Amalgamation

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

His arms swinging wildly through the air, Beams grabbed a handhold in the cliff face and came to an abrupt halt. His shoulder burned under the stress, at least until he found another handhold and a foothold for him to put his feet. Even then, he still clutched tightly against the frozen rock, shivering violently under the powerful gust of icy cold wind that blew through at that moment.

Above, Beams could hear the howling cries of whatever had just attacked him and his friends. He heard more screams and cries, followed by what sounded like Mr. Space’s sound blaster going off and what might have been Shade’s shadow blades cutting through flesh. But between the howling wind and the war cries coming from everywhere at once, Beams couldn’t hear much else. He could barely even hear his own thoughts. He just clutched to the cliff face, trying his best not to look down, because he knew that if he did, he would let go and plunge to his death. He couldn’t even move, not daring to climb upward in case he let go and fell.

This sucks, Beams thought. I hope Space and Shade defeat whatever is attacking us because there’s no way I can help.

But then, as abruptly as they came, the war cries suddenly ceased. The only noise Beams could hear now, aside from the chattering of his teeth, was the howling wind as it cut through the city and the abandoned buildings within.

“Space?” Beams shouted, trying to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. “Shade? Are you guys there? Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?”

No response, but Beams wasn’t sure if they simply couldn’t hear him over the wind or if they were dead. He didn’t like to think that they were dead, but it was a very real possibility and Rubberman had always taught him that it was better to consider the worst possibility rather than deny it and hope it went away.

All of a sudden, a rope fell down the side of the cliff and landed beside him. Beams looked up again, but he couldn’t see who had thrown it.

“Space? Shade?” Beams called. “Is that you guys?”

Again, no response. That set off alarms in Beams’ head, but it wasn’t like he was in any position to ignore the rope. He didn’t trust his grip on the cliff would hold if he tried going up or down, especially in this weather. Indeed, his grip was already starting to slip and if he fell, he knew he would die.

Taking a deep breath, Beams grabbed the rope. As soon as he got a firm grip on it, Beams was hoisted up. Whoever was pulling the rope must have been very strong, because they pulled Beams up like he weighed nothing at all. In seconds, Beams was back up on the cliff. He let go of the rope and scrambled to his feet, energy blazing in his eyes as he prepared to unleash a laser at his attackers.

But he hesitated when he saw the person standing before him. The person standing before him looked like a very thin, hunchbacked old person, wearing a black, tattered robe that hid his entire body, including his eyes. The old man leaned on an ancient wooden staff, his tattered robe billowing in the wind. Despite how thin and ratty the robe looked, the figure did not seem even remotely cold, because he stood perfectly still like a statue.

Beams blinked. He looked around, but with the storm raging around them, he couldn’t see very far in any direction.

No way this guy took out Shade and Space by himself, Beams thought. … Right?

Keeping a careful eye on the old man, Beams said, “What did you do with my friends? And who are you?”

The old man didn’t move as he spoke. “I would have asked the same question of you, stranger, for you have invaded our territory, the first invaders we have faced in many years.”

The old man’s voice was heavy and deep. It was also somewhat hypnotic, making Beams want to yawn, but he suppressed it because the last thing he needed was to fall asleep in this blizzard in front of a man he wasn’t sure he could trust.

“We’re not invading anything,” said Beams. “We didn’t even know there were people here. We thought the Lost City was abandoned.”

“Lost City?” the old man repeated indignantly. “What an awful name. Its true name is Ariopolis, named in honor of Arius the God Slayer himself.”

Beams’ eyes widened. Arius was his ancestor, the man who originally killed the Dread God in the first place. He hadn’t known, however, that the Lost City was named after him. “You mean people live there?”

“Since the beginning of history, and before that,” said the old man. He suddenly pointed his staff at Beams in a strangely smooth motion. “Defending it from invaders, protecting it from evil, and making it a hostile place to foreigners like you. That is the way of the people of Ariopolis.”

Beams’ hands balled into fists. “Listen, old man, I don’t have time to play with you. Give me back my friends and I won’t hurt you.”

The old man suddenly chuckled. “Ah, so I see that you really don’t understand just how outnumbered you really are. Observe.”

The old man waved his staff like a conductor’s baton. Without warning, the blizzard suddenly vanished, and as the snow went away, Beams saw exactly what the old man meant.

Standing behind the old man were a dozen big, strong burly men wearing strange-looking winter coats. The men all wore face-obscuring hoods, just like the old man, and like the old man, their tattered coats did not seem to provide adequate protection from the cold, though none of them shivered or seemed even remotely cold. Beams might have mistaken them for a pack of grizzly bears because of the size and furriness of their coats. They certainly looked as strong as grizzlies, that was for sure.

But what really caught Beams’ attention was the fact that these men held Mr. Space and Shade captive. Mr. Space lay flat on the snow, clearly unconscious from some kind of devastating blow to the head, while Shade was on her knees, her arms twisted behind her back and a bone knife held to her throat in such a way that if she tried to escape she’d just slit her own throat and kill herself. Shade’s mask hid her expression, but Beams could tell based on her body language alone that she was tense and afraid.

“You may try to attack me,” said the old man softly. “Lord knows I have lived many years already. It would be a fitting end for a protector such as myself to die defending the city I love. But would you be willing to sacrifice your own friends in the process?”

