It was called the Distinct Earth, and the more steps I took toward it, the more this new world revealed itself. I could see the forming of clouds in the sky, and watched contorting shadows steadily transform into trunks and trees. Hearing the chirping birds and the rustling grass excited me. I wanted to run for more, if only to get that constant droning out of my ears, but I did not dare pass this man, this samurai warrior called Kat.
I hadn't seen his face since cowering from his earlier glare. I didn't care to see it again. It felt right to do something about our awkward silence though, but I had no idea what to say to a character like this, and I doubted the samurai would want or care to melt the gathering ice.
A weary spell soon sucked away any enthusiasm I had, and staring mindlessly at my steps, Kat's abrupt halt in front sent my face crashing between his shoulder blades.
"What?" I complained. "Why do you stop?"
Smudging my sore nose, I discovered every trace of the mundane white plain to be gone; we were now in the Distinct Earth proper. The first thing I noticed was how normal it all appeared, and that maybe, just maybe it was old Earth all along? The sky was a familiar bright blue with a ball of burning sun. The surrounding landscape was lush with long grasses and rolling hills, and apart from the two of us, there was not another angel, creature, or soul in sight.
Under our feet was a narrow path wandering down the hill, then bobbling over others to a far off horizon of green. The samurai paused, eyes squinting, his hand moving toward the katana at his belt. "What's wrong?" I asked, but Kat remained motionless to my words and to this world. There was no apparent danger, but the man would not be rushed, and I would take time to learn that fact.
The samurai removed his fingertips from the sword hilt, and grunting, lowered himself to one knee. Collecting a handful of stones that made up our path, he analyzed them in his cupped palm. His black eye peered like a scientist down a microscope, and I only could fold my arms and wait. Was this his routine? Was he always so cautious?
A few uneventful minutes later, the Distinct Earth's illusion of normality was shattered forever. A rotten taste hit the back of my throat, like a mouthful of wet dog. I dabbed two fingers over my tongue and felt nothing out of the ordinary, but upon removing them, I baulked at the tips, which were caked in soot. It was the sort of filth you find behind old cupboards or underneath car seats, and repulsed, I coughed a puddle of it into my hand. "My God, I'm sick! Look at that!"
"It is in the air," he said simply. "Harmless."
I peered again at the clear blue sky, thinking it impossible that this rancid pollution could linger there. I inhaled another breath and knew it was, mold shot up my nostrils and stuck like a clogging flu. "Ugh!" I gagged. "I have to get used to…breathing this shit?"
Robot-like, Kat patted the dirt from his hands, stood, and said, "You will."
I wiped the hand clean against my jeans and retched. Just one more thing to get used to, Danny. If anything, it was a timely reminder that this Distinct Earth was simply a reflection of a planet with which I was familiar. Sadly, my days on that realm were over.
***
Without rest, I followed Kat up and down the hills and mounds, and the more I watched his back, the stronger my urge grew to thank the man. This warrior was only here for my well-being, leading a complete stranger into the worst place imaginable, and when trouble called, he would be the one to answer it. My shield and sword, my North Star and deliverer from evil — who in their right mind would be happy bearing that responsibility? What sin had Kat committed to deserve this almighty task?
In the end, I stuck to keeping my mouth shut. The samurai was a simple man from a different time, and I feared my gratitude would be seen as a sign of weakness.
It was a long while before woodland came into view. It was a clutched and crackled barb shimmering black over the green, with every possible route inside protected by a thorny outgrowth of branches. The sky above seemed to die before and above these woods. Bright blues were whisked to damp greys and boggy browns, almost as if the sun's rays were prohibited from shining upon it. "Wait!" I said, trying to disguise trepidation as Kat turned around. "Just…hold on a sec."
"What?" he asked, irked by my interruption.
"I ain't going in there," I replied, resolutely shaking my head. "Those woods are a maze; any idiot can see that. It's stupid, it's nuts, and I ain't going, you hear me?"
