Chapter Thirteen: Raising the Stakes

I suppressed a yawn, stumbling out of my teepee. It was daytime out here—morning or afternoon, I couldn't really tell. If I had to guess, though, I'd say it was still morning. The rain was still coming down pretty hard, but I seemed to have retained my ability to redirect the raindrops, keeping me dry even when I was standing in the middle of a rainstorm.

There were millions of dew droplets adorning the grass, the gentle roar of the sky rivers falling into the lake continued to thunder in the distance. All in all, it seemed like another beautiful morning in the Land of Rain and Rivers.

Oh, right, except for the bloody fight raging all throughout the camps as hordes of imps, reinforced by ogres and a few larger underlings I did not recognize, descended upon the teepees in their never-ending quest to wreak havoc. Yeah, I forgot to mention that little detail. Doesn't seem like a very beautiful morning anymore, eh?

Well, it wasn't. A number of dead consorts littered the ground—more than I really wanted to count—taken by surprise in the initial assault, I would assume. Those who had not met their end prematurely in the opening attacks were now fighting back, fighting desperately to avoid being turned into mincemeat.

I barely had time to grab my weapon—an alchemized hybrid of a Bowie hunting knife, a red lightsaber, and a Roman gladius—from my strife specibus before a ball of fire slammed into my teepee, setting the whole thing alight. A winged banshee screeched down from above, fire belching from its throat.

It occurred to me that maybe Tami had been right; maybe it was my fault that these creatures had wings, from when my Roman eagle statuette got prototyped. I'd blamed it on Cass, who'd prototyped her dragon sculpture…but I think the consequence of her prototyping was to give the banshees the ability to breathe fire, not flight.

Our collective bad.

I didn't bother engaging the banshee; it was long gone before I even got my bearings. As I looked to the side, I saw a yellow-scaled cobra go down under a group of imps, amber-hued blood spurting from a gaping wound on his neck. I made my way over to the fallen consort, greeting one of the imps from behind. And by greet, of course, I mean repeatedly stabbing the little shit into a never-ending sleep.

The other three imps all jumped me, but I was ready for them. I got the first one through the throat as it leaped at me, simply raising my blade and thrusting it forward slightly, letting the imp's momentum do the rest. Yanking the blade free, I jumped to the side, dodging the other two imps as they landed. And as they both turned towards me once more, I suddenly had a brief moment of inspiration.

I think it was time for a little telekinetic workout.

I allowed my blade to fade away, returning to its strife specibus, leaving me unarmed. My earlier suspicions seemed to have been right—those bursts of foreign thoughts, when it felt like someone hijacked my mind…they had not gone away. There were pieces of knowledge that I was remembering right now that I know had not come from my own mind.

I knew how to do things I hadn't known how to do, before. Almost like waking up one morning and suddenly understanding the basics of physics—just the basics, mind you; you didn't know everything there was to know about the subject…but you were suddenly able to understand jack shit, when just the day before you hadn't even known the first thing about physics.

I raised my hands, focusing on the two imps, and clenched them into fists, clapping them together. My hands flared with a very faint, barely visible amber glow, and the two imps were torn off their feet, suddenly, flying through the air and crashing into each other. Their heads slammed together with a sickening crunch, their bodies thudding to the ground before being reduced to piles of grist.

The yellow-scaled consort was still writhing on the ground feebly, his blood pooling out into the grass around him. I didn't really think there was anything I could do for him, but I crouched down anyway to examine the wound. The consort grew still when he saw who I was.

"I am dying, I think," the consort managed to speak, despite the horrible wound in his throat. "Never thought…never thought I'd go like thiss… Bessted by an imp, of all thingss…" the dying consort looked up at me, his pupils relaxing from their slit shape into their more round state. I didn't really know what to say—I hadn't meant to get dragged into this guy's dying moments—but he thankfully kept talking before I had a chance to reply. "Red of eyess… He Who Walkss Tall…"

And with that, the cobra lapsed into a fit of gurgling noises and light convulsions, and then fell silent and stopped moving. I don't think he even had the chance to bleed to death—I think he actually suffocated on his own blood. Even if I'd had the time to put something over the wound and apply pressure, it was simply too deep. Nothing could have saved him.

