Pyrus (7 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tundriemoy!”

“Magmoras!”

Chapter 11: The Conflict

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flames engulf his body. It was a good thing too, I've been pushing way past my natural magii, and my body is starting to feel the effects. I need to sit down, but I remember Lyra was still frozen. Without looking back, I run as fast as my body can handle back to the battle cloud, but aside from the charred wasteland, it looks as if no one has even been here. I call out her name, hoping for her to respond, but, nothing … She left without even saying good-bye. My heart was torn; here was someone who I put my life on the line for, and she didn't seem to appreciate it. I admit, I was being a little selfish; the whole point was to protect her, not get her attention. But still, how's that for gratitude?

The thunder clouds still remain, and it begins to pour. Steam floats off of my blade as the raindrops make contact with it. I look at the flames and watch as they slowly die off. The cloth disappears as mysteriously as it came, and I was left alone, watching the rain drip off of my hair. Older me's voice rings in my head and says, “You have lost your resolve; therefore, I am not needed. When you learn my name, call me, and perhaps I will lend you my power once again.” Then there's silence. I don't respond, how can I? The coolest thing just happened to me, and I lost it. I think I'm slipping into a depression because everyone always seems to be leaving me to fend for myself. And to make matters even worse, I have no clue where the waterfall cave is now, so I am completely separated from Kris and Aquas. Maybe it's better this way, though; Kris is like a brother to me, but I seem to just be distracting him from his mission.

I stand at the center of the battlefield, staring into the distance. I have a small hope that I will see Lyra walking away, even though I doubt it. I stand there for a while, contemplating my thoughts before I make my decision, and I just walk away. The good news is that my shirt is still intact, unlike in my mental realm. As I limp away from the crater, I hear a voice on the wind.

The eye readjusted itself as it continued to observe the boy as he disappeared into the forest. It really should return to its master, it had a lot of news to report. With one last readjustment, the eye began its trek back to its home. It had already completed its job and sent its observations back. While the eye was returning, its master and four other figures had gathered and were viewing the observations through a circle in the center of an old stone table. Green markings flashed, giving the table a menacing glow.

“The boy shows promise,” a dark voice began. “He has learned a great amount in a very short time given the circumstances.”

“But do not forget,” another voice, sounding almost robotic, interrupted, “he still has not reached his full potential; his Kreysor remains dormant, and the boy himself seems … uninterested in unleashing its power.”

“He is only a boy,” a third voice rang out, sounding raspy with age. “And do not forget, he is only of use to us as long as he continues to be unaware of his purpose.”

“I do not see the point of keeping him alive.” The fourth person spoke, trying to give his cold and cruel tone more authority over the third's voice.

“And yet,” the final voice began, his voice rough like the bark of a tree, “was it not you, Ivan, who ended up losing to the boy? Personal revenge cannot overcome the completion of our final goal.” He stopped speaking once the eye had entered the room and did not resume until it landed on his hand.

“I underestimated his abilities, Trey.” Ivan spoke defensively, color flushing his cheeks. “He will not be so lucky the next time; I assure you.”

“It seems as if we have a misunderstanding between us.” The second voice piped up. “None of us were under the impression that you were going to
get
a second chance.”

“What?” Ivan roared. “My lord, surely you do not agree with Trey and Meteas?” The owner of the first voice then looked across the room, examining the faces of everyone for some hint of betrayal. “The others are correct. I do not want your feelings to get involved in a negative way; however, I am not without pity for you. Do whatever you see fit, but remember not to jeopardize the mission.”

“I understand,” Ivan replied. “Thank you, my lord, for your benevolence.” And he gave a low bow before leaving the room—a small smile forming on his pale blue lips as he walked away.

“King Blice, I do not think that was a good decision,” Meteas said in a whisper. “Ivan's loyalties are not yet known, and he may still disobey your orders.”

Chapter 12: The Exploration

It had been several days of travelling since my battle with the Kreydur of Ice, and I still hadn't found my way outside of the forest. Kris mentioned that there were humans aside from the Kreydurs living on Tereer, but I haven't seen a single city, or even a town! I was starting to think that humans had either devolved back into apes or lived wearing loincloths in the trees.

