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The Seventh Realm: Volume Three

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode 31: Three

Running through the vibrant and lush jungles of Monala, Johnny gasps for breath. His muscles scream in agony as he tries desperately to escape. He stumbles over the half-eaten corpse of a wakina, it’s purple viscous blood coats what’s left of the bizarre insect. Though it appears as a scorpion-bee hybrid, the stinger has been devoured, as was the head and two of its six legs. He scrambles to his feet as the bushes tremble, a charred hand jutting out as it beckons to him. A burnt claw nearly hooks the side of his shoe before he can turn and run.

“Where are you going, Johnny!” A gruff and sepulchral voice growls.

“Oh God, no!” He screams.

“Look at what you did!” The voice shrieks.

“Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t want to do it!” He pleads.

“Join me, Johnny! Hell is warm!”

Glancing over his shoulder as he runs, he sees the charred body of Gomona, embers still glowing in her muscle tissue as she stares with hollow eye sockets. He runs right into a tree and falls back, scrambling to turn away as she looms over him.

“No!”

Sitting up on his bedroll, Cy looks to Zakera who he holds in his arms. They often sleep spooning together. He blinks several times as he looks around the darkened room of the town hall building, where he and the others are camping for the night.

“No… Pleh… Nnn…” Johnny mumbles in his sleep.

Tossing and turning, the teenage boy is in the throes of a nightmare, a scene all too familiar to the assassin. He sighs and looks back to Zakera, who by now has awoken with her mate. A very light sleeper, she often rises whenever he does, as if they were psychically linked. Tilting her head to the side as she lay on the bedroll, she glances to Johnny with an equally sullen expression. Neither of them speak; they simply listen to his barely coherent and agonized cries for salvation. Cy rests his nose against her shoulder, feeling her soft pink fur on his face. He tries to return to sleep, knowing that there is nothing that he can do for Johnny and regretting not ordering Kanafa to stop him. Johnny would have been better off.

The following afternoon, Johnny walks aimlessly through the village, still groggy from a poor night’s sleep. Yasmin, Katero, Jack, Kanafa and the militia, the team of hunters, had left shortly after Zikata’s life was spared; they’ve been hunting Fekolza and his men for the past twenty-four hours. Tasked with patrolling the village by Cy, he knows that it’s busy work; Cy simply didn’t want to put Johnny in harm’s way. Weaving around the disorganized village layout, he inadvertently passes by Gomona’s hut. Johnny’s blood runs cold as he hears the weeping and wailing of her parents from inside. Their suffering stabs him like a thousand knives and rakes at his soul.

Looking down at his feet, he feels the pistol in his pocket as it seems to grow hotter, as though reminding him of his deeds. He slowly backs away, turning around and trying to remember this location so that he might avoid it in the future. Sitting atop the reinforced roof of her father’s house, which he had intended to expand upon, Zakera sways her feet and watches the village below; her perch provides an excellent view. Her ears shift as she hears her mate’s shoes striking the wooden planks of the ladder used to reach the rooftop. She turns her head and smiles at Cy as he approaches her, two full bowls of stew held precariously in his hands.

“How did you climb up here with those?” She asks.

“Very difficultly.” He smirks.

Handing her a bowl, he sits beside her and hangs his feet over the side. Sipping the stew, they both notice Johnny as he passes by, alone. The boy shuffles his feet as he walks at an unusually slow, zombie-like pace. Turning her cyan eyes to her mate, Zakera’s heart breaks at Cy’s expression. He is visibly haunted by Johnny’s troubles. Though the bowl of stew doesn’t appear to move, the contents subtly ripple as his hands tremor from the force needed to hold back his emotions.

“Are you worried about him?” She softly asks.

“I never wanted this for Johnny. I spent the last few years trying to keep him away from all of the awful shit his father did and made Yasmin and I do. I wanted him to live his entire life without ever spilling any blood, unless he cut himself or something… I failed him.” Cy laments, sniffling.

“You did your best; you did not fail. He made the choice, and like a good parent, you allowed him that choice. It is not your fault, and all that you can do now is be there for him to guide him through it.” Zakera explains, slipping an arm around him.

“Yeah… You’re right.” He nods.

