***
Part Eight: Eyes Open Eyes Closed
***
The sun set. The moon began to rise, casting its ghostly light over the scene. A terrible, howling roar filled the air. And the earth began to shake. Jack stood his ground, eyes narrowed. Waiting.
Iyerogaal emerged from the cave, causing a small earthquake with every footfall.
He was as big as Sankra had said, twice as ugly, and covered in gleaming, iron armor. Thick spikes adorned his coat of mail. He sniffed the air with his round, bulbous nose. And as he swiveled around, Jack made out TWO pairs of eyes --- an open pair on his face that glittered in the moonlight, and a closed pair on the back of his fat head.
Shining steel claws on each hand.
Fearsome fangs.
A death machine.
Jack could feel the whole village quivering in fear behind him. He didn't blame them at all.
"WHERE IS MY SACRIFICE?!" Iyerogaal roared. "WHERE IS MY FLESH?!"
Jack took that as his cue.
"There will be no sacrifice!" he shouted, stepping further into the clearing. "Not now, not ever!"
Iyerogaal looked down and saw Jack. Instead of being frightened, he started to laugh.
"Ha! Another puny warrior, who thinks he can bring me down! And this one's in a bathrobe, of all things! Village of the Broken, you are DOOMED! Ha ha ha!"
He took a swipe at Jack, who leapt aside with ease and a scowl. Iyerogaal got annoyed and tried to catch Jack again with his claws. No luck. A third missed attempt earned Jack an ear-splitting roar. The battle was on.
Iyerogaal was powerful and ferocious, but Jack "jumped good" and avoided the monster's swipes --- for the most part. One snicked his arm and drew blood. Another caught the top of his kimono and yanked it clear off, revealing the body suit. The samurai set his jaw and fought back with fury, leaping up and hacking off any spike on the monster's armor he could reach. But he was aiming for the eyes, trying to put one out with the tip of his bright sword.
The women were just outside the clearing, peeking around trees to get a good look. And then they started to cheer. The acrobatics of the samurai, as he dealt with the ogre, held them spellbound. For the first time in many years, they had hope.
Sankra had gone to another tree to get a better look. Uta stayed put and stared, open-mouthed, at the man she'd brought home. He was a fine sight with his katana. She couldn't help it.
"That's my boy," she said, beaming with pride.
She never knew what hit her. All she felt,
Was a push.
Somehow, in an eternal instant, she was tipping over and stumbling into the battle arena. When she regained her balance, she found herself right behind Iyerogaal. Fear engulfed her. She forgot how to breathe, how to move.
And the hideous, yellow eyes in the back of his head snapped open, catching her right in their sights.
Uta gasped as the monster growled and swiped once behind him, his huge claws coming straight for her.
He had only one shot, though. Jack was keeping him occupied. Their battle had become a wicked, wild, clanging dance of iron and claws and steel. And in the end . . .
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Steel won.
Jack launched himself into the air, readied his weapon, and with a *shwick* he sliced across the monster's thick neck, slitting the rock-gray throat from ear to ear. Iyerogaal's blood flew in a yellow, sloppy spray. He crumpled to the ground.
Jack dropped to earth, panting. He could see his breath. He was covered in yellow blood, and his arm was stinging. He was exhausted. But he'd won. The village at the end of the earth had nothing to fear anymore.
The women watching were ecstatic, jumping up and down and embracing each other. They approached the clearing in a mass. Then they went eerily silent.
Jack was confused. He sheathed his weapon, threw the top of his kimono around him like a shawl, and looked to his right.
"No," he murmured.
He ran through invisible molasses to Uta. She was lying in the snow, a great red mess pouring from her belly where Iyerogaal's claw had split her open. She was spitting blood, wheezing for breath.
Stunned, Jack sank to his knees next to her and held up her gray head. There was nothing else he could do. She was talking. He leaned close to hear her.
"Ay ya, sweet, where have you been? I was worried. Your supper is getting cold," she murmured, then stroked Jack's face. She looked squarely into his dark eyes.
