Humayre: The Chronicles of Ronin Wilder

“No way,” said Ronin. With mouth agape, he stared at two colossal white marble pillars.

“Quick, move, I want to see,” said Mike. He tried to squeeze his massive body past Ronin but he couldn’t get out of the carriage without running him over.

“Why are there no windows in this stupid thing?” asked Rob, trying to peek around Mike.

Ronin moved to the side so the others could get out of the carriage. Mike jumped out first, he landed with the grace of a cat. He was more nimble than he looked. Rob, who was leaning on Mike, fell face-first out of the carriage. A loud thud sounded as his right cheek smacked the cobblestone road. He picked himself up as fast as he fell.

“I meant to do that,” said Rob, as he rubbed his aching face. He forced out a laugh. No one noticed, they were all too busy gawking at the wonder before them.

“That is crazy,” said Ronin. His eyes widened in awe as he stared at the gleaming white marble and tunneled archways. It looked just like the pictures he’d seen of The Colosseum when he was doing his report on Augustus. It looked like an exact replica. Sucking in a breath of crisp air, he added, “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s the biggest waste of money I’ve ever seen. Do you know how much that must’ve cost?” asked Mike. “Now I really don’t like that Dr. Storm guy.” He folded his arms and gave Ronin a disapproving look. “You know how many families that money could’ve saved. In my town people are losing their homes because our energy plant closed down. With no jobs people can’t afford to pay their mortgages and the banks are foreclosing on everyone. My family might even lose their home, although they probably deserve it, but there are other families who don’t deserve it. What it cost to build that stupid thing would save my whole town.”

“That money could’ve done a lot of things for people who really need help. And I’m not talking about stupid materialistic things like houses,” said Kevin. “There’s a lot of sick people out there who can’t even afford to see a doctor. Sick people who can’t afford the medicine they need that could save their lives.” He was passionate and worked up. He rubbed his hands over his curly hair forming it into a controlled mess. His eyes hardened, like they were trying to hide a painful truth. “Anyway,” he said, the calmness returning to his voice. “What’s it matter. People that rich don’t care about people like us.”

“Worried about being homeless is stupid?” asked Mike. He folded his arms and scowled at Kevin.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Not owning a house and being homeless are two different things.”

“Whatever man,” said Mike. “Whatever.”

“Everyone follow me!” shouted Mr. Wall. He turned and headed for the marble stairs leading up to what looked like an entrance.

The inside of the colosseum was just as magnificent as the outside. Every inch was gleaming white marble. Rows of white benches wrapped around the arena. Everything was flush with no joint lines. It looked like they took a giant slab of Marble and carved the entire arena out of it. Ronin and the rest of the kids sat on the benches closest to the arena floor. On the opposite side of the arena sat a group of men and women. They were all wearing the same sort of black trench coats Ronin was now wearing.

The arena floor was filled with huge marble squares and rectangles. In the very center was an etched circle. It was about twenty feet in diameter. The bench Ronin was sitting on looked down into the arena and from his angle the squares and rectangles lined up into what looked like a maze. On opposite sides of the arena, facing each other, were two one story marble buildings. They were the only entrances into the arena.

“I thought we were going to see something,” said Mike, who was sitting right next to Ronin. “This is stupid.”

Kevin, who was sitting on the other side of Ronin, exhaled and shook his head. “You’ve got an opinion about everything, don’t you?”

“Bro. You’re really starting to tick me off.” He leaned forward, like he was going to get off the bench. His eyes were set on Kevin and looked angry.

“You’re used to people being intimidated by you aren’t you? That stuff doesn’t work on me,” said Kevin, his voice calm. He didn’t look the least bit concerned.

“What are you talking about?” asked Mike. “I haven’t done anything but be nice to you. I should just squash you like a bug and be done with it.”

“What happened to not liking bullies?” asked Kevin. “You’re a hypocrite. I knew if I messed with you enough you’d show your true colors.”

Mike’s cheeks turned beet red. He sat back and faced the arena. If steam could’ve shot from his ears, it would have. “Whatever, man.”

“Down there to the right,” said Mr. Wall, pointing. “They’re coming out now.”

Four people emerged from the north side of the arena. They stopped just in front of the marble building. Three men and one woman. They wore skin tight black pants and long sleeve shirts. Attached to their belts were holsters. It was hard to see but the guns looked similar to the one Ronin saw on the boy earlier.

“See the guy with the black hair, that’s Cyrus Elm. He’s a Keiri,” said Mr. Wall, his voice almost giddy with excitement. He leaned against the marble railing. If he wasn’t careful it looked like he might fall into the arena, which was at least a twenty foot drop.

