TAKHAR and the Spear of Fate
By A.Z. Mohd
Chapter 7
She was fading from the light, while I struggled to keep up. Panting along with my heavy legs, one foot after the other as the distance grew larger between us. I screamed, hoping it would reach her. But she never so much as took a glimpse. Was it all a dream--is this?
The blur faded from my eyes, replaced by gray walls and dim lights. I was lying down I noticed, and when I urged to move, a soft pain washed over my body followed by a searing heat that coiled around my neck. I thought I couldn’t breathe. I panicked. But that was before I saw him.
“You.” I gasped against the dryness of my throat.
He sat there, not too far from me. Broad shouldered, rough-haired. A giant of a man. His sharp eyes glimpsed at me from the dim lighted corner staring quietly. He had the build of a man, a mark of a hero on his face, a rebel or perhaps a vigilante or something else. Whichever it is I could not tell.
It seem he was sitting on a crate. Behind him, there were more crates. Wooden boxes filled the wide expanse of the room and its high ceiling. Grim and desolate and silent it was, except for the trickle of water from a fountain in the middle of the room. An odd contrast to such an empty looking space. It took a while for me to realize I was lying on a bed of crates myself with a soft blanket underneath. Then the memory came rushing back, filling my mind's eye with flashes of terror. The grim smile, the jagged teeth, blood-red eyes with its long claws strapped around my neck. My face pale white and cold as ice under my brown skin with my eyes bulging out, gasping for air. Was that a dream too? It must be. But the ache in my body, the heat on my neck, that felt real.
“Where am I?” I pushed myself to sit. Then it was there when I saw it. Held between his fingers, turning and examining every edge like it was a priceless piece of artifact that belonged here. “That’s mine!” I jolted, and instead slammed toward the cold hard floor. Grimacing at the pain, I forced myself to stand, or crawl if I needed to. “No. Don’t touch it!” I wailed. He simply stared, stood, then he was there towering in front of me.
“Where did you find this?” He dangled it from his hand, swaying above me. There was a crack on it before when I examined it. Now there was a hole, perhaps as deep as the hole in my heart. My chest was choking me as the tears trickled down my face, stressing to stare at it. And a glimpsed of green shimmered from inside. “Where did you get this?” He echoed.
“It’s my m-mother’s. Give it back.” I pulled the blanket from the crate to wipe my face. Why am I here--will the dreams never end? As if he read my mind when he spoke in a tone that left nothing to be questioned. He told everything. He told too much. And everything ended in blood.
“Everything about you is different. Your stench. Your blood. Your Smoke.” His accent was deep and heavy.
“My smoke?”
He snickered as if the answer was too obvious to give notice. “You should have ran. Most people would have. Why did you fight it?”
“It?”
“The Tokoloshe.”
“The what?”
“The white beast.”
A feint silence filled the drafty air. The memory felt like a slap on the face. It wasn’t a dream. Jagged teeth. Blood-red eyes. Long limbs like the branches of a tree. Claws like knives. Fur as white as smoke. But why did I fight? Then it came back to me. “You told me to.” I tried to sound brave, but it came out as a squeak. His incredulous eyes held mine, unsatisfied. “Y-you told me to fight for my—.”
“Did you?” His words stung as I held my tongue. “You didn’t. You went out looking for it.”
“You said I was old enough to fight.”
“With men, not monsters.”
“There is no such thing as a fair fight.”
“Only if you do not know how to fight.” I winced at the pain as his hands slipped under me to carry me back up on to the crate.
“Give him a break you old buffoon.” A young voice rippled across the walls of the room. The fountain pool glowed a deep shimmering green. The water bubbled, steamed, then a woman clothed in leaves and weeds rose from the glittering waters before it fell into stillness. Water dripped off her, then steamed away. Her clothes moved around, snaking and pulsing like it was alive until it dyed and dried into white soft fabric. I felt my heart beating, staring at her bare brown face and hair that dangled toward the small of her back. She’s--beautiful. “Those things,” she started. “I thought I’ve dealt with their kind a long time ago. I guess weeds never die.”
“They were your children.” The man spoke.
“They were abominations.” Her youthful voice turned sour.
“Corrupted by him.”
“Him?” I thought to ask. Lost to their conversation. Lost to this dream that felt almost real, and not. I’m not supposed to be here. And yet I am.
“The scaled one.” She gazed at me. “Not to worry young Takhar,” she knows my name, “it was a time long past. Most likely he is dead if not dying.” She walked toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s see what we have here.” She gave an oddly familiar smile and her touch felt soothing to the bone. “How are you feeling now?” Her doe-like eyes held me in place.
“Pain. But—” The pain that filled my skin was gone. Though my limbs still ached, it was a far cry from the suffering when I first awoke. “H-how?” What in the world is she talking about? I feel dizzy, my mind heavy of this talk of creatures and children and scaled beings. But I needed to know. “W-What are you p-people?”
