Reborn (12 page)

“What’s not there? What are you talking about?” Jacob asked. He knew his staff was long gone, and didn’t expect to find much else that belonged to him.

“Nothing,” Jade muttered, picking up her loaded wrist holsters. Nima had put those in a separate bag, and now it seemed she would finally be able to wear them once again.

“Is everyone ready?” Eric asked, sheathing Spark at his side. “Come on, let’s go, on your best behavior.” He eyed Jacob for a lingering moment before going on. “These folks have lost more in a day than most do in a lifetime. Try to imagine yourselves in their place. No matter how they react to our presence, you will accept their judgment and ridicule unquestioningly. Any sort of retaliation, verbal or otherwise, will not be tolerated. If things start to get out of hand, just step aside and let me handle it. Have I made myself clear?” His eyes circled the room, taking in each one of his companions at a time.

They exited the building only to find even more soldiers standing in a line. Their attire was very much the same as the others, except their usual green capes were now replaced with white. Nima and Amoshi stood out in front, each holding a thick black candle with red swirls. The tiny flames bent sideways in the light breeze, flickering hard while constantly threatening to wink out.

The men kept looking nervously over their shoulders at the families walking by, each member holding a similar black and red candle. Most glared at the four foreigners with hatred before moving along on their way. Eric couldn’t help but notice how many groups seemed to consist of a mother, one or more children, yet no father.
Death follows me like a shadow, yet others pay the price
. Despite his pain, no emotion touched his face. “Lead the way,” he said.

The soldiers circled them from the back and sides, leaving only the front of the formation exposed. There, Nima and Amoshi took the lead. On they marched down the street, the men’s white capes swishing and rolling with each step.

After a few twists and turns down unfamiliar paths, they ended up on a wide-open stretch of road. Up ahead they could see a series of torches lined along a long, raised platform. Tiny flames seemed to appear out of nowhere as many people turned at once, each holding lit candles. They eyed the approach of the foreigners as angry mumblings began to filter through the large crowd, a symphony of hate fluttering along like wind rustling through dry leaves.

A small stone came hurtling from the crowd, bouncing harmlessly off one of the men’s shoulder pads. The well-disciplined soldier never broke formation or even flinched, just marched on as if nothing had happened. Jacob clenched his fists, leaning forward as if to rush the assailant, but a strong hand quickly gripped his shoulder from behind. Even if he could have broken free from the iron grip, Eric’s icy glare was more than enough to keep him still.

Kelus hastily stepped up on the platform, obviously in a hurry to get this underway—anything to help distract from the presence of the foreigners. With flaming torches on all sides, long, dark shadows danced around his body. In direct contrast to the sea of white spread out before him, he wore a dark black kimono with sturdy wooden shoes. His bald head and face were covered in white paint with black outlines, giving him the rather disturbing likeness of a clothed skeleton. Many others in the crowd had painted their faces in similar fashion, making the gathering look like a meeting of the dead.

The large group was rather reserved now; in fact, they were deathly quiet. Kelus’s gaze swept over the crowd, taking in their solemn faces. Some began to cry, cutting into the silence with sniffles and muffled coughs.

“My brothers, my sisters,” his voice rang out like a bell. “It warms my heart to see all of you standing before me, here to witness a gathering based on love and compassion. This is our opportunity to say a final goodbye to those who fell during our darkest hour. To those who lost their lives protecting their freedom, their way of life, and the ones they hold dear.”

“Their lives were wasted. Wasted on the foreign devils,” came a female voice from the crowd.

Kelus went on, ignoring the outburst. “My heart is broken this day. My soul cries out in agony, but I recognize my pain for what it really is. Our shared agony is born of greed, for our fathers, mothers, and friends are all in a better place now. Never again will they know sadness. Never again will they know hunger, thirst, loneliness or pain, yet still we grieve. In reality, we grieve for ourselves. We grieve because we can no longer speak with them, hug them or hold them. We can no longer lean on them when we need a shoulder to cry on. But make no mistake, my brothers and sisters: They are perfect now. Perfect, as all of us will be when the gods, in their infinite wisdom, decide it is our time.”