"It is the way," he returned, obviously.
"You're sure? And what about all this pretty grassland growing in every other direction? Go through the big scary woods if you want, but I'm going around them!" I set my foot on the grass, and firmer than I would have liked, Kat yanked me back to the path.
"Never stray!" he growled, his eyes tense and penetrating. "This is a cursed land; inhabitants are treacherous devils. The woods are our road, our way. Stay very close."
I shook off his grip and gave him my best sulk. "And if something should happen to you, samurai?"
"I will not fall," he replied, as if an absolute certainty.
My granite-faced leader then lowered eyes to a procession of ants crossing the tip of his boots. I waited for the warrior to press his sole down on top the helpless colony, but there was no satisfying crush of insects. Instead, the warrior took an unusually large step over them, and I did the same.
***
The dead wood loomed. It was a beached ship left to rot, a building abandoned to natures mercy or vehicles left to scrap. The trunks were rooted thick and unmovable, with crisping, parched bark. Branches resembled spindly spider legs, and the wind whistled us a most haunting tune through the cracks.
Kat remained still, and searching for my nerve, I found something else, a figure on the field to my right. This object struck out from the grasses: a black scarecrow-like form with arms strung out in a crucified manner. "What is that?" I said, squinting hard. It was no scarecrow, but a man. Living or dead, there was only one way to find out. I stepped into the grass, which reached my thighs and coiled around my legs.
My shuffling movements alerted my protector samurai, who turned, absolutely outraged. "You! Come here! Never leave me!"
Taking no notice, I waved a casual hand back at him. "Just wanna check it out! You stay here, I won't be long!"
Wading through the pretty field, I reached the body in no time. It was a man barely out of his teens, strapped high to a post and held in place with ropes around his chest and wrists. He was wasting away here, with slashes down his clothing and clotted blood seeping out the tares. Flesh flaked from his muscles, and bloated bruises covered what was left of his face and arms. I gawked at the bloody spittle oozing from his bottom lip, his feet like draping curtains before me.
"Do not touch!" ordered Kat, his voice closer now. "Do not!"
I kept my hands to myself and averted my eyes from the wet, red mess. "Kat!" I cried. "You need to come see this!"
However, the samurai warrior was already behind me, pressing an excruciating squeeze on neck and turning me on the spot to meet his reeling glare.
"Never leave my back!' he bawled. “Never!"
"Get your fucking hand off!" I grimaced and shrieked. "Who do you think you…What's wrong with you? Let go of me! This man needs help! I'm cutting him down! I'm cut-" I yelped as Kat dug his nails deeper, so deep that I dropped like a sack of spuds.
"Settle," he said. "The man is done for."
I strived to contain the agony glowing red on my face. I would not give this brute the satisfaction of seeing it. I could stand it — I had been through worse — I would show this Kat how strong I was. Forcing against his hold, I rediscovered the strength in my legs and attempted to stand, but the more I fought, the harder Kat turned his vice.
"Settle."
Reluctantly, I surrendered. A futile exercise, I stopped the fight and Kat relinquished. However, our meager quarrel was forgotten immediately when, to our surprise, the young man spoke from his lofty position, popping blood bubbles from the mouth. "I…I…"
"What!" I gasped, scurrying to his feet. "What are you saying? Stay with us!" I searched for help, but there was only a callous-looking samurai scratching his own neck
"He," the boy grunted, "is…n-"
"What?" I whispered. "Who?"
"Sca…" His head slunk, and the life in him was gone. Thick foam dribbled from his nose and both eyes rolled to leave a pair of dull ghosts behind. The gruesome sight did not upset me; the holes in my memory had yet to be completely filled in, and I could not recall if I had seen similar horrors in the past.
"Sca?" I pondered. "What do you think it means?"
"Stand back," said Kat.
I did so without question, moving to Kat's side as he scrutinized the dead boy. The samurai seemed to be waiting, expecting. I didn't know what and he wouldn't tell me, but in no hurry to enter the woods, the samurai could daydream as long as he wished.
