Polathrin's Ruins

Zak followed Ramza into the beaten bar. The sign above promised food and beverages, and luckily, Ramza had kept the money on her before they were carried away from the ship.

It had taken a while trying to convince Ramza to go out into the city. She stood at their tiny plastic carriers, staring out at the open water for nearly a day and a half. It was a river, just near a bridge that connected two cities. For a full day she didn’t move or speak, watching the horizon for any sign of her brother or someone else in the group.

Zak had found her not long after wandering from his own capsule, thankful that at least one of the group was close. Still took him a long time to convince her to leave, but he reminded her that Akio and Mia were still waiting to be found. Rozmo would be able to track them via the belts they still wore.

There was hardly ever a concern about Ramza for him, he knew she was usually strong, but the hollow look in her eyes worried Zak. Polathrin had given her hope that her brother was strong enough, but now, seeing him stabbed and deserted, it left even Zak full of doubt. Rozmo might not make it this time. And Ramza might not be prepared for that level of acceptance.

They had decided to march in from the muddy bank since Zak was running short of scavenging along the shore. He chose to walk directly into the first place they found. He knew Ramza was starving, and he couldn’t let her fade away when they were so close to so many resources.

It was easy within the city to blend in. Everyone looked just like them. They didn’t have to worry about how they appeared, so they could actually relax here. If Ramza could at least allow it.

Ramza took a seat first, her eyes darting around the room. She could have been looking for Rozmo or the others, but it didn’t make any sense. Mia and Akio wouldn't come into such a crowded place. The goal was to eat and drink and then they could begin their long search with clear minds.

“You know he’s smart,” she started. She stared at Zak.

Zak watched her eyes. The deep blue was heightened whenever she was worried. He understood her concern, but he had no way to help ease it. Arji wasn’t Polathrin, which could mean the rest of the group was off to a better start or they were already caught. There was no telling where anyone else had landed.

He nodded, looking to Ramza's hand on the table. “He is, we’ve seen it. He has the tracker, and I’m sure he’s on his way. He probably picked up Mia first.”

Ramza shook her head, not paying attention. “He shouldn’t have sent us away though,” she whispered. She was nervously scanning again. “He should have just let us fight it out. All of us together, that would have been best.”

Zak watched her carefully. This was the second time Ramza had been separated from her brother with no way of knowing where he was. The first time, Zak was sure if they stayed on task, they would find out the truth sooner or later. It was different now, and for once he was at a loss. All he could think was finding the others. Akio and his golden skin, Mia with her wanted posters, just too many dangers for their friends. Rozmo was too smart, too skilled, he wasn't high on the list of priorities. Zak had to have a list of priorities or he would get to the same level of stress. Someone had to have a clear mind.

“We’ll find him,” he whispered. Zak tried to be as caring as possible, but it was difficult for him. He watched her hands tug at fingernails until one went up to her mouth to chew on the edges. Zak tried to take the one still resting on the table, but Ramza didn’t even seem to care. Zak bit the inside of his lip. She wouldn’t rest until they were all together, so it was time for Zak to come up with a plan.

“So, you’ve managed it this far, boy?” A drunken slur yelled.

Zak jumped, his eyes searching the bar. It was the voice of the man from the fair, the one who knew Zak’s last name and more. He looked around, but quickly realized it was far too small for him to be inside. Zak would have seen the cloaked figure; the man would be easy to spot. Zak shivered with anxiety.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Ramza asked. Her eyebrows were pulled together as she watched his face. This time, she was holding his hand.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I just thought I heard something.”

The mood of the bar started to change around them. Shouting and cheering ensued as most of the bar turned various directions to watch the large screens posted all over. Most settled into chairs while more people flooded into the bar. It was quickly very crowded. Zak peered around, trying to see what lured everyone in, noticing at once all the screens were on the same image.

“This kind of thing hasn’t happened since I was twelve years old! I can’t wait to see how they do it.”

“This is horrible. It’s just the kind of oppression the rebellion is fighting.”