"I love you," she whispered.
People, when they die, don't often make much sense. Uta's eyelids fluttered closed and she went limp. And Jack would never know if her last words were addressed to her husband, her son, her student, or him.
He wept anyway.
"Utaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" came a scream.
Jack turned and saw most of the village approaching. Sankra was leading the charge, hurtling toward him in a wild-eyed run. He didn't want her to see Uta. Jumping up, he met her halfway to the body and grabbed her wrists before she got too close.
"No!" she shouted, struggling. "I want to see her! Uta!"
"Sankra, no. Stop," he said. Tears were running down his face.
She didn't stop. Instead she wrenched her hands free and beat her little fists against him, shouting angrily for her friend.
"Please. Do not look. She is dead, Sankra!" Jack pleaded, wrestling with her. "She is dead. I am so sorry."
Sankra stared at Jack, her honey-colored eyes wide and watery, and wiggled miserably in the warrior's grip. Finally, she just collapsed against Jack's chest and began to cry, murmuring Uta's name and gasping for air between sobs. She threw her arms around him and he held her tight.
Horrified ghosts rushed past them to cover the body. Noise and chaos swept over the two. Screams. Shouted orders. Thousands of feet hurrying from the clearing. They clung to each other, the quiet eye of the hurricane, as the body was borne away, leading most of the spectators off with it.
It began to snow.
White flakes drifted down slowly, hanging on tree branches, dappling rocks, and making the world shimmer. The stars twinkled brightly. Sankra looked up at him, and they reflected themselves ten thousand times in her sad eyes. But as sad as she was, she nestled against him, warming him with her body and willing his spirit to calm down.
Everything around them was quiet and still. Jack felt a drowsy heat creeping through him. His heart was no longer a wildly clanging hammer, but a muffled leather drum. He listened as Sankra snuffled against him. Despite the magic she was working, she was terrified and adrift. Alone in the world as he was.
Uta had gone home.
END PART EIGHT.
***
There is an epilogue. Please "stay tuned." ;)
Part Eight: Eyes Open Eyes Closed
***
The sun set. The moon began to rise, casting its ghostly light over the scene. A terrible, howling roar filled the air. And the earth began to shake. Jack stood his ground, eyes narrowed. Waiting.
Iyerogaal emerged from the cave, causing a small earthquake with every footfall.
He was as big as Sankra had said, twice as ugly, and covered in gleaming, iron armor. Thick spikes adorned his coat of mail. He sniffed the air with his round, bulbous nose. And as he swiveled around, Jack made out TWO pairs of eyes --- an open pair on his face that glittered in the moonlight, and a closed pair on the back of his fat head.
Shining steel claws on each hand.
Fearsome fangs.
A death machine.
Jack could feel the whole village quivering in fear behind him. He didn't blame them at all.
"WHERE IS MY SACRIFICE?!" Iyerogaal roared. "WHERE IS MY FLESH?!"
Jack took that as his cue.
"There will be no sacrifice!" he shouted, stepping further into the clearing. "Not now, not ever!"
Iyerogaal looked down and saw Jack. Instead of being frightened, he started to laugh.
"Ha! Another puny warrior, who thinks he can bring me down! And this one's in a bathrobe, of all things! Village of the Broken, you are DOOMED! Ha ha ha!"
He took a swipe at Jack, who leapt aside with ease and a scowl. Iyerogaal got annoyed and tried to catch Jack again with his claws. No luck. A third missed attempt earned Jack an ear-splitting roar. The battle was on.
Iyerogaal was powerful and ferocious, but Jack "jumped good" and avoided the monster's swipes --- for the most part. One snicked his arm and drew blood. Another caught the top of his kimono and yanked it clear off, revealing the body suit. The samurai set his jaw and fought back with fury, leaping up and hacking off any spike on the monster's armor he could reach. But he was aiming for the eyes, trying to put one out with the tip of his bright sword.
The women were just outside the clearing, peeking around trees to get a good look. And then they started to cheer. The acrobatics of the samurai, as he dealt with the ogre, held them spellbound. For the first time in many years, they had hope.