“Of course I am. I am female.” She grins.

“True. I just wish I could spare him the suffering…”

“As beautiful as this world is, it is full of suffering. One day it was bound to catch him.” She rationalizes.

“Also true, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. He’s the closest thing I had to a son. I just worry that…” He pauses.

“Yes?” She urges him to continue.

“I just worry that if I can’t save Johnny, how could I possibly be a good parent to our children?”

He turns to her, revealing glossy eyes. A tear streams down his face as he tries not to cry. Setting the bowl aside, Zakera embraces her mate and holds him tightly, comforting him as best she can. He quietly sobs for a moment before sniffling and apologizing for the display. Though she says nothing to her mate, she kisses him on the cheek and wipes away his tears. They then finish their stew in relative silence, before it grows cold. Setting the empty bowls aside, they lie back and glance toward the sky, admiring the day moon together as it dips toward the horizon.

“How is my father doing?” She asks.

“He doesn’t like being bedridden, but it hasn’t stopped him from leading his people. Muzalfur is a very good errand boy!” He chirps.

“That is good. And what of the other situation?”

“They’re taking care of it. Don’t worry.”

“I wanted to go, so I could kill him myself…” She whines.

“Then I would have had to go with you and do it because that’s far too much stress for a soon-to-be mother, and Zikata needs my guidance.”

“No, I do not!” Zikata yells from inside.

“Anyway…” Cy clears his throat.

“But we might not have a recognizable trophy if Yasmin is in charge of the hunt!” Zakera whimpers.

“As long as it’s done, I don’t care.” Cy replies.

“I do. I want to see Fekolza’s head on a spear.” Zakera growls.

“Fi zakado tozay vita.” He teases.

“Nadamu, Cy.”

“Nadamu, Zakera.”

They lean in and share a long kiss before looking back up to the sky. Cy extends his arm, slipping it underneath Zakera’s head as she scoots herself closer to her mate. She quickly snuggles up to him.

“I hope the hunt is going well.” She thinks aloud.

Cobalt blue eyes stare through the brush, looking through a large and equally blue, fern-like plant. Kanafa crouches beside Katero who was using his skills as a hunter, as well as his enhanced senses of hearing and smell to track Fekolza and his men. As dusk swiftly approaches, they have finally found the group who hide deep within the jungle. It has taken a full day and night of walking to catch up to the rebels, who look exhausted. The human militia stay far away from their opponent’s campsite, guarding the rear. The strike team now consists of Kanafa, Katero, the Zelkona militia and both Jack and Yasmin, who are highly skilled at remaining silent during a hunt, or in Yasmin’s case, an assassination.

They wait until dusk is nearly over before sneaking up on the already sleeping rebels. There are even fewer than they were expecting. A lone guard stays up to watch but is visibly sick and exhausted. Katero recognizes his symptoms as the results of being stung by a wakina. Kanafa takes up her javelin and readies herself. With a powerful throw, the small spear flies out of the forest and pierces his chest, plowing straight through him and impaling him to the tree that he sits against. With swords drawn, the militia prepare themselves. A rebel emerges from a debris hut shelter and cries out, raising the alarm.

The Zelkona pounce from the bushes, leaping upon several of the guards and shoving them violently to the ground. While some Zelkona impale or behead them with their falcata swords, easily cleaving through them with powerful strokes, a few lean in and bite chunks from their throats. Even Yasmin is startled by the vicious and animalistic attacks of her raptor-people; she is thankful that they are under her command and not her enemies. Without having to lift a finger, the two humans and lone Ketlan emerge to search for Fekolza. Scrambling out of a debris hut, like a rat running from a compromised nest, he tries desperately to escape.

Kanafa leaps in front of him, rolling as she lands on a foot and knee before him. She quickly stands and shakes her clawed finger, silently reprimanding and taunting the Ketlan as she blocks his path, blood dripping from her lips and chin. It is a frightening sight. Fekolza turns back to the camp, stopping yet again as Yasmin stands before him. She holds up her falcata sword but notices that Fekolza is unarmed. Looking down to the ground, she kicks a cykera metal khopesh toward him with her boot.

“Let’s see what you’ve got!” She grins.

