On Hard Stone (Chapter 2)

(For Chapter 1 go to http://storywrite.com/story/74977 )


- Excerpt from Billy Nilrem’s diary, public artifact

4th of April, 2012

Cool day, was today. Despite all that’s happened it didn’t start that way since I woke up early but feeling strangely tired. Maybe I was just excited, albeit in a VERY bad way. Frightened may be more the word I’m looking for. As I’ve mentioned in previous entries today was the casting session for the new school play, a weird yet ingenious little act by Tom Sawyer.

First off, about Tom Sawyer; his parents, the Sawyers, thought it’d be funny to simply name their child Tom. An ordinary name, really. Tom. But couple that with his surname-to-be and Tom Sawyer would be born, or reborn, whichever way you wish to put it. Either way, Tom’s a nice guy with a hell of a penchant for theatre. Sometimes he takes advantage of his name for all sorts of uncanny stuff, but who wouldn’t? I certainly would if named after a country boy who gets himself into a bit too much trouble than warranted. In other words, a timeless character of American literature.

Instead, however, my name is Billy Nilrem and this is my diary. Onward.

I was planning to audition for the role of one John Parks, hero of “A Home’s Garden”. If my performance failed for any reason, I’d leave the room and go right back in to audition for the supporting role of Jim Steward, the hopeless drug addict. Yes, the play favors realism over impressionism but hey, drug addicts are fun to play; you get to act differently and there’s always room for improv or even personal quirks. In fact, I remember actually wanting more to get the part of Jim Steward than Parks’.

I got up, got dressed, indulged in my usual morning grooming routine and went down for breakfast. Mom already had some eggs and juice ready for me.

“So today’s the casting, huh?” she asked, somehow cranking up the tension one more notch.

“Yeah,” I said, making nothing of it. Thankfully, Mom dropped the subject and went upstairs to care for Dad.

I’m not much for long diary entries but this one has to be. I’m in a waiting room, see. Waiting. And that’s the intrigue of my little tale; how I end up in the ER waiting room.

Before that, though, I have a whole day to chronicle. I finished breakfast, spoke to Dad for a couple minutes and left for school.

It was HOT.

I’ve never felt such heat in my life, and yes, I’ve been to the desert. Nevada, to be precise, or more precise still, Las Vegas. Vegas was all bark and no bite, in my opinion. Sure it’s nice the first few hours but I wouldn’t want to live there. My parents failed to win a million dollars and the holiday was surprisingly dull for all of us. I have to admit, Vegas goes over the top. How much neon can person’s eye take? Maybe we’d be better off back in the 1800s, when there was hardly any pollution and certainly less greed and tiresome consumerism campaigns. Plus, you could get away with awesome sideboards.

Back to the subject. It was HOT. My skin erupted in an instant flow of sweat the moment I set foot outside. Ok, I’m exaggerating, but it was damn hot today and I felt uncomfortable walking to school. In all likelihood, today was the first time I really felt threatened by the so-called global warming. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good hot summer day but this was like Vegas; too much.

Ran into Mark halfway to school. “Yo, Billy,” he said, wheezing heavily. Mark has asthma.

“Not looking too good, huh, Mark?”

“I’m dying, man,” he joked, but anyone serious would’ve believed him. “This is insane, I hope it rains later.”

“Don’t count on it,” I said dismally. “It’s probably gonna be like this for the next couple days, too.”

“Nah. April’s always like this. One day it’s hot, the other it’s snowing. I tell you, season’s are weird, man.”

Mark is a next-generation hippie. He dresses like a hippie, talks like a hippie, smokes weed every break and wishes he lived in the 70s. Everybody likes him even so, and he isn’t the only next-gen hippie in the school. I admire him for being different and being proud of it. Either way there are loads of different people walking around nowadays. I even suspect a few people to be sorcerers, even though they’ve never said so. Mr. Moore, my Science teacher, comes to mind.

First class was English. Mrs. Mayhew was quick to succumb to the heat and soon smelled like a sweaty pig. Steve, of course, couldn’t resist cracking his usual gross jokes. Nobody laughed because everyone knew they’d smell just like her at the end of the day. Luckily the classroom was as good a refuge as any; it had 3 open windows and an open door so there was constant fresh air to purify the atmosphere. The day was proving to be a flat-out drag.

