For our final project we had to present a full, complete story of something we'd been working on. Since we had the option of combining our out-of-class assignments into one, complete work I decided on that option.
All 4 of the classes Workshop pieces are presented here in one piece as my Final.
All 4 of the classes Workshop pieces are presented here in one piece as my Final.
THE TOURNAMENT SAGA
The Valley of Shadows
Shadow's Story
by
Kerry Keith Murdock
In the far distant, mysterious land of Romania, a deep,
forested valley lays within its vaulted mountains ranges. To the locals it is
known in legend simply as ‘the dark valley.’ The details regarding these
sources of legend are unknown, even to them. However, the name throughout
history has remained accurate, if not vague.
As the early morning sun peeks
its first light over the tops of the mountain ranges the night’s last wisps of
haunting dark crawls away in reluctant retreat. With the sun’s steady, eastern
rise it casts it’s brightening rays down into the range’s depths below. As the
dark valley grows lighter scenes of nature’s majestic beauty focus into view.
Forested hills blanket the valley’s side, providing a lush scene of vegetation.
From high above, a cascading waterfall crests its descending plummet with a
dream-like vision. Grassy fields are dotted with adorned trees and decorated
with the vibrant colors of wildflowers.
However, this is simply
camouflage designed to hide the true nature of the valley’s purpose; lulling
visitors into a false sense of security to prepare them for the plunge into
everlasting doom.
Within the valley stands a
hidden kingdom of Korean architecture, whose origins are known to none but
those who settled the land and those few who know the fables that history has
desperately tried to devour. It is the land of the fabled clan Ki-Char, whose
clan’s remains are remnants of a pilgrimage Korean army whose ultimate end has
both plighted and prospered them to this end. Red-pillared pagoda houses with
tiled roofs line the landscape with an air of superior efficiency. Military
barracks, arsenals, storage facilities, and training fields provide a humbling
and disconcerting mood of military might. Sitting against one of the valley’s
walls and overshadowing the smaller buildings looms a royal palace, like a fat
cat gazing upon a choice selection of timid mice. In the morning’s lighting
hues it lays quiet and still, as though peering down with distaste upon its
subjects; looking for a reason to reject their presence.
Within the palace’s Meditation
Chamber, sitting cross-legged on the floor, is the Master of the Land. His
dark, heavy-lidded eyes are closed, though his radiating presence indicates he
is simply examining visions of the future from the recesses of his inner-mind’s
eye. His bare, powerfully muscled chest slowly rises and falls to his
instinctively, but relaxed, timed breathing. The naked, taunt twin pythons that
are his arms rest palms down upon the sharp knees of his bulky legs. His sable
black hair is pulled back, coiled behind his skull which hangs down his spine
like a long rope in traditional oriental fighting fashion. In the morning’s
cool, early mist his warming clothes consist of only a gladiator’s armored and
furred garb about his loins and hips, connected to twin straps that race over
and behind each of his broad and imposing shoulders. His crown, a horned and
hairy headdress which appears to belong to a warlord of old, sits upon a nearby
stand as to not impede with his meditation. Resting or warring, this is the
garb he prefers, whether he is ruling over his Ki-Char subjects or laying waste
to a small armada of armed and bitterly determined fighting solders. This he
would merely do with the skill of his dozens of deadly combined martial arts
skills.
The occurring scenes playing
within his mind's eye are battles of desperation, fights for life, and
struggles for survivals. Grown men and women, experts in their individual
levels of combat discipline fight to the death in the crimson of the Master's
arena ring. With pleasure he watches on with war-lusting fascination as the
arena's mat is stained red from the life's blood spilled before him. With
weapons some fight; armed to the teeth with blades, hooks, spears, firearms,
and even poison. Others battle with the skin of their fists, relying on their
cunning, agility, skill, or knowledge to defend their persons and best their
aggressors.
Through the past the Master's
mind wanders, picturing in perfect detail the trials the combatant's peril
takes them. Beginning their journey as one of many, one hopeful individual in a
group, they enter. Unknowing they are of the dangers ahead, so they suspect and
anticipate their obvious victory. One by
one their expectations fall as they do, realizing too late that their
assumptions couldn't begin to prepare them for the skill of their opponent's
painful and apparent monstrosities. With his own resources coming into play,
the Master sows his own painful lies of deceit and fading promises of desire
into the minds of his play-puppets. With joyful results, he sees his objectives
realized as his own would-be assassins decimate each other. Before his eager
eyes, in the gladiator-ring, the strong destroy the strong and leave the
remaining the weakest of all. With the process of elimination playing in his
favor he finally enters the ring's bloodied boundaries himself to stand off
against the weakest the once strong group originally had to offer. The
successful, strong opponent is now at the final moment of victory, but no
longer are they proud pillars of power. Beaten to breaking before by all
others, he or she now remains a survivor simply through means of unreliable luck,
softened skill, exhausted endurance, and tired tenacity. Unconcerned, the
Master now easily mortally dispatches this last remaining opponent as playfully
as a bored tiger would to his prey.
The battle in the ring is his
greatest treasure, an ancient tradition handed down through the ages from the
strongest warrior's fighting hand to the next. Once a proud and noble
celebration of life, it was originally honored as a friendly, non-lethal
competition the best that Master's old Korean enemies had to offer. In a
vengeful raid upon their forces during the time of it's celebration, Master
unknowingly captured the tradition by claiming the title for himself when he
killed the current Master. Returning home and learning of its existence he
distorted it into his own deadly, raging spectacle. Yearly, contestants flock
to this kingdom's gates to compete for the riches of his clan's treasures, the
glory of his title, or his own life's blood. Driven mad by the blood-lust and
power, Master longs for the competition the tradition tempts to his gates. For
20 years now, and growing strong, all have fallen and failed. Their corpses,
now comprising the contents of their Dead Vault's interiors, are all that
remain of their greedy or treacherous ambitions.
This time-honored tradition is
simply known as The Tournament.
This is Master's passion; using
the Tournament to rule over others and bend them to his will. He is an expert
at his craft. Master is the ultimate manipulator of power.
The scenes before him shift,
fade, and change like water poured over a pool of oil. Colors and sounds,
expressions and decisions, sounds and emotions sway and wash over and around
him as though a flood has poured in from the ceiling outside. Faces, new and
unfamiliar, assault his sense with waves of warning. Predictions of new events,
mimicking the old, are seen through the senses of the meditation. With a
streaking shriek the input of emotion, sights, and sounds cause his relaxed,
locked eyes to strike wide open. As his senses fade back towards reality a
realization settles welcomed to his mind. Stiff from the long stillness of his
sitting, his tired face cracks a thin smile. Again, the seasonal hour
approaches and his time to reign has begun. His lips part with the words he
himself long to hear.
“It is time.” are the only words
required to drive desire into the hearts of the willing, brave, and foolish.
Five miles to the north of Master’s kingdom, along the
mountainous pathways of ridges, another valley currently played host to an
interested party with concerns regarding the Ki-Char.
Within the
center of the valley’s clearing, a beautifully clear lake rests with
undisturbed ripples. Against one side of
the lake a cliff wall reaches towards the heavens, as if just woken from a
dream. The cliff wall stretches all around the lake, surrounding the clearing,
and creating a bowl in the valley. Within the clearing and surrounding the
lake, the thick jungle vegetation drinks deeply from the lake’s resources.
At the
northern side of the clearing and lake’s bowl, the cliff wall is broken, split
down the center by a cascading waterfall. On the southern end, the lip of the
lake pours the overflow of its contents out with a little trickle down a small,
bubbling stream. It is here where the valley’s bowl has opened up, allowing a
pathway into the center towards the lake. Up the pathway the concerned party
now traverses.
The
visitor’s features are shrouded by a wide brimmed, black fedora hat. Brown
khaki shorts clothe the smooth, but athletic legs that are tanning under the
rays of the bright, summer sun while similar deer-brown military-cut boots
protect the hiking feet from the path’s cutting thorns. A yellowing, short
sleeved shirt covers the dusty torso while a red bandanna works to keep the
neck from becoming burned. A backpack full of various forms of digging
equipment hung tight to the person’s back. Familiar to danger, a pair of
holstered .45 caliber pistols hung from the ends of each hip.
Reaching
the end of the path, the figure pulls out a faded, moth-eaten looking map from
a pouched satchel hanging from one shoulder. Holding it up, the figure scans
over its features in regards to the clearing’s scenery.
From above,
a jungle-war cry is shouted, causing the figure to jump and strain about for
the source before looking straight up the cliff’s side.
The figure
is a young woman, well past her adolescent years by way of maturity, if not
physically. Her short, blonde hair waves in straight layers, cut shoulder
length for comfort in the jungle’s heat. Her sunny, if not serious and
sarcastic complexion, is made all the brighter from the sun’s heat while her
bright blue eyes are lit with unrealized horror at what she sees.
Careening
down the cliff’s face, attached to a line of plummeting rope, repels the
silhouette of a man garbed entirely in black against the background of the
glaring sun. Flowing folds of loose fabric flutter about him like flapping
wings as he rapidly descends towards her.
Releasing a
timid shriek she jumped out of the way of his black, heavy boots as they
impacted onto the sandy pathway, which released dust clouds into the air.
Following
her recognition she wasted no time in punching his shoulder, and none too
lightly.
“You’re a
pain in my preverbal backside,” she retorts, chastising him.
Easily
armored from her attack with his multiple layers of leather and fabric he
simply shrugged her attack off.
“I missed
you, too, Nikki,” he responded to his assistant, ignoring her spiteful quip and
using her preferred style of humor.
“Barely,”
Nikki muttered under her breath.
“What took
you so long?” he asked, not hearing her smart-mouthed remark and not caring to.
She shot
him a nasty expression before replying, “I didn't want to come in on the
dramatic entrance express, Shadow.”
The hero of
another day, Shadow was the archaeologist adventurer that time forgot. Housed
in black, faded slacks, a long-sleeved black button-down shirt, and a chapped
leather vest the man looked like he was waiting to vanish inside the swath of
his black leather jacket and long, black duster overcoat. As if
over-accessorizing was merely an understatement, a satchel pouch was slung over
one shoulder. On one hip he sported his ancient but well-preserved six-shooter
pistol, daring to prove that functionality and survival outweighed fashion
sense.
Although under experienced and
prone to adventure, Nikki preferred the easy way to her academic and strategic
mind. A foundling archaeologist in her own right, she preferred riches and
reward to digging in the dirt and dodging bullets. By a definition, she had the
heart of a treasure hunter.
The half French-American,
ex-Doctor Shadriche Owue, or Shadow, was on a mission to regain the fame and
fortune his competitors had previously and recently deprived him of, by any
means necessary. To ask others, they’d convince you He was a rouge and ruffian.
If one were to ask those who truly knew the man, they’d say he was a man with a good heart and a sharp mind.
Looking up to the top of the
cliff, he flicked the rope he still held and it fell free. A metal ‘clank’ rang
out as a metal, spring-loaded grappling hook fell next to his feet.
Spying the crowning item of his
walking wardrobe arsenal, he reached up and snatched his black fedora off of
Nikki’s head. He was suddenly all business as her mentor subconsciously folded
the hook into place and recoil the rope.
“Have you
found it yet?” he asked, condemningly.
Still stuck
in the role of the pupil, she bit down on whatever retort she wanted to make
and forced her frowning eyes back to the moldy map before her. Hand drawn with
ink as old as mud itself, appeared the time-wounded scrawl of an
ancient-looking hourglass. In the center of the smattered illustration, a
series of stippled lines indicated flowing sand from the highest of the two
glass bulbs to the bottom. Equally smeared in nearly illegible hieroglyphics
was a group of hand drawn words, when translated read, “Where time and space
become connected. “
“It’s the
center of the hourglass.” Nikki professed.