I left the dead consort where he lay—no point in lingering. That was the first time I'd ever really seen a person die…like, right in front of me, you know? You see it happen all the time in movies, in games—you may even see a dead body or two at funerals—but having someone actually die right in front of you…

Well, it's really fucking unsettling, and that's all I'm going to say about it.

Another imp was charging at me as I moved away from the yellow-scaled cobra's corpse. My mouth twisted in a scowl as the little shit ran towards me, claws outstretched, teeth bared. Remembering the sound the yellow-scaled cobra had made as he died, I clenched my right hand into a fist and punched it forward, feeling whatever it was in my mind that allowed me to control my Aspect, flexing like a muscle, as if I were bench-pressing.

The imp flew backwards, quickly vanishing into the rain. I probably didn't kill it, but it would definitely be out of the fight when it landed.

I made my way into the central hub of the camp, where the celebrations from last night had taken place. It was almost like my body was functioning on autopilot to a degree, in regards to the telekinesis. Somehow, I was able to wreck these imps' shit with my mind, without too much effort, and without really thinking about what I was doing. And it occurred to me that if I started overthinking it, if I started to dwell too much on how I was able to use my Aspect… I think I would lose my mojo. Until the Force Aspect became as much a part of me as my limbs, I'd just have to keep on doing things the way I was currently doing them.

I was nearly out of breath by the time I reached the center of the camp. I was using my Aspect with surprising ease, but it seemed to come at the price of physical exertion, just like any other muscle. Maybe this would decrease, or even go away over time, but I was just learning how to be a telekinetic. I had a lot of hurdles to jump over.

As I fought my way through groups of imps, as well as an ogre or two, I became aware of something in the very back of my mind. I kept thinking of a ladder, with rungs of many different colors. But it was incomplete. Only a handful of the bottommost rungs were colored—all the rungs above them were dark, colorless. But as I killed more and more underlings, more rungs started to shine with color.

It was the weirdest thing…always there, always present in the back of my mind, but ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time I was able to tune it out. I soon noticed that I only saw this weird ladder every time a new rung was illuminated.

I didn't exactly have any time to think on this, though—the underlings were proving themselves to be capable distractions.

I finally reached the place where we'd had the council fire, just in time to see one of the consorts—a smaller, red-scaled cobra—go flying, struck down by an ogre. As the ogre stepped down on the cobra's body and raised its fists for a finishing blow, I recognized the cobra as none other than Glimmering Scales, the one who'd first found me at the hill where my first gate had dumped me out.

The yellow-scaled consort still fresh in my mind, I resolved not to repeat that experience with Scales. I couldn't throw ogres around with telekinesis the way I could with imps—bigger size, and all that—but I really didn't need to. A smaller push could achieve the same end when concentrated on the right area.

I clenched my right hand into a fist while I held my left hand outwards, slowly drawing it back towards me. The ogre gave a surprised grunt as an invisible force dragged it towards me, away from Glimmering Scales. That was when I punched my right hand forward, the resulting push tearing the ogre's head clean off, even while its headless corpse continued to be dragged towards me. That is, until it dissolved into grist.

I took a moment to steady myself, feeling a brief wave of nausea and dizziness after that last kill. I'd have to take a rest, soon, or else I'd probably pass out.

Glimmering Scales picked himself up off the ground, righting himself and regaining his balance before rearing his head back up. His fangs were dripping venom, stained red with underling blood. "You could not have done that yessterday," the red-scaled cobra remarked, still breathing heavily from his tussle with the ogre.

"Well, gee, a lot's happened since then," I shot back. "Ogre beat you up too badly?"

"No, I am fine," Scales replied, before adding a hesitant, "Thank you. Knight."

Seeing how difficult it'd probably been for Scales to come out with an apology like that, to me, I accepted it without any qualms. "Yeah, don't mention it. Just don't hesitate to…you know…return the favor, if…yeah, let's just keep killing these asshats."

Glimmering Scales had a sword, carried in a sheath on his back, but he decided not to use it while we fought together. Maybe he just wanted to use his telekinesis, seeing that my Aspect was the only thing I was using, at the moment.