We were asked to write a text because the teacher wasn’t feeling too well. I didn’t know what to do so I wrote a silly little story about a young actor in Hollywood. He attends various casting sessions but never snags any roles. Eventually he meets a pretty and intelligent girl about his age at many of these sessions and each time gets to know her better. Love grows.

Second class was History. I neglected to buy myself a drink in the break so this class ultimately became seriously strained. Dehydration sucks. At least lunch break was ok. Relatively. Everyone had lunch inside because outside was too hot. The cafeteria was packed but I didn’t take much notice. Instead, I passed the time revising my lines for the audition; a key element of winning the judge’s trust is not to read from a script, or at least to read as little necessary.

Next up was Science. Mr. Moore showed up smiling, as always. I once saw him lose his car keys in the school parking lot; it was raining heavily and he slipped a bit, dropping his keys down the gutter. He swore, I think, then the strangest thing happened. Suddenly the keys were back in his hand! I’m still not sure if this is actually what I saw but I’m positive the keys fell in the gutter and Mr. Moore had them back in his hand without making the slightest movement to retrieve them.

I suspect Mr. Moore’s a sorcerer, but why would I even care, anyhow? Supposedly there are loads of sorcerers who lead normal lives. Only people like Zulok Gant actually go around making a show of themselves.

“Afternoon, class,” Mr. Moore began. “I’ve been asked to set free those wishing to participate in the audition. Don’t bother coming back to class if you finish early.”

See? It’s in these details that certain people shine. Mr. Moore’s laid-back and pleasant nature makes me feel quickly relaxed and somehow capable of anything. In this case, capable of reading some lines as best I can.

And at last, the audition.

I headed down to the auditorium where it was cool and dark. Mr. Roman, the theatre teacher, sat at the judging table with Tom Sawyer. Both were engaged in conversation.

The actors stood on the stage in a line. Joining them, I noticed my competition wasn’t nearly as threatening as I had imagined. I couldn’t spot Tim Lynne in the group, for instance, and that was enough to make me more confident. Lynne has the habit of laughing and jeering quietly at those auditioning, which seriously breaks one’s concentration. Kelly Cohen was in the line, though, and she’s likely to blow the girls’ competition way out of the water. Kelly got the main female role in both the last school plays. She’s quite pretty and I always let my stare linger whenever I see her around the school.

“So everyone’s here now?” Mr. Roman called to the group, his voice echoing in the empty hall.

“Yes,” the performers responded nervously.

“Excellent. Sawyer has a few things to say before you guys can start showing us your stuff.”

“Right,” Tom Sawyer continued. “So I know you’re all here to audition for my play and I thank you for it. This is, uh… this is an important project for me. My virginity depends on it.”

“Thomas!” Mr. Roman jibed sternly. Everyone snickered.

“No, it’s true,” Sawyer went on. “This girl, Diane, she said that-”

“Tom, that’s enough,” Mr. Roman said. “We all get how important the play is, so you better calm down before I call the whole thing off.”

“Sorry, Mr. Roman.”

“No problem. Right, folks?”

Still giggling, we all answered, “Yes.”

“Good. So you’ll all do your best, commit yourselves to your role, bla bla bla. Right?”

“Right,” the group replied in unison and Tom was relaxed back into his seat.

“Ok, everyone, I guess that means it’s time to get this show on the road. Who’d like to be first?” Mr. Roman defied us and for a moment there was silence. Nobody wanted to be first; judges were always most likely to dismiss the first auditions in fear of filling a role before discovering someone better for it.

Kelly Cohen stepped forward. “I’ll go first,” she said casually. Her voice was… well, I wanted to describe her voice now but find it too difficult. Her voice was beautiful.

Suffice it to say Kelly’s audition left more than a few mouths hanging open in awe. Ok, I’m exaggerating again but you get the picture. Her portrayal of Jane Parks, John Parks’ wife, struck the chord of perfection. Once more I find myself at a loss for words to describe her performance but it’ll probably be enough to say she got the part. Tom clapped. Mr. Roman smiled. The girls stomped their feet.