An abrupt wind gave me a fright. It arrived from nowhere to stick up our hair and whip the grass, but oddly, was only located around the bloodied post. "What's going on?!" I yelled, over a rapidly growing gale.
The samurai nudged at the boy, who was now emitting a dreamy blue light from his insides, escaping his eyes, nostrils, and every cut over his young body. This force was neither hot nor cold on my skin, in fact, it had no psychical effect at all.
Kat remained calm throughout, giving the impression that this phenomenon was hardly a phenomenon at all. He took a composed step backward, prompting me with him as the boy's skin began to wither and fall. This person was being erased by nature, and in less than a minute, the only thing left hanging was his skeleton, and those magnificent streams of light blasting out from the ribs. That sturdy bone cage soon bubbled to a milky liquid, splashing to a puddle in the grass.
Lastly, all the light compacted into one single, fist-sized orb over the post. This singularity did not flake away like the flesh or liquidize with the bone, but remained uniform, effortlessly lingering like a blotch of bedroom dust. The wind went, and a dead calm returned the status quo.
Stunned, I recovered with both hands on my knees, observing that mysterious ball of swirling light. "What is it?"
"All he has left," replied the samurai. "Do not touch. Do not ever touch. He may never let go…"
As if trapped in slow motion, the orb began its descent, and I heard an impatient voice inside my head tempting me closer. "Go on Danny, take it for yourself! See what he saw! Know what he knows! Take! Take it now!"
Scared, I resisted this foreign voice and took a larger step back. That orb then touched down on the grass and was gone in a blink. I bent to search but found nothing but disordered greenery.
"Where the…" I muttered, my hands parting grass. "Did you see? Kat?" An instant later, I recoiled slightly at a healthy shimmer of blue light painting itself over one blade of grass.
"His second death," said Kat, "and his new home. Follow orders Fox, or share this fate."
With new eyes, I noticed the hundred thousand blades of grass around me. They couldn't all be souls. Not all of them. Could they? Guilt now possessed my own upon calculating how many blades I had trampled on route to the post.
"Let's get back on the path," I said, regretfully.
The samurai nodded and we returned, retracing every step.
***
"Don’t like it Kat. Something’s not right." I felt my ignorance amongst the twisted vines and distorted foliage. I had spent many Octobers hunting moose with my father in British Columbia, and actually considered myself an adept woodsman; but only Kat appeared adept in this bleak place.
With the stale air came a sense of the sinister, the lurking thing between trunks, and unseen predators waiting to pounce. We were not wanted on the tall grass, and we were not wanted in these dying woods.
My guts contracted at every snapping twig and the wind continued after us like an angry phantom. With solid footing on a path of soiled leaves and deadwood, our trail ran to distant portals of melting blacks and swirling greys. Surrounding trees had only inches to spare between them, and their festering trunks grew high on each side of the path until their branches collected and clasped, forming a confused roof overhead. Skylight came down in beams through cracks, but barely enough to light our way.
I followed three feet behind the warrior, who was as delicate as any ballerina with his steps. Like the best chess player in the world, Kat considered every detail, his grip unrelenting on the hilt of that katana.
"Why do the trees grow this way?" I asked, feeling a biting cold under my skin.
"When man is freezing," he answered, "he may embrace another for warmth."
Shocked, my imagination began to reveal those petrified faces. I tried closing my eyes and thoughts to them, but it was useless. Desperate men and women spread like butter over the trunks of rotting trees; this wood was a drowning man's last second above water, it was a body buried alive and scratching nails at the coffin lid.
Only practicalities would take my mind from imagination, so I searched for a suitable stick to construct a spear; unfortunately, decay ate the strength from everything here. The only object that appeared half-useful was the samurai warrior himself, and the two silver swords in his belt.