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my muscles from quivering too much as we tore through several more waves of the little shits. I mean, I'm not a weak person, and I could always hold my own in gym class. I even got a good workout from all the times I've strifed with my Sis…but my constant use of my Aspect was really starting to tire me out.

The last straw came when Scales and I were attacked by another ogre. We'd just slain a pair of the larger, brutish underlings when another ogre came at us from behind. We barely had time to get the hell out of the path of the ogre's fists, and we ended up diving in opposite directions.

I rolled back up to my feet and spun around, flinging out both of my hands and using my Aspect to seize the ogre. I began to drag it forward, getting ready to take off its head like the first ogre I killed here, when I stopped short. Suddenly, the ogre just stopped moving, and I couldn't make it budge no matter how hard I pulled. It was like trying to drag a truck out of quicksand using only a rope.

"Releasse the beasst!" Glimmering Scales exclaimed from the other side of the ogre. "It iss mine!"

I could see the red-scaled cobra behind the ogre, trying to pull the underling towards it just like me. Gradually, I started to lose my grip. I don't know why, but the fact that I was losing my grip started to irritate me. Like, a lot. "Fuck that, I had him first!" I shouted back, redoubling my own grip.

And so we continued to argue for maybe half a minute, both of us refusing to let the creature go so the other could slay it. Many of my muscles were already seizing up as our conflict escalated. I was really starting to hit rock bottom in terms of energy, here, but I still refused to give up. What can I say, stubbornness is one of my flaws.

In the end, both of us won. Or maybe neither of us, depending on how you look at it.

There was a horrible ripping, tearing noise, accompanied by agonized, animalistic screams. And then I was suddenly on my back, looking up into the sky, heaving for breath. I felt like I'd just run a marathon while pumping weights. I was drained.

I think I actually might have passed out for a few seconds, because I don't remember falling onto my back. One moment I was standing, fighting Scales for that ogre, and the next moment I was lying on the ground. I took another deep breath and rolled onto my side, slowly propping myself up on an elbow.

The ogre had been torn clean in half—skull and all. The telekinetic grips of Scales and myself must have grown strong enough, while remaining equal in strength to each other, that eventually the ogre's body was incapable of remaining in one piece while being pulled in opposite directions. As I watched, the half of the corpse that I'd had control over dissolved into a pile of grist, but the other half remained. I guess underlings only turned into grist when I killed them.

I had to look away from the other half of the corpse—underling or not, it was fucking disgusting. And besides, I really didn't want to throw up two days in a row.

I pushed myself up onto my knees, preparing myself for the next attack…but none came. As I looked around, I saw the underlings fleeing through the teepees, making their way away from our camp, leaving behind their dead. The ground was littered with corpses—predominantly imps, but there were also a good number of fallen consorts. Many of the teepees had been set on fire during the skirmish, but the rain was putting them out before they spread.

I don't know why the underlings suddenly decided to cut and run, but I certainly wasn't complaining. I wouldn't have lasted another five minutes, after all the juice I spent on fighting Scales over that dumb ogre. I still don't know why I'd done that… I probably wouldn't have been able to release the ogre even if I wanted to. Maybe that was just the Knight inside me…

The next few hours were a blur of activity. The wounded consorts were immediately taken in for treatment by the healers, and the twelve clans of the Western Fires gathered up all their dead. The dead would be taken back to their ancestral homes and given proper burials in the forests. Others got to work taking down the surviving teepees, breaking camp and getting the clans ready to move.

I took a breather, shoving several skins of water down my throat and having some bread to eat. Once I felt able, I joined the frenzy of activity, working alongside Glimmering Scales and Burning Dusk. Those of us who were not taking care of the wounded, clearing the dead, or breaking camp were busy gathering the corpses of all the dead underlings, dragging them to the center of camp, right where the council fire had been the night before.

"What's everyone's rush?" I asked Burning Dusk as I grabbed body of an imp under its arms, dragging it towards the unlit fire. "We won, didn't we?"