Holding the
map up before her she outlined the gap in the cliffs above with the crescent of
the lake beneath. The waterfall, spilling into the lake before them, took the
place of the hourglass’s falling sand.
She
breathed a sigh of relief. “The entrance is behind the waterfall.”
Shadow
smiled. “That’s my girl. We’ll make an expert out of you yet.” Reaching under
his layers, he hung his now coiled and folded metal grappling hook on his other
hip, opposite of his gun.
He nudged
her playful on the shoulder with the edge of his knuckle. Smiling, she began
making his way around the lake in the direction of the falls, pocketing the
map. Shadow began to follow after when he glanced into the water. Shock lined
his face and he quickly looked up after the girl. Licking his lips, that they
might remain shut all the easier, he took a deep breath and followed after her.
The two
travelers, with their anticipation high and their senses alert, followed the
trail of clues before them to their goal’s end. What Nikki failed to noticed and
what Shadow opted to keep to himself was the dozens of armored, dead soldiers
smoldering away just under the brim of the lake’s surface.
Recently deceased, they lie to
their immortal rest, each clad in black, metal armor with some red trimmed and
some lined with blue. Failed sword blades, shattered spears, and broken arrows
mark their passage from this life to the next but fail to answer the questions
of how or why.
The entrance to the cave was not difficult to locate. The
winding tunnel that led back into the dark depths of the mountain was obviously
carved by hands, Shadow noted. Along the way, an ancient Korean script had been
carved or painted into the walls, telling of their long-ago travels and wars
with the original, supernatural residents of the valley. When inquired about
the truthful facts of the tales Shadow simply summed it up to local
superstition. They were in Romania, after all. Local legends seemed to be all
the residents had time for, it seemed.
The cavern
drawings peaked Nikki’s interest. “Do you think the old clans are still
around?”
Shadow shot
a backwards glance over his shoulder, remembering the throngs of the dead he
saw floating at the bottom of the lake. Well, he thought, no sense in scaring
the kid. Experienced, yes. Talented, yes. Deadly, most certainly. Beautiful,
absolutely. But by age’s definition, still just a kid.
Besides, he
was still holding on to the secret of where the map’s origins had come from. It
only looked old; Shadow had seen to that. But a few conclusive tests in a
certified laboratory would quickly prove otherwise. He was just grateful that
she hadn’t noticed the missing piece of material from his tent… yet. He truly
believed his luck had changed the night that strange man stumbled into his camp
with an arrow in his back. He didn’t even consider it ominous when the man had
disappeared the next morning.
“I don’t
think there’s any chance of that. The clans Ki-Da and Ki-Char had been warring
at each other for generations. I believe they killed each other off long ago.”
Finally the
tunnel emptied into a blackened, moist chamber. Stalactites and stalagmites had
formed in the chamber over the centuries from the consistent dripping that
filtered down from the river high above them. In the center of the room, Shadow
and Nikki’s flashlights ignite upon a small pool of water, shallow and empty.
The dripping of the water from above has formed the shallow basin in the floor
from above.
Shadow now
became even more hesitant and started to look around. “Listen, the Ki-Da
considered the Tablet their most powerful weapon. So, keep an eye out and be
careful.”
They split
up, each going to one side of the chamber to investigate. It was just a simple,
stony chamber; no ornamentals, gold, or symbols decorated its rocky walls.
Satisfied of their safety, Nikki
investigated the pool in center of the room. She wondered why all the dripping
water created stalagmites but here there was a pool instead. She got down on
her hands and knees to peer into the pool.
Shadow was investigating the
fall side of the wall, where one part of the cliff face looked different. “The
cavern wall is limestone but here, this is granite.” Reaching into Nikki’s
backpack he pulled out a crowbar and went to work on the rock slab.
Focusing closer, Nikki related
her new discovery. “The pool is filled to the top, but the water is not
draining out.”
A moment later, Shadow is
successful in releasing the stone panel, as it slides from the wall a few
inches. “Come give me a hand with this.”
Standing opposite of the panel,
gloved and ready, they each had a hand grasped tightly to the granite panel
with their backs to the wall. Shadow stared intently into her eyes as he
counted down. “Three… two… one…”
They both pulled the panel free
and flinched away, expecting a burst of flame, a set of whistling arrows, or
the hum of saws. Instead, nothing.
Nikki released a sigh.
“Anticlimactic.”
Grateful, Shadow looked to her.
“Don’t count your checks until they’re cashed.”
Bending down and looking into
the small opening, Shadow reached in with the crowbar to pull out a small
wooden box. A swift ‘clank’ of metal sounded as a pair of sharpened blades
sprang shut. Shadow drew back the remaining end of the crowbar, its curved
blade sliced free.
“Feel better?” Shadow asked,
mockingly.
She hummed. “Nothing like a
brush with death to know you are on the right path.”
Anxious, Shadow opened the box
to reveal a small stone slab the size of his hand. Its borders were engraved
with intricate art work with a drilled hole near the top for the purpose of
being held by a chain. One side looked broken, as though cracked down the
center. Near the break in the middle remained a small, yet separate, engraving.
Staring over his shoulder, Nikki smiled with joy as Shadow breathed a sigh of
relief.
“Here it is, The Tablet of
Shadows.”
At that point, a grumble sounded
down the tunnel. Looking quickly, they saw to their amazement, a granite door
dropping to the floor down the passageway they had come, sealing them inside. A
screech of metal sounded above them and a floodgate opened, releasing the
flooding content’s of the river’s bowels upon them. Water surged into the
chamber from above, dousing them and threatening to drown them like vermin.
Shadow had to yell to be heard
over the flood. “I don’t like where this path is going!”
“Got any bright ideas?” she
yelled back.
Shadow pocketed the boxed Tablet
into his satchel and spun around, looking the cave over, even staring at the
flooding grate’s opening. That’s when his eyes dropped to the floor and the small
pool directly below it.
“You said this wouldn’t spill
out!” He crossed quickly to it and raised one foot. “Let’s see if it’ll drain
down!”
With that he smashed his foot
into the shallow pool. Repeatedly he stomped and Nikki could see the false
bottom breaking away. “It looks hollow underneath…”
Suddenly her shouts turned into
a scream as the floor opened up beneath them and swallowed them whole.
No longer in the filling chamber, they found themselves
rapidly sliding down a thin, slippery, and claustrophobic dark tunnel coated
with mud and moss towards a faint beam ahead. With Shadow sliding down first on
his overcoat, Nikki slid unceremoniously behind him. Up ahead, over the brim of
his hat, Nikki saw what appeared to be daylight reflected off of the glossy
surface of the tunnel.
“We’ve
almost made it!” she shouted to him but her elation was soon extinguished. Up
ahead she could see four, metal, scythe-like arms, powered by the river and
stabbing into the stream.
“Not yet!”
Shadow yelled with a warning. “Feet!”
As they
reached them, they each placed their feet against the arms of the blades to
prevent being stabbed. The underground current then turned, swayed, and dipped
steeper. Ahead of them a new trap appeared: multiple, sharpened, bamboo spears,
each springing out at different angles.
Pulling his pistol, Shadow
yelled the simple instruction, “Guns!”
Nikki also pulled her revolvers
free of their holsters and took aim at the quickly stabbing targets. Together,
they emptied their rounds into the spears, shredding them to harmless splinters
before they slid within stabbing range. Smiling, they sheathed their empty
weapons, feeling the worst was over.
However, once more, the river
wound around a turn and dove steeper still. A third trap appeared before them,
to which Shadow’s jaw dropped slack from surprise. Four, giant, metal
saw-blades sliced up and down through the tunnel, one after the other with
decapitating intensions.
Emotionally winded, Nikki called
out with a panicked voice for instruction. “Shadow?”
Desperate, the black-clad mentor
called the only thing that came to mind. He pulled his hat to his chest and
yelled, “Duck!”
Instinctively,
they both bunched up, tucking their knees to their chests. Miraculously, they
managed to squeeze between each rising or dropping saw blade as they slashed
down with no more than a scratch and trim. Laughing from relief, Shadow placed
his hat back on his head as he looked back at her.
“Now that’s cutting it close,”
he joked.
Her fear stricken face
highlighted what her pointing finger indicated ahead of them. “I hate to slice
your pun short, but…”
Shadow
looked to spy their new peril a moment later than he would’ve preferred. The
underground river suddenly gushed out of the side of the mountain, spilling in
a waterfall out over another small pond lined by multiple, tall, jungle trees.
The two found themselves airborne and within the merciless grip of gravity.
This, too, was to their peril, for the pond below was heavily defended with
more sharp, spiked bamboo spears lining every inch of pond, pointing skyward
and ready to receive them like a ravenous beast. Already Shadow could see the
skeletal remains of previous thieves, some garbed with the red-trimmed armor of
their Ki-Char enemies and some dressed with modern clothing like himself. He
could see where the thick bamboo pierced their torsos, limbs, and faces. Like
hungry teeth, the extended spikes were now rapidly rushing up to connect with
them.
Falling to their doom, Nikki
screamed while Shadow reached to his belt and drew out his grappling hook.
Wrapping the rope around his gloved hand he opened the metal hook with a
‘snap.’ Grabbing onto Nikki he hurled the hook into the strong branches of a
nearby tree and held his breath. As the pond’s deadly, bamboo teeth gaped wider
to bite into their tender flesh the rope suddenly yanked taunt and widely swung
the pair out of the dangerous reach of its maw. Swinging over the jungle floor,
the hook suddenly became dislodged and they came crashing gracelessly to the
safety of the ground below.
They lied
panting on the ground for some moments, limbs tangled together in a heap.
Finally, Nikki breathed a relieved sigh. “And that’s a full day’s work.”
Grunting, she forced herself up on one elbow to look down into Shadow’s face.
“Those traps were very well maintained for a supposed long-dead race. I think
they are less extinct than you were led to believe.” She paused, thinking.
“What made you think of stomping the chamber’s pond?”
He started to sit up with a
grunt. “The excess water had to go somewhere. Plus, the Ki-Da had been here a
long time and it took a long time to hole that tunnel. So, what’s the point of
building a vault if it can’t be reused again?”
“And it provided a way for their
own people to escape if they accidently got caught resetting it.”
“Exactly. Someone on the outside
turns off the tunnel’s security defenses and they just slip out.” Shadow
pointed to the numerous corpses resting forever in the pool’s wakes. “It also
helped clean out the dead.”
“Which was almost us,“ she
stated, then coldly added, “You flushed us.”
“In a way. But I’m not the
architect; just the plumber. Be grateful.”
Nikki struggled to untangle
herself from him and pulled the box from his satchel. Jumping up, she looked
into the box at their prize.
“And now, we did it, Dr. Owue!”
Her eyes glittered with thoughts of the rewards that awaited her imagination.
“This Tablet’ll make us both rich!”
Slowly,
Shadow sat up. “No.” He waved her over to show her the rough edge on one side.
“It’s been broken; snapped in half. A broken piece won’t get us anything.”
She was
astounded, floored. “So… what? All of that was for nothing? You’re just giving
up?”
Shadow pointed south, into the
jungle and towards more rising hills and vales. “But a full piece… will get us
everything. If you’re right about the clans still being around,” and he had it
in good confidence that they were, “then my bet would be that the other piece
is still out there. Most likely with their rivals, the clan Ki-Char.” He
started to stand up. “So I’m going after ‘em.”