"You have two swords," I said. "Can I borrow one? You know, in case?" I extended my hand, expecting Kat’s shorter sword, the wakizashi, to be placed there. Instead, the samurai turned to me with a mortified expression over his scarred face, as if I had just asked a parent to loan me one of their kids because they happened to have one extra. I did not fully understand it, but those weapons were part of my defender's soul; man and steel in co-existence. No, Kat would not be giving up a sword. He simply scratched another itch from his stubble, then uttered, "I am your weapon."
I laughed. Never have I heard something so ridiculous said so earnestly. My companion clearly was reviling in our situation; one of the most dangerous warriors in Earth’s history was back in his element. A supreme confidence in his own ability impressed me, and I was keen to see the man in action, preferably from a distance and with a bag of popcorn. I was also eager to discover why Kat had waited so patiently in the white limbo above. What wish did he request from God? What would a killer born with no possible chance of entering Heaven ever demand at its gates?
We two trudged a further hour without incident. The last of the sun perished through the branches, and with frost starting to bite and no hotels in sight, a terrible thought now dawned on me: Kat and I would be spending the night here. When our narrow path came to an eventual bend, we discovered two heavily packed horses with reins conveniently knotted to the nearest branch.
"For us?" I asked, surprised.
"For us."
The sight of horses, these friendly living animals, pleased me. Perhaps this place was not as distinct as they say. It also came as a relief to find our helpless transportation untouched and unworried in such a menacing location.
Kat heaved a heavy-looking bag from one horse’s back and threw it in my arms. "Water and suitable clothing,” he said. “You will need both."
I untied the bag on a bed of leaves and parted the folds to reveal a generous flask inside, also a collection of thick animal skins — practical rather than stylish — and a pair of worn boots. I opened the flask and took a sip from the lid. It was water, clear and plain water. I drank and it quenched my thirst, but the muck lining my throat gave the liquid a bitter aftertaste. Next, I grabbed the hairy skins from the bag and held them up to scrutiny. It was a weighty woolly coat, a not-so magical fleece. "I’m to be caught dead in this?" I joked. "How can they know my size?"
"They know everything…"
***
I wore the fleece over my old shirt and laced up the boots. I connected the flask to a length of strong vine and carried it over my shoulder. Now, looking something nearer the part, we set off side by side on horses through the colorless scenery, which I much preferred to follow the leader.
The advancing darkness did not appear to concern Kat, so I presumed he knew what he was doing. Although the samurai showed no interest in me, I certainly was interested in him. I heard snippets of his legend before we set off, but nothing on the man himself. I decided then to work it out of him a piece at a time. I was used to that. I would assemble clues and build a profile, passing the hours and easing curiosity. If the samurai were not up to talking, he would have to listen. "I've heard a lot about the samurai," I said, my head bobbling along with the horse. "I once read a comic book about one warrior protecting a village from bandits. He fought forty single-handed, even deflected bullets with his sword. It was really…cool." I squirmed at the sound of my own idiocy; meanwhile, Kat held his strict face forward. "Why do they call you Kat? Is that your real name or…not?"
No response, zero. This business of day to day, getting to know you small talk was going to be harder than I thought. "I once knew a woman called Stephanie Dogface," I rambled. "Swear to God. She didn't have an actual dog for a face, but she was pretty ug-"
Kat tugged on his reins and shushed me suddenly. His index finger pressed over his lips and his nostrils sniffed great whiffs of suspicion. Did Kat not care for my talking, or did the man of experience smell, see, or hear something I could not?
The horses were far from disturbed, sedately snorting and kicking up leaves with their shoes. After too long of this, I decided Kat was being overly cautious, and prepared to break our silence when something toe-curling did it for me, a distant, indiscriminate screech. "I hear it, Kat…"
He shushed me once more as the moan increased. Inhuman, it was approaching overhead, beyond our shelter of clung together branches. We strained our eyes through the cracks for a glimpse, when all of a sudden, the scream exploded down on us, rattling the tangled roof to bombard our faces with debris. Immediately, my horse reared, and I snatched at the reins to stay in the saddle. With a jerk, Kat also remained upright; his horse was circling a spot and he was kicking his heels in its hind to calm it.
