spun and stabbed the second swordsman in the neck.

The release of two arrows. The old man dropped as the two swordsman were now pinned together by the remaining arrows.

Breath. Roll. Throw. The long knife flashed into the mask of an oncoming swordsman.

Ruo-jian grabbed his body as a shield when the next volley of arrows flew. Four found their mark in the swordsman’s flesh. One nicked Ruo-jian as he spun away. The last archer was slow in his firing and shot after his fellows. The old man plucked his arrow from the air and flipping it with his fingertips, restrung and fired before the archer had realized he missed.

They were moving slower. More disorganized. Not used to having to work. What’s that?

A click preceded the explosion of the ground front of him and only his quick reflexes spared him from the worst of the damage. The other swordsmen who were closing on Ruo-jian were knocked down and away from the old man who had landed in the tall grass at the edge of the road. Only one swordsman remained on his feet as the second arm cannon of the Clockwork fired into the midst of the attacking soldiers. Monstrous! They would kill their own to destroy an enemy.

Face down, Ruo-jian had held on to his bow, the mighty Dà Gōng Nán. As he brought the weapon to bear on the Clockwork device, it had opened two more gun ports on its chest plate. He would have to choose. Before he could make the shot, the Clockwork device exploded as the one of the two bolts from the ballista tore through one of its legs. Realizing the Clockwork would now spin to the left, its aim would be off. It’s chest cannons roared as its two shells streaked off into the distance. The old warrior didn’t have time to wonder where they might land. Ruo-jian sprinted and shot at one of the remaining archers who had maintained his presence of mind and was shooting at the same time.

Their arrows passed each other in flight. The old man shot better. Taking the younger bowman in the chest his arrow went completely through him. Ruo-jian was already taking his next shot. The now dead archer, however, did hit his mark and the old man’s thigh also had an arrow protruding from it. Their bows were less powerful and lacked penetrating power. Dà Gōng Nán sang again making one more shot and taking one more life before its bowstring broke, damaged by shrapnel in the explosion.

Ruo-jian watched as the remaining five archers sensing a momentary advantage rallied to fire again. The lone swordsman looking at his stunned and downed fellows hesitated, hoping the archers might take the day. Ruo-jian held Dà Gōng Nán out in front of him and with his free hand made a rapid handsign. He planted the end of the bow in the ground as the archers shot collectively. Dà Gōng Nán sprouted five arrows, seemingly drawing the arrows to it. Ruo-jian was already on the move, scooping up a longsword and short sword as he ran toward the archers.

Slowing down. Chakra disrupted by arrow. I need to end this now or I’m finished.

The old man could feel his jutsu’s failing, but he only needed a few more seconds. The short sword was thrown with speed and accuracy taking out the archer closest to him. Using the other longsword he parried two of the arrows as the third caught him in is upper arm, the fourth flew wide and that archer was the one closest to him. A single slash of his sword and his head was gone. Ruo-jian turned to face the remaining three archers and single swordsman. Blood flowed down his face from a shrapnel injury, multiple cuts across his upper body as well as the two arrows made him appear more monster than man. For a second the four of them stood motionless, each evaluating the other.

The crash of the Clockwork device as it toppled decided the battle. The last four fled without looking back.

Ruo-jian watched as they fled down the road. Then his chakra ran out and he collapsed where he stood.

When he awoke, his grandson Chen stood over him, a smile beaming on his face. “The last four were headed toward the White Mountains. We think they’re going to try and desert. There were two other survivors from the shell that exploded in the group. We tied them up and put them next to their machine. The rest of the dead have been taken off the road as well. We’ve stationed the ballista so they point down the road, but there have been no other sightings of anyone else coming that way for the moment. We have people keeping watch.”

“Which of you missed with the ballista?”

“I did, grandfather. Pa-mel’s shot was excellent. She is helping with their setup.”

“You might want to get more practice.” The old man noticed he had been patched up relatively well and would be adding a few more scars to his collection. “Where is Dà Gōng Nán?”

“Right here. We couldn’t remove the arrows.” Chen demonstrated by pulling each arrow as hard as he could.

“There’s a jutsu on the bow, so you won’t be able to pull them out. Only I could. The arrow shield jutsu made sure no arrow would hit me as long as I held Dà Gōng Nán.

“If no one could hit you as long as you were using the jutsu, then why didn’t you carry it with you to protect you from their arrows?” Chen looked at his grandfather with a look of profound confusion.

The old man reached over and grabbed one of the Clockwork archer’s bows and quivers. He hobbled away from his grandson who was still holding Dà Gōng Nán. He fired an arrow at the boy. Chen reflexively held the ancient weapon in front of him. The arrow found itself embedded in the bow. “Try to move with the bow in your hand,” Ruo-jian directed. Ruo-jian fired again as Chen tried to take a step. The bow caught the arrow again and Chen had not moved. Not a single step.

The old man dropped the foreign bow and was helped over to his grandson. “I told you when we first discussed handsigns and jutsu, every jutsu offers an advantage and a price for using it. In this case, the arrow-shield sacrifices mobility, a pure and nearly perfect defense but no offense. Since they could not know about it, they would not realize what they were seeing until it was too late. I used their surprise to my advantage.” His grandfather made a handsign and stroked the bow gently. The seven arrows dropped to the ground, unbroken. His face hardening, he looked at the wreckage and then at Chen. “Take me to them.”

Chen hoisted his grandfather onto his back and walked to the still smoking wreckage of the Clockwork device. His grandfather felt lighter and more frail. His old body was cold and trembling uncontrollably; the price of using so much chakra at his age. He would probably sleep for a week.

The two swordsman sat with their heads slumped forward and unmoving. Chen put Ruo-jian down next to the men who lifted their masked faces and appeared startled as the still bloody and bandaged old man sat before them. Trying to use the informal speech of the West, Ruo-jian spoke to the two soldiers, “This battle is now over. We offer you a chance at peace with us, or at least a return to your people.” Ruo-jian invoked the ritual of hospitality with reluctance. He had seen these people in battle and knew they would never keep their word as a native of Qin might.

“We refuse your offer. Our God-King will come to this forsaken land and cleanse it. He will build our factories of war with your bones as our fuel. Your blood will be used to drive our infernal devices giving them the life they need to continue our conquest of your land. Your people are nothing before our might.” The last statement trailed off as if he were embarrassed he had made it.

“My grandfather destroyed your machine and your men alone. He is nearly seventy summers old. Your might has not impressed us much.” Chen’s thoughts left his lips before he considered them seriously. His grandfather’s stern and reproving look said as much.

“Tell us of your advancing army, how soon before they arrive here?” Ruo-jian had no hope they would tell him anything useful. If there was anyone else coming down the road soon, he was in no shape to contend with it. The ache went all the way to his bones.

The second swordsman who had remained silent up till now, raised and cocked his head. “Our army is still quite a ways off, old warrior. We were sent to test the mettle of those we encountered along the way. When we met resistance and did not return, they would send the forces required to pacify this region, nothing more. When they return, there will be machines far more powerful than this training weapon and warriors far more seasoned than we. They will show no quarter. Expect none. I have told you more than I should but your skill in defeating us warrants my respect.”

Together in unison, they shouted: “We are from the Machine by the Machine and of the Machine. We return to the Machine. All hail the Clockwork!” Then the two soldiers began to scream as smoke rose from inside their armor and masks. Their bodies shook violently as they began to smolder and burst into flame. Suddenly all of the soldiers bodies did the same thing, exploding into flame. The farmers moved away in horror as the bodies of their enemies caught on fire. In the distance, four distinct screams echoed off the White Mountains, agonized screams which carried on the wind and too eventually stopped.

As the fires died, Ruo-jian took off one of their masks. The seared flesh peeled away from the bone beneath the mask. The stink of burning flesh rose into the late afternoon air.

Archer, a Tale of Mythic Qin © Thaddeus Howze 2013, All Rights Reserved

Archer © JOOse, Deviant Artist, All Rights Reserved

Written For 30

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Archer (1)

Posted by Ebonstorm on April 15, 2013
Posted in: 30 Characters in 30 Days 2013, 30 Stories in 30 Days 2013, 30 x 30 x 30, Mythic Qin, Short Story. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

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a tale of Mythic Qin

“The Great Wyrms of Westerwood were incredible beasts, easily as long as twenty wagons stretched end to end and weighing more than a full grown oak.”

My grandfather was a doddering old fool but he knew how to tell a good tale. I had heard this one so many times, even when I was out of earshot, his telling of this particular tall tale came back to me, in my inner ear.