"I wass afraid of thiss," Burning Dusk said to me. "Word hass already gotten around that the Knight hass come… I called for celebrationss after your triumph, but I wass a fool to think Hyperion would not dissturb our peace…"

"Those underlingss were merely the forerunnerss of whatever force Hyperion hass ssent to crush uss," Glimmering Scales explained to me. "The impss usually lose patience and attack their victimss before their larger, more powerful brethren arrive. That iss what hass happened here. We musst now leave before the larger beasstss arrive, and return to the ssafety of our foresstss."

By then, we'd reached the spot where we'd had the council fire. Instead of a normal fire made from logs, sticks, and twigs, however, there was only a pile of headless underling corpses. Consorts would drag the bodies of the dead underlings to the corpse pile, take their heads, and throw the bodies into the mound.

I picked my imp up and started to toss it into the pile, but Burning Dusk stopped me. "Wait," the chieftain of Clan Nathair telekinetically grabbed my arm. "Remove the beast's head, first. Leave it on the ground."

I did as I was told, retrieving the Roman Bowie from my strife specibus. I activated the blade's energy envelope—a trait inherited from a lightsaber, one of the three items used to create the Roman Bowie. With the energy field humming around the blade, I was able to effortlessly decapitate the imp, tossing its corpse into the pile and leaving its head where it lay.

By the time I got back to the pile, it had grown taller by several feet, and there were so many heads littering the ground around it that it was hard to find places to put my feet. I ended up dragging dead imps over to the corpse pile for the next hour or so, until our camp was completely cleared of dead—both underling and consort.

The wounded had already been taken away from this place, beginning the journey back to their home forests. The ones who had broken camp had also gone on their way, leaving just those of us who'd been clearing the dead underlings.

Thunder was booming in the near distance, and lightning flashed every minute or so. The wind was picking up and the rain intensifying, but I was still able to continue redirecting the precipitation, remaining perfectly dry. When the last corpse had been beheaded and thrown into the corpse pile, Burning Dusk, Dancing Shadow, and ten other consorts formed a circle around the pile of corpses. I recognized them all from the council fire last night—they were the clan chiefs. None of them had died in the attack, thankfully.

The twelve clan chiefs all took in a deep breath and bared their fangs. Large balls of flame flared into existence in front of each of the chieftains, balls of fire which roared forward like flamethrowers, straight into the pile of corpses, setting it alight. Even the downpour of rain was not enough to extinguish this fire—it would rage until the corpses that fueled it were nothing but carbonized husks.

The heads of the imps were left on the ground where they lay, but the heads of the ogres and the larger underlings were all put on spikes made of sharpened support poles from destroyed teepees. Even the half-head, from that one ogre Scales and I ripped apart, had been spiked. That was probably one of the most disturbing things I've seen in my entire life.

The members of the various clans all bid one another farewell before parting ways and heading home.

"Let Hyperion'ss hordess come, and let them find our little message," Burning Dusk admonished as I made my way away from the Forbidden River and into the hills with the members of Clan Nathair. The chieftain turned to me, looking at me with…could it be respect? I mean, I'm sure he respected me before, but now that I'd actually proven myself in a fight… "Perhapss thiss wass your true Trial," the chieftain remarked. "Climbing a ladder of bladess iss one thing, but ssurviving your firsst battle using only your Vis…that takess ssomething elsse."

"Will I ever be able to stop having to constantly prove myself?" I sighed. "I mean, how many times do I have to kill underlings with my mind before everyone will stop wondering if I'm the Knight? Because I am."

"Oh, there iss no longer any doubt that you are the Knight. The whole of the Western Fires will have faith in you when word of thiss fight goess around," Burning Dusk assured me. "Unfortunately, your Trial hass only jusst begun. But I have a good idea of how you are meant to continue, and gain valuable experience in the process. We shall sspeak on thiss later."

The walk back to the forests inhabited by Clan Nathair took us only a day and a half, as opposed to the two full days it took us to reach the Forbidden River. The prospect of attack from behind probably spurred us on faster than we would have moved had there been no danger nearby.

I remember asking Burning Dusk why Hyperion didn't just burn down the forests, if the people of the Western Fires were being such thorns in his side, but the clan chief merely replied, "Hyperion iss ruthless, but he iss not inssane. He desiress to rule thiss world, but he will have no world left if he burnss the foresstss."