My ears were ringing as the chaos subsided. However, the peace was temporary, and when that ferocious sound and wind struck again, we both clung to our deranged animals and struggled for control. This thing was a bird, a large bird, and Kat, ever alert, already had his katana drawn. "Up there!" he roared. “Through those—”
Our embracing roof shield unclasped in one single, snapping motion. Previously dead trees sprang into life, the branches like flailing arms in fire, causing a frenzied downpour of earth and leaves and wood. The stark purple skylight was disorientating, so it was Kat who first caught sight of the bird monster, spooking trees, animals, and men.
Growing in the dusk sky was the condor. Its wings cast an astonishing shadow of night some thirty feet across; brown plumage covered its chest and creased tart skin folded over its neck and head. The predator, spotting us, opened its gaping beak and screeched.
I covered my ears, cleared my eyes, peered upward, and saw the bird’s opening talons closing in on my head. Seconds before my skull was caught in those claws, Kat booted me off my horse. The condor missed its man but sunk its nails deep into my horse. The poor animal let out a chilling cry when it was snagged and carried skyward.
I scurried on all fours like a beast now, wind, kick, and fall knocking me senseless. Kat, meanwhile, dismounted his horse and set his legs like roots in front of me. "Get low!" he moaned. "Lower!"
I flattened my face fully into the muck and lay like the dead. I could hear Kat’s bullish snarl as the condor abandoned my expired horse over far-off treetops.
"What does it want?” I yelled, terrified. “What does it want with us?!"
"Flesh!" Kat exclaimed, twirling his swords. “Keep your mouth shut!”
The bird tipped its wings to one side, directing its beak toward space and then soared for it. In a feathery blur of speed, it climbed until a silhouette against advancing twilight.
"Is it gone?" I asked, my heart pumping painfully against my ribs. "Tell me it's gone!"
Groaning, Kat gave me a thump in the head with the hilt of his katana.
"Shush!"
Cursing, I rubbed my scalp as the condor started its descent. Falling like a missile, it would strike down on us in less than five seconds.
Four.
The incoming monster wings whistled like dropping bombs during the blitz.
Three.
"We’re dead!" I cried, shutting my eyes tight.
Two.
Preparing to eat, it stretched out those killing talons, opened its yellow beak, and screeched, starving.
One.
Steadfast, the samurai bent his knees and lowered his head. Then, with ferocious force, he kicked himself upward and ravaged the air with his steel.
Zero.
Both bird and man collided. I heard the thudding, ugly break of bone and bodies, and then I opened my eyes to see the feathers trickling down like winter snow.
Unfortunately, the condor wasn't dead, but wounded, unsatisfied, and pissed off. It tucked its wings back and prepared for another dive. With fear surging through me, and with no sign of Kat, I lurched to my feet and started a jog down the path. It squawked and I stumbled, picking myself up only to trip over my own feet. "Christ!"
I ran, my fists clenched, teeth grinding, and lungs wheezing polluted air in and out. An excruciating cry burst at my ears, causing blood to run down my lobes. It was close now, so close.
Turning my head back, I saw its grips ready to spear my spine. I clenched tight, hoping to preemptively shut out the pain. Instead, and quite inexplicably, the condor exploded into a thousand feathers, throwing me forward through the air and firmly onto my face. Somehow, it was over.
I rose minutes later, nothing broken, but covered head to foot in thick plumage. Staggering, I searched for the lost samurai. "Kat?…Kat?!" The sky was clear of birds, thank God, and the night was with us. "Samurai?"
At last, I spotted Kat slunk against trunks like a beaten old car tire. His eyes opened when I arrived, exhaling with selfish relief over him. He had taken one hell of a knock but was alive, and I would not be left alone here. When his pupils sharpened, he appeared stunned, but not by the bash he just received. He was the samurai, after all, the protector, the legend, and yet here he was, drooped against a trunk with the feathered novice offering him assistance.