But Kelly looked at me. Why? At that moment I honestly could not understand why but now I know; she was most likely aware of the fact that I was going to audition for Mr. Parks’ role and both characters become involved in a very intimate situation at one point in the play; as intimate as a school play can get, I suppose. But they kiss.

At the rate my story is coming along I’m going to have to admit I actually had a crush of Kelly before this day. I just didn’t know it. I have to admit this to myself, and that maybe she knew about it. Maybe it was fate. Maybe, if I got Parks’ part, that kiss would begin our relationship.

Be that as it may, I stepped forward with renewed hope. “I’ll go next,” I announced bravely and, hands quivering, stepped onto the front of the stage. “I’m going for John Parks.”

“Very good,” Mr. Roman smiled. “Good luck, then.”

Kelly watched from the side. I’m not entirely sure if I blushed but it’s quite possible I did. When I began my voice was slightly shaky but soon found its pace. I implemented all the right pauses and I even waved my hands around a bit. Overall, my audition went pretty well, I believe.

“Well, Billy,” Mr. Roman stated at my monologue’s end. “That was very good.”

“Very good indeed,” Sawyer agreed. “I think we’ve got ourselves both leads already.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Certainly. Billy, you’ve got the part!”

I was tempted to throw a couple victory punches into the air but immediately decided against it. Instead, I thanked the judges and headed to the side. Kelly was waiting for me.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” I greeted her indifferently. “Excellent audition, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks. Yours was good too. I guess we’re in this together now, huh?” and her eyes betrayed her; Kelly was quite excited at this prospect.

“Yep. It’s gonna be cool,” I said calmly. “I mean, if you’re as good as you were last year, and the year before, it’s gonna be great.”

“You remember that?” she smiled feebly.

“Yeah. How couldn’t I?”

“Most girls are jealous. They always are, I suppose, but my popularity’s gone down somewhat after both those plays.”

Suddenly I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m weird, I know,” she went on. “But I don’t mind. I still have friends and I love acting so I’m happy in the end.”

“That’s, uh… that’s good. Most of my friends don’t get me and my acting either,” I said cheerfully. “But I’m ok with it. There’s always someone out there who appreciates what we do, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, brushing a stray lock of gold hair from her brow. “Like you.”

“What?”

“Like you. You appreciate what I do.”

“Oh,” I stuttered. “Y-yeah. I do.”

“Thanks,” she paused, as if debating whether to continue. “Why haven’t we spoken before? I knew you were going to audition today and was certain you’d get the part. Mark told me all about your little obsession.”

“Ah,” and now I did blush. “I just don’t like to waste an opportunity. Who knows if Spielberg’s in the crowd?”

“Spielberg’s old, Billy. How about being discovered by someone like Nick Callahan? Supposedly he’s the next big thing.”

“Oh, so you know about cinema too?” I replied smartly. “But yeah, Callahan’s a rising talent.”

“Sure is,” she surmised. “Anyway, we should be watching the auditions.”

“Right,” I said, but finding it hard to focus on them. Anyone would, after having just spoken with a smart, cute girl who actually likes speaking back to you. Kelly was different from what I had expected, but that’s actually a good thing. With her looks it’d be easy for her to be a nasty bitch. She’s not.

What happened next was unexpected, and what eventually lead both Kelly and I to the local ER. Kelly leaned forward a bit -

- Rest of paper unrecoverable






When Gail awoke in the dead of night, Billy Nilrem was nowhere to be found. The apartment was deserted.

“Billy?” Gail called pointlessly. “Billy? Damn. I didn’t ask where he lives.”

He sat on the bed and contemplated. How had he fallen asleep? Had Billy left safely? Gail wished there was more he could do to help the boy but there was now no way to do so. He had lost him.

“I’m sorry, Billy,” he said aloud. “Sorry I didn’t stay awake to talk. I could’ve gotten to know you better. Maybe you’ll be happier after you father dies, with no one to worry about besides yourself.”

And it struck him; was HE happier alone?

Suddenly the apartment was bathed in a sheet of light that instantly stung Gail’s vision and forced him to close his eyes. In a moment, it was gone. Gail was quick to scan the room but found nothing different to how it was before.

“What the…?” he muttered incredulously. “What happened? Is anyone there?”