The good news was, I didn't starve. I took half of the remaining rumbleberries from the cave before I left so I could share them with my animal friends, but the battle made me forget about them completely. I strolled through the forest, munching on rumbleberries as I took in the scene, when something occurred to me:
this is a land of fire; so why is all of the country covered in forests? You would expect volcanoes, or magma, or something flame-like.
I didn't think that I would ever find out the answer to that question, so I just continued walking until I saw a clearing in the forest.

It turns out I was wrong about the people being apes or living in trees. As soon as I exited the forest, I was stunned and greeted with a change in the air. I never really noticed the smell of industrialization back on Earth. I soon realized that it was due to the fact that for almost two months I had been living in the forest, completely isolated from society. As I exited the forest, I ended up staring at an almost Arabic city.

The buildings varied in size and shape, with shops covering the streets. As I walked through, I was surrounded by a vast arrangement of red. Yet, there was none of the usual hustle and bustle that you normally see in a marketplace. There were people, yes, but everyone's faces were covered by hoods, and the whole bazaar was quiet. I also noticed that no one tried to attract my attention or advertise their goods. The shopkeepers were silent, but they all seemed confident that they would get customers. It was almost as if the town itself was so small, the shop owners had memorized their regular customers' faces to the point that they knew who will visit on what day. The weirdest thing, though, was that the people travelling on the roads acted as if they were on a highway. One group travelled one direction one road, and another group travelled another direction on a different road.

I could not read the writing on the shops and in front of the products. But the products gave me a good idea of what was being sold. One stall sold what looked like soap, another sold red bananas! Well, they looked like bananas. Like any guy, I soon got bored of browsing the stalls and instinctively reach into my pocket to grab my cell phone and check the time, but my fingers closed around a crumpled piece of paper. I took it out of my pocket to find ten dollars. It must have been left over from the movie. As I stared at the crumpled bill, my heart had a pang, and I realized I really missed home.

Is it still my home?
I wondered.
It's as if I ‘ve been gone forever, trapped in a dream, and I can't wake up.
I got pushed forward slightly, and I realized that I had stopped walking and was disrupting the traffic of the few people around.

“I'm terribly sorry, sir,” a tiny voice whispered. It sounded so quiet that I had to search around for the source to confirm I wasn't just hearing things. As I turned around, I viewed my first Pyrian. He was wearing a bright red cloak, all of the villagers were, and the skin on his arm was as crimson as blood, as if he were eternally sunburned. His cloak cast a shadow that concealed his face.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I reply, stepping out of his way. Without a second glance, he resumes walking—almost as if I completely vanished from existence as soon as I moved. Talk about weird. I stared at him until he began to blend in with the other Pyrians. Then I remembered the money. The first thing I needed to do was find some clothes; I needed to blend in.

I resume browsing through the many shops, searching for a clothes stall, but with no luck. There were food stalls, jewelry shops, even a toothpaste shop. What really bugged me was that when I asked for directions or help, the villagers didn't react but to move around me. With a sigh of frustration, I turned around and tried to find my way back, but the entrance was lost from view. I am stuck in a village, with no way out, and I don't even have a bloody map!

All of the buildings and stalls looked the same to me. It was a stupid move to not leave a trail from the entrance. Then again, I wasn't expecting to be lost here. With another sigh, I faced forward again and began to walk. Not moving would not get me anywhere, and if I kept walking, I'd eventually find an exit. Just to make sure I didn't end up walking in a circle, I marked a spot on the road with an X made from some stones on the side of the road.

As I began my trek, the traffic suddenly shifted. Pyrians were now walking in the opposite direction, rather fast, and right past me. It was as if they were running away from something.

Unlike everyone else, I continued walking forward. My eyes met a very disturbing sight once I reached what seemed like the central plaza of the village. This labyrinth of streets was about to be ransacked by men riding on horse-like beasts.

These horses were jet black with flaming green eyes and spiked hooves. These two creatures looked menacing, but they paled in comparison to their masters. These men were cloaked, just like everyone else, but their cloaks were as black as their horses' skins. They wore steel gauntlets, and they each had two swords, one sheathed and on their backs, and the other sheathed by their hips. One of the men was holding a Pyrian, who was a dwarf in size by comparison, by the neck.