“Did you hear what he said though? I heard he told the judge to shove it.”

“A public execution, really? She can’t be that important.”

“What did they say his name was?”

“He looked like a cousin of mine, scared me to death.”

“Rozmo, I think.”

Zak made eye contact with Ramza at the same time. He wasn’t sure just how much she had heard from the crowd but hearing Rozmo’s name was like a scream in the middle of night. She immediately tried to jump up, but the crowd was too much. She was forced back in her seat and Zak tried to grab her hand again, if only to keep her close.

A person pointed to the screen as a new image crossed, a black background with a golden sor mark hanging above a single metal table. Zak felt his heart sink as the noise around confirmed his worst fear.

“Where is Rozmo?” Ramza asked quietly, her eyes betraying her thoughts.

Zak wished he could say something, but his mouth seemed sealed shut.

Two men in military gear walked out on the screen, blue on blue outfits, leading the way for the clanking of chains in between them. They dragged the metal across the flooring, as if attempting to silence the audience. The person they dragged was blocked by the guards, but someone walked on from the other side. His face was covered by a black mask with a smile painted on just below two cutouts for eyes. He swung an overly large ax that seemed much too sharp.

Zak’s heart plummeted and he felt Ramza’s nails start to dig into the skin of his palms.

The guards moved forward to the table, and as they knelt to hook the chains to the floor, Rozmo’s face could be seen. As the crowd cheered, Ramza screamed. She stood up, and Zak pushed to grab her fully in his arms. He held her only tight enough to keep her still, but it killed him in the process. There wasn’t enough room to move, but he had to hold her; Zak had to keep Ramza safe.

Rozmo stared at the floor, though the screen didn’t show much of it. His face was straight, not a hint of fear or regret. Zak could barely believe he was staring at their friend.

What were they supposed to do? They had no idea where this was happening, and all they could do was watch. Ramza shuddered in Zak’s grasp, but she didn’t seem like she was going to try and run. She let out a few sad moans, but the bar was growing loud again with noise. Even Ramza knew there was nothing they could do. Zak might watch more than one of them die and his breathing stung as he grit his teeth.

When Rozmo was secure, the guards backed off just as the hooded man stepped forward. He took a moment to wave to the camera, causing a majority of the bar to cheer. The masked man took the axe strong in his hands, raising it above his head with incredible strength. His muscles held it strong and in that moment, there was a perfect silence. Ramza was even silenced, her body in a bit of a freefall in Zak's arms.

Zak tried to maintain himself. He watched the face of his friend and felt his breath nearly stop. Zak wanted to break the chains holding him down, slaughter the man in the mask, and rip apart the military banner in the back. His body shook as his grip loosened on Ramza. The world melted away, the screens, the bar, the people, until Zak could only see Rozmo. He could see his friend sitting in the purple-blue glow of Arji, looking out with big eyes over the half barrel that was their makeshift table. Zak blinked, feeling a sting in his eyes. Polathrin was far away in more than one way.

The screens started to return in his vision, and all Zak wanted to do was break them. Rozmo turned his watered eyes up, as if making eye contact with all the viewers at the same time. His large, dark eyes were dull, as if he was already dead. His form was chained in, his body lay out behind him, his head struggling to look up to everyone. Even tied down, even in this last moment, he didn’t show a single sign of desperation or worry or even thought.

The axe swung down quickly. It separated clean, a red fountain taking the place of Rozmo’s face. His head bounced for a moment, but the guards moved quickly to pick it up. The bar erupted in a chaotic fusion of joy and hatred.

Ramza leaned forward in despair as Zak fought to keep her off the ground. Her screams so loud, but only he could hear them. His soul tearing at the sound, closing his own eyes to only have the horror replay. They couldn’t make too much of a scene, he reminded himself.

“Ramza,” Zak mumbled in her ear. He was trying to keep his voice calm, but it quaked just as much as his body. His hands were numb, but he was sure he held Ramza firm. He felt weak, for the first time in a long time.

She hung her head, tears streaming down her face to water the floor of the bar. Zak leaned forward, his forehead resting against her tear-stained cheek.