“Were not.” The man said in his usual deaf tone.
“And it seem so are you.” She smiled.
I feel like my head was about to burst. Nothing made sense. It was frustrating, so I sat and listened as she turned her gaze toward the man. “My children whisper to me. Dozens of them.”
“You used to have thousands.” He grimaced.
“All must die in time.”
“Murdered.”
“Such is the price of freedom.” Her voice filled with calmness.
His was rage. “There is no freedom here. I should have gutted that beast—”
“That would violate the pact—”
“There is no treaty here! Are you blind? Can’t you see the tree? This so-called protector is pretending to be a king, poisoning its roots with his dealings. Its withering.” He said with contempt.
A tree, like the one from my dream? Should I tell them or—“I’ve dreamt of a tree.” They looked at me in disbelief like I was some creature who spoke when he wasn’t supposed to. I swallowed the lump in my throat, wet my lips and began my tale. A city filled with ash and smoke beneath a great burning tree. When I finished, their eyes changed into bewilderment.
“For a moment I thought I was wrong about you.” She said.
“They’re just dreams.” He argued.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who else would dream of such a things? His mother had the same nightmares.”
“M-my mother?” I stared at her in stunned silence. How does she know my mom?
“Who is this mother of his, one of us?”
“No. A Medjay.”
“A Medjay? W-wait a minute, I’m confused. Do you know my mother?”
They stared long and hard at each other like they were communicating in thoughts.
“Bring the boy to her, and we shall see.” He spoke.
The woman stood to face me and said, “It’s better to show you. Stand, young Takhar, and follow,” she pointed toward the man, “he will lead the way.”
The skin on my throat was black and burnt. The man claimed I’ve been asleep for three days. The young woman said she had failed to cure it completely. The wound has festered beneath the skin and would take time to heal. My bones still ached, but what mattered was that I could move.
I followed the man who called himself Gru. He claims to be the caretaker here in Baltimore’s Museum of Art. Perhaps he too came from Africa like my mother, obvious enough from his thick accent. Though his tales were much more odd than anything I have ever heard in my life. It was more like something that came out from the pages of Jerome’s comic books rather than a history lesson.
Since ancient times, he claimed our ancestors had been fighting each other. That part I believed as much, but what he said next became an avalanche of fantasy and fiction.
He said the bloodshed only got worse when the white devils landed onto our homeland. For a time they tried to fight them using weapons forged by spirits and warriors. But soon their own kin joined in and fed the flames of war. People fought against their own people, while the devils fed on the souls of the captured. Quite literal when he described it. That’s when Anansi and the others came to free their people and started a mutiny that lead all the way to the west.
I must say It was quite the story; I think he should write a comic. But I kept that comment to myself. Since then, plenty of them started living here in the Americas. Some still believing in the good of mankind, while others fell into greed and driven into madness. That was the otherworld he lived in, and claims that it still exist right there in front of my very eyes. And now I was about to see it. Though part of me thinks this is all just a dream.
My mind wondered back home. Mrs. Wata must be worried sick. Has she called the cops? What about Korra? I have a lot of explaining to do. And Officer Kevin would be sure to grill me for it. I stared at the glass wall looking for signs of cop cars patrolling the area as we climb out from the basement. I never knew the museum even had one. Passing corridors and rooms, Gru finally stopped on one of the exhibit areas, one I’ve been before during the tour. I stopped when I noticed that she was gone.
“Where is she?”
“Gone.”
“Did she go back through that pool thingy?”
“Perhaps.” He said. His answers were always frustratingly vague.
“What is she?”
“You’ll know soon enough. Come.”
He stood in front of the mirror. The same flat oval polished bronze mirror. It was not too long ago when Korra and I stood in front of it laughing and talking. Gru stepped closer and tapped the bronze mirror with his staff. His reflection seem to ripple when he did. For a moment he glimpsed at me, gestured a nod, then pushed his way through his own reflection. Then he was gone.
“W-what…?” Startled, my high-pitched voice echoed through space. I was alone, except for the many stone faces around me. I warily approached; my breath broke off as I extended a hand toward it. And when my fingers felt the metal, it rippled, and it pulled me through.
I don’t know how to describe it. Only that it happened too fast to even notice, and I found myself standing on cold gray pavement almost hidden under shrubbery and moss. At first, I struggled to recognize with all the roots and vines that snaked through the city. Some as small as twigs, others as big as trains. I was almost fooled. I was in a forest, was my first thought. But underneath the phantom greenery was a City; with buildings and streets, and street lamps that were all barely visible. Two things gave it away. The car that passed by, and then another. The second were the painted murals across the city, some the same as ever, and others moving and pulsing with life. Paintings don’t move I thought. But here they did in the dead of midnight.