“A what?” asked Mike. He glanced at Kevin with a look that said, If you say a word I’ll smash you.

“A Keiri. Our most elite Humayre warriors,” said Mr. Wall. “It will be explained to you soon enough.” He looked down the long row of sitting kids. “I have a feeling that you will all look back on this moment and feel very fortunate to have seen a Keiri in action. This is a great honor.”

“Humayre?” asked Kevin. He and Mike looked at each other with the same confused expressions.

“Warriors?” asked Ronin. What kind of school is this?

“Yes. And yes,” said Mr. Wall

Just about every kid launched a barrage of questions at Mr. Wall.

“Begin!” boomed a man’s voice from across the arena.

All the kids went silent. Their focus shifted to the arena floor.

“They’re starting,” said Mr. Wall. He held still, his body tense with anticipation and his eyes fixated on Cyrus’s team. “You’re watching two teams. Their goal is to eliminate the opposing team.” He pointed to the middle of the arena. “That circle you see etched in the marble there. That’s a safe zone. Only sword play is allowed inside that circle.” He glanced back and forth between the two teams. “I only see one Keiri, the rest are Heiwa. No Hogosha or Gunjin.” Mr. Wall turned to the sitting kids. “You guys are very lucky. This is an elite level training session.”

“What’s a Hum…” asked Rob.

Mr. Wall interrupted. “Just watch.” He pointed down towards the left of the arena. “That’s Marcus, the one with the long brown hair. The blonde is Vera and next to her, the guy with the hair tied into a ponytail, is Andrew.” He rubbed his head. “Hmm. Not sure who the other one is.” He paused. “Ah yes. That’s Sam. I almost didn’t recognize him with short hair.” He straightened out his tie. “Very good team. Some of our best young Heiwa.”

“What’s a Heiwa?” whispered Mike to Ronin. “Have you ever heard of any of this stuff?”

Ronin shrugged and shook his head.

“It’s Japanese,” said Kevin. “Well, Heiwa is at least. I think it means peace, or something like that.”

With a scrunched forehead Mike gave Kevin a confused look.

“What?” asked Kevin, shrugging his shoulder’s. “I watch a lot of Anime.”

“Quiet or you’re going to miss it,” said Mr. Wall. “They’re starting to move.” He pointed to his right. “You already know Cyrus. Next to him, the blonde guy, is Zach, Vera’s twin brother. Interesting. They usually pair them together.” He shook his head. “Anyway. Juliet is to his right and next to her, with the long black hair, is Martin.”

The team opposite of Cryus’s was first to move. They weaved in and out of the marble formations with great speed. They stopped at a marble block taller than the rest, it was at least ten feet tall. Sam and Andrew dropped to their knees and made a makeshift human step-stool at its base. They boosted Marcus to the top of it. Strapped to Marcus’s back was what looked like a high tech rifle. It was dark grey and had texture to it, like lines from the brush strokes of an oil painting but really large and pronounced. From where Ronin sat he couldn’t see a trigger or anything that might suggest it was a rifle except its shape. He wondered if indeed that’s what it really was.

Marcus lay flat on his belly at the top of the marble structure. Turning on to his side he unstrapped his weapon and set it in front of him. He grabbed it with both hands and began to military crawl across the surface. He stopped at the edge and took aim with the strange rifle. Ronin followed the line from rifle to target. Marcus appeared to be aiming at Juliet, she didn’t seem to be able to see him. A white flash exploded from the tip of the strange rifle. Across the arena rocketed a glowing yellow object. It was about two inches long and cylindrical in shape, it glowed bright and changed shape ever so slightly as it moved through the air. The projectile was moving fast, but not so fast that Ronin couldn’t make out its form. Ronin thought it looked sort of like a small comet.

Juliet screamed out in agony as she violently spun around. The force of the impact slammed her against a marble wall. She clutched at her chest and gasped for air as she collapsed to the ground. She slapped the marble and yelled out, “Stupid!” She lifted herself from off the floor while shaking her head. Cyrus patted her on the back as she walked towards the building they had entered in from, her head hung low.

“What was that?” asked Kevin.

“It wasn’t a gun. I know that,” said Rob. “It shot a laser or something.”

“That wasn’t a laser, stupid,” said Bob.

“Then what was it genius?” asked Rob, as he shouldered his brother, nearly knocking him off the bench.

“Everyone calm down. You are all wrong,” said Mr. Wall. “Just watch the exercise.”

No one needed to tell Ronin to watch, his eyes were glued to the action.