Beams gritted his teeth. However primitive the equipment and clothing of these people were, it was obvious they were far craftier and cleverer than they let on. Beams made a mental note to avoid underestimating these people in the future, assuming he survived long enough to have more encounters with them, which was looking less and less likely every second.

“Fine,” said Beams, lowering his hands. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” said the old man shortly. “You are invaders. All invaders are to be killed immediately. We have only spared you and your friends because we find your presence curious, for it has been several years since the last invaders attacked our city, though we remember very well what we did to them back then.”

“Ripped out their throats,” one of the tribesmen suddenly spoke. He grinned, his hood briefly revealing a mouth full of white, sharpened teeth. “Dumped their bodies over the edge. Ignored their cries for mercy.”

Beams glanced over his shoulder instinctively. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that the rocks at the bottom of the cliff might have actually been a pile of human bones, long grayed from exposure to the elements. A chill went up his spine that had nothing to do with the freezing Antarctic air.

Looking at the tribesmen again, Beams said, “We’re not invaders. Like I said, we didn’t even know there were people still living in Ariopolis.”

“Then why did you come?” said the old man. “Were you a thief like the last invaders, who broke into the heart of the city to steal the Dread God’s brain? Or are you simply treasure hunters seeking to make yourselves rich off our fabulous treasure?”

“We’re not thieves,” said Beams. “We’re here for the God Slayer.”

A harsh silence fell over the tribesmen briefly before they suddenly exploded into a flurry of whispers and mutterings. Beams couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he understood it had something to do with what he just said regarding the God Slayer.

The old man in the front looked like he was about to fall down from the shock, but he remained standing, clutching his staff with both hands like it was his only lifeline. “The God Slayer? Why do you seek that weapon?”

“Because the Dread God has returned,” said Beams. “And the only way my friends and I can kill him again is if we get the God Slayer.”

The whispers and mutterings from the tribesmen became even more hurried now, with a hint of fear, but the old man waved his staff and the tribesmen suddenly went silent.

Lowering his staff, the old man said, “I thought I sensed something like that, but … I did not think it had actually happened. It would explain … much.”

Beams’ eyes narrowed. The old man was clearly implying that things had been happening around the city which he could not explain. That was an opening Beams could use to save him and his friends.

“Yeah,” said Beams, nodding. “So if you could just give me and my friends the God Slayer, then we could use it to kill him again before he comes back to Earth and kills us all.”

“Why should we entrust the most valuable object in the city—which generations of our forefathers have lived and died to protect—to strangers like you?” said the old man. “How do we know you won’t simply take the God Slayer away and sell it for money?”

Beams hesitated. He wasn’t sure if this was information he should share—he hadn’t even told his friends about it—but he saw that he had no choice, especially if he was going to save Shade and Mr. Space.

“Because I’m a son of Arius,” said Beams. “And I’ve come to reclaim what is rightfully mine.”

Shocked silence descended on the tribesmen. Even Shade seemed shocked by this announcement from Beams. But Beams did not take it back. He just stood very still, showing no weakness or fear, because he believed that if this didn’t work, then he and his friends would be executed like past invaders had been.

“Impossible,” said one of the tribesmen suddenly. “You cannot be a son of Arius. Arius has no children outside of Ariopolis. You lie.”

But the old man raised his staff again. “Not necessarily, Joga. Legend says that Arius left Ariopolis many times after defeating the Dread God, traveling the world and romancing foreign women wherever he went. It is possible that this boy may indeed be a distant descendant of Arius.”

Beams could hardly believe his luck. “So are you going to let me and my friends go?”

The old man shook his head sharply. “Of course not. Anyone can claim to be a son of Arius. Few, however, can prove it. And even fewer can prove that they are worthy of wielding the God Slayer.”

“How can I prove my claims, then?” said Beams. “Is there anything I can do to show to you guys that I am not lying?”

“There is, yes,” said the old man. “We have methods, passed down from Arius himself to our current generation, to determine whether a person is indeed a son of Arius or if they are worthy of wielding the God Slayer.”

“Aren’t those statements the same, though?” said Beams.

“Not necessarily,” said the old man. “Not all of Arius’ sons have been worthy of wielding the God Slayer, nor have all wielders of the God Slayer been of Arius’ blood. You may be one or the other, but not necessarily both.”

Beams bit his lower lip. “What are you going to do, then? Kill us anyway?”

The old man shook his head again. “No. I will bring you before the Elders to prove your parentage. Once we can establish your ancestry … then we will decide what to do with you. In the meantime, we will keep you and your friends alive, but you will be our prisoners. And if any of you attempt to escape, then we will be forced to kill all three of you. Understood?”

Beams knew better than to question this man’s words. He could tell, even without being able to see the old man’s face, that he was one hundred percent serious about killing Beams and his friends if they tried to escape. He had a feeling that the old man would do it even if Beams turned out to be both a son of Arius and worthy of wielding the God Slayer. Such seriousness would have scared Beams a while ago, but he found himself respecting it more than anything because it meant that this man was honest about wanting to protect his people.

“Understood,” said Beams.

“Good,” said the old man. “Then come with us down to the city, where the Elders are. There, we will determine not only your ancestry but also your ultimate fate.”