"Close call, eh?" I said, shaking. "What the fuck was that thing?"
Kat sprang up without any help and before he was ready. "An illusion," he said, concealing both his pain and embarrassment. "Someone is playing with us…”
***
We spent a surprisingly comfortable night in the woods. I was dead to that world the minute my eyes shut, dreaming over the Earth I had lost. Kat, meanwhile, set his back against a trunk, his eyes never leaving me.
We proceeded at first light, sharing the last and very nervous horse. Kat took the reins and I crammed in behind. We hadn't exchanged words since the condor incident, and by now, I had given up any plan to uncover the pieces of his past. The only important piece was for us to remain one, and to get out of these malignant woods as quickly as possible.
Our horse occasionally would trot over lumpy mounds of moss, and the old Kat would grumble in pain. It must have been a long time since he had asked his body for such a sustained level of physical and mental strength, and on this particular mission, he would need all he ever had.
Dampness lingered over early afternoon, and the path seemed never-ending. It would lead to a left turn, direct us to a right, and then another straight through the same stagnant sights. At times I would drift off, forehead bobbling between Kat’s shoulder blades, my mind in a pleasant place. All the nonsense about angel and samurai, woods and monsters might be forgotten in the stupor.
It didn't last. My weariness was wiped clear when Kat pulled up the horse. I gripped my fingers into his sides, expecting another condor attack or worse, but scrutinizing the coiled branches above, I neither saw nor heard the bird of prey.
"In front," said the samurai, out of the corner of his mouth.
I leaned past him to see nothing but the tedious landscape I'd been trying to forget.
"Your flask," said Kat, showing me his open palm. "Give it to me."
"That’s the big deal? You're thirsty? You woke me for that?"
"The flask!" he snapped.
I huffed petulantly, removed the flask from my shoulder, and placed it in his ready hand. The samurai bobbled the watery weight in the bottle before lobbing it onto the path ahead of us. It landed comfortably on a bed of soggy leaves, and there it remained.
"I’m not picking that up," I said, annoyed, but then, I wouldn’t have to. The flask sank, leaving a solitary black hole in the earth. The land around this gap soon fell like dominoes inward, revealing a pit with a bed of spikes.
"Holy shit!" I gasped, unsure whether to admire Kat’s foresight, or to worry over who wanted us in that deadfall.
Pleased with himself, a thin smile curled on the samurai’s lips. That smile was promptly removed, for while the crumbling dirt and leaves settled in the trap, we found ourselves caught in another. At our flanks, the swarthy air between trunks, those shadowy nothings, suddenly sprang into life, leaping outward and at us with a hundred oily hands; it was an ambush.
I went stiff with fright, but Kat remained typically calm to it. The tops of these tar-colored monsters bobbled around my knees, and they were monsters, ghouls with gaping mouths hanging foul over their chests and gills squirting juice at the neck. All of them had hooked blades in their grips, but their yellow teeth looked sharper. They were piggish around the face, simple behind the eye, greedy with their fingers, and we were surrounded. "What do you want!?" I cried from my horse. "What are you?!"
A guttural cheer went round the group, and their jagged nails began smearing and groping. One creature pressed its bloated black lips against our horse’s coat and proceeded to lick it up and down like a living lollipop. "What do we do Kat? Talk to me!"
Kat’s mind was busy now; he was a mathematician, calculating numbers and odds of survival. Usually odds did not matter — the numbers were irrelevant. If Kat had his sword and concentration, then nothing could stop him. Unfortunately, this was not about himself, but about protecting me, and judging by Kat’s grim body language, our odds were not favorable.