And into Gail’s bedroom stepped the imperious Zulok Gant. His visage bore a grin.

“Zulok!?”

“Hello, Gail,” Zulok said, voice deep and raspy. “I trust you received word of my coming?”

Gail blinked. “Y-yes. I knew you were here, but… why?”

“We have little time, as is the trend for situations of this caliber. I shall be brief, Gail. Bear with me; there is trouble afoot.”

“Wait, I… I want to talk. Slowly,” Gail interrupted reluctantly. “Where have you been, what have you been doing since we separated?”

Zulok squinted. “We have no time for such trivial banter. You are coming with me, now.”

“Where to?”

But Zulok did not respond and, with a wave of his plain wooden staff, the room erupted once more in a fountain of light. Gail soon felt himself lifted from his bed and rise far above the apartment ceiling level, hefted by the atmosphere itself. And, as abruptly as this journey began, it was over.

They walked through time.

“So you’ve gained access to the corridor of time,” Gail noted.

“Indeed,” Zulok replied in his usual arrogant manner. “It happened not long ago, while exploring the north. My aim was to contact Alexander Welden.”

“Alexander Welden? The pioneer in time magic.”

“Correct. Good to see you’ve not forgotten your heritage.”

“I worked in a meat factory but that doesn’t mean I can’t still hold on to a few things.”

“So I found Alexander living with his young son in a snowy forest,” Zulok continued. “The cold air and natural weather were a pleasant change from the polluted cities.”

“I can imagine,” Gail said, trailing his finger on the thin line between him and the membrane of time. “I’m sick of it myself.”

“Naturally he was intrigued to meet me and we talked for long hours. At last I told him what I had come for; the secret spell. HIS secret spell.”

“The time corridor spell. Why did you want it?”

“I am Zulok Gant,” Zulok snorted.

“Come on…” Gail pressed. “There must have been another reason.”

Zulok appeared to smile, but only for an instant. “Yes. There was. I was… am, investigating something.”

“Investigating something? Look, Zulok, you can’t just pop into my apartment, quite literally out of nowhere, and expect me to follow you into the corridor of time without knowing what for,” Gail said. “Where are you taking me, anyway? Does this thing have a beginning and end?”

“Of course. Time started somewhere, sometime, and it will most surely reach an end.”

“Time will end?”

“When everything is no more, time will cease to exist.”

“By everything, you mean the world. Right?” Gail asked, hopelessly confused with Zulok’s rambling.

“No, I mean everything. The world is not everything, is it? Think, Gail, think,” Zulok scolded.

Gail sighed. “Forget it. So he taught you the spell. Then what?”

“I did some traveling and… the world is still in danger.”

“How? Wasn’t The End of the World enough?”

“The End of the World was not enough to satisfy Bergen’s lust for destruction,” Zulok uttered gravely. “He is still alive and currently in the process of-”

“It all comes back to Sydney, doesn’t it?” Gail stopped. Zulok was forced to stop also. “You haven’t given up on him, have you?”

“It is true, Gail. I went back and saw it. HE prepared the bombs, HE set it all up and yes, HE killed our world. Sydney is a monster.”

“But why?”

“I… I don’t know,” Zulok said, lowering his voice to a whisper now. “There is actually something quite frightening about what I am about to tell you next. While following Sydney, still before The End, he… I… there was no way he could see me but Sydney once said into thin air, “There’s no use. I already know about everything. Whatever happens my plan will always be carried out and Earth will die as many times necessary.” ”

Gail looked blank. “What?”

“At first I thought he was talking to himself. After all, Sydney Bergen IS a madman,” Zulok explained. “But after returning to our time I figured it out… he was talking to ME. Somehow he knew I was there. He was telling me that whatever plan I concoct with this new knowledge of the past would prove futile. I really don’t know how but… he won’t let me return and prevent The End of the World from happening. THIS was my ultimate goal.”

“And why can’t you do that?”

“Because he told me. His plan will always be carried out and the Earth will die as many times necessary. In other words, the Earth will die as many times I attempt to save it. And when I admit defeat… Sydney will rise.”

“But how can he say that?” Gail said. “Is it possible that he can… I dunno, see into the future?”

“Possible, yes. Sydney was always recognized as having a powerful mind.”