Angrily,
Nikki mumbled to herself. “I don’t believe it. So that's it? A dead end?
Another wild goose chase?”
Shadow snapped the box shut on
the artifact and slipped it into this satchel again. “I’m not making you come
with me,” he replied in a nonthreatening tone as he began to recoil his
grappling-hook’s rope.
Nikki pointed in the opposite
direction. “Good! ‘cause I'm gonna find some local samples, dump them in Dr.
Beige's lap, and make him pay big bucks - through the nose, if I have to!”
His rope
coiled, Shadow sauntered up to her. “You know Beige will never buy your baubles
and a half-baked story. But a complete Tablet he can’t argue against.”
“That’s
just a difference of opinion,” she argued sourly. “You don’t know that.”
With regret
lining his face, Shadow’s hung low to stare at his boots, remembering. “Yeah, I
do.”
Nikki
sighed. “You’re really gonna do this, aren’t you?”
Looking up,
he turned to face her. “I have to. It I don’t, then it really will have been
all in vain.”
“Then I
guess this is where we part ways.” Nikki held out her hand in a farewell
gesture.
Angrily,
Shadow steps closer to her. “Nikki, gather your precious baubles. Fly to Paris.
Put yourself in Beige's aim and paint a big neon target on your face. I've seen
what Paris has to offer. And after he’s kicked you to my curb feel free to look
me up. I could always use a capable pair of hands.”
Glaring,
she stalked away from him. “Fine, Shadriche, have it your way… like always.”
He started,
as if to say something, and then waved the idea away with a grunt. Placing his
grappling hook back on the side of his belt he pointed himself south. He
adjusted his hat, dug his hands in his pockets, and marched off into the
jungle, alone.
With guilt finally finding her,
Nikki turned to face him but the trees had already swallowed him whole. “Hey,
Shad, I’m sorry. Come back!”
His answer was the silence of
their naturally noisy surroundings.
She tried again, “Shad?”
Another moment didn’t provide
reappearance so she released a depressed sigh. “So long, Shad Owue. I hope you
find what you’re really looking for.”
Dr. Shadriche Owue didn’t feel bad about leaving Nikki by
herself in the middle of the Romanian jungle. She was smart, knew what she was
doing, and needed experience anyway. She also had her own jeep. It was foolish
for one to march into the jungle otherwise.
The only
thing that ate at Shadow’s soul was guilt. He was her mentor when her old one
died. Her previous mentor was good friend to Shadow when the rest of the
archeological community had swallowed Dr. Beige’s insidious claims regarding
Shadow’s treachery. His friend knew Beige had a tale as long as an adder’s skin
and wouldn’t believe a syllable of it.
It was good
to be believed. No one else did.
And how did
Shadow repay him? By getting him killed.
Shadow joined him and Nikki on his
fruitless, lifelong quest to Africa for the Gamoka Cube, an ancient artifact
that gave its user incredible powers.
However,
they were thwarted by the thin-limbed medicine-man from Madagascar, Asho, whose
tree-hugging ways had cost him his own goals and a good friend. He took Nikki
under his wing as repayment.
Well,
they’d had a good run and it was time to put his guilt behind him. There wasn’t
any more he could teach her, anyway. Their co-mentor had already given her all
the education she needed; she just lacked experience.
Now she
could get her own.
And he could get his Tablet.
And he could get his Tablet.
From the
top of his jeep’s windshield, Shadow focused through his binoculars. Over the sand-blasted,
mountain ranges a small forest shimmered against the sun’s heat like a mirage.
To the naked eye it simply looked like a faded, black line on the horizon. But
according to local legend Shadow knew that he was on the right path. The
villagers called it, ‘The evil valley.’ He knew it wasn’t without cause.
He settled
into his seat, scratched a few notes in his journal, and drove over the
winding, smooth ridges towards his goal.
A few hours later Shadow was sitting cross-legged on a
modern-day wrestling mat in a large, stone-walled arena, half the size of a
basketball court. It was lit by multiple
candles resting in chandeliers; their light reflected by glass magnifiers. The
mat was red and about 20 feet in diameter with a wide, simple black circle.
Two, large black Ki-Char clan symbols decorated either side of the circle.
Tapestries, weapons, and various
works of art hung on the walls, depicting ancient battles. Two, wooden,
frameworks sat against the north and south walls for audiences.
The building
was Korean in design with ornate architecture appearing to date back one
thousand years. Still, local, Romanian details were hinted in the fringe, as if
the subculture moved in once it was safe to do so.
A
gold-encrusted throne sat on a wooden dais at the head of the arena,
overlooking the mat. Hanging above it was a large, gold ying-yang symbol
connected to the rafters by thick chains. The symbol depicted a fighting dragon
and ravenous tiger at war. The entire room seemed to bow with reverence towards
the symbol out of respect.
A set of double doors were
installed in each corner of the rectangle building. They were flanked by two,
metal-clad armored guards with deadly-looking swords who remained silent
despite the other’s questions.
Shadow was
one of the first to arrive, but in the center of the mat sat a gorgeous, timid
woman. Shadow first thought it was Nikki but her blonde hair reached the middle
of her back. She also clutched her duffle bag as though it were her only
friend, looking lost.
And closest to the throne sat his
old nemesis, Asho. The old man’s bald head shone like a tanned skull in the
light as it perched over his skinny, wrinkled, and robed form. The
conscious-heavy do-gooder was meditating in a tied sailor’s knot position. When
Shadow saw him, it compelled him to sit behind the girl at the back of the mat.
He could feel his luck changing from good to bad. From his experience, it
usually went from there to worse.
In time they were joined by others:
a Korean girl as rigid as a bed of nails and another man with flair of bravado
that Shadow speculated was a local Ki-Da, the enemies of their host. Both were
led by a haughty armored guard with long, wavy, blonde hair. He bid them sit
and then left.
A few moments later a procession
announced the festivities were about to begin. Two lines of soldiers, five on
one side and four on the other, entered through the double doors behind the
throne and marched towards them. They turned and stood on either side of the
mat, surrounding the men and women.
Then, with a dull, thrumming
fanfare a man followed them in. He was large, muscled from survival’s wear and
tear. His rippling muscles had pressed the flowing veins of his life’s blood
against the tanned surface of his skin. His war-garb consisted of furred and
matching boots, loin-covering, and headdress which were also arrayed with
piercing horns. A silk, red robe with
gold-trim draped over one shoulder and flowed behind him. His face is
theatrically paled with paint, intending to emphasize his face’s shadows. He
stood before his throne without sitting.
The blonde-haired soldier
smartly approached him and handed him a scroll outlining their guests. He had
the decency of wearing his helmet now. The warlord skimmed his eyes over it and
handed it back. The blonde, smirking brat bowed out and hustled to stand at the
head of the ranks to the warlord’s left. With all the regal charm of a
rattlesnake, the robed man addressed the small crowd in English with a heavy
Romanian accent.
“Welcome to Romania, to the
valley of the Ki-Char, and to the glory of the Tournament.”
He paused, mildly smiling.
‘Great,’ Shadow thought to
himself, ‘I arrived uninvited to a party and forgot to bring streamers.’
The warlord continued. “You all
seek something. What you may find, instead, is entirely something else.”
There was a brief interruption
as a very large man entered the arena with a slam of both doors. His massive
build filled the double door’s frame and took the wind out of the warlord’s
impressive opening. A timid guard scurried forth to present the warlord a late
scroll, which he accepted but didn’t look at. The man letting the flies in
glared daggers at the warlord before stepping in and letting the doors swing
shut.
‘Popular place,’ Shadow thought.
‘Wonder what the buffet’s like.’
When Shadow looked at their host
again Asho was staring right at him. Shadow gulped and tried to sink into his
overcoat as the old face contorted into a mix of surprise and rage.
When the guard shuffled away the
warlord continued, drawing Asho’s attention back to him.
“I am Master of this land and
will be addressed as such.”
The big man dumped his bulk onto
the mat next to the terrified blonde and looked at the Korean girl. Shadow
shifted to hide better behind his new wall.
Master continued.
“The Tournament is unlike anything you've yet experienced. Passed down through
the generations, only the most powerful of warriors have participated for the
honor of victory.”
Master and
the Korean girl engaged briefly in a glaring contest before he continued again.
“The rules are thus. I will create a schedule daily which will pit each of you
against the others. The victor will have the privilege of facing me.” He paused
for effect, allowing the words to sink in. “If I am defeated, the champion will
gain all they see; the palace, the kingdom, the treasure, and the title of
Master.”
A surge of
hope leapt in Shadow’s throat. Victory meant the other half of the Tablet of
Shadows! Plus, victory against Beige! At last, something was going his way.
The
doorway-sized late-comer was now making faces at the Korean woman, who simply
rolled her eyes.
“And now, a taste of what you shall
prepare for.”
Master took
his robe off and laid it over his throne. As his back was turned, three of the
armored guards drew their swords and rushed Master with the enraged delight of
attack dogs.
Before they could prepare to
strike, Master's leg flew backwards, striking one in the face and driving him
back. Master spun to face the other two as they slashed their swords; one high
at his head, the other low from the opposite direction at his feet. Master
stomped on the flat of the blade meant for his feet, pinning it to the floor
while stepping towards the sword meant for his torso. His step took him into
the reach of the soldier’s swinging arm, where he blocked it with a subtle grab
of the arm. He then twisted into the prisoner he’d grabbed with such ferocity
the movement twisted the blade out of the grasp of the other prisoner. A sharp
‘crack’ gave the indication of Master’s right elbow to his captive’s face while
a second not only relinquished his weapon from his hand but his elbow from its
joint.
Master retained his now
screaming captive but a moment longer while his compatriot stood to help him.
He was met with a seriously powerful stomp kick to the chest that sent him
reeling backwards as if hit by a charging bull. Spinning in place, Master
delivered a backhanded fist to the base of his captive’s skull, separating it
from his neck.
As the lifeless guard slumped to
the ground the original prisoner had recovered and was attacking again. Master
continued to stand on the sword he just freed while the prison lunged with his
sword towards Master's midsection. Master simply spun his torso to one side,
letting the sword's blade miss him by millimeters. Master then grabbed the
prisoner’s sword arm in his right and let his left backhand arm fly, smashing
the soldier in the face again to stun him. Dropping to one knee, Master used
his elbow to dislocate his opponent’s elbow, also. Master then stood and pulled
him into his thrusting sidekick, aimed for the man’s neck.
Master dropped the second dead form
as he faced the last threat, the soldier he’d given the boot. The panting guard
eyed the sword Master was standing on and rushed for it. Master took one large
step towards him, his right fist clenched like a cannonball. Master’s fist
connected with the soldier's head but he was aiming through his skull to his
spine. His opponent’s face nearly collapsed with the impact before crashing to the
ground in a crumpled heap.
Master faced the observers exactly
in the same spot before the riot ensued. He had not taken any more than two
steps and Master's breath was steady. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Already Shadow could see his dreams
of triumph flitting away on wings of despair. Maybe now was the time to
gracefully bow out.
The little, lost blonde girl was
pale, shocked, and had forgotten to breathe while the mountainous man of muscle
just yawned and looked bored. If there was anyone who could outmuscle this
‘Master’ it was certainly him. Master spoke as if his speech was never
interrupted.
“Now, one last regulation.”
The
soldiers surrounding them all drew their swords towards them in battle stances.
Shadow smirked. He knew it! They
were prisoners. Welcomed, esteemed, honored guests… in handcuffs and forced to
fight to the death. He and this lot had all walked into a trap.