Five consorts from Clan Nathair lost their lives yesterday, killed in the surprise attack of the underlings. Their bodies had been recovered from the Trial grounds, covered by blankets, and brought back home by their surviving kinsmen. Each of them came from their own family, and there was a brief period of mourning in all five of Clan Nathair's villages that lasted for a day, followed by a burial ceremony that involved interring the bodies into the ground, then planting trees over them.

Life went on in the villages, though perhaps not as it always had. After all, a figure of legend for these consorts was now walking and living among them… I mean, how would people feel if Jesus suddenly showed up one day and started living in their town? Then again, with that in mind, I actually think these cobra people were handling my presence very well. Much better than Humans ever would… If Jesus ever came back, he probably wouldn't get a moment of peace, but I-

Fuck, I really need to stop comparing myself to Jesus. It's really just the 'figure of legend coming to life' deal that we share. Other than that, Jesus and I probably have nothing in common. Unless he likes Hans Zimmer.

Three days after our return to the villages, Burning Dusk held another council fire, and he summoned both me and Glimmering Scales, his son.

I ducked out of the Big House—that's what I called the giant, wigwam-like, communal cabin in the centre of the village—and headed up to the edge of the ridge, where the council fires were always held.

The rain had subsided, relaxing into a light drizzle. The view from the council fire spot really was breathtaking; the main village of Clan Nathair was built on a plateau, and the council fire spot was at the very edge of this plateau, allowing for a view of much of the forests below, as well as the mountains in the far distance. I could see faint motes of light in the night—other villages, belonging to the various clans of the Western Fires. This particular forest was the largest one on LORAR, and Clan Nathair shared it with two smaller clans—Clans Anguis and Nyoka. I wasn't very surprised to learn that the consorts called it the Knightswood. I wanted to start keeping a list of everything these people have named after me.

Cardinals flitted through the tops of the trees, chirping quietly to one another in whatever strange language they used. The five elders were sitting in their places around the council fire, their backs to the edge of the ridge, the luminous violet night sky shining behind them. Burning Dusk also sat among them, next to Falling Sun—the oldest of the elders.

I ran into Glimmering Scales as I started climbing the steep path that wound from the edge of the village up to the council fire. The red-scaled cobra was not wearing his sword, and he seemed to be going in the same direction as me. "What brings you out here, this time of night?" I asked the younger cobra.

"My father ssummonss me to the fire," Scales replied. "And you?"

"Same thing. Guess we get to go together."

Scales's only response was a low grunt.

We approached the council fire together. Scales bowed his head down to the ground for a moment, greeting the council fire with, "Honored Elderss." I copied what Scales did, and no one called for my immediate execution, so I think I did it right.

"Approach and join our fire."

I sat down cross-legged on our side of the council fire. I was allowed to sit on a rock to give me the extra height needed to see everyone on the other side of the flames—the consorts did not need this extra boost, as they were already able to extend their necks and upper bodies up high enough by themselves.

"We gather here to disscuss the fate of the Knight, and that of the chieftain'ss offsspring," Falling Sun declared.

"You brought up an interessting point, sseveral dayss ago, Knight," Burning Dusk said to me. "You assked me when you would be able to sstop having to prove yoursself."

Oh great, back to this. "Yeah, you said I already had."

"To uss—I ssaid you had already proven yoursself to uss," Burning Dusk reminded me. "Unfortunately, thiss iss not enough. We of the Western Fires are not the only people of thiss land. The clanss of the Northern Fires and of the Desert Fires fell to Hyperion'ss conquesst long ago. They are little more than sslavess, now."

"We are the ssmallesst of the three peopless," Grey Mist, the reddish-brown-scaled elder sitting to Falling Sun's left, explained. "We are the descendants of the People of the Foresstss, one of the three Great Fires of ancient timess. Though Hyperion ssent wave after wave of all mannerss of beasstss and monssterss to bring uss under his rule, the mightiesst of his underlingss were not able to contesst with our masstery of these foresstss. The clanss of the Northern Fires and of the Desert Fires eventually ssuccumbed to the mighty Denizen, but our peopless were able to defend our forests, where we have lived ever ssince."

"You can disspensse with the hisstory lesson, Grey Mist," a third elder sighed.