Gail stole a second to think alone. “And all this exploring… this is what you’ve been doing since you left me in Barasile?”

“Yes.”

“You left me there for a reason,” Gail observed. “You… I thought you had left me in view of our argument.”

“No, Gail,” Zulok said almost warmly. “I would never distrust you as my friend. These were things I simply had to do alone.”

And for that short moment, Gail was happy; that one statement was strangely comforting and a reminder of the Old World and his own old life. “So…” Gail started slowly. “What do you need me for? You’ve made it clear that Sydney cannot be stopped from blasting the world into damnation but…?”

“But? There is no but this time,” Zulok said, turning forward once more and regaining his onward trek. “And now the surprises begin. I have something against you, Gail.”

“Something against me?” Gail asked, struggling now to keep up with Zulok’s steady pace, light brown hair already matted with sweat.

“You don’t remember?” Zulok replied mockingly.

“No...” Gail confessed, truly ignorant as to why his former master had so quickly changed subject.

“Come... it happened during your training,” he hinted, his faded blue cloak rippling the walls of time. Zulok resembled, as always, a classical magician of old.

Gail attempted to recall anything that could have led Zulok to bear a grudge. “I… I can’t remember,” he said. “But why are you telling me this? Why tell me disturbing stories about Sydney Bergen and now threaten you’re mad at me for something I don’t even remember?”

“Did you not ask me about how I acquired the time corridor spell?”

“Yes,” Gail grunted, trailing beside the powerful magician.

“So I told you how I acquired the time corridor spell,” Zulok baited nastily, “and now am starting the main course. THIS is why I came to you, Gail.”

“But I can’t-"

“Is it possible for you to still believe I don’t know you stole my life orbs?”

Gail’s jaw dropped.

“But I do, and always have,” Zulok announced proudly. “Since way back, maybe a year or so before the nuclear breakout.”

“Oh I remember when it was... I just thought I’d been so careful, so methodical... when, how, did you find out?”

“The day after you stole them,” Zulok grinned, again in an irritatingly self-conscious way. “I decided to let it slip. After the breakout over half the world’s population had succumbed to the explosion and I was called to set about help reconstruct the world with magic.”

“But now, all these years later...” Gail muttered, shivering unconsciously. While still under Zulok’s care, Gail had broken into the master’s quarters, stolen the valuable life orbs and left as quickly as possible. Using the little magic he knew to cover his tracks had seemed enough for Zulok never to find out.

“Yes, all these years later, the world is finally gaining a new and ugly shape. I am here to do battle with you, Gail,” Zulok said, his grin fading.

“Battle?” Gail protested. “This is ridiculous. I- It’s obvious I stand no match against you, Master Zulok, I -”

“Enough,” Zulok cut him short. “I am ordering you to fight me to the death. If you refuse, I shall kill you now.”

Gail was momentarily dazed. “Zulok… why? Surely you are not still irked because of the life orbs.”

“Of course not, you fool,” Zulok cried. “But do you think I have anything to live for now I know my cause is lost!? Sydney has won, Gail, and I do not wish to be here when Hell rises to meet us.”

A pause.

“So you WILL fight me,” Zulok finished. “And one shall die. One shall be saved from eternal pain.”

“Zulok, you have become insane.”

“No, Gail, I have only become wise. My new intelligence allows me to prepare,” Zulok said in clear grief. “So I am granting myself an escape from the terror that is sure to befall this new world. If you kill me in our duel I will die happy and obviously content to avoid this upcoming terror. If YOU die… please be happy also for it is a gift I am providing.”

“Ok,” Gail said, thus accepting a challenge he knew he would not best. “But what the hell?” he thought. “Maybe Zulok’s right. Or maybe I have nothing to lose.”

“Good,” Zulok said. “And even if I do kill you… take solace in the fact that you DID steal my life orbs and deserve my revenge.”

“Very funny, Zulok.”

Several minutes later, Zulok stopped and, with a wave of his hand, produced a dozen magical panels that sprung up around the corridor; each revealed slowly panning pictures of random venues around the world. Gail noticed an Egyptian desert, a small sandy island and obviously deserted locales like these. Also among the selection were historical sites; the Taj-Mahal, the Eiffel Tower.