“No one may leave the valley under
any condition until the Tournament has reached its conclusion. We shall begin
tomorrow at first light. My guards will escort you to your rooms. Dismissed.”
With a
flurry of his robes, Master stalked out, despite Asho’s intentions to get his
attention. Shadow used this distraction to vanish further from his view by
taking shelter in the house-hugger’s wake. He’d have to visit with ‘his
majesty’ later to see if the Tablet’s other half was in the valley. Until then,
he’d follow the crowd.
Shadow
managed to make it outside and across the grass without being spotted by the
craning of Asho’s vulture-like neck. Outside the arena stood three, cramped,
distasteful-looking shanties. Between them, a tall, wooden pole was set where
the fighting schedule for each day would be placed.
The blonde girl was gripping her
duffle bag so tight her knuckles had turned white and she was beginning to sob.
‘Poor kid,’ thought Shadow, ‘was
she ever in the wrong place.’ But there was little he could do for himself, let
alone her.
The groups
were split; the two women bunking together in one shanty and Shadow assigned a
roommate. The arrogant, blonde guard was arguing with the wrecking ball with
arms when Shadow decided to slip away.
He turned around and nearly bumped
into Asho who’d been standing behind him the whole time.
“Don't
sneak up on me like that,” he yelled.
Asho
replied quick with his own anger. “What do you want? You’re like a persistent
monkey! I have nothing for you to steal!”
Shadow’s brows furrowed, insulted,
“I told you, I'm not a thief!”
With
lightning-quick hands, Asho's pulled Shadow’s piece of the Tablet of Shadows
out from under his shirt. Shadow managed to hang it about his neck with a strip
of leather from his coat.
“Then what is this? This is no
trinket,” Asho accosted.
“Gimme
that!” Shadow quickly grabbed and stuffed it back under his shirt, cautiously
looking around. “Archaeologist, remember? I found it.”
“Found,
ha!” Asho launched a pointed finger straight into the air. “Out from under
someone's sleeping nose, no doubt.”
Shadow now
started to get annoyed and mad. “You've been in the brush too long.”
“You are the brush.” Asho stuck his
long, thin finger close to Shadow's face, making him cross-eyed from the
accusation assault. “Stay away from me. I want nothing to do with you.”
Asho stoved
past him, opened the door to Shadow’s shanty, and slammed the door. A moment
later Shadow realized that Asho was his bunkmate. Shadow griped under his
breath. “Crazy old medicine man…”
The next day other combatants fought so Shadow explored. For
dinner he visited the local tavern, where he was accosted by the Ki-Da
combatant, Sho Lin. Sho Lin demanded that he return the Tablet of Shadows to
his clan. He said it was a very powerful weapon and the means of his clan’s
survival. However, before Shadow had a chance to glean any more information he
was killed in the ring. An evil-looking thief had mysteriously joined the
Tournament overnight and Shadow was under the impression that he was in
Master’s employ.
The death
of the Ki-Da assassin left the blonde girl in fits of hysterics. She was
convinced that she’d not last another day in Master’s evil valley.
That night
Shadow decided to pay the ‘Master of the land’ a visit. There was no sense
sticking around if his prize wasn’t even there with the barbarous assassins.
As the
crossed the grasses under a black sky of star’s illuminations Shadow could see
the splendor of Master’s elaborate palace from a distance. Shadow frowned.
‘Sure, it’s easier to beat your enemies when only you’ve had a decent night’s
sleep.’
Shadow paid his visit through the
only unguarded entrance via his grappling hook: Master’s window. Master was
sitting at his desk when Shadow swung into the second story room. Master was
scribbling out the next day’s Tournament schedule, mumbling to himself.
“Knock, knock.” he stated boldly.
Master
merely raised one hand to request that he patiently wait. With the last thought
freed from his mind he turned about with a bored expression.
“I expected the Korean woman.”
Shadow
looked to Master’s right hand, which was wrapped tightly in a bandage. He
figured that Master had been entertaining other evening visitors. He shrugged.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“You
certainly are one. Now, what can I do for you?” Master crossed his arms,
looking like he was expecting a request he didn’t want.
“I’m
looking for the second piece to the Tablet of Shadows.”
Shadow knew
he’d struck gold. Master’s face turned to resemble a wet, sinking, tombstone.
It was full of the anger and disappointment of a sore loser.
“What know
you of the Tablet of Shadows?”
Shadow decided to rub it in. “I’m a
collector, looking to complete my set. So, I’ll make a trade. Give me the
Tablet now and I’ll leave. You’ll still get to keep your kingdom, treasure,
clan, and title. Refuse and you could lose the house. Then you can visit it anytime
you want at my museum in Paris.” Shadow wanted him to bite the bait. Instead,
Master bit back.
“You would imprison a weapon under
glass? It is aged of a thousand years. Even it cannot take the pressure of
time!”
Shadow
stood up, ready to take his leave.
“Well, then you both have something
in common because I plan to leave at the end of the week with the Tablet safely
in my protection… preserved.”
Master
seethed with a silent fury as Shadow crossed back to the window.
“Have a good night and I’ll see you
in a few days. In the ring.” Shadow tipped his hat to him.
With that he slipped out of the
window on his grappling-hook’s repel-line. A moment later he was on the ground
with his weapon back in his hand and meandering away. Above him in his room,
Master fumed loudly to himself. Shadow smiled as he strode, hands in his
pockets. Not a bad night’s bit of business.
Early the next morning Shadow had to elbow his way through
excited crowds to see the fighting schedule posted on the wooden pole outside
their shanties. His name was scribbled there for the first time. He must’ve lit
a fire in Master the night before.
Then, his
own heart sunk as he realized that he was scheduled to fight his old nemesis,
the tree-hugger Asho.
The dial on
his luck had just changed from ‘bad’ to ‘worse.’
Later that day Shadow stood at the ring’s edge in the area.
He was shedding his four layers of clothes down to his tank top and mustering
his might to cross the line into the fight. Asho already sat in the ring,
meditating with eyes closed and looking like a dropped pile of twigs.
Master sat
in his gold-encrusted, wooden throne, looking as lazy and bored as an
over-muscled slug. The only enjoyment for this match showed in the corners of
his lips as they curled slightly from the annoyance Shadow delivered to him
personally the night before. However, as Shadow gazed further, he noticed
Master’s eyes on Asho. What did the old medicine man do to upset Master?
Shadow now
crossed the invisible barrier into the ring, feeling an aura of energy wash
over him like a thousand chilled fingers down his spine mixed with a warm gust
of summer’s breeze. As he stood before Asho, his eyes snapped open and a silent
fury raced from him to the younger man. The simple movement actually made Shadow
jump back.
Looking in
every way as a corpse rising from the dead, the skinny, rib-popping Asho stood
up without uncrossing his legs as he glared at Shadow. He looked even skinnier
without his tent-like robes on. Only a few ornaments decorated his person; a
string of beads about his neck, a set of loose, gold bracelets on his ankles
and wrists, and a diaper-looking turban about his hips. Other than that, the
man wore the remainder of his wrinkled birthday suit proudly… and poorly. “You should never have crossed my
path,” he barked with pure anger.
“Wasn’t my
choice. Blame fate.” Shadow retorted.
Asho’s
condemnation wasn’t through. “We all make our own destinies. Yours is no
excuse.”
Shadow had
a response for that, too. “Well, you are one. A sorry one.”
It was a
blow below the belt as Asho began to shake with rage. “Shameless! For months I
suppressed the urge to make you appreciate the consequences of your decisions.
Now, I will not hold back!”
Master now
leaned close to speak to the enraged medicine man. “A deal I propose. Take the
robber, break him in half, and bring me his carcass. Then, I will freely give
you the cure you’ve sought for your dying people.”
Cure?
Shadow suddenly realized Asho’s purpose in Master’s valley. Apparently Master
had found Asho’s personal pressure point and was jabbing it like a child
waiting for an elevator. Shadow could also tell from Asho’s stricken face that
they had an agreement.
So could Master, as with a gleeful
grin he sat back and declared that the fight begin by calling, “Hajume!”
Shadow
attacked first, stepping in and throwing a straight punch to the smaller man’s
face. Suddenly, Shadow was tossed straight back into the air where he landed
hard on his backside. Asho remained standing where he was, arms crossed low at
the wrists with a grave, solemn expression. Shadow stood up and shook his head,
angry.
‘Idiot,’ he
cursed himself, ‘how could I have forgotten that?’
His
previous encounters with Asho had also come to blows. One such time was aboard
a moving freight train, and had turned out the same way. Now he remembered why
his past fights with the minuscule medicine man always ended with him turning
tail. Here, however, he couldn’t retreat without forfeiting the fight… and his
life.
The
weird-wonder before him had some gift that bounced the blows of his opponents
back at them. And Shadow had yet discovered a way to counter it.
Shadow then danced around him,
looking for inspiration. The crazy healer didn’t move. With his back to Shadow,
Asho suddenly ducked down to back-kick him in the face. Recovering quickly
Shadow stepped forward to drive a crushing crescent punch as Asho turned to
face him. Asho dodged by bending rapidly backwards at the knees, catching
himself with his hands. He then jutted out one foot to kick Shadow in the
midsection, doubling him over in pain. With his other foot he righted Shadow
again with a kick below the jaw.
It was
another painful reminder that the combatant was also as limber and nimble as an
ambidextrous cat.
Asho
righted himself by stepping backwards, looking like a slinky-spring coming to
attention. Furrowing his brow, Shadow’s anger overtook his judgment. Again, the
archeologist stepped forward with a crescent punch and a growl. The medicine
man crossed his wrists again and the reverberated blow tossed Shadow backwards
onto his backside a second time. Shadow quickly rolled over his shoulder and to
his feet, taking much of the momentum out of the blow. Asho was untouched.
Shadow knew
he was in trouble. How was he supposed to hit something that was as lithe as a
snake and who could return his own power back upon him when he did?
r that day Shadow stood at the
ring’s edge in the area. He was shedding his four layers of clothes down to his
tank top and mustering his might to cross the line into the fight. Asho already
sat in the ring, meditating with eyes closed and looking like a dropped pile of
twigs.
Master
sat in his gold-encrusted, wooden throne, looking as lazy and bored as an
over-muscled slug. The only enjoyment for this match showed in the corners of
his lips as they curled slightly from the annoyance Shadow delivered to him
personally the night before. However, as Shadow gazed further, he noticed
Master’s eyes on Asho. What did the old medicine man do to upset Master?
Shadow
now crossed the invisible barrier into the ring, feeling an aura of energy wash
over him like a thousand chilled fingers down his spine mixed with a warm gust
of summer’s breeze. As he stood before Asho, his eyes snapped open and a silent
fury raced from him to the younger man. The simple movement actually made
Shadow jump back.
Looking
in every way as a corpse rising from the dead, the skinny, rib-popping Asho
stood up without uncrossing his legs as he glared at Shadow. He looked even
skinnier without his tent-like robes on. Only a few ornaments decorated his
person; a string of beads about his neck, a set of loose, gold bracelets on his
ankles and wrists, and a diaper-looking turban about his hips. Other than that,
the man wore the remainder of his wrinkled birthday suit proudly… and poorly. “You should never have crossed my path,” he
barked with pure anger.
“Wasn’t
my choice. Blame fate.” Shadow retorted.
Asho’s
condemnation wasn’t through. “We all make our own destinies. Yours is no
excuse.”
Shadow
had a response for that, too. “Well, you are one. A sorry one.”
It
was a blow below the belt as Asho began to shake with rage. “Shameless! For
months I suppressed the urge to make you appreciate the consequences of your
decisions. Now, I will not hold back!”
