The Last of the Sages (Sage Trilogy, Book 1) (24 page)

London began loosening the shirt of the Langoran, glancing under the collar. His eyes widened suddenly and he opened his mouth to speak when the Langoran’s right hand moved quickly, a blur speeding toward London’s sword which remained sheathed at his side.

Before the group could even blink, the sword was taken and plunged through London’s abdomen. The Langoran grit his teeth and pulled it out immediately, looking around to see who would make a move. Achan could only glance at London’s fallen body, being covered by more and more of his spilled blood. James could hear the anger growling in Achan’s throat. Having already lost some of the team, he was furious that he had failed them, their lives haunting his decisions for the rest of his life, yet he took it to heart that at least he had some experience under his belt. Experience that would ensure that lives wouldn’t be so easily sacrificed under his watch again.

Now he made another error. He had expected the Langoran to grow with strength if he truly wanted to attack, giving him time to order their retreat or surround him in an attack formation. He didn’t expect a fast Langoran. He should’ve been more careful, had someone put a blade to the Langoran’s throat from the back perhaps. Now London was severely wounded or worse because of a simple shakedown. A gross oversight.

Achan had to rectify the problem immediately.

“Stand down!” Achan bellowed at him as he unsheathed his sword, having no intention of letting the Langoran go. The Langoran shook his head no and charged Achan at full speed. Achan swung toward his head but missed as the Langoran rolled behind him and stabbed him through the ribs from behind. Achan cried out, swinging behind him, only to barely miss again.

The Langoran came in close and stuck the blade through another rib. Achan fell to his knees involuntarily from the pain, his sword nearly dropping from his hand. The Langoran just laughed as he grabbed Achan’s dominant hand, and bent it back, his forearm cracking under the pressure. With a sickening pop, Achan screamed for all the world to hear, his precious sword falling to the ground, still unused. He nursed his arm with his free one and fell over to the ground, curled up in the agony, unable to escape its burden.

James stood motionless, knowing that his fate would be the same. Still, he couldn’t just stand there. He knew now the Langoran had been lying. That he was a spy. And James had vouched for him. It was his fault that someone had gotten hurt.  James reached for his sword and then remembered it was still back in the cave. But even without a weapon, he had to help Achan. He couldn’t watch another person die…

He was just about to rush in when Christian knocked him to the side. He looked up, questioning the action. Christian didn’t look back, continuing to run towards the enemy as he gave his explanation.

“You’re in too deep! I can make the kill!”

James understood. It was possible that when the moment arrived that he may let his cellmate go, regardless of what he had shown himself to be. There were too many emotions involved between the torture he had endured and the kindness his cellmate had shown. James let Christian take his place in saving Achan.

Rahima and Elder stayed their distance with James, knowing they were not part of the team because of their excellent combat skills. Elder was undeniably a librarian, while Rahima was said to be a tactician. And James could see her now, staring intensely at how the Langoran moved, assessing what he could do, and what her own limitations were. If he came after the two of them, she would have a plan of some kind…hopefully.

The Langoran and Christian were fighting each other to the side now as Achan tried crawling toward his sword, still on the ground. London lay motionless to the side, still breathing, but slowing down rapidly. James made his way to him, hoping that he could help in some capacity. James had just shuffled over to London’s side as he heard Christian cry out in pain. He fought to keep his attention on London, who was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“London, is there anything I can do?”

“I just...”

“What is it London? No, actually, you really shouldn’t be speaking.”

“I just saw…his shirt…Allayan shirt.”

“He had an Allayan shirt on?”

London said nothing more. James got the message. The Langoran was planning on passing off as an Allayan.

“I’m so sorry, London. I didn’t know…”

James turned his head suddenly as another sharp cry rang through the air. He saw Christian fall to the side. The Langoran was just coming out of the stance that had killed his teammate. James’ eyes welled up with tears as he could see his cellmate turn toward Elder and Rahima. James reached out to grab the Langoran’s heel, anything to stop him, but he ignored James and kept walking toward the only two left that still had a weapon. Elder and Rahima pulled out their swords and stood side by side, ready for the attack.

Rahima was whispering to him battle tactics as Elder fought to hold onto his shaking blade. James screamed toward his cellmate, hoping to get through but he ignored every word, focused only on his goal. James went to his feet as quick as he could and charged him, hoping that he could at the least, give Elder and Rahima some time to run, but all he got was a powerful backhand to the face. The force was so incredible that when James opened his eyes next, he was on his side, barely able to keep his swelling eyes open.

His cellmate continued his march toward his friends.

And by now Achan had had it.

He thought he had grabbed his sword, but suddenly he realized that the object was further than he anticipated, his own eyes playing tricks on him. As his vision blurred from the loss of blood, he pounded the ground once, then immediately wished he hadn’t as it only made him woozier. His mind was in a vertigo and it took everything he had to stay awake. Crawling up against a tree, he was able to move himself to a seating position. His legs were like bricks as he barely sat up, able to see the Langoran move closer and closer to Rahima and Elder.

He quickly scanned the field, growing in even more despair when he saw Christian on the forest floor, also gone. Achan’s vision blurred through tears as he barely had the strength to even wipe them away. He put his head back against the trunk, staring upward as he couldn’t believe he had lost another friend. Why did he have to be chosen to lead? Surely there were others better suited, and where were the proctors? Even if they swore not to intercede, shouldn’t they have made an exception just this once? Since it was such extreme circumstances? Since the very Kingdom of Allay was in danger of another siege?