“Took you long enough.” A young voice called from behind.
It was a familiar sweet voice, the young woman who’s name I forgot to ask, “what is this place?”
“Welcome to Duniya, young Takhar.” She said.
I turned to where we came, but the mirror was not there. “That mirror, It’s a gate isn’t it. Does it always lead to this place?”
“It leads you to where you need to be.” The man said in his usually gruffy tone.
“This street looks familiar.”
“Because it is. Were still in Baltimore.” He started walking, craning with his staff.
“But it looks… So different.”
“Because this is Duniya. Open your eyes, boy. And see the world beneath the world.”
It’s just a dream, I kept telling myself as every breath of mine misted in the cold air. Everything around me was moving and full of life. Buildings covered in leaves and grasses. Dilapidated brick walls swallowed up by plant life that was never there before. Some were as green as spring and others as dead and withered in winter.
Humongous roots weaved in and out through the city like bridges snaking from one rooftop to the other. The small trees on the sidewalk seem much bigger and taller, and on top of each one is a small house in the shape of a mushroom of varying colors. A whiff of the chilly air gave the sense of freshness and queer scents. And the endless chatter of unknown languages filled the street.
Odd creatures roam about, big and small. One was a rat the size of an enormous dog with the head of a bat walking on two legs. A woman on four, with the body of a zebra. A man clothed in white fur with the head of a hare. There were three legged creatures, four, sometimes more than I could count. Some looked more like human, but the color of their skin told otherwise. All of them moved about without a care in the world like everything was normal--It wasn’t.
Some pondered their trade on the street, others mounted beast carrying luggage from one street to the next. Cats with glowing eyes littered the corners. Feral hyenas with glowing spots serving their masters like dogs. Sand colored rabbits flying with their huge flappy ears. And sometimes, though rarely, I would see an actual human walk by.
“They can’t see them?”
“No.” said Gru.
“Then, how can I?”
“Because you can.” She said.
This is just a dream, I reminded myself. My head felt heavy once again. “What are they?”
“Like you and me. Creatures of this world.”
“Can they see me?”
“Of course.”
I turned to look once more at the wonders around me. “There’s so many of them.”
“Only on these parts. Some parts of the city are filled with creatures less docile. Be warned. This on the other hand is a trading district. Like human’s we too trade.” She said.
“What part of Baltimore is this?”
“Near Roosevelt Park.”
“Why are we here? Where are we going?”
“To the heart of the city.” Gru said.
“Where…and why?”
She smiled, beaming. “Druid hill. To meet the great mother.”
The brief walk felt like a lifetime passing through winding alleys and cavernous routes and finally across the street beyond the train tracks that led to Druid hill. The roots were much thicker here, some as big as houses. And the ground beneath my feet felt like they were moving as we trotted through the dense grass. This is not how I remembered the park to be. And when the clearing was in sight, we halted. Our path was barred by a mountainous gate guarded by what seem like soldiers.
One guard came forward. He was half naked, with nothing but a breech cloth from waist to knees. His shoulders were wide and muscular. He had the same sharp eyes as Gru, along with the same tall height. But his ebony skin glowed white from the painted lines tattooed all over his body and face. He held an axe in one hand, and a long wooden oval shield with the face of an elephant held by the other. I doubt that shield of his would help much against a gun. “Who goes there?” He said when we approached.
“It is us.” The woman curtsied.
“And this one?” The guard nodded toward me.
“A child of mine.” She said calmly.
“I meant the other one.” The guard pointed his axe at Gru.
“I never thought I would see the day when creatures would be barred to approach the great tree.” Gru grimaced almost barring his teeth.
His words made me look up. It was there all along, the giant tree so big its branches filled the sky. Its titanic trunk hidden behind the darkness of the night. The sense of twisting unease slowly quelled in my stomach to see that it was not on fire like the one in my dream.
“Silenced outsider! You have no authority here.” The guard shifted his gaze toward her. “You, young spirit. State your business!”
“A simple cleansing.” She said as she held out her palm toward him. The guard reached in and held it to his face.
“My necklace!” I yelled, almost dashing my way toward it when she held me by the arm.
“Looks like a feisty one, this child.” He smirked. “I see a binding spell on this necklace, with mud. Such ancient art, eh. May I know what this cleansing is for?”
“I believe that is personal to the child.” His mother has just passed away you see.”
“Hmm. Very well, but we will not have this one.” He pointed at Gru. “He can wait, or he can leave. He can choose either.”
The scowl on Gru’s face was palpable. He raised his staff and swiftly slammed the butt to the ground. The guards were on their toes, weapons in hand. Gru took a step back and bowed as if he was a gentleman with a bowler hat on. “I will see you back in the museum,” then he disappeared into the misty night.