Master
now leaned close to speak to the enraged medicine man. “A deal I propose. Take
the robber, break him in half, and bring me his carcass. Then, I will freely
give you the cure you’ve sought for your dying people.”
Cure?
Shadow suddenly realized Asho’s purpose in Master’s valley. Apparently Master
had found Asho’s personal pressure point and was jabbing it like a child
waiting for an elevator. Shadow could also tell from Asho’s stricken face that
they had an agreement.
So could Master, as with a
gleeful grin he sat back and declared that the fight begin by calling,
“Hajume!”
Shadow
attacked first, stepping in and throwing a straight punch to the smaller man’s
face. Suddenly, Shadow was tossed straight back into the air where he landed
hard on his backside. Asho remained standing where he was, arms crossed low at
the wrists with a grave, solemn expression. Shadow stood up and shook his head,
angry.
‘Idiot,’
he cursed himself, ‘how could I have forgotten that?’
His
previous encounters with Asho had also come to blows. One such time was aboard
a moving freight train, and had turned out the same way. Now he remembered why
his past fights with the minuscule medicine man always ended with him turning
tail. Here, however, he couldn’t retreat without forfeiting the fight… and his
life.
The
weird-wonder before him had some gift that bounced the blows of his opponents
back at them. And Shadow had yet discovered a way to counter it.
Shadow then danced around him,
looking for inspiration. The crazy healer didn’t move. With his back to Shadow,
Asho suddenly ducked down to back-kick him in the face. Recovering quickly
Shadow stepped forward to drive a crushing crescent punch as Asho turned to
face him. Asho dodged by bending rapidly backwards at the knees, catching
himself with his hands. He then jutted out one foot to kick Shadow in the
midsection, doubling him over in pain. With his other foot he righted Shadow
again with a kick below the jaw.
It
was another painful reminder that the combatant was also as limber and nimble
as an ambidextrous cat.
Asho
righted himself by stepping backwards, looking like a slinky-spring coming to
attention. Furrowing his brow, Shadow’s anger overtook his judgment. Again, the
archeologist stepped forward with a crescent punch and a growl. The medicine
man crossed his wrists again and the reverberated blow tossed Shadow backwards
onto his backside a second time. Shadow quickly rolled over his shoulder and to
his feet, taking much of the momentum out of the blow. Asho was untouched.
Shadow
knew he was in trouble. How was he supposed to hit something that was as lithe
as a snake and who could return his own power back upon him when he did?
Shadow
watched the stone-face expression of the healer with intensity. As a scientist,
when he encountered a problem he’d conduct experiments in a controlled
environment in order to come to a conclusion. Well, this arena was certainly no
moving freight train. It was about as controlled a situation as he’d come
across. And since he couldn’t go anywhere, now was as good a time as any to
conduct his experiments.
His test subject remained fixed,
standing in the center of the ring, as though he owned the territory. As Shadow
circled him he turned with his arms folded before him. With a working theory in
mind, Shadow retained his attack stance, and danced towards Asho, pretending to
attack him. Although he transmitted his intensions Asho did not move. Then
Shadow attacked, but not with an aggressive movement as he lightly slapped him
on the face. In truth, the light smack of the palm was felt on Shadow’s own
face and he placed his own hand instinctively there to validate his theory.
Feeling success with his
experiment Shadow danced back, thinking of his next move. Shadow’s playful
experimentation caught Master’s eye as he now leaned forward to inspect them,
as if the two combatants were under his own microscope.
With a new theory in mind Shadow
lunged forward again to attack, screaming and with his right fist balled up.
Again, Asho crossed his wrists and set his stance to repel his attack back upon
his aggressor. However, at the last
moment Shadow punched past past the medicine man’s head, ducking around to grab
him around the waist with both arms. Asho’s stone-still-expression broke like
ice before a boulder in surprise as Shadow hoisted the smaller man off of the
ground. Throwing him over his shoulder, Shadow spun around in place before
dropping to one knee and throwing his head into the mat. He made doubly sure
that he was not touching him at the moment of impact.
His new experiment was also a
success as Asho crumpled into the ground, retaining all of the damage the
attack which was intended for him. Dazed, he looked up at Shadow, enraged and
hurt as the archeologist smiled, having figured out his secret. The fight had
now truly begun as Asho scrambled to his feet in a rush to attack out of
frustration. Shadow crouched into a
spin-drop kick that swept Asho’s feet out from under him. The healer was airborne
as Shadow stepped back, safe from his retaliation power, when Asho crashed back
onto his back again. Asho rose to his feet with the strange use of his lower
limbs to welcome Shadow’s flying fist. Instead of another punch, Shadow spun to
put his back to Asho. He then reaches over his shoulder, locked Asho’s arm, and
yanked him into the air over his shoulder with a judo throw. Asho sailed
through the air before being dumped onto the matt. Master was now watching with
anticipation and nursing a smile, caused by Shadow’s victorious violence.
Asho
rose once more, bending his body in half as he pushed himself to his feet with
his arms. Asho now squared his shoulders back, tightening his brow as he
thought. Once more, the two circled each other, but this time they both paced
like attack birds, planning their moment to strike. In an instant they both
rushed at each other with a punch. Shadow’s punch missed as Asho ducked and
rams his elbow instead home to Shadow’s jaw. Asho quickly followed up with a
knee to his stomach and again to his face. Mercifully, Asho retreated, giving
an angry Shadow enough room to jump at him with a front kick. Asho crossed his
wrists and again, Shadow fell victim to his own attack. He crashed back onto
the mat and forced his eyes open as Asho flew down at him with a stomp. Shadow
rolled out of the way and to his feet, escaping the deadly attack by moments.
So, Asho won that round.
Back on their feet, they both
rushed to punch again. Another fake as Shadow ducked under Asho’s punch. Shadow
stepped behind Asho to shove him to the ground. As Asho rose to his feet,
Shadow grabbed his arm, twisted it over his head, and forced it to flip him
onto his back. However, Asho grabbed Shadow’s hand at the time of the roll and
pulled him with his falling momentum. Shadow was forced to roll with his own
throw, which broke the grasp Asho held on his hand. Asho came at Shadow with
another punch, before he could get his bearings, and stumbled with his own.
Shadow slipped, which fortunately dropped him under Asho’s attack so he drove
his elbow into the back of Asho’s legs. Asho crashed backwards and hit the back
of his head against the mat. Shadow now decided to return Asho’s favor and
tried to stomp him but Asho also rolled up to his feet before Shadow’s foot
connected. Tit for tat; Shadow scored another round for himself.
Again,
Asho jumped towards him with a stomp. Shadow spun to the side, dodging Asho’s
attack. As he whizzed past him, Shadow landed a backhand to the base of his
skull. Asho dropped face first to the mat, thin limbs pointed in every
direction, like sticks in a pile of leaves. Shadow waited and watched as his
form shuddered, and with much effort, he slowly rose in his mysterious way. The
grotesque picture almost made him look like a dead body rising to walk.
However, Asho didn’t move when he came to his feet. He just stood there, too
stunned to move and the reservoirs of his energy spent. Shadow reached out and
grabbed him by the throat. Pulling back his fist he prepared to finish him off.
Master
was now on the edge of his seat, anxious to see the end of the medicine man.
Shadow gave Asho a frown, which quickly lightened to a grin and a wink.
“I
may be shameless but I’m not wasteful.” With that he pushed him over, where he
collapsed to the ground. Master’s anticipation collapsed and his eyebrows dove
to accompany his frown.
“A good fight but will you not
finish it?” the warlord queried.
Shadow shrugged. “I won. Isn’t
that the way it’s supposed to work?”
Master continued to frown.
“Certainly, if you prefer the coward’s path.”
Shadow laughed. “He’s the one
lying in a crumpled heap. Now, am I through dancing here? Or do I have to sing,
too?”
Master
glared and spat through clenched teeth. “We are through… Shadriche.”
With
a donning of his trench coat and other layers Shadow left the arena, leaving
Master to stare at Asho’s stirring form.
Shadow
wasn’t halfway to the retreat shanties when a voice called to him from the
arena. Turning, he was surprised to see the old Asho stumbling to catch up with
him. Prepared for a second fight, Shadow remained tense but the old man’s face
was full of genuine surprise and relief.
“My apologies, kind sir. I
wrongfully mistook you for a rogue and a thief, yet you spared my life.”
Shadow
hesitated, looking both ways before replying. “Rogue, always. Thief, never. And
no matter he says, it’s not cowardice.”
“I agree. Simply said; it is
easier to destroy than to create. So where is the power in destroying?”
Shadow
nodded just to be polite and not knowing how to respond. “So, Master’s got your
people sick?
“A disease has taken them which
I am unable to cure. I am convinced it comes from his soldiers who invaded our
land to collect our Yuttash fear leaves.”
Shadow was surprised. “Your
people are slaves?”
Asho nodded. “It is as you say.
I am equally convinced Master holds the key to their disease, which I am bound
to collect.” Asho now looked in earnest at Shadow. “And you? Are you…
‘collecting’ something of importance from Master, as well?”
“Another dangerous weapon, like
last time. It’s my job.” He looked at the old man, suddenly deciding to take a
gamble on the his sincerity. “I’ll show you.”
A few moments later they were
both sitting in their retreat on their individual mat-enhanced beds. Asho was
turning the Tablet of Shadows over in his hands, impressed while Shadow
scribbled notes in his journal.
“Extraordinary...” he mumbled.
Shadow watched his prize like a
hawk but fiend relaxation. “Amazing how little information is available. I’m
not even sure what it was supposed to do.”
Asho looked intently at the
surface, where scribbled writing appeared to be engraved. “I could tell you.”
Shadow would’ve fallen off of
his bed if it wasn’t lying flat on the ground. “What?”
“For a price.” Asho looked up at
him. “I can no longer claim my victory in the Tournament. With this you’ll have
what you need to do so. Defeat Master and get my cure for me.”
Shadow smiled. “Got no choice,
pal. It’s the only way for me to get what I want, too.”
Asho nodded, a smile spreading
across his bruised, beaten, and split face. “It is settled, then. “
Asho was more than good to his
word, he also showed Shadow how to use the artifact. Aptly named, the old,
magic-appearing stone rendered its user undetectable in light’s spectrums. In
other words, it made them invisible with a simple, mental chant. All that
appeared of the person was the remaining hole left in light’s reflection, or,
their shadow.
Overjoyed with his new toy,
Shadow and Asho retreated to the valley’s training gym the next morning to
practice. Finding Master there and involved in his morning exercise routine
they couldn’t help but play a few pranks on him. This turned out to be deadly,
however, and Shadow was forced to use the Table to escape with his life.
In due time, Shadow truly became
his name’s sake and prepared for his next bout in the ring.
In the time Shadow waited for
his next fight the young, gorgeous, blonde-haired girl had a much less
prosperous time in the valley of the Ki-Char. She was still frazzled out of her
mind from witnessing the death of the Ki-Da assassin at the hands of the thief.
Stressed beyond her nerves, her Korean roommate agreed to train her just for
some peace.
They also went to the gym but in
the evenings to spar. There, the Korean girl was able to convert the blonde’s
incredible, competition gymnastic abilities into a deadly fighting force.
To prove the girl’s natural
powers for himself, Master scheduled the blonde to pair off against the
murderous thief in the ring. Terrified of facing her menace she accidently
killed him in the ring with a crushing combination of somersault attacks.
From this victory she was
personally invited to Master’s palace for dinner that same night, where she
received a startling revelation regarding her reason for being invited to the
valley. This discourse ended in personal combat, where the blonde girl bested
Master in his own palace.