“Ramza,” he tried again. “We have to go. Mia, Akio, they’re still out there waiting. Please.”

Ramza’s breathing picked up suddenly, turning into hiccups as she straightened her back. Zak leaned away, trying to see her face when she raised her foot and brought down a sharp heel on his toes. The pain was more severe than he expected, and he released his grip a little too much. With more room, Ramza pulled up her elbow to catch him in the nose.

Zak was tossed back, tripping on a part of the stool to fall on his back. Blood immediately began to gush from his nose and his eyes blurred. He was panicked. Trying to push himself back up, he barely saw Ramza lean over him. Her face was red and puffy, but her lips were tight, and her eyes were full of hate.

“We followed you for nothing,” Ramza growled, “None of it matters. None of them matter.”

And then she was gone, leaving other people at the bar to ask Zak if he was alright. He waved them off, watching the blood from his nose drip into his hand, overflowing onto the floor. It was one of the few times he had seen his own; the first being after the death of his brother, Cerian, and the second, with Magony, and now, the death of Rozmo. He could feel the same feelings rushing through his body as that night years before.

Zak got up, he stumbled, he ended up outside, but his mind flushed in and out of reality. People and buildings and shapes and colors danced around as he pushed on, but to what?

“Zak, wake up,” Cerian whispered.

Zak opened his eyes to see the familiar face. The usual smile was gone. His hair nothing but curls around his tan face. “You have to go Zak, I heard someone outside. Take the others.”

It was dark, but Zak woke the group, pushing them along out the back. The small hut was dark in the night, and everyone stumbled with barely open eyes. They had drills like these once in a while, but it was usually nothing to worry about.

Zak turned back to Cerian. “What about you?”

Cerian winked. “I’ll be right after you, little brother.”

Before Zak knew it, the whole group was out in the grass watching attackers pin his brother by the feet to their own roof. The hut was suddenly light, the laughter of the strangers echoing from the inside. Cerian hung, his arms dangling below his head. Ramza, Mia, Zak, Akio, and Rozmo cowered nearby, wincing with every tap against the nail. His brother’s smile was gone, instead wide, dead eyes stared out at them. The attacker paused, pushing Cerian’s body aside to enter the hut and Zak tried to breathe.

Zak pushed his way on the street, trying not to collapse from the weight of his memory as it collided with his present. It was the one thing he had promised himself through the years. Not another, not again. Cerian was supposed to be the last. Magony entered and died so quick. Now, it was Rozmo.

His body slammed into a wall and Zak let himself slide to the ground. His nose ached, his eyes quit, his lungs burned, his muscles snapped, his mind shattered, and all he could hear was how badly he failed. He wasn’t a leader, he was nothing more than a killer. Zak led the weakest to their death. The names kept coming, Cerian, Roj, Magony, Warren, Rozmo, Galina. He closed his eyes, tears stinging as they slipped under his eyelids. Zak wanted to scream, he wanted to run, but he couldn’t do any of it.

How many had to die? How many bodies would Zak string along on his path? He was tired, so tired of trying and never winning. He had always hoped there would be a moment when they made it, when they would all be safe. Ramza could rest, Mia could love, Rozmo could smile, and Akio could release. There was a time in his mind, evading him in every hope and dream, but Zak was convinced it existed and he would get them all to it. What a childish thought.

Zak opened his eyes to reality, his limp form in an alley. The darkness of night surrounded him. It was wet, a terrible smell wafted in, but he stayed. The blood on his hand was dry now. His body was numb, his face a disgusting mess, but at least his body was still. Internally, he felt as though he had died, but his limbs still seemed ready to move.

“Death can be such madness,” a voice echoed. Footsteps slowly made their way toward Zak. The voice was the same as the drunk at the fair, the same one he had heard at the bar. The slur was impossible to mistake. Zak wanted to do something, even if it was just beating the man to a bloody pulp, but he couldn’t make himself move.