At this point, I wondered why I’m even here. I should really get home. But the woman beckoned as the gate of intertwined roots and vines was swallowed by the earth. It was hard not to gaze up, wondering whether this tree would come crashing down on me. It was so big it drowned out the sky. And if it fell? It would devour half the city. I might exaggerate but it could. Like a meteor falling from the skies. The thought of it made my heart shudder as we drew closer.
This made little sense to me. The tree took up so much space that it swallowed the whole clearing. This was supposed to be an open park. I still don’t understand how this Duniya thing works. A world beneath the world, they said.
More than a dozen eyes were looking at us. Faces carved on dead trees. But it felt like they were alive, swiveling their heads as we pass. Finally, she stopped right beneath the great trunk where a root arched its way up from the ground and curled on itself to form a well as wide as a small pool filled with bubbling water that glowed in varying colors each time it pulsed.
“Behold, Igi’Aya!” She gestured toward it in an overly dramatic tone. “The great mother that holds the shroud beneath the world!”
‘Igi’Aya,’ I repeated under my breath, then heard the whisper of wind and rustling leaves fill the air. It sounded like voices drawing me closer to it.
“You can hear her, I see.” She moved closer to the glowing pool and raised a fist toward me. “Come,” she said as she opened her palm and revealed my mother’s necklace. So much has happened in the last few minutes that I almost forgot about it. Or was it longer than that? My head was beating in my skull. My feet inched closer toward it. It was as if I lost control of my body. My vision was a blur. “Ask her, young Takhar.” She hushed with a voice smooth and slithery. My mother’s necklace was in my hand, unconsciously. When…how? “Now let her show you the truth,” were her last words before I plunged into the water, sinking deeper and deeper into darkness.
When I awoke, I held my hands tight to my chest. The necklace clenched beneath it. My body curled up like an infant in a womb floating in space. Only to realize I was underwater and drowning. Twisting and thrashing I fought for air. A flash of light glowed within my fist, brightly and then brighter. Fear filled my eyes. Lungs gasping for breath. Then the darkness beneath me tore open, and I was falling from the sky.
I could not recall when I hit the ground. I stumbled to my feet, my knees trembling under me. I felt cold and wet and out of place, surrounded by nothingness but an ash-filled earth and scorched brick walls. And in that empty desolation, a voice called out to me. There she was towering above me—Igi’Aya. Anger flushed my cheeks by the realization that I was haunted by this same dream yet again. Will she burn once more? Will she fall? Instead, she spoke with the voice too familiar to my ears. A voice I’ve known since I was a child--my mother.
For a moment I thought she was. I called out to her. To hear her once more. But the truth of the shadow she left behind was the realist thing I’ve ever felt. And I felt miserable, frustrated, enraged.
“What do you want?” I screamed.
Hot tears drip down my cheeks. Then her whispers drowned my mind. Protect, she whispered.
“Protect what?” I asked.
Fight, she urged.
“I don’t understand.” I wobbled closer, then remembered what the young lady said. ‘Ask her young Takhar,’ so I did. I asked what I wanted to know. “How did my mother die?”
Protect, was all she echoed.
“Who killed her?” The fury on my tongue tasted vile as it left my lips.
But all I heard is--fight.
Fight.
Fight.
Over and over again.
I was out of my wits, sick of all these riddles. Mad, I came dashing toward it, yelling, “tell me who did it!” My hands turned red, bleeding. But I kept slamming my fist on to its thick rough trunk. “You stupid tree!” I cursed and I spat, and then I flailed toward the ground. Tired and weeping, I sat down, leaned on its trunk and fell asleep.
When I felt the warmth, my eyes shot open. I feared the burning and quickly look up, but there was no fire and there was no great tree.
I was standing among a small rowdy crowd cheering around a great bond fire. What is this, place? I whispered. A man with an owl-faced feather-head mask strode out from a tent beneath a great big tree. In his hand held a baby. It horrified me. At first glanced I thought the baby was burning. Smoke oozing from its little infant skin. Only then did I realize that everyone was oozing with mist like smoke. And the child had the thickest smoke of them all. Then the smoke filled the air until there was nothing I could see.
When the smoke cleared, a wall of trees surrounded me. Beyond that are filled by the chatter of people. I edged closer to take a peek. The people were laughing, dancing around a fire beneath a great tree covered with white mist. The white smoke oozing from their bodies. The merrier they were, the thicker their smoke. But my eyes were drawn toward a young boy no older than five. His smoke was the thickest of all.
The boy was being driven away from the tribe, and deeper into the woods. I followed. His little hands held by a pale woman with long black hair floating toward the sky like a seaweed would underwater. And when they were alone, I feared for the worst.