An old woman cradling an infant approached the platform. Her long, flowing dress was gleaming white, just as many of the others. Her baby was wrapped in brown cloth, with his face painted in white. The black outline around his eyes and mouth again gave the appearance of a skull, the traditional way of mourning the dead.

The old woman’s voice was raspy, yet still carried well. “So where were the gods when my grandchild lost his mother and father? I’m old, and my years remaining in this world are numbered. How am I supposed to care for him, to ensure he still has a future? Tell me, oh great Kelus, was all this suffering part of some great divine plan? Have the gods decided this act of evil will somehow change all our lives for the better?” Shouts of agreement began to ring out— slowly at first, then picking up in strength. Each person was now speaking out what they had been feeling the whole time, now feeding off each other’s negative energy.

“How dare you keep them alive?” shouted a thin man also dressed in white, but his face was unpainted, revealing his high cheekbones and bushy eyebrows. He pointed directly at the adventurers, who still remained walled up inside the human shield, a shield that was quickly beginning to resent their orders. “I lost my whole family because of them, and still you protect these foreigners. You also protect them from the Hoshito family, and any others who wish them harm, I suppose. Well, I’m now one of those who wish them harm.” He stopped a moment to wipe the spittle running from his mouth. “I say we hand them over, then let the gods decide their fate.”

Similar shouts began to echo about as the contagious bravery spread through the crowd like a plague. One after another turned toward Eric, pointing and shouting for the demon’s head. “We know who you are, and we know what you’ve done,” came another shout. “Your description is clear throughout the land. We know it is you.”

Kelus tried to plead with the mob, but his voice was easily drowned out by the growing shouts. The soldiers surrounding the four friends began to grow even more restless now, gripping their weapons and pivoting them back and forth. They did their best to keep themselves between the adventurers and the ever-growing threat, but that threat was now coming from many directions at once, as the mob continued to grow bolder. The agitators advanced, some stopping now and then to look to the man next to them, reassuring themselves they were not going in alone.

“By—by order of our—Kelus has commanded that you must not—” the poor soldier stuttered, all the while shifting the end of his spear from one threat to another. “Please! By order of—” he felt a strong hand on his shoulder before it turned him to the side gently, but effortlessly.

“You’ve done your job and we thank you for it, but I’ll take it from here,” said Eric. He stepped through the line of soldiers, his full height suddenly very apparent, especially given the smallish stature of these folk. This alone slowed the mob’s forward movement, but when he unsheathed Spark, they instantly retreated. Deep red flames erupted from the blade, making everyone gasp at once. He marched methodically through the crowd as folk scrambled desperately to get out of his way.

He approached the platform and hopped up, angry red flames still pulsing down the dark blade. With a nod toward Kelus, he turned to face the mob who looked on, wide-eyed with shock.

“We have to stop the demon or he’ll kill us all,” came another shout from the crowd.

“Is that what you wish to believe?” said Eric, looking right at the man who made the comment. His booming voice rang loud and true. He pointed Spark at the man, whose eyes seemed to triple in size. Flames pulsed angrily down its shaft as Eric felt its passion, felt its pleading for blood. “Then let me allow you the honor of being the first.” The man looked as if he would faint. Eric dropped the sword from the platform and watched it land harmlessly in the grass below. Flames instantly extinguished, with not a single blade of grass scorched, evidence it never retained a bit of heat.

Eric pulled a dagger from inside his shirt and sat down on the platform with his feet hanging off the edge. Holding the point to his neck, he said, “Since you seem to be so sure I’m the cause of all your pain, I will give you one chance to seek the revenge you lust for.” He smiled at the man. “I give you my word, I will not move. Come now, do your people a service and obtain the blood you seek.” The man just lowered his head, unable to say a word through his trembling lips.