“These were the greatest of the Great Wyrms. None had been seen like that since the wars of the Third Age in which they were all destroyed. Unable to be tamed, we battled them until they were driven from our skies. Our mountains still bear the great scars as the Wyrms fell and destroyed themselves against the mountain walls.”

I turned around to see the White Mountains and the brutal scars which adorned her sides. Trees grew halfway to the summit before the mountains became inhospitable, only ice and snow covered the rest. There were three gouges in the side of the mountain, large even from this distance, as if the mountain had been struck by a one of the Clockwork King’s bombs. Up close, it might take half a day to cross one of the scarred regions. Nothing natural grew in those places now.

“They had four legs, as thick as tree trunks. No I don’t mean seedlings either. It would take two men to be able to reach around those legs, I tell you. Their wing span was nearly as wide as they were long. Great wings which blotted out the sun if you saw them during the day. Their wings were thick as the leather armor I once wore serving the God-Emperor of Qin. But they were supple, too. They could be folded back along their body and this made them able to run faster than the fastest horse. Even on foot, they were something out of nightmare.”

My grandfather would sit and look out over the field with a short bow helping to protect us against predators while we farmed. Our county lost our last dog to the dire wolves which prowled the kingdom since the Clockwork King’s armies began their assault against Qin. The youngest who were too small to farm would sit with him and listen to his stories about early Qin and our southern border neighbors Wester, named after their greatest invader conqueror King Wester.

“Unlike their smaller wyvern cousins we tamed, the Great Worms could not be broken. They were proud and noble beasts. In the end, they flew high in the skies to avoid us. So high even my bow, Dà Gōng Nán couldn’t reach them.”

My grandfather was not nearly as humble as my father, Wu Chao, thought he should be. Perhaps it comes from grandfather having once been a great warrior. He was called Ruo-jian Chao, the Unsurpassed Blade, once known for his mastery of the sword and the great longbows of the Southern Provinces. But what battle does not take from a man, old age eventually does. Closer to seventy summers than sixty, he had grown infirm from a back injury he acquired during one of our many border wars. He could walk but it was agony for him, even using a cane brought him no relief.

I carried him to the edge of the field into a small covered tower to let him keep his eyes on the children. I was no warrior but a scholar like my father. This disappointed my grandfather greatly. He insisted I be trained in the basic arts of war. He honed my body’s strength and I secretly cheered even as I outwardly chaffed being taken from my studies. I gained the best of two worlds. I enjoyed the fact I could carry him to the field without struggle or strain.

He insisted on being allowed to stand watch and telling stories to the youngest of the children which kept them from underfoot until they could help with the farming chores. Though he could not stand for long, his arms were still strong enough to choke a wolf to death, barehanded. His archery, even with the inferior short bow, was never less than perfection itself.

My father, thanks to his own craft and my grandfather’s service held this land on the edge of the kingdom with a small garrison to help keep the farming resources flowing into the empire. My father was always fond of saying, “Shen, one day, this will all be yours. All I ask is you be ready for it.” The life of a farmer was not one I sought but came to me anyway.

“Their skin was tougher than the strongest iron and as black as the midnight coal. Up close, their scales were pitch black and cast no reflection at all. These were creatures designed to hide in dark places, only their gleaming golden eyes would give them away. They were thought to be so dark, men were known to take cover and stand right next to one without knowing, thinking they had found a shadow perfect for the waiting. A yellow glow and a final chomp was all that was left of them.” The children laughed at his overemphasis on the sound effects of his story.

Since the Clockwork Wars began nearly thirty years ago, they ravaged the kingdoms and provinces to the north and east. Recently, King Wester’s family and the bordering forest of the Westerwood have made overtures of peace and my father and the other elders have been eager to entertain them, since both sides have suffered great losses. Our province which encompasses my father’s land and the lands of Wester, south of us have begun to see more of the forces from the once distant war creeping ever closer to home.

“What about at night, noish-pa, did the Great Worms hunt at night?” One of the children piped up at the appropriate time.

“An astute question, young one, planning on a career in dragon-hunting?” The young child hoisted his tiny bow, a perfect replica of grandfather’s bow, Dà Gōng Nán.”

“Noish-pa, there are no such things as the Great Wyms anymore, only their much smaller cousins. You told us there hadn’t been a dragon seen even in the forest of Westerwood for thirty summers.” One of the girls from a neighboring farm, Pa-mel, shouted as she dropped off a bundle of rice and took a sip of water in the shade.

“Nonsense girl, they have just taken to flying at night because of bows like mine. Our province once boasted some of the finest archers in Qin. Even the dragons knew they had better take to flying only at night. But as much as we feared them in the day, at night they were even worse. Night hunters, they flew silently, snatching cows from the field barely disturbing even the grass under their feet. By the time you heard the whoosh of them overhead, all you would feel would be the wind of their mighty wings and the cries of your cow moving away in the distance. It was chilling.”

“Brrrrr.” the children squeal in unison.

“Would one of you youngsters bring your noish-pa something to parch an old man’s throat?” As the youngster hopped down from the covered overlook built for archers, Grandfather picked up his bow and moved the arrows in between his knees. His face lost the smile we had come to expect from him.

Then I heard it too. A whistle in the distance, the whistle of a steam engine, something large and mobile. The whistling sound grew steadily closer. As it crested the hill, we could see it in the distance; grey and brown with a stilted gait. It was a clockwork machine! There weren’t supposed to be any of their machine armies this far south. The machine moved slowly, clumsily, not like anything my father or grandfather described.

“It’s damaged. That makes it twice as dangerous. That device usually has at least two men with it. But it could support two dozen. I don’t see anyone but that could mean it is just being used to draw fire while their soldiers steal and burn food supplies. Shen, bring me Dà Gōng Nán and her arrows from below. Then get everyone out of the field. Pa-mel, you go with Shen and the other men to arm the two ballista at the edge of the field. Wait for my signal. I will stop it where you have the best chance at a shot.

“Grandfather, how will you get to the machine?” He stood up at the top of the tower and made some rapid handsigns. Signs he had never taught me. Then he walked to the edge of the tower and jumped to the ground. Qi mastery was not something to be taken lightly. He explained to me it should be used only in emergencies. This must qualify.

“I’ll walk, you take care of everyone else.” Taking Dà Gōng Nán from me, he turned and ambled down toward the road to face the deadly mechanism. Alone.

End of Part 1 – Duck into the tall grass and read Archer, part 2

Archer, a Tale of Mythic Qin © Thaddeus Howze 2013, All Rights Reserved

Archer © JOOse, Deviant Artist, All Rights Reserved

Written For 30

Strong Winds Here

Posted by Ebonstorm on March 28, 2013
Posted in: Short Story. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

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a tale of Mythic Qin

The sun rose over Wu Bay province and the rice fields were full and green, terraces overflowing with bounty. Only the encroaching thunderstorm on the opposite horizon spoke of an ominous change by midday.

A farmer sat on a rock, his wide brimmed hat tipped forward blocking the rising sun. His coat was long and thick keeping out most of the morning chill, but its tattered edges spoke of a long relationship with the tiny man beneath its folds.

Wooden clogs cover the bottom of his feet raising them out of the mud on the edge of the road where he sat on a stone looking eastward. He reached into his coat and pulled out a rice ball wrapped in waxed paper. He slowly and methodically unwraps it, as if it were a ritual, performed with reverence, for no one in particular.

He bit the ball of slightly sweetened rice and inhaled its fragrance. It still smelled of the field of its birth, redolent with earthy scents…jasmine high on the hills over the farm, its scent passing through the rice, on its way down into the valley below.

The farmer heard the man approaching long before he saw him.

A giant, whose footfalls, were as thunder on this tiny road, his every step leaving a crater of mud surrounding each foot.

He wore wooden armor, painted lacquer, a fiery red with persimmon flowers, tiny yellow buds, decorated it in bold swirls. His arms and legs were uncovered and showed massive thews flexing powerfully in the morning sun. He wore armored gloves and boots, of a matching blood red, which shimmered with their own sinister light.

He carried three weapons, a short sword, worn at his waist, a long slightly curved sword at his hip and a long, beautiful carved spear in his left hand. The characters on the shaft of the spear, would flicker in the sun, making different words which reflected the mindset of its warrior.

This morning, the word “magnificent” flashed on and off slowly, as its majestic master strode like a god across the earth.

“Good morning, sir.” The old man remained impassive and unmoving beneath his hat.

“Morning. Yep. It is. You look a bit out of place young man. No wars in these provinces for quite some time.”