The slurry-mouthed thing that ran its lips over the horse stopped suddenly at the stallion’s supple neck. I witnessed this monster turn a sly glint back at his fellows before tearing its teeth into our horse’s throat. The horse squealed and cried until its vocal chords were torn out, until it could moan no more. The dead animal remained in a stupefied stance as the others joined to gorge on its warm gushing blood, all of them fighting for a space to drink. Their hands reached into the horse's wound and yanked out innards, then threw the slimy strands back to eager claws. The horse wobbled from side to side, and as its legs were ready to buckle, I discovered why my companion was called Kat.
The samurai first leapt to his feet, balancing like a tightrope walker on the saddle. Then — too swift for any eye here — he back-flipped over both the collapsing horse and me. I swear I heard the distinct ring of steel in my ear seconds before he landed on the path behind us, gripping his katana in a crouched and smoldering stance. Eighty or more beady-eyed monsters were focused only on the athletic samurai warrior. They watched him stand, raising the katana overhead with a daring, action-hungry smile; that sword was dripping with a congealed, dark blood — their blood.
Towering over me stood four of these mutants, waxwork-like with caught, constipated expressions. There followed an astonished hiss all around as, one by one, each of the four heads dropped from their shoulders, and their decapitated bodies collapsed soon after. I opened my mouth but only a petrified wheeze came out as I caught one deformed head in my lap.
Creatures roared and spat but did not attack. Instead, they parted to reveal another of their kind: a beefy giant, wide and powerful. In his muscle-bound arms, he held a muddy battleaxe, and he chewed a piece of horseflesh like bubble gum between his teeth. The surrounding lot respectfully lowered their heads for this giant, who wasted no time singling out members of his mob. Determined to please, a selected eight of these monsters charged toward my companion.
Coming at Kat four at a time, they died four at a time. The samurai was simply a smudge of armor and steel, and when his human whirlwind was over, those chosen eight lay in bits by his feet.
The substantial creature raised his axe and screamed at the insult. The rest joined the choir, and when the giant's thundering war cry ended, his beady yellow eye slits settled again on the samurai. Unperturbed, Kat armed his second sword and slashed at the air like spinning propellers.
The creatures were not impressed by the display, and without order, every one charged for Kat’s blood. I grimaced away, expecting to hear his gut-wrenching last scream. Hectic grunts and clangs of battering metal followed, but there was no scream from Kat.
I opened my eyes and saw him alive still, face in deep concentration as he fought them off, deflecting curved blades and removing limbs within reach. He was awe-inspiring, but the numbers were too great, and it was only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed. When that moment arrived, a brilliant flash of heat separated man from monsters. It burned a rich red, holding that wall of evil at bay and forming a protective shield before Kat. It was a paranormal light that no blade or body could penetrate, and with it, a high-pitched sound came from inside, an itch at all our brains. The monsters covered their ears and wailed like hysterical monkeys in zoo cages. I, meanwhile, made myself small against the dead horse while Kat refilled his lungs. An older man’s voice soon replaced the uncomfortable sound, booming out from that force field and giving order to the creatures. That order was to back away from Kat, and they did so with a cowardly, childlike fear.
The claret-colored light flickered its last, the wind settled, and the owner of the voice now appeared between Kat and the horde. Old and rake thin, his crooked body was wrapped in a stained, patchy cloak. The eyes seemed to be sucked into his head, and around them, the skin stretched like a rubber mask. Hair fell greasily to the shoulders and his beard was long and straggly, separating into two hairy points at the chin. Theatrical in his stance, but at the same time disturbing, there was no warmth about this man. He was a living frost, a winter with no sign of spring, and he had everyone’s complete attention.
The monsters remained in a spineless, worshipping manner toward this unknown. He reminded me briefly of Sir Isaac Newton, in that he lingered, as if he had all the time in the world for us. "Lost your way?” he asked now, voice dull and drawn out as he surveyed Kat. "Come," he said to me, "join your friend, young one."
Looking to the samurai for guidance, what I got was a disagreeable shake of the head. "He is a wizard," said Kat.