By the time she was scheduled to
next enter the ring she more than believed she could fight – she knew she could
win.
When Shadow fought Asho the day
before the arena’s stands were empty. Apparently, word had spread regarding the
gymnast girl’s victory over the thief. Now the stands were filled to capacity
with the illegal riff-raff and vagabonds the valley offered as a hiding place
for the vermin. Bounty hunters, international assassins, traders, trappers, gun
runners, smugglers, and thieves all occupied the audience’s stands. Shadow
didn’t think for a moment that they weren’t there to also ogle at the girl’s
sleek, trim figure, either. After all, he was.
He also noticed the Korean
combatant and Asho were both in the stands, each there to cheer on their
confederate.
When he’d first noticed her at
the welcome meeting her golden locks flowed down the center of her back like
the valley’s waterfall. Now, her hair followed suite in appearance to Master’s
own whip-like, spine-trailing braid. Her
competition American gymnast’s uniform had apparently gotten an upgrade as
well, dyed completely in red. With her low gaze, red-painted, talon-like
fingernails, and lithe pacing she looked like a predatory jungle cat prepared
to kill and feed.
As Shadow focused on Master, his
appearance was a relaxed and pleased posture, as if he had anything to do with
her present condition. A thin smile traced his lips that he appeared to be
trying to hide with the subtle placement of his hand resting on his chin and
his elbow on his armrest.
Shadow made sure his artifact
was tucked safely under his sporting tank top before he’d entered the ring. He
was anxious to test its usefulness… assuming it cost him his life.
When the girl spoke, her voice
was anything but the silky soft, gentleness he’d expected from her beautiful
visage. It spoke low and almost growled. “You will not kill me.”
Shadow smirked, drawing one
corner of his mouth into a roguish, lopsided grin. He was told it was his most
endearing feature, by Nikki, even.
“Well, you’re certainly not
doing anything at the moment to make me want to.”
She responded with a snap.
“You’re mocking me now but it won’t seem so funny when I hand your broken spine
to you.”
He licked his lips, smiling
slightly. “I appreciate the heads up.”
Master now jumped in with his
stepped in with his two cents, which was a sure sign that things were going to
get worse.
“Amanda Jane…” he spoke with a
commanding, parental tone, “Met out the same measure of justice on this dusty,
grave-robber that you dealt the thief and I will allow you safe passage from my
valley.”
She snorted in his direction.
“Only so I can be free and away from you.”
Master smiled, ignoring the
chide remark. He read the underlining message in her comment: she agreed.
Shadow inwardly sighed. ‘Doesn’t
anyone like me?’ Well, he sure didn’t come here to win a popularity contest. At
least he had the girl’s name, now.
Shadow was under the impression
that any rule was pliant enough if it suited Master’s purposes. But then again,
anything made pliant could also be made rigid again, especially any of Master’s
promises.
Acting flippant, Shadow turned
to Master, feigning anger. “What I get if I win?”
Master frowned. “My
displeasure.”
Shadow shook his head, dejected.
“This is the lousiest summer resort I’ve ever been to.”
Master smiled. “On the contrary. Some would
say it’s to die for.” The smile faded as he shouted, “Hajume!”
Amanda Jane quickly attacked
first. Shadow saw it coming and batted her kicks aside. Amanda Jane kept on
him, finally landing a gut punch that threw him back. He climbed to his knees
and looked up to see her flying down at him, prepared with a lunge punch. He
rolled over his shoulder underneath her, avoiding her strike to his head. She
spun around, rising to her feet to see Shadow dusting himself off.
He casually threw a smile her
way. “Look, I just came here to dance. You don't have to step on my toes.”
Shouting, Amanda Jane jumped to
hit him again. Shadow ducked under her deadly swing and gave her a playful tap
on the back of her head. She swung her left arm back to hit him but he ducked
it again.
Feeling cocky, he didn’t even
see her next attack, which was a backward tumble called a peanut roll. With her
spine exposed, she dropped her behind to the mat, rolled backwards over her
shoulder, and propelled both of her feet at him with her arms and a powerful
kick from both feet.
Shadow was plowed into the mat,
inches away from the edge of the ring and his breath lost from his chest.
Struggling to breathe, he looked to her flying down for another lunge-punch.
Instinctively, Shadow rolled backwards to return the favor by kicking her with
both feet. Everyone in stands, including Asho and the Korean woman, rose to
their feet with a loud groan as Amanda Jane almost did a complete backflip in
midair. Shadow rolled to his feet as she crashed onto her own. While Shadow
regained his breath back, she was dazed and teetering on the edge of the ring.
Seeing her falling out, he quickly grabbed her by the arm and judo–threw her
over his shoulder. Better to suffer with a bruised backside than a disqualified
execution. However, like a cat, she landed gracefully on her feet. And, like a
cat, she glared at him.
He just shrugged. “Hey, I
could've pushed you out.”
Her reply was curt. “Gymnast,
remember? I can't be thrown. I've spent most of my life upside down.”
He couldn’t help himself. It
just came out. It was in his nature, even though it was the wrong time, in the
wrong place, to the wrong person, for the wrong reason. Well, maybe the reason
was right, but he regretted it as soon as he’d said it.
“How’d like to spend the rest of
it with me, horizontal?”
Now she was really angry. She
launched the entire upper-half of her body like a windmill away from him on one
foot, giving her other foot the momentum of a wicked, upper-cut ax-kick. It
caught Shadow under the jaw and launched him high into the air. He actually
thought he’d hit the rafters. Again, the crowd groaned as Shadow landed and
bounced twice. The poor archeologist's face was almost swollen shut from the
blow.
“That aughta shut your smart
mouth.” was all Shadow heard her say.
Shadow had been hit by better,
but not more beautiful. Well, it was always customary to present any female
host with a gift. And uppercuts were his specialty.
From the ground, Shadow launches
himself to his feet, arching out with his right fist to soar up and catch her
under her pretty jaw. The blow almost launches her over him and into orbit.
He’d almost recovered by the time her tangled, disheveled form impacted into
the mat like a comet. He assumed she had hit the rafters.
Amanda Jane clambered to her
feet, stumbling before screaming through her swollen jaw, “You’ll pay for
that!”
Angered, she launched herself at
him again, performing an impressive double spinning back kick, with the lead
leg feigning and the trailing leg preparing to strike. Shadow shoulder-rolled
underneath her and kicked straight up with both legs. She flew backwards but
turned the attack into a graceful backward cartwheel to land on her feet. She
prepared to kick him with her elbow and knee both outstretched but he was gone.
She spun around, looking for him as the crowd began to murmur. Master glared
into the ring as Amanda Jane continued to spin, looking for him. She spun again
and faced him, standing with hands shrugging at his side.
He smiled, enjoying her
surprised face, “I guess you lost me there for a moment. “
It was short lived as she
shouted, “Good! Get lost!”
Angered one final time she
rushed at him, throwing her limbs in blinding fury. Again, Shadow rolled under
her attacks but could not be found when she spun to confront him. Again, the
crowd murmured, as everyone searched the ring for him. She continued to spin
about, trying to find him.
Frustrated, she yelled, “Where
are you?”
Right next to her swollen eye,
Shadow answered, “Right here, princess.”
She turned as Shadow tried to
deliver his host another punishing uppercut. However, to Shadow’s shock, she
managed to step in and low block his attack before it could gain volume. The
block broke his concentration to the artifact, causing him to reappear. Shadow
then noticed her looking down at the mat – at his shadow.
She looks to him to see his
surprise, then lashed out with her foot to kick him back. Grinning, Shadow came
at her again, fading out as easily as he did before. This time, though, Amanda
Jane blocked, blocked, and punched. Shadow now staggered back, re-appearing,
and holding his chest.
“Very good,” he praised, “How do
you do that?”
Amanda Jane grimaced through her
swollen jaw. “It's no use. I always know where you are, even when your
invisible. Now I'm going to beat you.”
So much for his advantage. Now
Shadow didn't know what to do.
Master was sitting on the edge
of his seat, hoping to get closer to this new turn of events. Shadow balled up
his fists and started swinging, looking for an uppercut opening. Amanda Jane
nimbly dodged out of the way and then flew at him with a sideways series of spinning
kicks. With each successful attack Shadow's invisibility faltered, making him
flash like a strobe light. He finally went down hard, fully visible. Amanda Jane tumbled to the far
side of the ring. There, she turned about, pointed her chin, and held her hands
high to mark the beginning pose of her tumbling routine. Shadow stumbled to one
knee as Amanda Jane launched herself into her lethal combination of
somersaults.
From
the stands, Asho called out in warning. “Shadow! Beware!”
The
grapevine was a small one in the Ki-Char's valley. Shadow had heard how this
girl had used this technique to kill the thief. And he didn't want to add to
her success rate. Dazed, he did the only thing he could think of as Amanda
Jane's form was within striking range: he dropped clumsily to the ground.
Amanda
Jane tripped on him and lost control. Her own momentum violently sent her
spiraling through the air, head over heels, to crash hard. She lay there,
clumped, as though hit by a car.
The
crowd gasped while her Korean friend stood and shouted, “No!” Shadow staggered
over to Amanda Jane and turned her over. Barely alive, she seemed. Shadow
pulled back his fist, preparing to strike.
Amanda
Jane was depleted. Dejected, she didn't resist. “Go ahead, kill me,” she consigned,
facing death.
Master
also sensed a dramatic ending and commanded, “Finish her!”
Instead,
Shadow took her by the shoulder and hoisted her back to her feet. The crowd
began booing him and pushing their way to the exit, disappointed. The Korean
woman, Season, fought her way through the crowd's gambling collections to the
ring. Shadow waited until Season could support Amanda Jane before leaving. Asho
was fighting through the crowds as Shadow passed by Master.
“You
insult me, archaeologist.” he threatened with black holes boiling in his eyes.
“Then
my 'to-do' list is complete. Now, if you don't mind, I have to find an ice
pack.” Shadow stumbled out of the arena, flanked by Master's royal guards.
Master's fury burned as he watched Shadow clump away.
Still
in the ring, a limping Amanda Jane heard the entire conversation.
When Amanda Jane exited the
arena, supported by Season, Shadow was waiting for them in the shadows. He
detached himself from the wall and staggered to catch up. Season spun to face
him. “Barbarous rouge! You attack a weakened enemy from behind? You have no
shame.”
“Nope,”
Shadow admitted, “But I do have pity.”
Amanda
Jane now hobbled to face him. “What do you want? Come to smash on me some
more?”
Shadow
smiled. All of his best dates had started this way. “No, to apologize. It was
never my intention to take it so hard on you in the ring.”
Amanda
Jane failed to fall for it. “You empty your fists into my face and now you want
to apologize? “
Nothing
left but honesty. “Yeah, I do. Master didn't make it easy. And honestly,
princess, you didn't make it any easier.” He rubbed his swollen jaw and Amanda
Jane relaxed.
“Right.
Sorry about that.”
“Thanks
and no worries. To make up for it, how 'bout I buy you an ice pack at the bar.”
She
almost laughed. Humor was always a good weapon. Season stared as though they
were drunk.
“And
maybe a few band-aids. Least I could do for the nicest-looking girl who'd ever
wiped the mat with me.”
Amanda
Jane nodded with a smile, looking down. “We'll see,“ she dodged, but her puffy,
bruised eyes were twinkling when she looked up. Amanda Jane motioned and they
moved on.
Shadow
grinned as he watched them, then realized Asho was standing at his side. “She
must have damaged your mind to carry such a smile.“
Shadow
patted him on the back, still smiling.