“I am not here for a war. I am Shu Wang Lung, I am the Fist of the Emperor and legendary dragon master. Surely you’ve heard of me?” The warrior took off his helmet and turned face, left and right showing off his stunning profile.

A final bite of the rice ball is chewed slowly and thoroughly before answering. “Nope. Never heard of you.” The old man opens his wax paper back into a flat disk, before he begins refolding it, his hands flowing easily through the hypnotic pattern until the paper was a fan-like shape, complete with ridges. He then proceeds to fan himself as the morning sun heats up the air. In a few moments he takes off his jacket.

Shu Wang Lung undeterred by the slowness of the old man response, paused meaningfully before replying. “Forgive me, I have been rude. Please tell me your name, father.” He bowed his head and put his helmet under his arm.

“I am Di Qui, traveling farmer, at your service.” He raises his hat and bows with a flourish.

Shu Wang looked at the tiny man and a strange look crossed his face, as if he might not be sure what he heard. “Master Qui, what does a traveling farmer, do?”

“He farms, young warrior. I farm, then I travel.” Di Qui noticed the look on Shu Wang’s face still registered a lack of understanding. “I travel the land teaching and learning farming techniques to communities. For a modest fee, of course.”

“Oh, you’re a charlatan. I passed someone many days ago promising to cure a town of their rat problem, only to leave the rats and steal something more precious. The people were very angry and hired me to return their children. That charlatan received swift justice.”

“They executed him?”

“No, he is now the town rat-catcher. He will be free to leave when the rats are gone. Since his jutsu worked on children, but not rats, they figure it will take him a few years before he will complete his sentence.”

“What brings you to this humble province? I don’t live here so I am unsure of the name. I know it because of the unique pattern in its rice fields. When you grow old, your memory isn’t as reliable as it should be.” Di Qui took off his hat and scratched his head, almost as if he thought he might be able to scrape his way to the memory of the province’s name.

Shu Wang, stood to his full seven feet in height and spoke with a booming voice: “Go to where the tip of the White Spear Mountain, appears on the spring solstice. In the village of Dà Fēng, the Celestials will come seeking an audience with gods.”

“Dà Fēng, yes that’s the name. They say it means Land of Strong Winds. What is that you recited?”

“A Seer gave it to me. He told me it was my destiny to be the next chosen by the Celestial Court. He told me the recent shooting star meant Ovir the warrior had fallen in battle and they would need a new champion. Someone brave, fierce in battle and a proven leader. As the Fist of the Emperor, I have been all of those things.”

Di Qui’s looked at the knight and wondered if he might be just a bit addled. Then he thought about his own reason for being here and thought better of it.

“I was certain there would be others. It isn’t everyday the Seat of the Celestial Heavens descends to find a new god-to-be.” Shu Wang stared up and down the twisted road of Dà Fēng finding not even a sign of habitation in the town.

“They will be out this way shortly, this is their rest day and most will stay in bed for as long as they are able. I always rise to catch the sun. I have a confession to make.”

The armored knight turned away from the road and focused his dark eyes on Di Qui. “I too, am here seeking an audience with the Celestial Heaven.”

“But you’re old. Not just anyone can get a seat in the Celestial Heaven. One of the criteria is you have to have become immortal before you can even be seen. Meaning no disrespect, but you have not aged well. Not at all. Sir.”

Di Qui got up from the bolder he was sitting on and moved his coat to a place a few feet from the jagged spar of rock. “Move that rock.” He pointed at it with his long but strong looking arm.

Shu walked over to the boulder, walked around it for a second and pushed it with his hand. It was about his waist high above ground and three or four feet wide. He pushed the rock from all four sides, one at a time. The ground around the rock wiggled, a bit at first, then on his second pass, he was able to roll the rock up out of the ground and rolled it to the old man. He smiled because he was sure the old man had not expected him to be able to do it.

“Very impressive. You do have the strength of a hundred men. As the legends have said.”

“You said you never heard of me.”

“I did, didn’t I. I was mistaken.”

“What else have you heard, old man.”

“You have the fastest draw in the land, no one’s iajitsu is quicker and more precise than yours. It is said you could cut the wings from a fly and return your sword to its sheath before the fly lands on the floor.”

“Go on.”

Di Qui put his hat back on his head and leans against the rock. “They call you the Twice-Born. You have slain ten thousand men in battle and with the dark power of your spear, when mortally wounded, one of the ten thousand you have slain will die again in your place. You rise from the field of battle, slain, but alive.”

Shu Wang Lung, also put his helmet on his head and his eyes took on a tight squint, only a slight twitch of his hand revealed its lethal intent.

The old man reaches into his coat and pulls out a piece of candied fruit and puts the end in his mouth. “Your greatest feat, and the thing you believe will make you the chosen one is your pact with the essence of metal itself. No weapon forged of steel can harm you. Your defeat of the God of the Forge in a battle of strength and steel forced him to grant you this pact.”

“So, you know who I am. I am sorry for what I am about to do.”

“Before you give me the gory details, let me make myself comfortable and then I will listen intently. I promise.” Di Qui grabs the stone and lifts it into the air over his head. He takes it back to the hole it came out of and returns it, orienting it so that it is completely flat and more comfortable to sit on. The boom as he slams the rock into the hole, echoes off of several of the valley walls. It now only came up to Shu Wang Lung’s knees. Di Qui goes to get his heavy coat and sits back down on the rock. Looking up at Shu Wang Lung he notes the look of horror, and smiles.

“You are the Earthmover. An immortal who wanders the world changing the landscape for farming.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Stronger than ten thousand men. Older than the trees of any forest in Qin. As wise as the Emperor in Jade.”

“That is a subject of much debate. On Earth as it is in the Celestial Heaven.” A voice powerful and rich filled the air before them and a throne surrounded by fierce-looking contingent of men slowly came into view. The man sitting in the throne wore an armor of beautiful dark green jade. His gaze was also a warrior’s gaze, penetrating, like staring into the sun, one resisted the urge to avert one’s eyes. “Only two? I had hoped there would be more.”

“Your entry requirements are a bit much for most to aspire to Oh, Emperor in Jade. I am Di Qui.”

“And I am Shu Wang Lung.”

One did not give a title to the Emperor in Jade, for names and titles meant nothing to him. He was knowledge and wisdom itself. He knew of these men, their gifts and their powers. It was he who sent them here posing as seers in different guises.

“Begging your pardon, Oh Emperor in Jade, how will you be choosing between us? I hope it will not be combat, because it has been a long time since I have held a blade of any kind.”

“I know, Old One, but I have need of a champion. With Ovir gone, our battles grow more perilous and there is a chance we may not beat back the darkness before dawn.”

Both men bowed their head, knowing of the prophecy of the Never-dawning Day.

“Are you saying you cannot fight at all, grandfather? Or that you prefer not to?”

“Are you requesting a demonstration of my fitness?”

“No, no. I saw you move the rock there. Quite impressive and legends speak of your fantastic strength. What if you were needed to protect the Celestial Heavens? Would you be up to the task?” The Emperor in Jade strode forth toward the two of them, his height and weight between both of theirs, but his energy, his aura was otherworldly, he was clearly a thing not of this world.

“Shu Wang Lung, I need you to attack Master Di Qui. I need to see if he would be able to bring a value to the Celestial Heaven.”

“Forgive me, Master Qui.” Shu Wang bowed and stabbed his spear into the ground. There would be no need for this.

The characters on the spear shifted and had begun to change their message. “Overconfident” the characters flickered again in the morning sun. Di Qui reached into his pocket and pulled out his paper fan and put his candied fruit in his other hand. He nodded.

Shu Wang Lung drew his sword, a blur of motion, his underhand cut sweeping through the air where Di Qui stood. His stroke, perfect slices cleanly through the hat of the old man, the separate sides falling to the ground. Di Qui is not there. Before the hat touches the ground, Shu Wang’s sword is again in its sheath.

Eight inches from where Shu Wang Lung struck, the Earthmover stood fanning himself, biting down on his candied fruit stick. Shu Wang’s eyebrow rose but he did not drop his guard, turning slightly to adjust. He struck again, this time focused, two slashes where he thought the crafty master might be standing, just to be sure. The first slash missed and Shu Wang was certain his second would find purchase. Di Qui held out his candied fruit and blocked the blade, holding it at bay. Shu Wang turned the blade trying to slide away from the tiny piece of fruit but the old man flowed with him keeping the blade away by sticking his candy to it. As Shu Wang Lung struck again, the candy seemed to harden and his blow could not land.