The pale woman’s smile turned into sharp grinning teeth. Her mouth opened wide, big enough to swallow the child. But instead, she was feeding on the child's smoke. A sharp scream broke through the forest. Armed with a spear, the man with the feather-head mask chased the pale woman away. Another woman appeared to cradle the lifeless child. A woman with an oddly familiar face, younger than I remembered. She howled a hurtful whimper, a familiar cry, and called out his name, a familiar name. The boy’s body was unharmed, but his earthly skin was pale as white and unmoving.
Chapter 14
“Did you hear that?” She said, leaning toward the window behind me. “Look.” She raised her voice.
I turned to look and noticed a few from the crowd bursting into a run, most stood still, and even more crowding to see something that was eventually nothing. With the lack of evidence to see, no one seemed to bother. “What did you see?”
“I saw… something,” she pointed at the thick overgrowth of trees. “It dragged someone… I-I think.”
Korra led the way when we made it back to the ground. She was so certain of the fact that only she claimed to see. While I replayed the weight of her words and what they meant. We reached the end of the clearing, facing the edge of the thick dark forest. Something felt off about this, I could feel it with every throb in my chest. But before I could pull her away, she slipped from my grasped and into the shadows.
I followed close behind, unsure where we were headed when a brief burst of cry broke through, followed by a flock of birds cawing into the sky as if flying away from a perceived threat. We shouldn’t be here, I wanted to say to her. But knowing Korra, I knew any attempt was futile. Korra always had a sense for adventure, and that include danger. She always followed her instinct. We once followed a bird into the outskirts of town. We were chased by dogs and our clothes filled with mud, only to find that the owner of the bird was having a seizure. Her father once said proudly that she might grow up to be a cop. Now her father is worried of that future.
We heard the wailing from a distance. Korra dashed to where she thought she heard it. My eyes were blurry as I struggled to follow. The darkness seem darker and growing even darker still. I thought I saw faces, dozens of eyes following our every step. The roots on every tree seemed to move. Then I saw Korra. She was just standing there.
I approached her warily and for the first time saw a glimpse of terror on her face. I turned to face what she had found so fearful. And there it was. Hunched behind a tree with skin as pale as ash and eyes big and bulging like two blood moons glowing in the dark. Its long black hair fell not downward, but up toward the sky, held up by some kind of reversed gravity. She was tall with a slender silhouette and a long gaunt face. Its mouth wide open from ear to ear like a gash, sucking in what seemed like white smoke from a man clinging on to dear life. The man seem to have noticed us and held out his hand in a deep agonizing howl for help. I must be dreaming was the first thought that came to mind.
Korra made the first move, moving dangerously close. I fought against the urge to scream as I rushed to hold her back, hoping that the creature has yet to notice us. But too late, there was another. It crawled out from a branch and vaulted down with its long hind legs. The creature towered above us with its white fur shimmering against the moonlight. A werewolf? No. It was far too thin to be a werewolf. It looked more like a humanoid bat without wings. But who is to say what a true werewolf looked like?
Captured by the strong thought to protect, I whirled in front of Korra, against the protest of my shivering body. I tried to argue against the beast. To hold it back with my feeble hands when it leap too suddenly toward me. It was a quick whip. I felt a crack on my rib when I hit the ground. The taste of salt and earth in my mouth. I could barely move a muscle, struggling to see with one eye. Cold and wet dripped red over the other, coloring my vision in two.
Korra stood frozen, small and alone as the beast approached. When will I wake up from this nightmare? I wanted to close my eyes, hoping that when I open them again, this would all fade from my memory. But I didn’t, I kept my eyes open. If only I was stronger. If only I was a hero. I wanted to be strong, desperately wishing I could fight such demons. If only I wasn’t so weak, none of this would have happened. I would have not need to work so hard in a world where I no longer have a future. I would have not need to live in that old creaking rundown house. I would have not need to rely so much like a beggar on everyone around me. I would still have my skateboard with the wind on my face. I would still have our house and my own room and my own bed. I would still have my mother. I wanted not to be afraid? I wanted to throw fear away. Replace it with all the things I hate. Replace it with all the rage buried deep inside. To let it explode with a single burst that would drive all the light that’s left inside of me. I wanted to fight.
I don’t know where I found the strength, but I was crawling through the dirt. Clawing my way toward her. Toward the only light left in the world. Through gritted teeth, I held myself to stand through the stutters and shivers. The beast smiled with a terrifyingly amused smile. But I held on, defiantly. The beast drew out his long knife-like claws. But I held on, enraged with the single thought of revenge. Revenge for all the injustice in my life. The beast leaped into the sky with the precision of a predator locked on its prey, swinging down with such crippling forced it would have shattered the earth beneath my feet—but it didn’t.