“Cast
your magic on me, doc, I need to look pretty for a date.” As an afterthought,
he added, “Work on her first, though.”
Asho
frowned. “I've been demoted to beauty consultant.“
Shadow entered the quiet bar and
sidled up to the counter. Asho's healing made his wounds all but vanish. Small
cuts looked like shaving accidents and rough bruises still showed under the
skin. The bar's new bouncer, Tirossh, kept a humble hawk's eye open while the
bartender cleaned glasses, relaxed. “Congratulations on your victory.“
“Whoopee.
I beat up a seventeen year old cheerleader.”
“Eighteen.
Tomorrow is her birthday.”
“I
feel so much better. One whole day can't make that big a difference.”
Chuckling,
the Bartender poured him a drink and accepted Shadow's money. A moment later
Amanda Jane entered and joined him.
Thanks to Asho, she only had minor bruises.
“Glad
you could join me. Still hurts?“
“It'll
give my makeup case a run for it's money.”
“Yeah,
sorry again about that.” Shadow bought her a drink and the bartender
respectively vanished.
“I...
understand you were just... protecting yourself.”
“Turns
out I was favored to loose. Apparently, you impressed some gamblers.“
Amanda
Jane, nodded, flashing a sincere, stunning smile. “It's the legs. They impress
everyone.”
“It's
the wrestler you dropped.” Shadow clarified, nodding over to Tirossh, who still
looked embarrassed . “Rumors fly fast here.”
“Really.”
Her countenance dropped. “They must really be flying now.”
Shadow
wanted to be supportive. “What'dya worried about? You took care of that ol'
thief Isken well enough.”
“Yeah,
but, as long as... Master sits on the throne... I've got to watch my back.” She
was showing signs of that fearful girl again.
Shadow
turned back to face the bar. “He's a cretin, a bloodsucker, and a leach.” He
took a long pull from his Perrier ale as Amanda Jane's expression saddened.
She
responded quietly. “He's my father.“
Shadow's
previously drunk ale spewed over the counter. He paused before asking, “Say
again?”
“His
real name is Shipter Kaal. I was told he died, but he... left my mother and me.
And now... Now that I'm out of the Tournament...”
Shadow
forgot his drink, leaned in to console her, and placed a hand on each shoulder.
“Hey,
Master's not invincible. I'll help you.”
She
really was starting to panic again. “But his guards...?”
Shadow
tried the humor card again. “Okay. I'll get the hundred on the right and you
get the thousand on the left.”
Complete
failure. “This is serious.” At least she wasn't panicking.
“Actually,
you're perfectly safe.” spoke the bartender. Shadow and Amanda Jane looked
over. He was standing right there, staring into the glass he was washing.
“Eavesdropping,
bartender?” Shadow asked.
He
shrugged. “Collecting stories. But if your claim if valid, Ki-Char tradition
says the heir gets the kingdom when they come of age. The heir is also
protected by law.”
Shadow
was struck. “Wow. What a stroke of luck. When does this lottery happen?”
The
bartender smiled again. “Tomorrow. One whole day can make a difference.”
With
a wink the Bartender walked away. Shadow turns to look at her.
“Well,
look at you. One day more and you'll be a Ki-Char princess.”
Amanda
Jane blushed. “But Season wants the Tournament. Master stole it from her
people. Besides, one day here can mean life or death.”
“Great,
so all we gotta do is keep you alive just a day longer. And you cute when you
blush.”
Again
her eyes dropped to the floor, but her smile was in full bloom again. “I've...
been practicing.”
“Really?”
She
looked up and her smile stunned his heart to skip a beat. “Only lately. “
The next day, the last day of
the Tournament, Master sat in his palace's meditation chamber, preparing for
the final combat. He meditated while cloaked figures prepared him. The room's
dark shadows are forced back by lit candles, playing their own game of ebb and
tide. They sounded a calming chant and lighted stimulating aromas while they
painted blood-stain red and shadowed black patterns over his entire body to
match his headdress. The headdress itself had sharpened, metal spear tips
applied to the horns before the Ki-Char crown was strapped on.
Completed
with Master's preparations, the cloaked figures backed away. An guard
approached with his metal, sai gauntlets which he strapped on his wrists, the
Ki-Char's piece to the Tablet of Shadows, and a small, special talisman. Master
breathed in deeply and his eyes sparked open one more time. Through his
meditation, destiny had spoken and now he knew.
“It's
time.”
Inside his retreat, Shadow also
prepared. However, he was anything but calm.
Shadow
had defeated Season extreme difficulty. Still unwilling to kill, he robbed her
of her greatest weapon: a dual-finger, jabbing nerve punch that could render a
foe's limbs useless. Shadow managed to break her wrists before KOing her. But
first she managed to make him a bloodied mess.
Asho
was now mummifying Shadow with wraps marinated in his special healing
concoction. Shadow held a sopping bag of herbs to his face, midsection, and between his legs. Amanda Jane
held one to the other side of his face and midsection. The floor was littered
with the remains of Asho's healing potions, pots, and ingredients.
“I
have done all I can.” Asho finished and sat back with a sigh, dejected. Without
any warning, he suddenly spoke with a rich, German accent.
“My
real name is Adolf Snouzer Hitler Ostwich. In 1942 I was a Nazi spy.”
Shadow
balked. “What? But that...”
Asho
interrupted him. “Stop! We haven't much time. I left my homeland, searching for
a biological weapon, and contracted a deadly disease in the jungle. Weakened, I
was captured by the people I was spying on. They spent several years trying to
save me. Healers.”
He
waved to the items before him.
“They
taught me everything I know, including how to reverse the power of others back
upon themselves.“ He heaved a sigh of regret. “I wanted to bring my homeland
hope. They only wanted to take it away.” He sighed, preparing to switch gears.
“I was named for our German leader. Ashamed, I now only answer to my initials
and work to undo the pains I've caused.”
“Last
minute confession, medicine man?”
Asho
grew serious. “Motivation. Master is an evil such as Hitler. And this world
will burn if he is not destroyed. Now.”
Shadow
let out a deep breath and stared Asho in the eyes.
“A
few years ago I was blamed for my mentor's death and I took on his student out
of sheer guilt.”
Amanda
Jane now tried to console him. “Don't blame yourself for an accident.”
“You
don't get it. I'm... cursed with bad luck.”
Both
Amanda Jane and Asho frowned.
“Cursed?”
Asho asked.
“Long
story about something I never should have tried to pick up. Ever since,
everything I touch falls apart.” He looked to Asho. “Including friendships. I
won't be the one blamed for another life lost.”
The
old medicine man refused to be swayed as he clenched his fist. “There are some
who deserve this curse you've been blessed with. If not for the world, then do
it for the girl.”
Now
Shadow's eyes crossed to that sweet face and his bruised insides softened and
jumped as her glowing, blue eyes met his.
The
knock they'd been loathing sounded. It opened to a large band of Ki-Char honor
guards bristling with weapons. The lead guard spoke the dreaded words.
“Shadow,
it is time.”
Shadow
looked to Amanda Jane and softly smiled. “Look, I know this'll sound like a
sick joke, but Happy Birthday.”
Asho and Amanda Jane arrived at
the arena, holding Shadow up. From his original layers Shadow only wore his black
jacket, hat, and the Tablet of Shadows around his neck. Additional seating had
been erected to support the crowds but there was still standing room only. Everyone had come for the last fight, packing
the building full. Gambling excitement was thick enough to be cut with a
guillotine's blade. Shadow received a hearty chorus of jeers as he entered.
Their
two rows of honor guards pushed their way through the crowds. Shadow stared at
the blood-colored mat as it mockingly beckoned to him. Shadow hated it. In his
mind, Shadow could see the ring smiling with Master's leering face.
Asho
moved to tend to Season. She was sitting on the mat's sidelines, the
Tournament's honor box equivalent. Her wrists were bandaged in splints and
Shadow wondered if he he just should have let her finish him off. The two rows
of honor guards marched to support the dozen guards already surrounding the
ring. Regretting the dozen victories that earned him this privilege, Shadow
dropped off his hat and coat. He paused with trepidation before stepping into
the ring. Now, he was committed. His gut churned. Only Amanda Jane offered him
comfort as her bright eyes shined up at him through the gloom.
“You're
going to be great,” was all she said before moving to sit away from Asho and
her previous friend Season. Shadow assumed he was the reason their friendship
separated.
The
crowd's roar rose to a deafening crescendo as the doors opened and Master
entered. Supporters began to wave strips of red fabric. Flanked by his own
honor guards, the warmaster strode to the ring.
Master
was a nightmare to behold with his red and black body decorations, intended to
confuse his opponent. His eyes were ghostly white with dark circles painted
underneath. Shadow noticed his headdress' piercing metal tips, his metal
sai-gauntlets, and his animal-hide loin covering. Around his neck hung two
artifacts: his own Tablet of Shadows and a fragile-looking talisman. Without
any hesitation Master stepped triumphantly into the ring, which set off another
explosive roar from the crowd. Determined to not show fear Shadow stepped up to
his fighting position. Master was a full head taller than him. Pleased that
Shadow was taking his death like a good sport Master smiled before turning to
the crowds.
“Nobel
Ki-Char and honored guests. I now give to you the pinnacle of The Tournament!”
Another
cheer from the crowd ensued.
“The
rising champion Shadriche Owue will complete against me, Tournament Master and
Ruler of the Ki-Char clan, for the spoils of this proud valley. The honor of
the Tournament, the glory of the title, and the wealth of the treasure will be
awarded to only one winner!”
Another
cheer assaulted Shadow's ears as Master turned to Shadow. Smiling wide, he
flashed him his own Tablet of Shadows. For a brief moment Shadow remembered why
he was there. Instinctively, he started forming a plan.
Master
yelled openly to the crowds. “And all that goes with it.”
Master
then ripped it off of his chain and shoved the Tablet down into his right
gauntlet for protection. The plan forming in Shadow's mind popped with his
hope. Master then took his starting position, inviting Shadow to join him. Master rotated his neck, stretching and
relaxing his muscles. Shadow accepted his invitation and took his fighting
stance. A moment later, Master bellowed the final call.
“Let
the fate of The Tournament begin! Hajume!”
The
crowd shouted as they both rushed at each other and vanished right before
impact. For a moment, the two of them forced each other to vanish and reappear
like flashing headlights on a freeway. Then they both reappeared, flying
backwards from each other's attack. They both recovered and Master vanished,
putting Shadow on the defensive. He backed up against the ring's side where
Amanda Jane sat. she then called to him. “Shadow, he's in front of you,
punching... now.”
Shadow
reached out and blocked his arm before he connected. Shadow spun, leaned,
pulled, and judo-threw Master over his shoulder. Master falls, landing in an
ugly manner on his shoulder. Shadow rolls with his own throw and stands up
behind Master. Again he grabs him and throws him. Again, Shadow rolls with him,
invisible this time. When Master comes to his feet he is completely open to
Shadow's deafening uppercuts. Master lands with a crash as Shadow stepped
forward and slammed a kick into his body, launching Master to the far side of
the arena. Master raised himself up on all fours, his face looking as messy as
Shadow's.
“Clever...”
was all he could say.
From
his all four's position Master turned invisible. When he reappeared he was
standing but, to Shadow's surprise, Master's damage seemed to have disappeared.
Behind Shadow, Asho noticed as well.
“Did
he learn something about the Tablet that haven't?” Shadow asked, desperately.
“The
talisman around his neck must regenerate his wounds. You must destroy it
first!”
Shadow's
eyes fell. “Great. No pressure...”
