Chapter 6: A Solder's Destiny
"Who is this guy?" Joey asked as he got back to his feet and wiped soot from his face.
"Who am I?" Evan glared down at Brighty, whose eyes were glazed over in a daze, "I am the one that will cleanse the world of those who would defile it."
"Is that so?" Joey stated as he stepped in front of Brighty, blocking Evan from her, "Listen psycho, ya gotta get through me first to get to her."
"If you wish to stand between me and my prey then I will have to destroy you too." Evan shifted into a fighting stance and in a blink of an eye launched himself at Joey. Joey barely managed to sidestep the thrust and countered back with a punch to Evan's stomach. Evan faltered back a step but his enchanted blade had still been able to nick Joey in his exposed side.
Evan coughed and tried to catch his breath after that blow to his stomach, "You're better than I thought."
"Not so bad yourself," Joey growled. "Get out of here! I'll keep him busy," Joey yelled at his friends over his shoulder, never once taking his eyes off his opponent.
"Joey..." Yugi started to say.
"No, Yugi, it's too dangerous. Just take the girls and run," Joey admonished him
"Now I can't have that," Evan said as he pointed his sword at them and again muttered a few outlandish words. A wall of fire sprang up behind them blocking their path of escape. Evan cackled with twisted glee, "What now, rodent?"
"You little..." In rage, Joey lunged at Evan but Evan parried by swinging his sword up in an arc slashing open Joey's arm. Joey wheeled back in pain, clutching at his wound with his good hand, as blood poured from it.
"Joey!" Tristan proceeded to rush to his friend's side.
"Stay back, Tristan," Joey groaned still holding his left arm to his chest trying vainly to keep from passing out from the pain. Blood coated the front of his shirt and dripped to the ground, pooling at his feet. "It's no good if both of us get killed," he said through gritted teeth.
"What a brave fool you are," Evan ran two fingers along the flat of his sword, and in their wake, fire bloomed into life. His sword now burned in an inferno of fire. Evan grinned sinisterly as he crouched down for one last attack, "but this is the end." Evan launched himself at Joey with a downward thrust.
Joey closed his eyes, and thinking this was it, he prayed for forgiveness from his friends and his sister and bid them farewell in his heart. At the last possible moment Brighty flung herself in front of him to shield him from the killing blow.
There was a blinding flash of light, and then the world faded away.
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All was quiet in the alley. Prone bodies lay scattered on the ground from the force of the blow. The fires had flickered away to nothing now that one controlling them was out cold and could not maintain them.
Shadows slipped and swirled among the bodies, probing at them, cloaking them in a murky mist. Sensing that all was still once more, a cloaked figure stepped from the shadows. "What a mess," he muttered. He stood over Evan and peered down at him thoughtfully, "Now how was she able to do that...?" Holding his staff over the boy he chanted a few words in a forgotten tongue. A small pin point of light gleamed from the depths of Evan's pocket, and slowly it floated up to eye level in front of the mysterious figure, "Ah, so that is how." Chanting a few more words the tiny light flitted over to where Brighty laid; passed out on top of Joey. The light dimmed and a little gold bead came to rest in her hand.
"Now then, to clean up this mess," he cleared his throat and raised his staff high. His dark voice chanted words of power; the mist thickened over the group, obscuring them from view and blunting the memories of today's events. With a sigh he lowered his staff and looked back down at Evan, "Too bad I can't erase their memories. Ah well, time to go, my friend." The two slowly dissolved along with the shadows.
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Evan slowly opened his eyes, or at least he thought he did. All about him was a sea of darkness; not even a faint glint of light marred the velvety blackness he floated in. "Where am I?" He asked in a strangely muffled voice, as if the void around him absorbed his words even as he spoke them, allowing nothing to leave its mark on the empty landscape.
Evan couldn't tell how much time passed as he floated, cupped in the darkness. It could have been only minutes or days for all he knew. But suddenly a tiny prick of light shimmered off in the distance. Not knowing what else to do he floated towards that light.
The closer he got, the light didn't get brighter so much that it grew. It grew until it was about double his size. Upon reaching the source of the light, Evan found himself standing in front of an arched, gold gilded mirror, and in the mirror... "My sword!" Evan reached out his hand to take his sword, thinking only of getting it and his power back so he could escape this place and find his prey again. But his hand only touched the smooth, cold surface of glass. "What..." Evan fumed as he scratched at the flawless surface, trying to reach the sword.
"Not 'your' sword, my sword," a strangely familiar voice echoed around him.