Did I blink, or did I not, I could no longer tell the passage of time. But I could feel the weight pressed against me, held back by nothing but my shivering arms, refusing to give up or give in to this fear. To pushed back with nothing but rage fueling my strength. And in between my fingers, clenched tightly knowing that my life depended on it, and that it was the only thing keeping those long sharp claws from biting into my skin, was the shadow which I forgot its name. A flash of light flooded my memory with everything that I thought I have forgotten, and when I remembered, I called out its name in a desperate cry for help—Ojiji.
It pulsed to life between my skin. Its rust seem to burn away, leaving but the sharp metal edge of its spearhead blade. Its broken shaft grew in length, not much, but enough to hold with both hands. Smoke filled the air, evaporating from the weapon itself. But the mist was unfamiliar from what I could scarcely recognize—it was red, and my entire body was oozing off with it.
There was fire inside me, and it seemed to materialized into the blade. With a sudden burst of strength, I pushed back the creature with such force I flung it backward. I noticed the look of disbelief in the creature’s eyes. With the sudden gain of confidence, I rushed forward like a savage beast lunging toward its pray. I was swinging wildly, like an animal gone mad. Every near miss only served to fuel my anger. And when opportunity showed itself, I went in to deal a deathblow with the weight of my entire body pulled back for a single decisive strike. Instead, I fell flat on my face, with the taste of mud between my teeth as it caught me with its long hind legs.
Enraged, I stood and turned, then felt a sharp pain in my stomach as I flung toward an adjacent tree, wincing from the unimaginable pain. There was barely enough of my eyes to see, when my heart stopped to notice that there was more of them hiding beyond the woods. Mostly women with pale ashen skin, red eyes, and hair that floated upward to the sky. And beneath them were the bodies of their victims with skin as pale as theirs, unmoving.
I turned to Korra. How could I have forgotten? She was in danger, as one of the pale women stood in front of her with a dangerously wide smile. Ignoring the pain, I bolted toward her, running as fast as my legs could take me with each step feeling heavier than the last, arms reaching for the light when the ground rose to meet me. Korra fell to the ground, unconscious. I screamed and forced myself to rise, but couldn’t. The hard-rough fingers coiled behind my neck, holding me in place, forcing me to watch as the pale woman opened its mouth toward Korra. My eyes stared at the Ojiji in my hand. I tried to summon the strength, and when that failed, I did the only thing I thought made sense; I listened.
I looked to the sky, in solemn prayer for help, wishing that the sky would fall right now. That if this was our last moment together, then let it be the last moment for everyone else. But the more I wished for strength, the more I felt the pain. The red smoke continued to ooze from the Ojiji and more out from my body, as if draining my vigor. I tried to hold on to it, but like a shadow it faded into none-existence and everything turned to a blur, growing darker. When a beam of light ruptured across the forest like an explosion, it flung me backwards so harshly that even the creature holding me down was gone.
When I opened my eyes. I recognized his face. He moved with the swiftness of a lion, fearless and bold. With every flick of his smoky white staff, sent shock waves of smoke and light that pushed the pale women farther back. The beast leaped toward him with such speed that I could barely follow. He held back its deadly claws, turned sideways, and flick the butt of his staff on the beast’s chin so hard, it must have bit its own teeth. A stream of crimson fell from its furred jaw as it grinned. Both of them stared cautiously with one another as if the first move would be the other one’s last. They moved so fast; I could not tell from whom it began. But when it ended, one was on the ground and the other on its knees. He staggered when he stood, with a hint of a smile on his face as if to claim his victory. Edging closer toward the beast, he raised his staff high into the sky. But before he could slam downward, he stopped upon hearing the beating of huge wings from what seemed like a much larger beast. The shadow of the beast landed beyond where my eyes could see. All that was left was their voices.
“Enough.” Said a loud booming voice. His silhouette was that of a large mammal, with wings as wide as an elephant. He towered even taller and wider than the man who just fought against the beast that was now on the ground. “How dare you make a mockery in my city?”
“Are you talking about them?” said the familiar voice.
“I’m talking about you, outsider. You don’t belong here. You have no grasped of how the world works in this hollowed city.”
“Is what they do considered sacred, Protector? I believe it’s you who’s supposed to protect the living against this feaster.”
“Indeed I do. Against those who have chosen to harm the city by feeding against those weaker than themselves. Against those who wreak havoc. Against those who band together to destroy the lives and futures. This is how justice is served in this city.”
“Your justice?”
“Yes. And you would do well to respect that, outsider.”
Chapter 45
I ran through corridors and winding hallways before finding my way back to the same place where I fought for their entertainment. There were no drum beats. No crowd. No one to call my name as I approached the Arena. Aside from the roaring explosions beyond these walls, it was a silent place, almost sacred.
An enormous black-haired beast stood in the middle. Its vast eagle like wings beating a gust of wind that sent a cloud of dust into the air. Its black hairy body built with pure muscle, littered with scar. And his huge squarish like face was a paint of distaste.