They
met in the middle again and attacked. Master attacked Shadow's punching arms
and kicking legs. Shadow was pulling back only bruised limbs. Master then
retaliated with his own series of attacks, forcing Shadow to retreat. Shadow
finally got his hands on one of Master's arms and threw him over his shoulder.
In midair, Shadow vanished but reappeared prior to Master's decent with a
flying punch to the face. Master landed double hard, then triple hard as Shadow
landed with a stomp to his talisman.
Shadow
sighed with relief as Master's talisman shattered beneath his heels. “So long,
sucker.”
Feeling
positive, Shadow rolled off of Master, who clutched his chest and struggled to
breathe. However, Shadow didn't expect to hear Master chuckling. The audience
also rumbled with laughter. Master stood up, brushing the talisman's silvery
dust particles off of him.
“Did
you think I would bring such a powerful tool into the ring, simply so it could
be destroyed?” He held up his gauntlet where his piece of the Tablet of Shadows
was safely stored. “And I thought you were educated.”
Again,
another laugh rippled from the crowds. Master took in a deep breath as Shadow
began to back away.
“Ah,
here it comes.” Master purred.
With
a brush of light the shattered particles reformed around Master's chain. Asho's
eyes opened as he instantly became aware.
Master's
smile were the jaws of a predator. “Where were we...”
Invisible,
he instantly rushed at a shocked Shadow and made him the proud new owner of a
double-fisted punch to the midsection. A painfully, gorgeously executed back
roundhouse kick was then applied to the back of Shadow's head, dropping him to
the mat. Master drove his foot into Shadow's gut like a golfer's driver,
launching him the full length of the ring again. His face looked like a purple
punching bag from the layers of bruises. Master strode around him, pleased and
bored.
Master
chuckled. “You realize surrender is not an option.”
Beaten,
Shadow spoke through the hole that used to be his mouth. “Good. I'd hate to die
by choice.”
Master
stood to stride around the ring, calling to energize the crowd. “Soon, the
world will fall! For there is none who can stop me! My Will shall spread to the
four corners of the globe!”
Despite
the Ki-Char guard's cheers, Asho stood up. “You vile, evil, twisted serpent!
Your threat of corruption will never spread as long as there are those who will
stand to oppose them!”
Master
turned to Asho, a sickly smile spreading across his face. Shadow tried to warn
Asho off but the medicine man chose to ignore him.
“Tribesman!”
Master shouted back, “Your pointless rebuttal will have been in vain. Seize
him!”
Surrounded
on every side by Ki-Char soldiers they grabbed an unsuspecting Asho with ease.
Striding towards him, Master grabbed him around the throat. Asho tried to free
himself but his arms were too short to reach Master.
Shadow
was struggling to regain his footing when Master drew a knife from a guard's
scabbard and held it to Asho's throat.
“If
I cannot have your power then no one may have it! Before you die, I will grant
you the cure for your people. Know this; the disease that once plagued you is
only in remission! You are the cause to your people's suffering!”
Asho's
choking eyes grew wider as the truth struck him.
“As
the original carrier, you contained the secret to your cure all along!”
Master's gloating continued as he pulled Asho close to whisper in his ear. “I
learned one thing from your precious Shadow; if I cannot defeat you with force
then I must defeat you without it!”
Master
lowered the knife to Asho's gut and slowly stuck it in. Asho's eyes grew wide
as he began to bleed to death. Both Amanda Jane and Season cried out in horror.
Shadow's shock was no less as he shouted for his new, lost mentor. “No!”
Master
threw the small healer to crash next to Season. Amanda Jane ran to him. Master
turned to Shadow, like a tiger hungry for blood. By now, Shadow had gotten his
second wind back and pulled himself to his feet. Amanda Jane crashed to Asho's
side, who looked up at both her and Season.
“My
redemption is complete,” he sighed. A moment later, he was gone.
Season's
eyes dropped to Asho's hand. “Amanda Jane!” was all she blurted before
pointing.
As
Master strode towards Shadow, it was Shadow's turn to chuckle. “Missing your
bauble, princess?”
Master
looked down to see his bare chest. Spinning around, he spied Amanda Jane as she
pulled Master's talisman from Asho's hand.
“No!”
Master screamed as he tried to rush back to Asho. But Amanda Jane had and
thrown the talisman as hard as she could. It hit the wall and shattered into
more powdered, metal dust.
Master
was furious. “You fool! You have no idea what you've done.” To his guards he
called, “Execute them!”
The
guards grabbed them while others drew their weapons.
Shadow
shouted over the din to be heard. “Yeah, she does. Your daughter leveled the
playing field.”
Every
Ki-Char guard in the arena gave distinct pause at the declaration.
“And
the heir to the throne can't be touched. But that's why you brought her here,
huh? To kill her in the ring, nice and neat.”
Master
looks around to see the Ki-Char all staring at him. Many had murder in their eyes.
Others looked at Season and Amanda Jane, wondering which one was the heir
Shadow was referring to. Master could do nothing but grimace at Shadow. “Well
done. You've drawn the correct conclusion. However, I will make you regret your
words.”
While
now Shadow felt physically better, he felt emotionally worse. “And I'll make
you eat that regret!”
Again,
they came at each other with fists flying.
Again, they had their bursts of fading and reappearing. Ducking an
overhanded punch, Shadow double-punched Master in the midsection, shoving him
back. Master retaliated with his lunge-punch, but Shadow countered by turning
it into a throw that tossed Master across the ring. Master quickly came to his
feet and strode forward to attack again.
However, Shadow dropped into a shoulder roll to meet Master halfway.
Coming to his feet Shadow delivered his famous uppercut; launching Master into
his own orbit. Shadow hit him on the way down, allowing Master to slam into the
ground with doubled force. They were now almost equally damaged. Master
struggled to right himself.
“You're
not so tough without your little toy.” Shadow spat.
“I
am so much more than my weapons.”
They
charged and played another game of flashing visibility. Master wons the round
with a sweeping kick to Shadow's face, which sent him spinning through the air.
Master followed up with an ax kick which Shadow blocked. Shadow tried to
footsweep him but Master deftly stepped aside. Master thew his own footsweep
meant to remove Shadow's head but he rolled out of the way. Shadow then caught
a punch from Master and turned it into a throw. However, Master caught himself
unsteadily on his feet. This only allowed him to receive Shadow's jumping
punch. Master stumbled back again, forcing him to hastily catch Shadow's
sidekick. Shadow received several snap kicks to each side of his head before
being tossed into the air. In a vicious aerial display, Master jumped to
deliver another series of kicks to further tenderize him in midair. Shadow
eventually landed in a crumpled heap before Master landed. Reaching down,
Master grabbed Shadow's head and pulled it up, ready for the final strike.
“This
Tournament ends now.”
Shadow
suddenly disappeared. Then, Master flew over Shadow's shoulder in a last,
desperate judo throw. Master clamboured to all fours to receive a kick to the
gut, an elbow on the back of the neck, and a boot to the face that uprighted
him to his feet. Shadow reappeared again, holding his side and limping on one
leg. Master was in equally bad disrepair but panting he came at Shadow again.
Shadow drilled a double-handed punch into Master's face to drive him back.
The
crowds and the Ki-Char then began to chant Shadow's name but Master still came
at him. Shadow gave him a sidekick to remember, forcing Master to struggle and
keep his insides in. His breathing was heavy and irregular. Shadow was pale,
sick, and wheezing but Master's hands and knees shook. Panting, Master spoke.
“Do
it. Finish me, archaeologist.”
Shadow
glared at him, icy anger dripping from his eyes. Master smiled as he struggles
to right himself.
“I
knew it. And even at the loss of your mentor's life...”
With
that, in a last-ditch effort, Master stepped forward and planted his foot for
one final attack. He launched himself that would finish the small archeologist.
Gritting his teeth, Shadow jumped up to meet him halfway – and vanished. Unable
to know where to strike, Master's eyes grew wide. They connected in mid-air but
it was Shadow's strike that found it's mark.
Shadow's
foot crushed Master's jaw and sent him reeling out of the ring. He smashed
first into the giant, metal symbol of the Tournament and then fell head first
into his throne. The symbol broke from the ceiling and came crashing down onto
of him. Master's body crumpled across his thick, wooden throne and slumped to a
standstill, silenced at last.
Silence
hung in the air, then the Ki-Char dropped to their knees to honor their new
Master. The crowds broke forth with thunderous applause and the money started
passed around. While the Ki-Char guards fought to keep the crowds from
stampeding Shadow Amanda Jane rushed forward. Shadow collapsed into her arms as
he grabbed him. Ki-Char guards moved in to remove Master Shipter's body for the
Tombs. One of them delivered the other Tablet piece to Shadow and Amanda Jane
then carried him over to the body of Asho. Shadow regarded his prize and his
loss.
Amanda
Jane looked in Shadow's softened, bruised eyes. “He did it to save you and stop
him, not because of any curse.”
Shadow
couldn't help but grin. “Yeah. And I'll see that his people get their cure.”
Shadow lowered his head in reverence. “Thank you, and good bye, my friend.”
Amanda
Jane slipped him his hat, which caused him to smile, too. Even Season seemed
happy for once as her serious face split into a tight smile. “What will you do
now with your title and treasure?”
Shadow
looked around at the rejoicing. Shadow grinned at Season. “So Master stole the
Tournament from your people, right?”
The
somber Season responded with a simple nod.
Shadow
also nodded. “Great. You can be Master, then.”
Season's
jaw dropped into her lap. “Surely you are not fooling.”
He
gave her a smile, too. “Why not? It belongs to you, anyway, right? I never
intended to stay here. And...” Shadow took the two pieces of the Tablet of
Shadows and put them together. They were a perfect fit but he placed one at
Season's feet. “I feel I cost that poor Ki-Da Sho Lin his life when I didn't
give him this. It might have saved his life from the thief Isken. The best I
can do is return it back to the Ki-Da where it belongs.”
“But
what about your glory and reputation?” Amanda Jane asked.
Shadow
pointed to the stands, where Master's talisman exploded. “I'll take his
instead, once it reforms. I really need it now that Asho's gone.” Shadow gave
Amanda Jane a longing look. “Why don't you come with me? I need a new partner,
you're good in a fight and... I like your... company.”
She
smiled. “You're a good man, Shadriche Owue. All I wanted was to get out of
here. Let's go together.”
Master
Season strode erect like the princess she was to sit on the throne, amid the
rousing cheer of the crowds and the bowing Ki-Char.
“Your
Master ruled in fear,” she announced, “I will rule in peace. First, let the
doors be opened. Those who wish to may leave. Second,...”
She
lowered her hand to Asho's lying form.
“The
Ki-Char forces occupying Asho's homeland be recalled. Third... this Tournament
will no longer decide the fates of such
powerful heroes that it has been
my pleasure to meet...” Her eyes grew teary as her gaze faded into the far
distance, “and my pain to lose. From this day on, the Tournament, as it was, is
no more!”
Another
cheer from the crowd, more heartfelt than the others.
Shortly
after, Shadow found the reformed healing talisman with Amanda Jane's help,
which he used to heal both himself and Master Season's broken wrists. He
thanked Amanda Jane by giving her a long, tender kiss. When they finally parted
Amanda Jane said good bye to her friend, Master Season. Shadow tipped his hat
to her, then slipped out into the shadows with Amanda Jane until they were gone
from sight. The remaining honor guards hustled out, following the last of the
crowds. Then, Master Season sat alone in her throne and contemplated the future
of the Ki-Char.
For
an ominous moment her eyes darkened in a way that also looked very similar to
her father, Master Shipter.
THE END