“Are you serious?!” Jack exclaims.

“We should just kill him and be done with it.” Katero urges.

“Not until I’ve had my fun.” Yasmin grins sinisterly.

At her command, Kanafa and the Zelkona militia stand guard, allowing her to sword fight with Fekolza, purely for her amusement.

“Do you expect me to kill a female?” Fekolza asks, holding the sword before him.

“I expect you to try. I’m certainly harder to kill than some old man.” She retorts, side-stepping.

“I will not fall easily.” He adds.

“Good! I’d like to break a sweat.”

He lunges at her, but his technique is quite sloppy. Fekolza nearly falls over as Yasmin jumps out of the way, swinging her falcata and slashing his sword arm near the shoulder. He turns and swings, but she blocks his strike with the side of her blade. Swinging her arm wide, she turns the blade and directs his sword away from his body before shoving him in the chest with her free hand. Pulling her left arm behind her back, she tucks her fingers behind her waistband to keep it in place.

“Sorry. Let’s make this fair!” She chuckles.

Fekolza rushes her, jumping to the left and to the right as he tries to confuse her. His elbow swings out, warning her of the strike. Spinning to the right, their swords meet as she blocks his strike with little effort and even trips him with a foot. Falling forward, Fekolza spits out some rotted leaves and dirt before climbing up from the ground. He swings and slashes like a barbarian, yelling loudly. A downward-left slash glances off the side of her blade before she parries an upward-right. Fekolza’s fur begins to grow damp with sweat as he exerts himself. The blades ping and clank over and over as Yasmin duels with the Ketlan.

Finally tiring of playing with Fekolza, Yasmin parries a slash, twirls her sword with a flick of her wrist and cuts deeply into his hand. He drops the khopesh and cries out in pain before Yasmin kicks him to the ground. Stepping on one of his shins, she holds the sword toward his throat. Though the short blade doesn’t quite reach, she dares not lean in and give him an advantage.

“That was quite impressive.” Jack remarks.

“Thank you. I spent as much time with a machete in my hands as I did a rifle or a pistol.” Yasmin replies.

“Now what?” Katero asks.

“Question time… Where are the rest of your men?” She asks Fekolza.

“What men? These are all that I had!” He frantically answers.

“Don’t lie to me, or I will slice you into pieces while you are still alive.” She coolly warns.

“I do not lie! Zikata’s actions turned many of my group against me. The few who remained loyal are dead. A few were injured as we fled and succumbed to their wounds, while a few we left behind. One was also killed by a moltaka and our sentry was dying from a wakina sting. All you see is all that is left.” He explains.

“Oh… Good!” Yasmin chirps.

Pulling her arm back, she leans forward and jams the edge of her falcata into his neck, killing him instantly and nearly cleaving his head from his shoulders. A second swing finishes the task. Picking up the Ketlan’s head by the hair, she wipes her sword blade clean on the fur of his chest and sheaths it. With a hand on either side of Fekolza’s face, she looks into his still glossy eyes.

“Are you still in there? How about you blink for me.” She snickers.

Fekolza’s severed head closes its eyes, to the shock and horror of everyone but Yasmin, though they never reopen.

“Damn… One of these days I’ll get one to actually blink!” She remarks.

“Well… That is that.” Katero sighs.

“Yeah… Collect their weapons and gear first, and then we’ll go back.” She orders Kanafa.

“As you wish.” Kanafa nods.

After following her orders, they walk through the jungle and toward the Kelanethaka. One of the Sa’kesh militia turns to his commander. The human male looks to Kanafa, who glances up at the sky as they hike back, retracing their steps.

“Halnad ja. Litay fi ragato?” He asks.

“English only.” She sternly replies.

“Alright… Forgive me for asking, but what are you thinking?”

“It was a beautiful day, and now it is a beautiful night. Tomorrow will usher in another beautiful day.” She answers, her lips curling into a subtle grin.

After suffering through another night, a tired Johnny, who had awoken from his nightmares no less than four times, sits before Zikata’s house. He glances to the morning sun and then the blue day moon, which contrasts the light red sky. Sighing as he rests his head against the cool, mud brick wall, he hears Cy walking through the house and toward the wooden door. Stepping outside he hands Johnny a clay plate bearing seasoned genashin meat and some fruit.