Sankra had gone to another tree to get a better look. Uta stayed put and stared, open-mouthed, at the man she'd brought home. He was a fine sight with his katana. She couldn't help it.
"That's my boy," she said, beaming with pride.
She never knew what hit her. All she felt,
Was a push.
Somehow, in an eternal instant, she was tipping over and stumbling into the battle arena. When she regained her balance, she found herself right behind Iyerogaal. Fear engulfed her. She forgot how to breathe, how to move.
And the hideous, yellow eyes in the back of his head snapped open, catching her right in their sights.
Uta gasped as the monster growled and swiped once behind him, his huge claws coming straight for her.
He had only one shot, though. Jack was keeping him occupied. Their battle had become a wicked, wild, clanging dance of iron and claws and steel. And in the end . . .
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Steel won.
Jack launched himself into the air, readied his weapon, and with a *shwick* he sliced across the monster's thick neck, slitting the rock-gray throat from ear to ear. Iyerogaal's blood flew in a yellow, sloppy spray. He crumpled to the ground.
Jack dropped to earth, panting. He could see his breath. He was covered in yellow blood, and his arm was stinging. He was exhausted. But he'd won. The village at the end of the earth had nothing to fear anymore.
The women watching were ecstatic, jumping up and down and embracing each other. They approached the clearing in a mass. Then they went eerily silent.
Jack was confused. He sheathed his weapon, threw the top of his kimono around him like a shawl, and looked to his right.
"No," he murmured.
He ran through invisible molasses to Uta. She was lying in the snow, a great red mess pouring from her belly where Iyerogaal's claw had split her open. She was spitting blood, wheezing for breath.
Stunned, Jack sank to his knees next to her and held up her gray head. There was nothing else he could do. She was talking. He leaned close to hear her.
"Ay ya, sweet, where have you been? I was worried. Your supper is getting cold," she murmured, then stroked Jack's face. She looked squarely into his dark eyes.
"I love you," she whispered.
People, when they die, don't often make much sense. Uta's eyelids fluttered closed and she went limp. And Jack would never know if her last words were addressed to her husband, her son, her student, or him.
He wept anyway.
"Utaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" came a scream.
Jack turned and saw most of the village approaching. Sankra was leading the charge, hurtling toward him in a wild-eyed run. He didn't want her to see Uta. Jumping up, he met her halfway to the body and grabbed her wrists before she got too close.
"No!" she shouted, struggling. "I want to see her! Uta!"
"Sankra, no. Stop," he said. Tears were running down his face.
She didn't stop. Instead she wrenched her hands free and beat her little fists against him, shouting angrily for her friend.
"Please. Do not look. She is dead, Sankra!" Jack pleaded, wrestling with her. "She is dead. I am so sorry."
Sankra stared at Jack, her honey-colored eyes wide and watery, and wiggled miserably in the warrior's grip. Finally, she just collapsed against Jack's chest and began to cry, murmuring Uta's name and gasping for air between sobs. She threw her arms around him and he held her tight.
Horrified ghosts rushed past them to cover the body. Noise and chaos swept over the two. Screams. Shouted orders. Thousands of feet hurrying from the clearing. They clung to each other, the quiet eye of the hurricane, as the body was borne away, leading most of the spectators off with it.
It began to snow.
White flakes drifted down slowly, hanging on tree branches, dappling rocks, and making the world shimmer. The stars twinkled brightly. Sankra looked up at him, and they reflected themselves ten thousand times in her sad eyes. But as sad as she was, she nestled against him, warming him with her body and willing his spirit to calm down.
Everything around them was quiet and still. Jack felt a drowsy heat creeping through him. His heart was no longer a wildly clanging hammer, but a muffled leather drum. He listened as Sankra snuffled against him. Despite the magic she was working, she was terrified and adrift. Alone in the world as he was.
Uta had gone home.
END PART EIGHT.
***
There is an epilogue. Please "stay tuned." ;)