Final Project

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.

 

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.

            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