Marcus shuffled to his left, the barrel of his weapon took aim once more. This time the target was Zach, who had pinned himself flat against a wall. The muzzle flashed, down went Zach holding his shoulder and cursing. Marcus shuffled to his right. Another flash burst from his weapon. Martin fell to his knees clutching his side.

Both Martin and Zach headed towards the entrance, heads hung low. All that remained of their team was Cyrus. Ronin was disappointed, he wanted to see Cyrus in action and figured he had no chance against Marcus’s sniping.

Cyrus flattened himself against a wall and squatted down. The etched circle was just around the corner. All he had to do was make a run for it. Ronin wondered what would happen once he got to the circle. He found himself rooting for Cyrus even though he had no idea who he was.

Cyrus broke his cover and sprinted for the circle. Marcus’s muzzle flashed, but Cyrus must’ve anticipated the shot because he ducked and rolled just as the blast was about to hit him. He got to his feet, his speed and quickness were almost inhuman. He broke the threshold of the circle before Marcus could get another shot off.

Marcus slapped the marble. “I missed!” he shouted. He stood up and slung his weapon over his shoulder. He walked to the edge and looked down. “He got in.”

“Crap,” said Vera. The rest of her team hung their heads low. It was obvious they were not pleased.

Cyrus stretched his back and dusted himself off. He untied the bottom of his holster which was fastened around his right leg. Next he unbuckled his belt. The holster and belt dangled from his right hand. He held it over the etched line and dropped it outside the circle.

Ronin couldn’t take his eyes off Cyrus. He didn’t know what it was about Cyrus’s demeanor that enthralled him. It might have been the all black, futuristic looking clothing. Maybe it was his short black hair slicked back into an imposing orderliness, the exact opposite of Ronin’s long messy blonde hair. It could’ve been the calm, smooth way in which he walked to the center of the circle, like he owned the place. Or possibly the way he drew the dark-crimson bladed sword sheathed to his back, like combat was a forgone conclusion and he didn’t have a single doubt of its outcome. If Cyrus was a Keiri then a Keiri was what Ronin had to be. Never was he so sure of anything in his life

A smile, not a happy smile, or a content smile, but rather a sinister smile formed on Cyrus’s face as the opposing team came into his view. Even though it was four versus one, that smile made Ronin think the other team might be in some serious trouble. As the four approached Cyrus, they unbuckled their belts and dropped their holstered weapons to the ground. Marcus unslung his riffle and dropped it to the ground as well. They all drew crimson bladed swords sheathed to their backs. The four spread out. They surrounded Cyrus as they crossed the threshold of the circle.

The swords. Ronin couldn’t take his eyes off them. Why did they need swords? Wasn’t it the twenty first century? A gun would win against the best sword every day of the week. It seemed silly.

Sunlight reflected off Cryus’s blade, the deep crimson appeared to ebb and flow from hilt to tip. It was mesmerizing. Cryus gripped his sword with two hands and held it at his side with the tip pointing to the sky.

The design of the blade was strange to Ronin’s eye. He loved swords and studied their various designs. With a caretaker like Dick, Ronin often found himself at the library looking for ways to preoccupy his time. However, even though he glanced through just about every book he could find on Samurais he had never come across a sword quite like this one. It looked a lot like a katana, however there were a few minor differences. The curve of the blade was slight, almost imperceptible and the blade itself was narrower. There was no guard and no wrappings on the handle. Cyrus was holding bare metal. Using such a weapon was no doubt a dangerous endeavor for both wielder and target.

Cyrus nodded. The four against him nodded. Ten feet was all that separated Cyrus from razor sharp crimson steel.

Marcus lunged forward and vaulted into the air. With two hands he pulled his sword back over his head. His three teammates did not waste a moment. They sprinted towards Cyrus, their swords held with two hand. The tips of their weapons drifted only inches from the ground as they made their way to their target.

An ear deafening screech reverberated through the marble Colosseum as Cyrus and Marcus’s blades collided. Marcus’s three teammates were six feet away and closing fast.

Cyrus stepped forward and slid his blade down Marcus’s. Cyrus placed his right foot between Marcus’s feet. Cyrus pulled his and Marcus’s hilts together then grabbed Marcus’s wrist. All in one motion he spun, jerked down and whipped Marcus over his shoulder. Marcus launched through the air and slammed hard into Andrew and Vera. The impact sent all three sliding across the marble and outside of the etched circle. Cyrus faced Sam. Cyrus had his sword in his right hand and Marcus’s in his left. The smile returned to Cyrus’s face.

“No way,” said Mike. His mouth hung open in awe.

“That’s impossible,” said Kevin, his eyes unblinking and locked onto the action below. “No one can jump like that. No ones that strong.” He looked to Mr. Wall. “That was like twenty feet they slid. There’s no way.”