Burning Dusk quickly jumped in before Grey Mist could give a retort. "The point iss that in more recent timess, Hyperion hass had the capability of crushing uss—all he had to do was ssend all of his forcess into the Knightswood, and we would have drowned under their numberss. But he refrained from doing sso because we are the ssmallesst of the three peopless, and we pose very little threat to the mighty Denizen on our own."

"But thiss hass changed, with your arrival," Falling Sun continued, building off what the clan chief said. "If there wass ever a persson who would be able to help liberate the ensslaved clanss, it would be the Knight. It would be you. Ssuch a persson could possibly unite all of the clanss and even pose a direct challenge to Hyperion and hiss underling hordess. The mighty Denizen knowss thiss, and the red birdss have told uss that he hass sstarted massing his forcess once more. The Denizen iss going to war."

"And thiss iss where you come in, Knight," Burning Dusk nodded to me. "You musst prove yoursself to be that which Hyperion fearss. You musst leave the Knightswood and travel to the ssteppess of the north, and to the ssands of the easst. The ensslaved clanss have losst their hope…but perhapss a figure of legend can rekindle it."

I blinked. "So… What you're saying is that you want me to go and spark a few rebellions?"

"In a nutshell, yess," Falling Sun nodded.

"Okay, yeah, you could've just told me that and I would've been fine."

"And what of me?" Glimmering Scales, who had thus far been silent, spoke up.

Falling Sun tasted the air, his forked tongue flitting out and back into his mouth almost too fast for me to see. "You fought valiantly againsst Hyperion'ss attack on the Forbidden River. Truly, your Vis iss much more developed than anyone elsse of your age. It iss the opinion of thiss council of elderss that you be allowed to begin your Trial early. Your father hass already given uss his blessing."

Scales looked up sharply, blinking rapidly in surprise several times. "I… I would be honored to… Uh…" the younger, red-scaled consort had to take a deep breath in order to find his voice. "When may I leave?"

"That will be disscussed momentarily," Grey Mist replied.

Scales drew himself up to his full height. "I will bring you the head of nothing less than a-"

"Your Trial will not be like the Trialss of your peerss," Falling Sun held up a hand, quelling Scales. "You have already proven your ability in combat, but there iss more to masstering your Vis than proficiency in battle. We have decreed that you shall accompany the Knight on his quesst. You will help him masster his Vis; and in doing sso, you might even masster your own."

This time, Scales blinked only once. I quietly slid a few inches away from the red-scaled consort—he was pretty bad at hiding his emotions, and I feel like I probably could have cooked some eggs and bacon just by placing them on his head. Throw in the fact that he is telekinetic, and I really didn't want to be sitting right next to him.

"Forgive me, elderss… I'm not sure I undersstand…" I could tell Scales was working really hard to keep his voice level. "You… You are not allowing me to undergo a normal Trial?"

"Youthss undergo their Trial and become full warriorss at age twenty-five. You are only twenty-two. Your Trial iss, by itss very nature, abnormal," Falling Sun reminded the youth. "There are many who would give their tailss to join the Knight on his quesst. There will be no further disscussion on the matter—it iss already decided."

Scales exhaled sharply through his nostrils. I could tell that there was a lot more he wanted to say, but he retained what remained of his composure and bowed down low. "Honored Elderss," he muttered, before turning around and slithering silently off into the darkness, leaving me alone with the others.

"I fear it will be ssome time before he can reconcile himsself to his tassk," Burning Dusk said to me apologetically. "But I know him well. He wass ready for his Trial, ready to go out and bring back the head of the largesst underling he could find. He will think we are disshonoring him by ssending him to teach you, but fear not; he will ssoon realize jusst how much more this quesst will do for him than bringing back a head ever would."

"I'm not quite sure I'm looking forward to him being a teacher," I admitted hesitantly.

"I do not think I would either, were I in your position," Burning Dusk broke the quietness of the conversation with a hearty bark of laughter. "He may be teaching you to masster your Vis—the force of your mind—but he will alsso end up becoming a sstudent. In teaching you, he himsself will grow."

"So, then…" I rose to my feet, more than ready to leave the fire. "When do we leave?"

Burning Dusk's grin widened slightly. "Tonight."

END OF ACT II