“I see that you’ve reclaimed it.” His beady white eyes stared lustily at my spear. “Have you come to join me?”
“No.” The rage slowly creeping into my mind.
“So, you wish me to break it again?”
“It will not happen a second time.”
I felt the earth rumble beneath me. Thick white smoke steamed from his arm, and in its place as it dispersed, was a gigantic scimitar with its blade flickering against the rising sun above clear skies. “No. This time I will take your life,” he raised his blade toward me, “just like what I did to your master.”
“Try me.” I could taste a hint of bloodlust in my tongue.
“Do you honestly think you can defy me?” He grunted. “You don’t know the Duniya, child.”
“I was born in it. You threatened both worlds,” I raised my spear toward him. “I am here to protect it.”
He chuckled a deep throaty laugh. “Protect it? You can’t even protect your family. What a futile way to die.”
“So, it’s true then. You killed my mother?”
“She’s been dead a century ago, the both of you. You never belonged here.”
I felt anger soaring through my chest. “All for power, is that it? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“To destroy the divide between the two worlds. To break the shadow that has kept the rest of humanity blind. The world needs to know what exist beyond their eyes. Some of them already do. It is only a matter of time. Deals have been brokered. Governments have seen the truth.”
“You’ve gone mad.”
“No. I am justice. I am the chosen one. This is my kingdom.”
“You are a tyrant. You bring nothing but death and oppression.”
An explosion from above made the walls tremble. His gaze wondered toward the sky. “I will deal with those rebellious worms,” then stared at me “after I cut the head of the snake. I gave you your life. I gave you mercy. Now I will end your foolish attempt.”
“And my mother? Did you give her mercy?”
“You know nothing, little Takhar. Come if you wish to dare. Show me your resolve so I may break it.”
I stared at the carved wood in my hand. The owl staring back at me, reminding me of the mysteries unanswered, and the ancient history that carried with it. There is much I needed to know. But for now, I must fight. I leaned forward and put on the mask.
I stood with no armor, bare chested and bare feet. My enemy sizing me as I moved about. I wore nothing but rough spun pants and a mask on my face. But my will to fight became my resolved. With spear in hand and smoke steaming from my body, I blitz toward him. Our blade clashed and locked. I could feel his ominous strength as he held against me with one hand, pushing me back. I forced my Ojiji to fade into the mist while his blade slipped through and toward my throat. A feint. My fist shimmering golden, inches from his chest, focusing a pressurized steam in front of it and exploded. The force sent him crashing onto a pillar. And a cloud of dust covered him in a fog. He emerged without a scratch. He had a grin on his face. His smoke oozing from his body.
I summoned my Ojiji back in my hand. He dashed toward me, smashing his blade like a club while he howled and roared. It felt like blocking a boulder. Each swing made my bones tremble, chipping away at my strength as I desperately tried to parry each thunderous strike. He fought like an animal, savage beyond belief. He caught me on the face with his huge hand. I felt the world spinning around me. I fought to stay up, but felt a huge hand grab me by the ankle, and threw me to an adjacent pillar. I felt my bones snap. The pillar cracked and came crashing down on me.
“Is this your resolve?” The voice said. “How pathetic.”
I felt something push through the rubble and dragged me out, holding me up by the neck as I whizzed for air. The heat from his smoke was suffocating. I noticed his smoke turning pink, then red. He drew closer, staring at me with his judging eyes.
“You are just like me. Yet you do not understand the future your power can create.”
“This power is not ours.” I struggled to speak as I dangled in his grasped. “You are simply stealing. You’re no different than the ones you are trying to fight for.”
Rage painted on his face. His blade raised above. I held my breath, then fumed a fog of icy cold smoke that clouded the area. I fell from his grasp and rolled away. The blade struck the ground inches from my head. I forced myself to stand and summoned my Ojiji. Refusing to turn back. Refusing to give up.
He flapped his wings, forcing the fog to disperse. His face was a picture of disdain. I could feel the air tremble around us as the air around him vibrated and covered in red smoke. And with a roar he soared upward, hovering in a quick circle of red and black. I braced myself with a barrier that bubbled around me. He descended with such force that the very air above was being forced downward. Our blades struck, an explosion of blinding force that rocked the stone beneath me, burying my feet deeper into the platform.
“You should have joined me when you had the chance,” He roared, still hovering above me with his entire weight pressed against my spear. “We were meant to rule this world. We are the superior race. The blood of the ancient runs through our veins.”
“The more people obsess about race, the more racist they become. We are not the same!” I screamed back. I felt the strength of the spear surging through my veins. My thick white steam oozing out of me and against his red mist.
His wings folded. He dropped down with his enormous feet stomping the ground, making it shiver like an earthquake. I lost my footing; my guard was down. Then I felt a sharp cut through the chest and a kick in the stomach as I stumbled downward, wincing at the pain. I was bleeding on the dirt-filled concrete, crawling my way up. I felt a shadow hovering above. And when I craned to look—I saw fire.