“Amazing isn’t it?” asked Mr. Wall, not taking his focus from the combatants.

“That’s impossible,” said Kevin once more as he shook his head. He folded his arms and sat straight up. The look in his eyes was no longer of awe but of concern. “How? How did he do that? Who are y… what are you?” He took a deep breath. “That’s impossible.”

“Mayre,” said Mr. Wall. “But you won’t understand. Not until orientation at least.” He waved his hand in the air, a gesture that suggested no more questions. “Just watch. Stop trying to figure everything out.”

Sam took a step back. He held his sword with two hands and pointed the tip at Cyrus. It was a defensive stance. Or a scared stance. Ronin wasn’t sure of which. Most likely scared since Sam’s sword was trembling and his eyes were wide with fright.

Cyrus stepped forward. He feinted with the sword in his left hand. Sam pulled his sword up into a blocking position. Cyrus dropped Marcus’s sword, stepped under Sam’s blade and as quick as lightning flashed two strikes across Sam’s left shoulder. It sounded like metal hitting metal. A cut in Sam’s shirt revealed some sort of metal protecting his shoulder. Sam dropped his weapon. The fight was over.

As Sam shook his head a smile took form on his face. “Man. Who have you been training with? That was incredible.”

Cyrus sheathed his sword between his shoulder blades and grabbed Sam and hugged him. “It’s good to see you man. How long has it been?”

“Like two years,” said Sam, as he returned the hug. “We’ve all been following your exploits. Pretty amazing stuff. Already a famous Keiri.” He pat Cyrus on the shoulder. “Man. Who would’ve guessed that the tiny pipsqueak I had to show around would one day be a Keiri.” He laughed.

“Yeah right,” said Cyrus. “If I remember correctly it was me who saved you from yourself when you tried to ask out Vera over there. Man you were embarrassing.”

“Are you guys talking about me again?” asked Vera. She walked up and gave Cyrus a huge hug.

All the combatants were laughing and joking when one of the men who had been watching on the opposite side of the arena spoke up.

“Officially the score has been recorded,” said the man. “Cyrus with a win. All others a loss. Well done people.”

Cyrus and company stopped what they were doing and faced the men and women who had been watching them. The combatants all bowed. The group watching bowed and then one by one headed towards the exit.

“I heard you’re getting your own card,” said Marcus. “Youngest ever to receive that honor.” He stuck his hand out.

“Good to see you Marcus.” Cyrus shook his hand. “Well. Who knows. Guess we will see.” He nodded his head. “That was a gutsy move by the way. Aerial Lunge Strike. Risky, but nicely executed. Would’ve had me off guard if I hadn’t trained under Master Hando as well.”

“What can I say,” said Marcus. “I like to go big.” He smiled. “How long have you been back by the way?”

“A couple months.” said Cyrus. “They’re pulling me for a year. I’ve got teacher’s leave.”

“Nice,” said Marcus. “So do we.” He looked at the other combatants. “We just got here a few days ago. Haven’t even been to BrightWood yet. They’ve had us cooped up at the hospital.”

“That’s odd,” said Cyrus. “Any idea why?”

“Who knows,” said Marcus. “They also sprung this training exercise on us. Barely gave us three hours warning.”

“Strange,” said Cyrus. “Well, you know how Dr. Storm is.”

“That I do. That I do.”

They both laughed.

“Listen up people,” said Mr. Wall. He waved his hands to get the kids attention. “It’s getting late and you guys still have orientation. We have to get a move on.” He glanced around at all the confused faces and added, “I know you have a lot of questions.”

Kevin interrupted, “Yeah. No kidding.”

“Let me rephrase that. I think I may have come across as someone who actually cares about your questions.” Mr. Wall straightened his tie. “Don’t bother asking me anything. If you have any questions save it for orientation.” He eyed the line of sitting kids, his face blank of expression. “Back to your carriages. Make sure you get in the ones you were assigned to.”

Sharp piercing pain fired through Ronin’s thumbnail. He grabbed his hand and squeezed. He’d almost forgotten about his nails. He stared at his thumb. A thought came over him. He looked at Cyrus. What he had just witnessed was inhuman. No one could be that fast. No one could be that strong. Something wasn’t right. His heart raced and he wondered if he was trapped in a dream. He looked at his taped thumb again. The pain was too sharp, too precise, he knew he wasn’t dreaming. He held his hands up. All of his nails were now throbbing. They felt alive. A realization pounded him like a punch to the stomach. He couldn’t explain why but his gut told him that whatever was going on with his nails was somehow connected to what he just witnessed.