The cloaked man stopped in front of Zak. He knelt down, tilting his head. “It’s especially terrible when the leader is completely to blame.”

Zak stood up quick, surging forward with all his force. He would kill this man. The hooded figure barely budged, smashing his knee into Zak’s gut. Zak crumpled, wounded for the second time. Normally, his pride would rage until more energy was born, but instead, he stayed down. He had nothing left. He had nothing to fight for. It was all over the moment Ramza left. Akio and Mia would be impossible to find.

“You have to rise above them,” the man whispered, changing his voice from the drunken slur to something real. It was deep and raspy, as if he had been yelling all day.

“Who are you to question me?” Zak spat.

The man stood still, the shadow of his hood hiding his face. His shoulders were wide, his stance that of a fighter. “Who am I?” He circled Zak. “I am a man that can deliver the vengeance you crave. The man that can give you the power you deserve. The man that will lead you to the war you require.”

Zak pushed himself upright, leaning against the wall. “I don’t need any of that from you.”

The man straightened his form. “You lost a friend to the Houses of Gold and White, yet you sit here in an alley pitying yourself? Do you not need vengeance? Do you not want to tear them apart, kill everything precious to them?” The man paused, stepping to the side as Zak contemplated the question. “Tell me, how do you intend to ever get your other friends back? They’re a long way off, growing more distant as time passes. Would you prefer to spend your years searching, or would you rather grab the bell of power and have them come to you?”

Zak felt something stir inside. He was tired, he was frustrated, he was sad, but somehow, a light was sparked at the man’s words.

“How would you grant these things?” Zak asked, the rain seeping into his clothing.

He turned his eyes to the ground just as the stranger started to remove something from himself. The man slammed metal down near Zak’s open hand. The sword shimmered in the light of glimmering signs and screens. It was solid steel with a sharp, red line tracing the middle of the sword up to a web of red veins perched just below the hilt. Two ends stretched out to cross the main staff, glittering in gold, each pulled into perfect points. Continuing from there, there was a band of soft material for grip, and beyond that lie a slim, gold curved end. An emblem remained in the center of the end of the sword, an X. At first that’s what Zak saw, but as he stared longer, he noticed the X stretched out on either side on the top. Each of the points had additions that the bottom did not have. It looked like two weapons crossing at odds.

Zak looked up at the stranger. “How will this help me?”

“This Crimson Blade will be yours to wield against a world that wanted you dead before you existed. A sword of legend placed into the hand of a warrior thirsty for blood and violence.”

Zak felt a chill, but he was still cautious. “It will help me kill the royals and save my group?”

“You will do it, all of it. This sword of war will be your tool to avenge the corpses of your ancestry, and lay claim to land stolen by murder. You must take this and complete your first task. I will tell you what to do, but I have to know your worth. You must go to Highlends and cross Cosmo’s Arch.”

“What is after Cosmo’s Arch?”

“Finis.”

The word awakened Zak’s senses, making him grab the bottom half of the sword. Zak shivered with delight. It was real. The planet he had heard in rumor, the chance to avenge his friends, the ability to take back the world; everything was being presented to him.

“How can I trust a man I don’t even know?” Zak countered, his fingers already reaching for the hilt of the sword.

The man shook his head. “You already do.”

Letting the sword fall fully into Zak’s arms, the man raised hand to pull back his hood. The face hit Zak’s memory before the hood had fully dropped. The man had aged, but he looked almost the exact same as the day he was dragged off by ten soldiers. Dark hair on a light face; cold, black eyes peered out over large brows, and a terrible smile refused to shine.

“Jonah?” Zak muttered, recalling the name of his uncle immediately.

“Get to Highlends and find a way through Cosmo’s Arch into Finis,” Jonah hissed. “You were made for this.”

As the man pulled his hood back up and walked away, Zak stared at the sword, the metal burning in his hand. He could feel the cavern of emotion still aching inside, but there was something about this sword pulling him forward. He watched the blade, a grin sliding across his face. The potential was limitless. Zak gripped the handle tight. He would be dead before he would ever let this fall from his grasp.