“Make your pick,” Zulok pronounced soberly.

“Of what?”

“Where we shall fight.”

Gail frowned and studied the panels. “These places… they’re in the past, right? I mean, most of this was destroyed in The End of the World.”

“Yes, they’re in the past.”

“Thought so,” Gail mumbled indistinctly. “Ok. The Great Wall. China.”

“Excellent choice,” Zulok said. The now familiar blast of light covered both him and Gail as it transported them expertly into the past. For a second Gail felt a terrible sense of desolation and doom, as if he had become lost in the tapestry of time. This feeling cleared after only a short moment but left Gail instantly afraid of becoming trapped in this tunnel of time and eager to arrive in China.

And then it was over.

Sun.

Sun surrounded all in a bubble of unexpected heat.

“What now?” Gail wheezed, squinting from the sudden transition. Having never been on the Great Wall, it was entirely easy to assess its magnificence. There were few people around; tourists, not many.

“Wait,” Zulok said, trailing into silence as he scanned the area. “You have picked well. Now, we are to choose weapons.”

“Weapons?” Gail was confused. “Aren’t we going to fight with magic?”

“That would be unfair since I am the greatest magician alive,” Zulok snorted. “Do you have any preferences? I have the list here,” Zulok searched in his robes for a small, crumpled piece of paper. Gail read the list.

“For how long have you been planning this...?” he muttered, picking out an ideal arsenal.

“A couple years... anyway, 4 weapons, choose only 4 weapons,” Zulok warned, and waited for Gail to finish his selection. The bright blue sky rolled on tranquil overhead.

“Ok, I’m done,” Gail said.

And all of a sudden an M16 rifle, a .45 handgun, a set of two short daggers and a long steel sword sprung from nowhere and landed neatly in front of him on the Wall’s rocky surface. At the sight of these weapons the closest tourists started to grow noticeably edgy. Everyone began moving away from the odd duo.

“Wise choices, Gail, wise choices... if you kill me I shall at least know your training was fortunate,” Zulok droned as Gail equipped his weapons.

To Gail’s relief the guns came with holsters so he fastened the .45 around his waist and the M16 vertically across his back. The sword came in a scabbard so he attached it to his waist. He stored each dagger in opposite boots.

“On the count of 3?” Zulok said, already fully armed. At this point, the section of wall they were standing on was completely bare; people were grouping on either side and on closer segments. Some had chosen to hide in small towers lining the Wall, marking its breaches, waiting for something to happen.

“On the count of 3,” Gail confirmed. He could make out a pack of grenades drooping from Zulok’s waist plus a shiny metal sword like his. Zulok was holding, in his right hand, a wideshot shotgun and an HK-5, standard issue, in his left. Heavy weaponry, Gail noted wryly. Why had he chosen daggers instead of a missile-launcher?

Before he knew it, Zulok screeched, “3!” and it began.

Like lightning, Zulok fired the HK-5. Those crouching or standing behind Gail were forced back in a screaming crowd. Many were hit and fell in bloody fits.

Gail, however, swift as a fox, somersaulted backwards and unsheathed his sword in the process of falling back to his feet. Spinning the blade into a flurry of steel he blocked the oncoming shots with relative ease.

Eventually, when his weapon began clicking annoyingly instead of shooting, Zulok stopped to reload. Gail, having successfully blocked all Zulok’s shots, seized the moment and replaced his sword for the handgun. Judging carefully, aiming quickly and quietly, he fired one shot. It would have been a simple affair to aim for Zulok’s head or chest, but Zulok was aware of this. Instead, Gail shot his HK-5. The gun jumped in a short, concentrated blast.

“Damn,” Zulok barked, discarding the now useless weapon.

“I see you’ve lost something,” Gail teased, out of breath. This quip was as much a wisecrack as an opportunity to rest. Gail had not participated in a battle of this level since his training exams 13 years ago. His muscles were tired and rusty. His lungs straining. His vision hazy. This would be a hard, bloody and honest battle.

“I’ve still the rest of my collection,” Zulok grinned slyly and fired a round off his shotgun. It pierced the air but missed its target. Gail rolled over the hard stone and dodged the shot in lieu of hitting the Wall’s side and becoming temporarily dazed. At that crucial instant Zulok could have killed him had he been holding a different weapon. But no; being too busy reloading the shotgun, Zulok failed even to notice Gail was off his guard.