“You are very good at dodging and blocking, Master Qui. But a war cannot be won by candied fruit alone.”

“It is very good candied fruit, Emperor of Jade.”

The Emperor in Jade smirked and continued. “Nevertheless, I still require more than sticky fruit to strengthen the Seat of Heaven. Show me.”

Di Qui turned and bowed to Shu Wang Lung. “Please forgive what I am about to do.” Shu smiled and looked at Di Qui as he would a favored uncle and winked. “I understand.”

“No. You don’t”

Shu Wang Lung woke in the bottom of the valley, nearly two miles from where he was standing. The stream he landed in flowed into his mouth and nose and helped him to regain consciousness in about a half an hour. While he napped comfortably, Di Qui and the Emperor in Jade walked down to where he was resting. They woke him when they arrived.

“You left your spear.” Di Qui handed Shu Wang his weapon. The spear was smooth, no character markings adorned its surface. Its silence spoke volumes.

“What happened? How did I get here? How did my armor get so banged up? Why do I feel like I have rolled down a mountain?”

The Emperor and Di Qui didn’t say anything initially, only looked up to the side of the overhanging spear of the legendary White Mountain and at a small gash about a quarter of the way up the mountain. There were several deep depressions at regular intervals leading all the way down to the river and stopping abruptly.

“We have decided that Master Di Qui, will be going with us. Though he is armed with only a candied fruit stick and a paper fan, we have deemed it…sufficient.” The Jade Emperor turned and walked back toward his glowing ethereal throne. “Hurry along, Master Di Qui.”

“I will be there in just a moment your majesty.” The old man helped Shu Wang Lung to his feet lifting him as if he were light as a feather. “I owe you an apology and I would like to make amends if you will let me. You see, I think the Celestial Heaven is in need of me for certain kinds of things. Agriculture is changing and I believe I can do more for the people working here than solely on the ground. So I propose we share the duty.”

“How would we do that?”

“Since you live to fight, and during the winter the nights are long and terrible, the fighting for the dawn to return must be as great as it can be. During those peak months of martial delight, I relinquish my seat in Heaven to you. During the spring and summer, I take up the duty and return to Heaven after spending the fall and winter at the harvest and teaching our fellows the secrets of agriculture. The nights are shorter during the summer and the winds are strong. I imagine I can handle the struggle during the short summer nights.”

“Do you suppose the Emperor will mind?”

“No, I don’t think he particularly cares as long as the help is there when he needs it. In the worst case, I will call you my assistant because I am old and feeble and can’t get around like I used to do a thousand years ago.”

“Only two questions left, Master Qui.” Both men make their way to the portal of the Seat of Heaven.

“What might they be?”

“How did I get this many dents in my armor?”

Di Qui quickly puts his fan back into his jacket. “I told you before this is a land of strong winds. Let’s just say, armor wasn’t meant to protect you from mountains. And the second?”

“This armor was supposed to be indestructible. You can’t just get anyone to repair this, you need a master. Do you suppose the God of the Forge holds a grudge?”

Strong Wind Here © Thaddeus Howze 2012. All Rights Reserved

SIX – The Doctor is In

Posted by Ebonstorm on February 8, 2012
Posted in: Short Story. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

“Mr. Hyde I presume?”

A quiet and subtle voice, barely heard above the howling wind outside the hundred and second floor of Grayson Tower, the tallest building in the center of Hub City. “I suppose I will have to have those claw marks buffed out of the front of my building.” The speaker has his back to the window, sitting down, hunched over a desk. “You know, we do have an elevator.”

A thick cane leaned against the desk with a large black stone on its tip. He was writing something slowly. Once done, he folded the letter meticulously and placed it into an envelope. Slowly he rose, gripped his cane and turned around to face the window and the towering form of Hyde.

He wore a grey suit and over it a white lab coat. His suit, obviously expensive and his cufflinks flash in the brightly lit room. His face was brown like a burlap sack and his age was indeterminate. His eyes, black as coal, peek out from underneath wide and bushy eyebrows. He is bald but his face bears a well-manicured goatee. His full lips are peeled back in a predatory and menacing smile. His eyes however, do not share the smile. He leans back onto the desk. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

The man is calm, I’ll give him that. “Enjoy. It will be your last.” Hyde’s voice is gruff, coarser than usual. He was just finished healing from the beat down, he received two months earlier from the super-soldier commandos. The only thing that made that drubbing worthwhile was watching them turn into smoking, cancer-ridden piles of rotting meat. Whatever technology they were using was not ready for prime-time. It had taken two months of hunting, limb-breaking and old-fashioned detective work. The trail led him here. It was time for some payback.

Hyde turned his head to take in the room and saw an extensive laboratory filled with a variety of computers, autoclaves, other machines, some familiar, others not. A flash of memory sweeps over him and he remembers a biometric monitoring system across the room. He is not sure why he recognized it, but the memory was strong. Whoever this doctor was, he had money to spare. Not just anyone could afford this setup. Another mystery.

“You like my lab? It is only one of many. I will take you on a tour tomorrow, if you like.” The man uses his cane to point around the room.

Hyde snorts, “What makes you think you’ll be alive tomorrow? I plan to rip you limb from limb.”

“Really? Before you get the answers you have been searching for? Or should I say, Carlucci is searching for? That would be so anticlimactic.”

“Spare me the small talk. I think I will prefer the answers you will give me when I am ripping open your chest. People lie less when I am eating their ribs before their eyes.” Something’s wrong.

“Spare me the posturing, Mr. Hyde. I know who you are. I know what you are. In a way, I helped to create you.” He stood up from leaning on his desk and squared his shoulders. Though not quite as tall as Hyde, he was nearly six feet tall himself. “Now we can have this conversation, the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”

Hyde clenches his hands and his knuckles crack with a rhythmic precision. He turns his head and his neck bones crack as well. A hot, metallic smell starts to rise from his person and his ragged jumpsuit begins to smoke. “You know what, let’s do this the hard way. I am sure I won’t break a nail on that nice Armani, you’re wearing. What do your friends call you? I want to know who to mail your head to.”

“In Japanese tradition, it is considered polite to give your name to your enemy. You have chosen the nom de guerre, Hyde. I will be Doctor Jekyll to you, sir, after all, I did help create you. And like the good Doctor, I too have a dark side.” Stepping out of his shoes, and taking off his lab coat, he throws it over the chair. “Anytime you’re ready, sir.”

Hyde needed no more prelude than that and leapt across the room arms outstretched, his carbon-hardened claws, extended, fangs opened in a bestial roar. In a movement Hyde can barely see, Jekyll steps to the side and grabs Hyde’s arm and whirling him around he slams him across the room into a bookcase. The bookcase crumples under Hyde’s massive weight. The two hundred pound teak bookcase crumpled like tissue. Hyde laughed, knocking books and wood off of his back. “Nice throw, Doctor. I hope your plan does not include Aikido to save you. It’s not nearly going to be enough.”

“Not at all Mr. Hyde. I am not counting on Aikido to save the day. I was simply giving you the chance to see you were out-classed and offering you one more opportunity to see reason before I have to actually hurt you.” While Hyde was climbing out of the bookcase, the doctor had taken off his suit and laid it upon his desk. He was wearing a skintight undergarment that covered him from neck to the ends of his extremities. Only his hands and feet were naked. “I await your pleasure.”

Hyde turned to the doctor again, trying to figure out what his senses were telling him. The smell was not one of fear, it was one of excitement, and something else, something chemical. It reminded him of the metallic scent of his own transformation. But the doctor looked completely unchanged.

Hyde exploded across the room, books flew from under foot as Hyde moving as fast as a train, reached out with a clawed hand directly pointed at the doctor’s face. And again, with only a minimum of movement the doctor spun and avoided Hyde’s hand. Completing his spin he kicked Hyde right out of the window. The doctor stopped to grab his cane and looking out the window, leapt after Hyde to the nearby rooftop where Hyde would land, hard.

Hyde crashed into a concrete stairway rising onto the roof. Tearing through it, he lay stunned. As he tried to get up, Jekyll land squarely onto his chest, driving Hyde into the reinforced roof of the building. Jekyll bounces away lightly and lands nearby. Hyde’s response was immediate. He swept rubble with both of his arms toward the Doctor and bounded to his feet, while the doctor used his cane to deflect the rubble, Hyde began attempting to close the distance between the two.