The Kingdom couldn’t survive another one, even if it was of Langour. There was hardly anyone to defend the Kingdom. For only a moment, he could see what the recruits saw in the Sages, that they could deal so much damage to the enemy. Here were ten fine recruits, ready and able for battle, unable to take down a couple Langorans, let alone an army. Ten were now four, and all within a couple days.

Achan glanced over at the sword that cruelly eluded him. He pumped himself up to raise his hand once more toward it, as if his very will might bring it to him. It didn’t, naturally, but he hoped. The sword mocked him and he hated it not only for its silent taunts, but its weakness as well. Why put so much faith into an object that could so easily be taken away? Why put so much faith in something that could do nothing without your own will imposed upon it? His dominant arm was broken now…even if he got to the sword, he wouldn’t be able to use it, not well - and even when he was able, he did nothing to the Langoran earlier. Still, there had to be something he could do. Was he now useless because of the loss of an arm and a sword? Was that all he was worth? An arm and a sword?

Achan muttered a low prayer as he continued reaching for the sword, his head turned away
.
Please Maker, just give me the sword. Pleas
e
, he uttered desperately. He didn’t expect the sword to magically appear in his hand, but his prayer still had meaning. He didn’t necessarily need the sword, but surely a miracle of some sort, a way out of the situation, an answer. Why wouldn’t the Maker answer? Were they just going to slaughtered
?
Please Maker, give me the sword
.

“Just grab it already,” a sweet, pleasant, female voice said from behind him. Achan’s eyes opened wide in surprise. A voice!

“Maker?”

“No, dummy,” it answered, losing its sweetness.

Achan sat against the tree confused, searching for answers when he eventually realized he knew the voice all too well.

“Master Chloe?”

“Of course. Do you think I would leave my favorite student?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Sometimes the Maker gives you what you need, not what you want. Are you willing to accept that?”

“Teacher, I don’t understand.”

“Achan, you are my favorite student, but you are stubborn. You can’t let your past get in the way of what you can become. You can go as high as you want in this world. The glass ceiling is the one you made. You limit yourself.”

“Teacher, have you come to help us?”

“Look down.”

Achan dropped his head, and gasped at what he saw. For a moment he thought he was dead, but no, it was not his soul sticking out his body…but a sword - the end of the hilt sticking out the center of his chest. The knob was glowing an eerie red, not vibrant, but enough to look like a sort of cloudy aura. He stared at the area around the knob which seemed to shimmer between transparent and solid, as if his chest was fading in and out of reality at that spot.

“Is that -“

“What else would it be?”

“Why me?”

“You asked for it.”

“Not this.”

“Like I told you once…our lives are not our own anymore. Let’s be honest. Our lives never were. We want to believe that if someone becomes a Sage, they’re a puppet, but we are too blind to see that we never are in real control of our lives. We are either bound to a job, or family, or school, or debt. We are forever linked to something that will take our very life and soul to work at. Why don’t you choose to bind yourself to this one for a change? A worthy cause?”

“I never wanted to become a -“

“Or your friends could die.”

Achan closed his eyes, trying desperately to come up with a way other than this one.

“It’s the only way. But you better hurry. I hear you only get one chance at unleashing your eidolon once it first appears. Deny it, and it may never come again.”

Achan placed his hand on the knob.

“The others will thank you.”

Achan sighed, wishing she would stop talking.

“Whatever,” he stated as he pulled with all his might…

James was unaware of Chloe’s conversation with Achan. All he could see was the Langoran slowly making his way toward his victims, enjoying their fear, seeing that physically, they were weak. James grew desperate. Unable to catch up, he threw the sheath of his sword at the Langoran’s head. The Langoran laughed as it hit him and he turned toward James.

“What do you want? I’m doing you a favor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not going to kill you, James. I’m not evil, but your teammates have to go. They don’t care for my life. They were going to kill me from the beginning. Either that, or take me to Allay to be executed. I wasn’t going to accept that.”

“What difference does it make if you leave just me alive, or the rest of us? We’re a bunch of recruits. We mean nothing.”

“You can barely move from the hit I gave you. Even if you make it back to Allay, it will take forever for you to do so. I’ll be long gone before then. These others won’t rest until I’m dead.”

“Then hit them also, but spare their lives!”

“No, the less witnesses the better. Be grateful I spared you.”

“How can I live with that? How can I live with the fact I get to live while everyone else dies?!”

“That’s for you to deal with.”

“No…”

James reached for him but fell to his face. It was his fault. His fault for trusting him. If he had let Achan take him out in the beginning, they would all be alive.

As he went to push himself up again, he heard a gurgle erupt from the Langoran’s throat. James snapped his head up in shock to see his cellmate bending back, as if someone had stabbed him in the spine. And that’s when he saw it.

An invisible pen was making a diagonal line across his front. A line of blood slowly appeared, reaching from his shoulder blade, to the side of his hip, clean and neat. James marveled as he saw the line extend from the shoulder blade and up to the trees in the distance, not red with blood, but still visible. The Langoran fell hard into the dirt, and didn’t move again. The trees in the distance began toppling over all around them respectively, as if a giant had made one amazing cut across the forest. He turned around to see Achan, on his knees and struggling to see through one sweat filled eye. He laughed for a moment at his handiwork and fell to the ground.

James only saw a glimpse of it.

A fiery red blade, a gigantic sword, so big the blade itself looked dull. A Zanbato. It was almost the size of Achan himself, yet as soon as Achan fell to the ground, the sword disappeared, as if it had never been there. James stood there motionless as the cool breeze lapped at their wounds. Elder stepped forward to attend to Achan’s wounds.