Gail fired the handgun once more. At incredible speed, Zulok curved himself sideways so the bullet squarely hit the scabbard of his dangling sword. It had been a worthy shot, capable of rendering Zulok unable to move had it been successful; Gail had aimed for the leg. Anyhow, Zulok was now ready to fire his shotgun.

Finding himself still on the ground, Gail felt a sharp trickle of sweat run down his forehead in the second before Zulok fired. Reacting as best he could Gail drew the .45 and arched it as he shot. The maneuver was successful and his own bullet intercepted Zulok’s in mid-air.

There was a small explosion.

Gail turned and ran for the tower behind him. He noticed now there were still people hiding inside it, determined to watch their strange conflict. Some were wounded from Zulok’s initial HK-5 sweep, but most were viewers.

Gail took a second to catch up on Zulok’s next move; he was preparing a grenade to throw at the tower.

“Everybody out! OUT!” Gail hollered as he reached the tower. The viewers suddenly realized the danger that soon approached and dutifully cleared the area.

Gail turned in time to watch Zulok hurl the grenade. At the exact moment he threw it, Gail crouched low and fired his handgun. For the second time his shot found its mark and pierced Zulok’s left leg while vulnerable after throwing the grenade. Blood sprayed and stained the ground.

Now, Gail had approximately 2 seconds to get clear of the grenades near vicinity. A tangled mud of running ensued. Not fast enough. The sudden explosion ripped the tower into a dazzling fireworks of stone and rock. Gail was violently thrown forward, hitting the ground hard with his face and almost losing consciousness.

He fought the blackness with all his strength. He could not lose consciousness. He would die if he did. Black. Surrounding. Black. No. He fought. The impact pressed forth. His brain insisted on shutting down. He would faint and Zulok would kill him. Black.

There was only one thing he could do and he did it; Gail shot himself.

In the foot.

Pain ran up his leg and up his body. Instantly he was awakened from the surrounding blackness. Hastily returning to his feet he watched Zulok approach in mild shock. Still weak from the fall, Gail grabbed his sword and swung it forward.

“Take th-”

But Zulok unleashed his own sword and blocked Gail’s move. Both blades chimed together and the fighters were covered in a shower of sparks. Gail pressed downwards as he got up and Zulok’s sword was forced to the ground. He brought it up in a quick, violent blow but Gail swerved narrowly out of the sword’s merciless path. His move next - Gail brought his sword up, then down. Zulok knocked it to the side. Frail from the numbing, throbbing pain in his foot Gail almost went with it.

“Ha!” Zulok laughed triumphantly as he reared his sword to perform the kill.

Gail, however, was still thinking; he moved purposefully with the arc of his own sword as it circled a full 360? and sent it cruising into Zulok’s head.

Almost. Zulok ducked and knocked Gail off his feet with a swift kick of his good leg. Gail fell, again, and hit the ground.

“Now... it is time to die,” Zulok grunted, bringing his sword down in hope of spearing Gail’s heart with it. Nevertheless, Gail was just able to roll safely out of harm’s way. He maintained the roll for a second then jumped up and ran in the opposite direction of Zulok’s position. When satisfied with the length between them, he turned and drew his daggers.

“Let’s see how you do now,” he said, smiling a bloody smile.

Summoning all his reflexes and skill, Gail hurled the first dagger at Zulok’s face. Not a second later he threw the second at his right leg. While Zulok knocked away the first he failed to notice the second. The short blade tore into his flesh and Zulok fell.

“Oh,” Zulok gasped, a slick calm eternally burnt into his eyes and voice. Gail cocked his M-16 and steadied his trembling grip.

“Pray,” Gail said. “Now.”

The bullets were quick and lethal. Zulok blocked most but some hit the grenade pack he still wore around his waist. He was granted not even a second to scream or attempt an escape. As the remaining grenades exploded a ball of fire erupted mercilessly around him.

Gail approached the burning heap and bitterly tasted the ashes of Zulok’s burnt skin. He had defeated the world’s most renowned and powerful sorcerer, his mentor, on hard stone.


To be continued...