“Hard night?” Cy asks.

“No… Just a hard floor.” Johnny quips.

They sit and eat together in silence, looking at the villagers as they pass by. Cy stares into his bowl at the red flesh within, his heart aching for the teenager whom he had watched over for so long.

“Look, I never should have let you do what you did. You shouldn’t have done it, and you don’t deserve the aftermath. I’m sorry.” Cy laments.

“Forget it… I finally pulled my weight, and plus now I know what it was like to be you, at least before…” Johnny retorts.

“It wasn’t pretty, but I found my peace.” Cy says as he glances back to the home where Zakera sits inside. “I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t…”

“I’m going to take a walk, man… Patrol the streets or whatever…” Johnny grumbles as he stands to his feet.

“Okay…” Cy nods.

He watches as Johnny walks away from the house, leaving a nearly untouched bowl of food behind. He knows that Johnny hasn’t eaten since yesterday, and even then, it was light. Johnny has lost both his nightly peace and his appetite.

“I hope that you find your peace, Johnny.” Cy murmurs.

As he shuffles through the mixture of mud brick and compacted dirt streets, he passes a simple hut. It is the home of Minoma. He had walked her back to the hut after they had spent several hours simply conversing with each other on the night of Gomona’s death, though he hadn’t seen her at all yesterday. He had never asked her to stay with him, but Minoma followed him of her own volition and Johnny found her presence quite comforting. They had talked almost non-stop since she approached him at the outskirts, and spoke on nearly every subject. Life at the Sa’kesh fortress, their favorite colors and foods, his past life on Earth, and her parent’s passing all became viable topics between the two.

No sooner had they parted ways did the horrors of his actions return to him, and now as he shuffles through the town, he silently yearns for a reprieve. After what he did, however, he doesn’t feel as though he deserves the respite that he so desires. He can’t fathom how either Cy or Yasmin could survive with this level of torment for so long, or that they could ever recover from it. Johnny stands like a statue for a moment as he contemplates whether he even has the right to initiate contact with Minoma. He immediately feels even worse, as he just wants someone to talk too, as though he were using her like he used to use Gomona. After a brief pause, he decides to pass by the hut and continue his rounds.

“Johnny?!” Minoma calls out.

“Huh?!” He jumps and spins around.

“I am sorry! Did I scare you?” Minoma apologizes, emerging from the hut where she lives alone.

“A little.”

“I did not mean to.” She bows her head.

“It’s fine.” He sighs.

“You did not leave with the others two nights ago?”

“Cy didn’t want me to go. There are plenty of people looking anyway.”

“I am glad, though I did not see you yesterday.” She comments.

“I was around, patrolling the streets.”

She steps up to him, her cherry red hair swaying in the breeze. They stare at each other in awkward silence for a moment before Johnny is finally able to speak.

“I’m patrolling the village again… Did you?” He points a thumb over his shoulder.

“Yes!” She swiftly answers.

“Okay.” He smiles faintly.

Her eagerness to join him again eases the sting of his guilt. Even if she is using him for her own comfort, at least he doesn’t feel as though he is dragging her along as a living sedative. Picking up almost exactly where they left off, Minoma finishes her story of her father’s passing. Her mother died in the same Kaladez raid that claimed Zakera’s mother, leaving her with only her father to care for her. Two seasons ago, while hunting for genashin, they found an abandoned ethakona nest. As her father climbed a branch to reach the nest, to see if it had any abandoned eggs inside, a moltaka leapt from the bushes and grabbed him. Biting through his neck and crushing his spine, he was dead before their bodies landed together on the ground. The hunters scared away the beast and returned the body for a proper Ketlan funeral.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Johnny says, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you. He was a good man, but this is also a good tribe. I have been well cared for since then.” She replies, resting her hand over his.

“I only wish a moltaka or kodana would kill my father…” Johnny remarks.

“Why would you wish such a thing?!” Minoma asks in shock.

“It’s a long story…”

“There is nothing happening. I believe you have the time to share it, and I am always listening.” She replies.