Evan wildly looked around, trying to spot the source of the voice, but his eyes only encountered the inky darkness. Finally he turned his gaze back to the mirror and a being slowly faded into view; a human that looked far too much like himself for comfort. This image, though, was dressed differently. Evan recognized the strange dress as being that of ancient Egyptian style. He was a soldier by the look of him, wearing a white wrap around skirt that was held in place by a belt of plated gold. He also wore a collar of plated gold and rubies around his neck that covered his shoulder and upper chest. Completing the look were gold arm bands and a hair clasp that held back his long, dark brown hair in a pony tail.
"Who are you?" Evan asked the image.
The soldier crossed his arms and gave Evan a measuring look, "I'd like to say I was you but by your actions today...I really wouldn't want to claim being you. So we shall say that I'm a reflection of who you could really be."
Evan snorted with disdain, "My reflection? Hardly. I know who I am and as for my actions, I am but following the path destiny has laid before me. I was born to cleanse the earth of those defiling it!"
The soldier shook his head, "It is true that you are meant to protect the world from evil, but I tell you now, you were going after the wrong people."
"How would you know?" Evan clenched his fists in anger, wanting to strike out and silence the warrior; but what damage could he do to a reflection? "You're just trying to confuse me and lead me from my path."
"No, Evan, I'm trying to help you find it again," the soldier reached out and clasped the hilt of the sword. It flared to life in his hand, and a red aura surrounded the blade. "It's time to awaken, Evan." Again the soldier reached out with his free hand, but this time towards Evan. To Evan's disbelief and horror the mirror rippled like water and the hand came forth from its depths. The hand clasped his wrist and pulled him into the watery depths of the mirror.
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Evan felt like he was drowning, drowning in a sea of memories, memories that were his and yet not his. A vision of himself kneeling before the pharaoh as he accepted his sword and gave his oath to protect the world with his very life. The sensation of a soft, gentle touch of fingers under his chin, and of gazing into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. "You need never kneel to me, Tahliat," a soft voice reproached him. "We travel the same path and carry the same burdens, my friend." The warmth and comfort of this gentle person's presence was cruelly ripped away to be replaced by one of dread and torment. He was strapped to a table with men in purple robes standing over and around him. "He shall be a useful tool once we are done shaping him," a voice rasped. One of the robed men reached out and placed a hand on his forehead and then...Pain! They tore through the fabric of his being and warped him, leaving nothing but an empty shell full of rage, misery, and a lust for blood.
Evan couldn't breath. All these memories swirled around him, smothered him, and blurred the path of self. "Who am I!" He screamed in desperation and crumpled to the ground holding his head.
"Who do you want to be?" a mysterious voice asked.
Evan looked up and before him stood two people. One is the soldier Tahliat, looking proud, confident, and holding the golden sword. The other was Evan, but this Evan was cloaked in a tattered purple robe and had shattered, empty eyes. He too carried the golden sword, a sword coated in blood. This Evan was nothing but a tool; a puppet dancing to his master's will.
"Which path will you choose, Soldier of Fire?" The voice asked again.
Evan stared at the cloaked figure and it sickened him, knowing that this is what he had started to become. He got heavily to his feet and slowly he moved to stand before Tahliat with his head bowed in shame. "Forgive me, I had forgotten who I really was and lost my way," Evan asked meekly of the ancient soldier.
Tahliat smiled and held out the sword to Evan. "It's time to awaken," was all he said. Evan placed his hand over Tahliat's and the world around them blazed into fire. In its inferno Evan was cleansed of the darkness that had begun to warp his soul, healing him and allowing him to once again take up his oaths.
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Evan groaned as he slowly came to wakefulness. He was lying on his bed in his room, but how did he get here?
"It's about time you woke up." Evan rolled his pounding head slowly towards the familiar voice and spied a black cloaked figure reclining on a near by chair. "So, did you find what you were looking for?"
Evan shifted stiffly on the bed and his hand encountered the hilt of his sword. Smiling, Evan whispered, "Yes, yes I did." Closing his eyes, Evan drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
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Brighty sat at her vanity table and stared hard at the little glass box, now holding four of the little golden beads. The events of today were all fuzzy; all Brighty could remember was something about fire and blood. When they had all woken up no one could seem to recall what had happened, though Yugi had looked very thoughtful. There was a moment of panic when they noticed the blood caked on the front of Joey's ripped shirt but there wasn't a scratch on him. Brighty giggled, "Poor Joey," she thought. When he had woken up to discover her lying on top of him passed out...she giggled again, oh the look on his face! Tristan was never going to let him forget this one.
Brighty frowned and glowered at the beads seeking answers. It wasn't until after the panic of making sure everyone was okay that she had noticed it. She had opened her fist and there it was, neatly tucked into the palm of her hand. Brighty sighed, "What in the world is going on?"
At that moment the phone beside her bed rang startling her and making her jump a little nervously. Brighty got up from her vanity and answered it. "Hello...oh, hi mom," she groaned softly and fell back into the embrace of the bed. This was going to be a long conversation.