“Leave him alone!” I yelled at the man, and I began to charge toward him. As I was nearing the conflict, a burning sensation overwhelmed me, and pain erupted from my heart. I collapsed onto the ground, clutching my chest. I had no idea what was happening to me. I had suddenly felt as if I was carrying four or five people on my back, and I couldn't bear the weight.

As I was struggling to stand, my cloaked enemy dropped the Pyrian, who quickly scampered away, and turned his gaze toward me. The other one began to slowly walk toward me, gradually drawing his swords. As he drew them, they instantly burst aflame; it was as if the swords reacted to the air itself. I was paralyzed by the massive heat wave that overwhelmed me, and the men were coming closer, one small step at a time.

By the time they reached me, I had finally started to regain control of my body, but by then it was too late to run. The only thing I could do was just stare up into my enemy's face and know who killed me. Alas, I was not even allowed that luxury, because even though I stared up into the hood, his face was still shrouded from view. On a normal occasion this would've bothered me, but this was no ordinary occasion. For some reason, this pissed me off a lot.

Anger and rage were consuming me, but I had no idea why. Despite the fact that these men could hurt me severely, never before this point had I actually wanted to inflict real pain upon someone. This darkness inside me was corrupting my mind, and I couldn't contain it. The burning sensation in my heart flared again, but this time I was only aware of it, there was no ensuing shock or pain. The man who was now standing before me raised his sword, aiming for my neck, to decapitate me.

As he swung his word, I caught the blade with my hand. There was no cut on my hand, not even a trickle of blood.

“This blade is dull.” I said, my voice lower than usual. “There's no need to use a blunt blade to kill someone.” After I finished, I crushed the blade in my fist. He began to throw a punch at me, but it was easily noticeable, and I caught it with my other hand. It was as if the world had slowed down, because when the other cloaked figure noticed his counterpart was losing, he began to slowly jog toward me. My fingers tightened their grip on my opponent's hand, and without even knowing how, I violently threw him toward his friend.

All of my senses had been heightened to their max. I heard the collision as the soldier crashed into his buddy, the sound of his breathing. I flexed my claws, no, they were fingers. At least, I thought they were fingers. What was happening to me? It suddenly became too difficult for me to stand on my legs, and my body fell forward, and I landed on all fours. I was becoming more and more like an animal with each passing second. I couldn't control my emotions, and the extreme burning sensation that I felt at the beginning was returning, but I could easily ignore the feeling as if swatting away an annoying fly buzzing in my ear. It wasn't injuring me, but it hovered there, never leaving me alone.

I can hear the men beginning to stand up, but they won't get the chance to—not if I can help it. As they begin to stand, my joints urge me to attack, to hurt them, and the impulses are too urgent to ignore. I race toward them on all fours, and it turns out I can run faster. I could hear the wind rushing past me, and it took not two seconds to reach them. By then, I am holding one of them by the neck. I'm pretty sure I was choking him too.

“Get … out … now,” I manage to grunt through clenched teeth. For that one split second, I recovered my human instincts and managed to warn them. But that second slipped by, and my anger rose to its peak, but with it, an overwhelming headache. I threw my opponent away and clutched my head in pain. My sight had begun to fail, and the rest of what I remember is in scattered pieces.

I staggered through the back alleys and collapsed after a few steps. I saw an old-fashioned gutter with a little puddle of water. I realized I was pretty thirsty. As I approached the gutter, I saw a reflection of myself in the puddle, and I staggered back. My hair had closed in around me, forming into something like a lion's mane. My irises were blood red, and as I examined my teeth, I noticed that my eye teeth had sharpened and grown. I looked like a very hairy vampire.

The last thing I remember was someone touching my arm. I don't know what happened after that, but I'm pretty sure I collapsed. It was as if the touch caused my memory to falter. When I dwell on it, my body turns cold and I shiver, almost as if I don't want to remember. There were voices, however. Voices that sounded odd and unfamiliar. Before my mind fully blanked, however, there were three words that my ears understood and that frightened me: Pyrus, Kreydur and Kreysor.