Despite the fact, he had just jumped thirty stories out of a building, the doctor didn’t even appear to be winded or surprised. Hyde kept up his assault his clawed hands lashing out as fast a cheetah’s killing blow and with as much power. The doctor used his cane to block Hyde’s strikes but did not attack. This only seemed to infuriate Hyde further. Their exchanges were faster than the eye could see and the doctor retreated the entire time. Hyde pushed the doctor back to the edge of the rooftop. Leaping over Hyde, he landed twenty feet away.

Hyde pushed his body further, and felt his arms growing longer, muscles changing in texture and tone, hyper-oxygenating them, exchanging strength for speed. Hyde rushed the doctor and his clawed arms slashing out, striking the doctor on the belly and shoulder. The strange undergarment acting as an armor, the blows drew no blood. But Hyde was testing its strength and knew he could overcome it. His nails sharpened into needle-like points. The doctor withdrew outside of Hyde’s assault. He held his cane in two hands. Twisting the head, it transformed into a sword cane and armored sheath.

The two of them clashed together, a blur of motion, both landing strikes and taking blows, the sound of claws on steel range around the glass canyon as the two titans struggled for dominance. The doctor began to give ground as Hyde blows landed and one even tore his left arm’s armor away revealing muscular flesh beneath and the lacerations of Hyde’s diamond-tipped claws. The doctor, using his sheath, smashed Hyde in the mouth and knocked him across the roof.

Hyde shook his head, wiping away blood, “Nice. You’ve survived a lot longer than I expected. But this fight is just about over.” Hyde’s jumpsuit was bloodstained and nearly completely destroyed. Carlucci bought them in bulk since their arrangement. He was crouched and studying Jekyll for any sign of weakness. He didn’t see one. Palming a piece of rubble, an idea formed.

“I was trying to show you the pointlessness of this exercise and how we could work together. With my genius and your brawn, we could rule Hub City and remove the criminal scum that infests her.”

“You care about Hub City? I don’t think so.” Hyde stood gauging the distance between the two of them.

“But you do. Once we clear away Hub City’s vermin, I will show you things that will make Hub City worst criminals look like Girl Scouts.”

“You do realize I am an unreasonable person, right?” Hyde began to breathe faster and deeper. His muscles and bone density began to multiply. The scar on his chest began to heat up and his overall temperature rose.

Doctor Jekyll’s eyebrow rose in surprise. He is altering his nervous system, attempting to increase his reaction time and attack speed. He is reducing his mass to increase his speed. This was unexpected and exciting to learn. What is the source of his transformation energy?

Cupped in his hand, Hyde threw the piece of rubble with supersonic speed. As his deadly projectile crossed the distance between he and his target, his mighty legs were already propelling him right behind it.

Jekyll, momentarily stunned by the speed and ferocity of this improvised attack was struck by the deadly projectile in the left shoulder and dropped his sword. The missile exploded into dust.

“So you can be surprised.” Hyde landed his punch squarely across the jaw of the doctor and the doctor’s head snapped to the right with the force of the blow. With a reflexive backhand the doctor knocked Hyde sailing across the roof.

Hyde rolled with the blow and landed on his feet sliding across the rooftop. What the hell? How did he do that? I thought he was on the ropes. What did I miss? I need to buy some time. “The commandos, they were yours, weren’t they? They move like you do, fight like you do, mixing martial arts with superhuman strength and speed. But they turned into piles of rotting meat. But you don’t appear to be about to turn into a pile of organ-bursting goo. Why is that?”

“Nice strategy, make me talk while you look for my weaknesses.” Doctor Jekyll smiled. He rubbed his jaw. “That was a surprise. I didn’t know you could do that. I see why you refuse to use a weapon; its visceral, primal, savage. You see, there is so much we can learn from each other. But I think our time is done. I have learned all that I think I can today.”

Dropping his sheath, he turned toward Hyde, dusting himself off. “You, for instance, will learn…” He disappeared from where he was on the roof and reappeared in front of Hyde. Hyde never saw him move. He punctuated every word with a powerful strike from his fists, driving Hyde’s face into the rooftop with each blow. “I.” Boom. “Don’t.” Boom.”Have.” Boom. “Any.” Boom. “Weaknesses.” Boom.

And then Hyde lay still.

Smoke rose from the hole in the rooftop. A light rain started to fall. “I know you are teetering on the edge of consciousness, Mr. Hyde. I trust I have made my point. I will have need of you at some time in the future. When I do I will call for you. And you will come. Otherwise I will destroy everything you hold dear, Mr. Carlucci.”

Doctor Jekyll walked to the edge of the rooftop. He stopped to pick up his sword cane and sheath. Locking them together he leapt away into the night.

Hyde sank into unconsciousness.

Hyde: Portrait of a Modern Monster © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

Hikaru Dorodongo

Posted by Ebonstorm on February 8, 2012
Posted in: Aethermancer: The Saga of The Clockwork King, Short Story. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 1 Comment

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a tale of Mythic Qin

I arrived at the temple when I was just a child of eleven summers. The bandits that killed my family were the remnants of an enemy army that had been routed by the Clockwork King during the early part of his reign. At that time, we had been told he was the best thing for the land and would reunite our people under a single leader.

I was an orphan, it was decided, since I could read and write I would be sent to live with the priests near Mount Hakaurai. The priests who took me up the mountain led several other children with us, but they cried all the time and could not be comforted. Eventually they were given to me to lead as the priests walked out in front of us and told us to follow, but not too close.

The trail was dusty and hard. The priests kept up a pace that was difficult and I had a hard time keeping up. The two younger children were even less able. I carried the smaller one for a time. Whenever we would stop for the night, I would have to take them to the woods to relieve themselves while the priests foraged for food. I had never been more than a day or two from home, so the approach to the mountains seemed miraculous to me. There were waving forests of bamboo grass blowing in the wind, the air was filled with the drone of insects, and the breeze was sweet and cool, even a bit chilled in the first part of the day, but it always warmed up later and became pleasant.

Gruff but not cruel, when we came around a particular pass, the priests stopped and pointed ahead. The appearance of the surrounding mountains was that of a jagged row of bottom teeth. Mount Hakaurai was one of a dozen spearlike mountains covered with trees near top. At the very tips of each mountain was a dusting of snow like a tiny hat. As we approached we could see the winding road that would lead to the top and it would take at least two more days to get there.

“Master, who made this road to the temple?” I asked because it appeared to be made of a strange rock I had never seen before, it had a quality that made it glow in the evening light.

“Let us set up camp, acolyte-to-be and we will share with you the tale of the Scaled Road of Mount Hakaurai.” The priests seemed to be in better spirits once they got closer to home, so I put off their apparent earlier rudeness to their fear of the recent bandit attacks. As we were getting the camp ready, as the sun set, the Scaled Road flashed with a ripple of fire that moved quickly up the mountain. It was a marvelous effect and quieted the two younger boys for the first time on the trip. Chikamasa, the younger had been sick for the first few days and the monks took him with them to the river, and promised that Jiro and I would be allowed to go and clean up, once they got back.

Chikamasa and the priests came back to the camp, and the boy was looking much better. He said they had been giving him some leaves to eat and others to drink in tea and it was helping. We got our chance to go to the river and cleaned our clothes and our selves. This was the first time in days we had been really able to clean up and it was wonderful. I thought this time with the priests might not be such a terrible thing. Not as good as home, but not as terrible as I first thought.

When we got back to the camp, the priests were preparing a rabbit they caught near the road. The area at the foot of the mountains was so green and forested, there were plants and animals everywhere. Master Gen, the second oldest of the priests, was tending the rabbit, having rubbed it in exotic salts and spices, it smelled so good, I could barely wait to eat.

“While the rabbit is cooking, let’s tell that tale,” said Master Shikamaru, who was the oldest of the three priests. There was once a celestial dragon, Akira the wise, who was said to be the cleverest of the Celestial King of Heaven’s court. It is said when there was a need of an answer to a question or riddle, Lord Akira was always the first consulted. When Lord Akira did not know the answer he would fly to the Earth and quest until he found the answer he sought. It was said he knew every flower, every tree, every animal and could speak the language of every creature.” He paused to take a sip of his tea and looked into our faces in the firelight. We were eager to hear more of his tale, and he paused dramatically before continuing.

“One afternoon, after a great argument in the Celestial Heaven, Lord Akira flew to Earth greatly perturbed by the arguments of the celestial named Akum, dark lord of the Underworld. Akum, while unloved by many in the Court was a renowned and miraculous seer. He predicted the end of the Celestial Heavens and that a great sorcerer-priest would lead an army of demons against them. When he was asked from whence that Sorcerer-priest would be born, he was unable to divine the answer. Lord Akira volunteered to find the answer to the question of the Sorcerer-Priest and flew to the Earth.