His rage has turned him into a blaze of fiery red. His huge wings engulfed in searing flames. He roared a deafening roar that trembled the earth. His voice growing more grotesque as he spoke.
“I am the law.” He growled. “I am the city. All life belongs to me!”
He came down like a demon from above, crashing into the earth, melting the stone beneath his feet as he approached me. His beady eyes turn blood red. Quickly, I summoned my spear. With a frightening howl, he swung his Ojiji savagely toward me from a distance. Like a storm, the air rose and a strong gust of fiery wind so fast it smashed into my body. It sent me rolling toward the edge of the platform. My skin a bloody scab. I couldn’t breathe or move an arm until I coughed a bloody cough. I puked my organs out. The wound on my chest has deepened. Fear crept into my mind. And so was rage.
But I refuse to sit still. I have to stop him. Whatever it takes. This was my destiny. My knees were a quivering mess. When I stood up, my left arm dangled to my side, unresponsively.
I watched helplessly as he soar upwards once more. His flame much larger and wilder, consuming the space and the air around us, turning the open sky aflame.
This is not enough. With one hand I raised my spear. I need more power. I need to squeeze everything out. To sharpen my soul. To mold every thought and emotion into this single moment. The past and future came crashing into my mind as I watched him descend from above.
His rage—against mine.
Our blades struck. Opposing each other. Filling the enormous room into a hellish fire, burning the earth beneath us, turning every stone into molten lava.
He laughed a guttural laugh. His breath turned into flames. “Look at you,” he said, staring at my flame filled body, “Filled with rage—with anger! You’re no different from me!”
My gaze was a haze of red. I could feel the flames burning through my body, molding itself into my soul. My mind was being dragged back into the darkness, pulling me deeper and deeper still. The voice of madness came whispering into my thoughts. Kill.
Kill.
Kill. Noooo!
I shut my eyes, listening. Reaching deep into my core—and declared. “I am not like you.”
Then I heard her voice—Igi’Aya.
Protect.
Fight.
Remember who you are.
A soothing coolness wrapped itself around my body, shunning the heat and flames away, turning it back into pure white smoke. I’ve done it. I could see it in his face. A hint of worry.
“I will show you how to wield true power.”
“No! I am the true power!” His flames burned brighter, melting the surrounding stone into a sea of red while I pushed back with the strength of my mist. Fire and smoke clashing against each other. “I am the chosen one.” He shrieked. “I will make this world a better place.”
“You will burn everything to ashes.”
His flaming blade raging against my smoky spear. Both Ojiji was alive, fighting each other’s will. A storm of heat and frosty air whirled around us, lifting dust and rubble into a turbulent disaster. I felt my knees crumbling beneath his overwhelming fury.
“This is my destiny!” He howled a deep savage howl.
“So is mine!” I grunted back. Pushing against his overwhelming strength.
I screamed at the top of my lungs. I am not weak. Not anymore. I pushed everything I had out of me. Every fear. Every pain. Every hurt. Every weakness. Leaving nothing but the bare truth of who I am. I felt a golden light touch my skin with roots that reached deep into my heart. The roots crept onto my feet, and up to my ankle, covering my leg, supporting my weight. It kept going, up my body, my chest, my arms until it wrapped itself around my Ojiji. It filled me with immeasurable power, and in an instant—exploded into a burst of blinding pure white smoke.
The roots unwrapped around me and returned to the earth. All the flames were put to rest, from the ceiling to the ground, leaving a crumbling place of what it once was. And a few feet In front of me, was the so called guardian of this city laid flat on the ground, breathing heavily. His body a scar of melted skin and cinched fur.
“The world is ruled by corruption and greed. Its human nature.” He whispered in a faint voice. “Greed is human nature at its best,” he turned toward me with eyes that glowed white, “what do you it’s like if they’re at their worst?”
“I don’t know. It is not our place to judge mankind.”
He laughed, a soft wispy laugh. “Go on. End me. Take your revenge.”
I stared at him and at his current state. Disheveled, beaten—hollow. “No.”
Instead, I walked toward his Ojiji, black and burnt. I held my spear high and thrust it toward the blade. It broke like soft brick against hammer and faded into smoke. When I turned back, he was crawling toward me, his eyes filled with hate.
“How dare you? Who do you think you are?” He scowled, then coughed blood.
I took off my mask and stared straight into his eyes. “There’s a new guardian in town. His name is Takhar.”
I took a step back as smoke crept its way out from the cracked earth, followed by roots that sprouted from the ground. It coiled around him, covering him. He screamed, reaching a hand toward me. The roots held him down, dragging him deeper until the earth swallowed him whole.
All souls must return to Igi’Aya.