Eric looked to the old woman holding the baby. He raised his head, still holding the dagger point to his throat, then pushed it in deeper as a trickle of blood ran from the small cut. “You say you lost your family, that your grandchild will never be able lead a normal life. I’m truly sorry for your loss, and I humbly offer my life in return. Someday you will be able to tell him you singlehandedly smote the evil that took his parents from this world.” Eric made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Come now, I promise you it will be easy. All you have to do is push, and justice will be done.” He jiggled the handle a couple of times, making the line of blood flow a bit faster. The old woman began to sob, nuzzling her cheek against the infant’s stomach.

“I see,” Eric whispered. He jumped to his feet then threw the dagger to the ground. There it stuck, quivering like an arrow shot from a bow. He slowly walked across the platform, his eyes meeting those in the front row one set at a time, each one looking away when their turn came. “Is there no one here who wants the honor of slaying the demon who has taken so much from your people? Is there no one who wants to go into the history books as the one who avenged the Takeri Clan?”

Women cried while men hung their heads, their gazes frozen on the ground. Not a single person stepped forward. “Even though I stand before you unarmed and helpless, no one will answer the call. Why is that?” Eric said with his hands held out to his sides. “It’s because you are not sure. No one wants the blood of an innocent man on their hands, but this is not weakness I see. It shows me the strength of your people, your honor, and by the gods, the human side we all share, no matter what corner of the world we come from.”

Kelus walked over and stood by Eric’s side, a silent show of support.

“I know nothing of this monster I’ve heard so much about,” said Eric, “a man who walks through gateways and brings death wherever he goes, but I swear on my life, I am not this demon you fear.”

“He speaks the truth,” came a shrill female voice from the back. As soon as the crowd turned to see where the voice came from, they all dropped to their knees. The three members of the Circle moved slow and with purpose as they marched their way to the front. All three were dressed in white, like so many others. The twins, in their usual shared voice, said, “Everyone, please rise.”

It was a long time before anyone stood, seeing as no one wanted to be the first. After a few brave souls finally did, the rest quickly followed their example.

“I have spoken with the spirits,” said Wara. “This man from a far-off land is not the bringer of death many of us have branded him. He is not the man who wipes entire villages off the map, leaving none alive to tell the tale.” She turned her gaze directly on Eric. “The spirits seem to think he is even more dangerous.” Eric met her gaze as panicked murmurs moved through the crowd like fire. “Even the spirits themselves can be wrong, and I pray they are. They believe this man to be the Shantie Rhoe.” Wara then turned to Eric’s friends, still surrounded by guards. “We suspect you already knew who this man was. The old world refers to him as...the Gate Keeper.”

Chapter 8

After the chaotic event had ended, the four companions were quickly escorted back to their living quarters. The soldiers seemed more than content to get them back and be done with this unusual assignment.

As soon as the soldiers left, Jade went on an instant tirade. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screamed, banging two fists down on Eric’s chest. “Do you have a death wish or something? You know these people hate us, yet you graciously give them the chance to kill you. How could you be so sure one of them wouldn’t jump at the chance to slip cold steel into your neck?” After slamming his chest one last time, she threw herself at Eric, nearly crushing the life from him. She held him tight with her face buried in his chest. “I’d rather die than live without you,” she whispered.

After a time, he gently pushed her back. Holding her shoulders firmly, he looked into her crystal- blue eyes, now filled with tears. “I promise you, I don’t have a death wish,” he said softly. “I just choose to believe that people are genuinely good. No one was going to try and hurt me today, because most could never live with that guilt. I know in my heart that people are all the same, regardless of their culture, homeland, or race. I believe that mankind still has a chance, and will rise up, uniting as one when the time comes.” He sighed, reluctantly letting her go. “If I didn’t believe that, then what’s the point? What in the world am I fighting for?”