“Celestial dragons did not fly with wings, they undulated their bodies like giant snakes in the sky. So as he approached anywhere, he was a giant ribbon of light. So whenever he came near villages, people were always terrified of him and fled or fainted until he left. He swept the land seeking the answer to the question of the greatest sorcerer-priest until he heard tell of a priest of our Order. He flew to our mountain and landed, draping himself around the mountain from the top where his head stood at the gates to our temple to the bottom of the mountain.

“He called out to the temple and at the time, Master Po was the greatest of our Order and he came out to confront him.

‘Ho Lord Akira, Celestial Dragon of the Heavens, what brings you to our humble temple?’

‘I am told the greatest sorcerer-priest in the world resides here and I would question him.’

‘You do us great honor, Lord Akira, but no such person dwells within. He is but a legend to us as well. It is said that one day, we will house within our walls, the greatest sorcerer to ever live. He shall have the power to turn day into night, his spiritual power shall give him dominion over the very stuff of life itself. But today, he does not exist.’

‘Then perhaps it would be best if your temple were to cease to exist. For such a force might one day rival the heavens themselves.’

‘And what would be wrong with that Lord Akira?’

Akira tried to take flight in that moment and found he could not rise. Mount Hakaurai had been covered with hikaru dorodango, spheres of elemental mud, created from the Nine Realms, each capable of holding the spiritual essence of the nine chakras. Once Lord Akira landed, his powers were being drained away without his knowledge.

Master Po, used his Chi to try and subdue the great dragon and their battle of wills took place. It was said they struggled for nine days and nine nights, locked in place. So great was the struggle, nothing could move near them. Priests who tried were struck dead. At the end of the nine days, the great dragon won his freedom. But his thrashings left the scales upon what would become the road to our mountain temple.”

“What happened to Master Po? Jiro asked.”

“Master Po’s chi entered into the temple gate and protects us to this day. He determines who is worthy to enter the temple and removes those who would harm us.” This came from the least friendly of the priests, Sasume the Grim. “Master Po was my master many years ago and I was saddened by his loss to us.”

Jiro piped up, “But Master, you said he became part of the great temple gate. Doesn’t that mean he is still there?

“Yes, child, in a way. But his body passed on a few days later and we are only able to see him when new acolytes come to the temple.”

I noticed they did not answer the most important question, so I thought I would ask it. “What happened to Lord Akira and his quest to find the greatest sorcerer-priest?”

“That is a story for another day, children. It is late. Eat your supper. Tomorrow’s climb will be hard. We must reach the halfway point to get to the shelter or sleep again in the open. Mount Hakaurai is not kind if you sleep in the open at night.”

The next morning was cold and overcast, there was a low-lying fog which reduced our ability to see more than a few miles and Mount Hakaurai was obscured from view. The priests were up early and packed the camp while we slept. They woke us last and hurried us along. They did their best to hide their furtive glances but I saw they were agitated and distressed. We all but ran up the path toward the mountain.

As we approached, I found it harder to breathe. It was as if there were something squeezing me. My head felt heavy and my shoulders felt as if there was a weight upon them.

“Do you feel it, boy? Sasume whispered? Do you feel the spiritual pressure of the mountain? I told you, he was touched, Gen. The seer was right. He feels the pressure this far from the mountain.”

“Shut up, Sasume. You will frighten the boy unduly. There is nothing to be afraid of. What you are feeling is called spiritual pressure. Those of us with naturally high chakras can sense the energy of the mountain and until you are properly trained, it will feel as if you are bearing a great weight. It will not harm you. When you learn to understand spiritual pressure, you will be able to sense the power and capabilities of your opponents if they possess chi abilities equal or better than your own.”

“Yes, Master,” was all I could get out. Sasume grabbed me by the arm and dragged me along the path. The two little ones kept up best they could. When we reached the foot of the mountain, the day was half gone. Master Gen, looking at me, made a series of hand-signs, his hands moving in a variety of unusual shapes and then pressed them against my chest.

“This will help a little as we climb. You must concentrate and silence your inner thoughts. The mountain feeds upon your inner fears. Now hurry.” He grabbed up Jiro and put him on his back, Master Shikamaru, picked up Chikamasa, and the three priests moved as quickly as I had ever seen them. As we approached the path, my vision began to blur and I could swear I saw a shimmering coming from the road itself. Then Sasume shook me and continued to drag me up the road. I could feel a heat from the road as well, something that made my feet tingle.

We moved up the mountain and while we climbed we passed several large spheres. Perfectly round, shiny and each was a different color. There were smaller ones spaced around them and they too were comprised of different colors and possibly different materials. We rushed past the first one so quickly, I hardly noticed it. But when we reached the second, I could see it with my blurred vision as a luminous sphere connected to the smaller ones near it and to the very road itself. When I looked at the road, suddenly I could sense something else. “Someone is following us.” I blurted out before realizing what I was saying.

“Yes, I have felt it for some time now. How could you have known?” Master Sasume looked at me. “You felt it? You can feel the Road?”

“I’m not sure what I am feeling but its as if I can hear them talking. They are coming fast up the road. They mean us harm.”

“Then I shall stay.” Master Gen puts down Chikamasa, and turns to sit on the road. Take them to the refuge. You will be safe once you get there. I will entertain our guests. Come here boy.” He looked at me. You cannot afford to fall into their hands. I will teach you something now, you will need to know, but it will be painful and you will regret learning it this way. Give me your hands.”

I was terrified. His eyes had turned completely black and his hands had turned purple with a power I had never seen before. When my vision blurred, he was not just a man, he was a series of spheres, some brighter than others, and this flesh was just a tiny portion of what he was. He took my hands and I could see my own spheres, they were inside me glowing, each equally, until he took my hands, then I could feel my rage growing, my internal chakras flashed with new lights and then it burned, like I was on fire. I could not see, could not hear, all my senses were lost in an explosion so bright, the world turned white, the color of death. He let go and I was free. I could breath again and the pressure of the mountain was gone. I was light like air and knew things. Strange things, I had never known before. “Run, boy.” I ran. I ran like the wind. I caught up to the priests who had gone ahead and they were moving fast, incredibly fast, their sandals slapping the road with a powerful rhythm. I matched them easily. The road melted away.

When night was falling, we approached a small building. It was surrounded with the tiny spheres in the same number, nine, spaced equally around it. As we entered, I could feel the pulse of pressure and realized this was not just an ordinary shelter. As we entered we saw the road shimmer in the weak sunlight and it glowed again, just before sunset.

“Whatever you see outside that door, you are not to set foot out there again until morning. You can affect nothing and no one.” Master Sasume went to to the back of the building to make dinner. I felt compelled to stand in the doorway. It was open but I could not feel the wind from the road. I could see down the mountain and the evening fog had hidden the roots from view. It was then that I saw them leaping out of the fog. They were armored but not like the bandits who wore scraps of different armors stolen from battlefields of the dead. These were complete armors, beautiful and shining softly with their own light. The men were fighting someone, a priest from the robes. As he retreated up the mountain, his kung fu was masterful. He fought the entire group of at least twenty and as he retreated, each hundred steps they took, they paid for it with another man.

They were approaching the shelter and darkness was falling. I could still see him and their battle was slowing down. He was being struck, a nick here, a cut there and then their mighty spear thrusts caught him. Before he died, he released his red chakra and the five who held him with their spears burst into flames and died with him. He landed on the ground and turned toward me. I could see him looking at me and then he closed his eyes.

The last ten of the ghostly warriors continued up the path, but they looked around as if they were expecting attack. As they approached the orb, they did not seem to be able to see us, but they kept coming. As they grew closer, I could see the glowing sigil of a great dragon on their chests, the sigil of Lord Akira.

“Step away from the door, boy. You should not see what will happen to them.” Sasume was grinning while eating some cold bread and smoked fish he had found in the pantry. Jiro and Chikamasa were so hungry they did not even look up from their plates. I could not help myself. I stayed at the door and watched as the orb we were somehow inside of began to draw their life essence into itself. They tried to resist, they used magics, but this only seem to hasten the process. The more they struggled the faster they died. They screamed while they died; an endless thing. Eventually, they lay still. The light from their magical armor was consumed and then, their very flesh. I could not sleep after that.

Come morning, there was little to indicate anything had happened out there at all. The priests did not seem relieve however and we continued to run up the mountain until we reached the final staircase. I could see the gates at the top of the stairs. Sasume pushed Jiro and Chikamasa ahead of Master Shikamaru and he looked at me. “You must get to the gate, no matter what. This is where we part ways. You had better be worth this. Don’t look back.”