"And you," replied the old man, wielding no obvious weapon, "are a samurai."
The wizard’s grin was like the Grinch who once stole Christmas. He lovingly combed a hand down his beard, and then was gone again in a wicked flash of red. No one had time to be startled, for the wizard reappeared in a blink of time, two paces before Kat.
"Scarfell is the name," he said, "and these are my bogs, sliced and diced by your feet."
The wizard resumed stroking his beard, enjoying the curl through his spindly fingers. Kat meanwhile remained on a knife’s edge; stone-faced and irritated. He was not a man for stalemates, and thus informed the wizard and his animals how things were going to be. "Those who attack," he grunted, "will fall."
Scarfell reflected respect back to Kat, but the hog-faced creature gripping that battleaxe was not one to be threatened. He left the meek crowd with glowering intent, grinding his teeth for the samurai. "Now now, Grutas!" said Scarfell, raising a composed hand. "What did you expect, my large friend? After all, this is the Kat we are dealing with here."
Grutas spat then tossed his axe petulantly to the mud.
"Pick up that weapon," said Scarfell, thinly. "Pick it up…now."
Testing the wizard's patience no further, the giant retrieved his axe and concealed himself from Scarfell's sight.
"What do you want?" asked Kat. “What would a wizard want with me?”
"Enough of the pleasantries, then,” he replied. “You and that man are trespassing on my property. These woods belong to me. And there will be a penalty for this lack of respect."
"We don't mean any harm," I interrupted. "How do you know us?"
"I know all that goes on here," he answered. "I know all about you, samurai. The only man to ever fight his way out of hellfire. The only one to escape the flames. Your name is synonymous with slaughter. I thought it would take a hundred of my bogs to surround you."
Amused, the wizard inspected the butchered pieces underneath him. "Should have brought two hundred."
Fought his way out of hellfire, I heard, adding newer pieces to my sketchy profile. At this point, I decided to stand, and as I did, I caught sight of something suspicious in the trees. There, loitering in a slim gap between trunks, was a stag or pony. This animal was not shuffling aimlessly, but watching us with considering eyes and an intelligent brain behind them. "What the…"
The stag was forgotten as my attention returned to Kat, who in an outburst of hot-blooded frustration, swung his swords into Scarfell. The frail wizard was somehow too fast for even Kat's steel. He disappeared in that haze of brilliant red, then reappeared quite unexpectedly behind me, pressing a knife against my swallowing Adam’s apple. Strength left me, and for the first time, Kat expressed genuine surprise on his face. "Drop him, sorcerer!" he exclaimed, furious. "Drop him now!"
Scarfell cackled through a mouth of broken teeth and fetid breath. "How well you can defend yourself, samurai," he said, "but not this pathetic man!"
The scene pleased Grutas immensely; the beast hooted along with the rest of the bogs.
"Now," Scarfell added, with some calm, "you will drop your swords, Kat.”
“If I don’t?”
“If you don’t,” he tittered, “then I rip this boy’s voice out!"
I squawked from the piercing blade and Kat grudgingly, hatefully, threw down his swords, appearing equally disappointed in me as he was with himself. Scarfell then removed the knife from my throat and forced my face to the dirt, clogging my airways with filth.
"Enough!" yelled Kat, and thankfully, the wizard relinquished. Weaponless, Kat stood at the mercy of this old man, but was unafraid. "The bird was your doing," he growled. “Your…magic.”
"It was, samurai, of course it was. Observing your progress through my woodland, I decided to have my little fun with you. I wanted to see the Kat in action. And may I say what a magnificent specimen you are still; your reputation is thoroughly deserved."
Leaving me spitting out dollops of muck, Scarfell stood, master of all he surveyed and said, "You are travelling to the Macros, and to that king, are you not?"
"King?" I blurted out, and quickly paid the price for talking out of turn. With his bony heel, Scarfell kicked me in the cheek. Dazed, my sight blurred and my head plopped unconscious to the mud.