Johnny sighs and concedes. He spares little details as he shares his resentment for his own father, a result of the life of crime and violence that he perpetrated. Johnny can’t help but speak at length of Cy and Yasmin’s duties as they worked for Johnathan Thames Senior; without them, as much as two-thirds of J.T.’s story could not be told. He regales her of how he met Cy, following through with J.T.’s planned assassination of his most loyal and dependable assassin, and ending it with him joining Cy and Yasmin as they fled in the stolen Malevolence, where the bizarre lightning storm brought them to Monala. The detailed story lasts until they walk back to the outskirts, and for at least another hour as they sit beneath the same torlan tree they had two days earlier.

“What an awful man… My father could be stern, but he was never so evil. I am glad that you are not like him.” Minoma says to him.

“Am I?” He asks.

“From what you have said, you are nothing alike.”

“But what I did…” He laments.

“It was not an evil act, punishing those who would destroy us. The fact that you are so bothered by it shows your heart.” She says, tapping a claw against his chest. “You have a good spirit, Johnny, and not everyone can say that.”

“I guess… All I can say is that you were lucky to have good parents for as long as you did. I sometimes worry about my soul…”

“I do not think that you need to worry… Are you glad that you no longer live on Earth?” She asks.

“I am.” He nods. “It’s better here, for the most part.”

“You sound hopeful for the future. That is good.”

“I suppose… Do you think about the future at all?” He asks.

“I only think about the future. Many say that is why I am not a popular female, though many males look at me. I do not live in the present as they do, but in tomorrow.” She answers.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It keeps me distracted. I rarely find myself drinking ‘the tea’, if you understand my meaning.” She continues.

“Oh…” Johnny’s face flushes.

“I-it does not mean that I have never done it! I just… Don’t…”

“Relax. You don’t have to explain yourself, especially to me. I’m not judging you; I don’t have the right.” He assures her.

“Alright…”

The pair rise from the ground and continue the patrol, heading back for the village.

“Do you think about the future?” She sheepishly asks him.

“Well, I, uh… I admit that I never thought much about the future. Not until Roland…”

“You were there?!” Her eyes grow wide.

“I went with them, but I didn’t enter the castle. One of us died that day. I didn’t even learn until just before that he had a family on Earth. All that time together and I never asked him… After he died, and then the protests and the burning, I found myself always thinking about the future.” He rambles.

“And what do you think about?” She pries.

“Just what I want out of life.”

“And what is that?”

“I want someone that I can spend my life with. Someone that I can share it with, like Cy and Zakera. I want peace. I… I get a little jealous of them sometimes.” Jonny shamefully admits.

Minoma grins wide, turning her head so that he might not notice.

“That is not bad. You realize what they have and you want the same for yourself. You just need to find your mate.” She says.

“Maybe I should go house to house and ask?” He jests.

“What would your first question be? ‘Would you like to mate with a human?’ Or perhaps you would ask if they want children?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He retorts.

Minoma stops in her tracks and stares at him with a strange expression that Johnny cannot place. He looks back at her with confusion. Flashing a little smile, she continues walking beside him, though now they step in a somewhat awkward silence. Weaving around the disorganized village layout, they inadvertently pass by Gomona’s hut, though this time it is silent. He stops and stares at the hut as he realizes where he is. Minoma sees the change in her companion and gently tugs at his wrist, pulling him away from the hut and turning back to the way that they came. Standing atop her father’s roof and watching the horizon, Zakera notices Johnny with his female companion.

“They have spent much time together, lately.” She comments.

“I didn’t even know they were friends.” Cy remarks.

“And you call yourself his guardian.” Zakera teases.

“You’re my mate. That makes you his guardian too.”

“I believe that she likes him.” She adds.

“Hopefully he bounces back fast…”

“Cy, look!” She suddenly exclaims.

He looks to the horizon where his mate is pointing as he sits on the roof with his legs over the edge. Climbing up, he stands beside his wife and squints his eyes. In the distance, he can see the hunters returning. They look exhausted and carry far more weapons and gear than they had left with. Yasmin leads the group and holds up something; a round object that looks to be about the size of a bowling ball. As she draws closer to the house, the couple is elated to see that it is Fekolza’s head, proof of his defeat.

“Well done.” Cy grins.