Master Shikamaru made a series of handsigns and then grab Jiro and put him on his back and Chikamasa in his arms, he started leaping up the stairwell. When I looked back at Sasume, he was standing at the foot of the stairs and more of the armored men appeared, this time many of them with beautiful bows with wickedly-tipped arrows that shimmered in the morning light.

Sasume stood at the ready, in a horse stance, legs bowed and arms at his side as the archers aimed and fired. He radiated power and the arrows struck him but did no damaged, each broken as if it had struck a wall. The archers fired several times and then retreated. We continued to climb the stairs and halfway to the top, we looked back. Swordsmen had engaged Sasume and he was holding them at bay. But his iron skin was not as strong as their swords and each hit took a bit of his armor away. But every time he struck one of them, they exploded with the force of his attacks. But the end was near for him. When we were within a few feet of the top of the stairs, he fell for the last time.

The soldiers then began to climb the stairwell and would be all over us in a few minutes. When we reached the top of the stairs, we could see the Great Gate of the Temple. It was an archway that stood twenty meters high made of black stone that had been worked to perfection. Even in the morning light, it did not shimmer, rather it absorbed the light, and seemed to harness it to create more darkness. Then it spoke. “Bring them to me.”

Master Shikamaru moved the two boys to the gate and beckoned me as well. I could hear the voice of Master Po and did not know which would be worse, to approach the gate or to wait for the soldiers. I went to the gate. Two men had already died to get me this far. When Master Shikamaru took the children to the gate, both seemed asleep until they cross the threshold. Then they bolted upright and fell to the ground right out of Master Shikamaru arms. And they lay there, unmoving. “They were…” The pause was long. “Unworthy.”

“Come boy, are you the stuff of legend?”

I looked over at Jiro and Chikamasa and my vision blurred. I could see their spheres going out one after another. I could see them, sense them struggling to hold on to life. I ran to them and touched them as they lay under the gate. I could feel this power, this terrible power as they poured into me, as if I were a refuge for their spirits.

“Boy, what have you done? They were mine to consume. How dare you interfere? Ah, look, you have the mark. I can see it on you. The darkness dwells within you. You are the one.”

All I could see was Jiro and Chikamasa on the ground and hear the voice of Master Po above me. I felt the fire of Master Gen inside of me, burning and I could hear the sounds of the warriors as they crested the stairs. Master Shikamaru stood next to me and plucked two arrows from the air right before they struck me in the back.

I turned around and felt the well of power of the Celestial Dragon, Lord Akira, in the air, in the ground, bound tightly inside of the Gate of Hakaurai. I could sense the energy of Lord Akira inside of these soldiers and I realized they wanted me dead. Me. I did not know them, had never done anything to them, and they wanted to kill me. I reached down to the earth and touched the power of Lord Akira bound there by the dark magics of Master Po. and I reached up and grabbed Master Po, I could feel him trying to take control of me, trying to make my body his. I pulled the dark and the light together.

Master Shikamaru was blown off the mountain when those two forces came together. His was the only death I regret that day.

The soldiers of Lord Akira were, no matter where they were on the mountain, destroyed and absorbed into the defenses of the mountain itself. Their arms and armor were the only sign they were ever there. The Great Gate exploded and the temple walls nearest to the gate were destroyed as if a bomb had been released there. The Black Gate was no more. I stood in the center of the explosion clutching the bodies of two small boys to my chest.

The priests climbed over the wreckage of the walls and got down on one knee before me. Then they led me into the temple and I slept for twenty days. When I awoke, they had cleaned me, dressed my injuries and told me I was the one foretold of by Akuma. I was the one who would cast down the unrighteous oppression of the gods upon man. They made this pronouncement to me as if it was the most normal thing in the world. They stood stoically looking at me waiting for my response. “I do not want that.”

“It does not matter what you want. It is fated to be this way.”

“What if I defy my fate?”

“Then you doom the world to whatever would take the place of your great work. No seer can see beyond that point.”

“How will I take over the world when the Clockwork King has already destroyed any who oppose him?”

“Look within you. Feel inside yourself.” The Priest who addressed me was old, far older than Master Gen. I could see his age upon him like a cloak.

I closed my eyes and could feel my chakra. I could feel the power of four beings within me. And four lifetimes.

“We will train you, Dark One. And when you have outlived petty kings and even their kingdoms, you will be ready to topple Heaven itself.

“And if I chose to destroy the Clockwork King myself?” He murdered my family and my friends, everyone and everything I knew.

“Then we shall make you ready for that, as well. Rest, tomorrow we begin your training.”

And we did. The next forty years would see me gather power and skills as no man had ever had. Grandmaster Yinre, the priest who saw to all of my training would die as I became the ruler of Mount Hakaurai and its temple. As my power grew, my sense of Master Gen faded as his life energies left me. I could still feel Jiro and Chikamasa’s energy searing within me. I could also feel oily evil that was Master Po searching for a way to make my power his. Who knew a lifetime would fly by so quickly?

The lands of the Clockwork King grew and eventually bordered my own. I knew my time had come. I set out that morning, the temple bustling with the young monks who would one day become my army. But first, I had to see the land for myself. I set off to view my enemy firsthand.

Hikaru Dorodango © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

Aethermancer: Saga of the Clockwork King

Posted by Ebonstorm on November 29, 2011
Posted in: Aethermancer: The Saga of The Clockwork King, Character Bio. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Rhackomanon: The Sixth Demon Prince

An Untimely Meeting

a tale of Mythic Qin

She was a vision in black, her hair braided in tiny rows, held close to her scalp and then plaited together ran down her back to her waist. She was of the clan Modru, the Sundwellers, so she was of a dark brown hue, her skin, smooth like fine ironwood, with full lips, slightly parted as she look down into her hands at a small glowing device. It whirred quietly as she waved it about from the cover of her cloak.

When she looked up, her brow furrowed, her eyes burned like coals, she was a woman with a mission. Her cloak, long and flowing covered her wide, strong shoulders, and she wore a right proper lady’s full dress, it too, in full black with only the tiniest traces of silver running down the bodice. I did not see it at first but she also bore a straight sword beneath her cloak at her hip, but it moved imperceptibly, part of her.

She turned down the brightly lit streets as the galaxy’s core had risen some hours  ago and brilliantly lit the night. There were still a few people about, but this late, most were returning to their homes to be locking their doors against the night. I would be too, if I had a home from which to return. Many of us had been displaced after the wars with the Clockwork King of Lantu and even with his defeat, our suffering was still great. Homeless, I expected to huddle through the night, nibbling this crust of bread in my lap.

As I sat swaddled in darkness, I would have passed it off as a noble lady looking for a trinket but there was something about her that seemed out of place. Then she turned toward me and I could feel the power of her stare. My mother, cursed with the darkness passed it to me; I could see it in others. Even in the complete darkness, she could see me, I could feel it. Her gaze held me in place and as she approached, but I felt no malice, so I waited.

“Good sir, if I may have a moment of your time?”

Her manners, so deferential, to me, little more than a forgotten veteran of a dozen wars, I loved her in that second. “Yes, miss, how can I help you this evening?

“Have you seen anything passing strange or untoward this evening, near this corner? Anything that would make you wary or fearful? I know it seems a unusual question, but I ask your forbearance while you think.”

“I had seen something amiss but for the life of me I cannot seem to remember it. It was…” As I struggled to remember, I struggled for breath. My chest felt as if it were in a vice, the very air wrest from my lungs.

The lady looked into her hand again as the air above the tiny device began to glow strongly as she proffered it in my direction. Its clockwork parts clicked wildly. “Touch it. Now.” Her tone brooked no refusal and as I could not draw breath I was hardly in a state to refuse. Once I touched it, I could see a shape on my chest akin to a snake wrapped around me squeezing me tight. She took the strange device and pressed it to my chest and I could feel her will around me, solidifying and then the pressure was gone. As she withdrew the device I could see a silver thread pulled into it and fade after a few moments.

“What I seek is here, tell me quickly old veteran and then get as far away as your legs will carry you.”

Now that the creature was gone, the horror returned to me of the unspeakable things I had seen. I scrambled backward until I struck the wall and cowered, senseless for a few seconds. Then my words returned. “It was a Dsur daemon covered in brass armor, floating with three of its windkin slaves. It was fiery red and lightning flashed between its fingertips.” As my heart calmed, I remembered more. “I thought I was, at first, too deep in my cups. The creature rode a soldier who had come into town, sick with what I thought was Theron’s pox. I had it as a child, so I had no fear of him. I tried to convince him to share with an old hand, but he was lost in his visions. He asked which way to a chirurgeon and I pointed him down Lacksmir Way. He passed me a penny and as I thanked him, I saw it, I saw the Dsur and it saw me. The penny was infected with the creature and I could see it take me but could not resist.

“Where is Lacksmir Way?” Her voice had softened and she put the strange device away in her cloak and she reached toward a small pouch at her hip. I pointed wordlessly and she gave me a small collection of oddly shaped coins. They were Modruan silver bits, to me, a small fortune. “Now run as fast as you can from this place and head to the inn near the center of town. Rashaban’s Place. Tell him the Lady Ishtar sent you as my guest. He will provide anything you need. Now hurry. You have been of great service.”

I wanted to flee and not look back but as I stood to thank her, I felt the sudden chill, out of place on this warm summer night. The same breeze I felt earlier when the soldier passed. But this time, I saw the chirurgeon, an older man whose name escaped me because I had always been lucky enough to never go to him, but I knew his face and this was not him. Then the darkness parted and I could see the daemon’s essence again, hovering over the body of the chirurgeon, my bowels turned to water.

“It’s here.” I scramble away and she turns, draws her blade and deflects three kunai thrown at her from the three mistwraiths floating over the shoulders of the chirurgeon.

“Aethermancer. So nice to see you again. I knew I could count on your timely arrival. After our last interaction, I needed a new host, no thanks to you. This time, I am fresh and you’re exhausted. It will end differently, I assure you. Destroy her.” He points and the mistwraiths swarm out with spirit kunai knives whirring through the air, each whistling a tiny song of death.

She stands her ground and her sword is a flashing blur, knocking away the kunai, their intent blunted, they vanish like smoke. “Run sir, there is naught here for you now but dying, you are not safe from either of us. Make haste and never look back!”

I ran down the street, as fast as my wizen feet could carry me, scrambling on my hands and knees as the terror came from the Mistwraiths in waves, mixed within their smoke that comprised their bodies, they were covering the entire area in a cold fog of icy ennui. A tendril touched my leg and I fell over, tumbling limply in the street until I stopped moving. I felt nothing. No fear, no terror, no concern for my life.

My life had become crushingly filled with despair and there was no release save death. I slowly sat up, hearing the sound of battle two dozen steps away and the deadly play of her sword work, but try as she might, she could get no advantage on the mistwraiths, nor could they press their numerical superiority, her sword seemed to be everywhere. I pressed my rags for a knife, and found the scrap of a blade that I carried for self defense, something broken found on a battlefield long ago. I found my wrists and sat down. My first cut was pain-free and soothing, the crush of life began to fade from me. And I watched her, drawn to the beauty of her dance.

She moves to gain more mobility and whirls her cloak through the air, blinding a Wraith. Pulling her blade back to her, extending her arm behind her and blade in front, she whispers the word, “Shikai.” The mist in the area explodes away from her and one of the wraiths who was to close is disrupted along with the rest of their glamour. The wraith who was covered by the cloak in those seconds, phases free, only to meet her glittering blade now covered in shimmer field of blue energy. The wraith blocks with his spirit kunai, but they stop nothing. He is no more. Her body is covered in the same blue aura, but her breath is ragged now and she stands still as the last Wraith retreats to the chirurgeon.

“You weak pathetic fools. I will destroy her myself. But you will feed me first.”

“No, Master, anything but that.” A terrible vortex appears over the mouth of the chirurgeon and the mistwraith is drawn toward it, unable to escape. It’s terrible wail as it is being consumed echoes down the street.

“Now Aethermancer Ishtar, destroyer of cities, breaker of gates, and slayer of the Clockwork King, his vengeance is now upon you. I was summoned from my castle of Brass, enslaved to his will and even his death did not free me. It would seem only yours will suffice. Have you made your peace?”

“One of us will die this day Daemon, but it shall not be me. You still have five kin left on in the Realm. I will not leave this work undone, no matter what the cost.”

“We shall see. Defend yourself.” He moved, impossibly fast, first he was standing ten steps away, and then he was one, his hand swung through the air, a blade formed of his dark aether, but when he expected contact there was none.

“We both know Shumpo, the quickstep. You will have to do better.” She smiled. For just a moment she seemed her old self, fast, beautiful, dangerous, but their battle had simply moved to a different level, they were still too evenly matched. As my life bled out, I knew I might die, before the battle was determined. Each strike of her weapon or his aether, rang out, creating waves of force that wore on the very ground and buildings around them. At one point, a group of constables appeared, and the force of the battle knocked them back down the street. They fled.

I could hear her breath now, fast, hard, rough. She is slowing down, but so is he, his skin tightening upon his face, becoming grey and lifeless. His muscles disappearing every time he tries to increase his speed. The two are now moving at speeds that resemble human combat again. Still fast, but no longer the ghostlike blurs of a few seconds ago.

“Rhackomanon, no more talk? It’s not like you to be silent. Not feeling as confident as you were?”

“No sorcereress, I am simply savoring your last moments. Your sword is heavy, isn’t it. Your legs like lead. Shunpo deserts you now. You are just flesh, your chi expended, what can you possible do against the likes of me!” The body of the chirurgeon falls to its knees and opens its mouth. the Daemon Rhackomanon pours forth, a ghost with flesh, crimson with fanged tusks, bright brass armor covered with noxious runes, they hurt my eyes to see. He towers over her, covered in flames. “Time to die, Witch.”

She looks at me. I feel her sadness. I feel the pain at what she is about to do. I forgive her as I feel my spirit drawn to her.

“Bankai.” Her whisper belied the power of the word. The world grew silent.

Suddenly I see her as I could never in life. She is not diminished, she is like a star, suddenly brighter than I could have imagined as I rush into her and surround her with the eight others I see standing with her. My energy invigorates her, and she slashes with abandon. Rhackomanon parries but it is of no use, her sword now tears into him, breaking his brass shield, his brass armor, he claws but she is never there. She is like a surgeon striking again and again, each blow steals more of his aether.

She uses the quickstep and appears near my body, staring at the blood all around it. Rhackomanon sees her looking at me and rushes as his fires surge blue-white he appears and her sword is through his chest, slashing, with abandon, until she strikes the heart of the daemon. Then she grabs his mighty form, and says to him, “See this man. He was your undoing. When you return to your hell for a thousand years, weak and prey for others of your kind, I want you to remember his face. Not mine. His is the sacrifice that binds your spirit. To Hell with you.”

She releases him and makes a series of gestures. A shimmering field with dark tendrils reaches out and Rhackomanon is still conscious as his diminished form is drawn back into the void. His screams chill the blood of any who hear it and will cause those to have nightmares to last a lifetime. His promises of power fall on deaf ears.

Her sword, with the aether it has absorbed, glows and beats with a sinister life. She whips it around into its ornate scabbard. Covered with runes, darkly sinister, etched in malice and blood on the sheath quell and bind the daemonic power for use another day.

She turns to me, and she can see me. The other eight spirits disappear, leaving the two of us alone. “I am sorry this happened to you.”

“What does this mean, I thought I was dead?”

“You are, but you are bound to me and my quest. As long as I live, or your spirit persists, you will lend your power to me.”

“I don’t have any powers.”

“I know, but the human soul is a power in and of itself. Do you suppose daemons would not bargain so hard for them unless they had a power we do not appreciate?”

“Will I ever be released?”

She walks over to her cape and with the tiniest application of her power, her cape and clothing resume their previously pleasing forms. With the last of her dwindling power, she destroys my body, leaving not a trace of me in the world. At first I resented it. Then I realized, I wasn’t doing anything with my life until she came along. Perhaps dead, I might make more difference than I did in life.

She looked at her compass and turned west. We walked into the setting light of the galactic core.

Aethermancer:An Untimely Meeting © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

First Appearance: The Aethermancer Ishtar and the demon prince Rhackomanon have a history that goes back several years. However, when we first meet him in the novel Aethermancer, he is getting his ass handed to him and starts the story being the second casualty of our heroine. Once we start going backward in time, we will see their struggle was much more complex than it appears in this scene.

About the Artist: Another *Rhado masterpiece, there are no words for this piece other than bodacious, covered in awesome-sauce. The piece, called Zarah Neman, was another of his commissioned works made in a variety of media. I chose it for the demonic being called Rhackomanon because of the six of his demonic brothers, he is still the most likely to appear human even outside of a host being. He gets his ass handed to him because he is arrogant.