The Power Array Saga - Season Two - Part XIII

Part XIII – Momma’s Boy

“I told you that we should have aborted this one as a fetus,” said the sun elf king, Telemachus Avery the third; the king of the sun elves was tall and thin with fierce purple eyes.  

                “Father please!” shouted Princess Clairal. “He’s still my son no matter what you may think of his father.” She stepped forward, walking leisurely towards her only child and next in line to inherit the sun elf throne.

                Momotaru averted his eyes, head hanging down as Princess Clairal stood in front of him. His mother reached out a gentle hand, cupping his chin within her delicate caramel fingers. She raised his head, chin facing skyward. She looked up into his eyes with a smile on her face.

                “Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are my son,” said Princess Clairal. “Your grandfather has been on Threa for a very long time and has become stuck in his old way of thinking but the world is changing and with royal blood coursing through your veins, you’ll be the herald of what’s to come. This may be the last time that I ever lay my eyes on you again while you still breathe. Although you will live much longer than normal humans, you will still not live as long as me.”

                “W-what are you saying?” asked Momotaru with a furrowed brow. His dark eyes connected with the dark green orbs of his mother.

                “Enough of this nonsense,” interrupted King Avery. “What my daughter is saying is that this half bred bastard will no longer be allowed to step foot in my city or anywhere near the United Elven Kingdom.”

                “H-how is that possible?” asked Momotaru. “I am an elf!”

                “Not any longer half breed,” said the sun elf king. “The ruling council has decided to expel you from our beautiful lands for the rest of your natural existence. For the remaining hundred or so years of your worthless life, you will spend that time away from true elves.”

                “M-mother,” said Momotaru with eyes wide and a glistening of water welling upwards. “This can’t be.”

                “I’m sorry my son,” said Princess Clairal. She reached out to gingerly rub her sons strong, broad shoulders.

                “I d-don’t understand,” said Momotaru. “How could you do something like this grandfather?”

                “Don’t you dare call me that,” said King Avery. “I have no grandchildren.” The sun elf king folded his arms across his chest and turned his back. He strode up the steps of the palatial mansion. “Come, my queen… daughter, your goodbyes are finished.”

                In a sudden defiant gesture, the sun elf queen, Visala Avery strode down the steps to stand in front of her grandson. “There was nothing to be done about it my boy,” said Queen Avery. “Me and your mother did everything in our power to lessen the severity of your punishment. My husband’s advisors would see you beheaded but thanks to your mother, you and your companions are only exiled.” The queen reached a hand out to gently brush Momotaru’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, my boy and may the sun god watch over you on your journey through life and remember that we sun elves receive our power from the sun so anytime it shines down on you, know that your ancestors are watching over you and protecting you.” With regret filled eyes she turned and marched up the steps to stand beside her husband.

                “Clairal!” shouted the sun elf king. “Come along.”

                The sun elf princess turned her head sharply to glare at her father. She turned back to regard her son and the anger in her eyes melted away as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. She embraced her son in a tight hug.

                What they did not see was the discreet nod that the sun elf king gave the police officers standing not too far off. Major Rufap and Sergeant Hoplow forcefully and callously separated the mother and son pair as if he were being ripped from her womb for a second time.

                “This isn’t the outcome that I would have liked but it will do,” said Sergeant Hoplow wearing a menacing grin.

                Once Momotaru was restrained with magical handcuffs securing his hands behind his back, the two officers proceeded to secure Arif Zahur and Iris Longwing.

                As Sergeant Hoplow secured the hands of Zahur with her purple, disheveled hair hanging over her face and her head hanging low in defeat, Major Rufap approached the Butterfly Samurai with a wry grin.

                “Come on, Iris, you too,” said Major Rufap.

                “This was never a part of the deal that we made,” said Iris.

                “Well, just to be clear,” said Major Rufap. “You were never included in the deal that banished the princesses’ son. You’re wanted for the murder of the private investigator where we caught you red handed ransacking his home; there was no way that you were going to get out of this charge even if you did help us to track down Momotaru.”

                “What!” shouted Iris in shock.

                The two officers laughed aloud. When Major Rufap approached casually, she was caught off guard when the Butterfly Samurai dropped a smoke bomb that obscured her location in a dense cloud of smoke. Major Rufap ran forward, hands swinging through the cloud of thick smoke with her las-gun out. When the smoke cleared, Iris Longwing had vanished.

Part IV – The Peach and the Butterfly

The Power Array Saga

Tales of the Sword and the Peach

            Escaping the floating elven city had been easy but trying to flee the main land of the United Elven Kingdom was another issue entirely since all ports were under heavy guard. The best bet to escape U.E.K would be to travel from the main city of Aver and go to the second largest city in the region, Duke which sat to the North West. From Duke they could hop on a ship and travel along the Amis River which fed into the North Mizuki Ocean.

Arif Zahur needed to find a branch of the Alchemist Guild and the closest one was located in Duke. They were chased out of the last small town they stopped in to refill water bottles. After almost missing the Electro-Mag-Lift High Speed Train, Arif assured Momotaru the tracking spell long ago placed on one of the Alchemist Guild’s members was getting stronger as they sped towards Duke.

These were reassurances Momotaru long ago stopped relying on.

Traveling for another few hours, they exited the EML train. The pair gradually made their way up a steadily inclining hill forming a plateau. Once they reached the top and the terrain flattened out, Zahur practically jumped with joy. A three story dome shaped building with dark, hollow windows was set against the horizon surrounded by a barren landscape as if it were the last egg in the carton. This was a typical Alchemist Guild building. They were currently on the outskirts of Duke, only a few kilometers from the main city center.

“Once inside let me do all the talking,” said Zahur, picking up his pace. “They should remember me despite…,”

Momotaru swiftly clapped his hand over Zahur’s mouth to silence his chatty little friend. He rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw the weapon at a moment’s notice. With his warrior senses attuned to the energy vibrations of his surroundings and despite these alchemists having the reputation of hermits, he knew something was out of place; it was quiet, too quiet. Momotaru led the way through the abandoned complex.

The first floor had several rooms with discarded items dropped haphazardly; Bunsen burners smashed to bits, glass beakers broken, chairs overturned. After briefly searching the first and second floor in silence, they ascended the spiral stairwell located in the center of the complex. On the top floor of the building, the ceiling was caved in. At the back of the room they saw the person responsible for the deserted complex. The culprit sat with her back to the staircase, staring out the collapsed hole in the building at the light blue sky and white clouds in the distance. Momotaru gritted his teeth in recognition of the long crimson hair tied into a pony tail, falling past her shoulder blades. The left side of her kimono hung loose down her back showing her signature tattoo of a large butterfly.

Iris Longwing stood slowly, using her sword to support her weight. Standing amongst the rubble that she had caused which lay at her feet along with dead alchemist. Iris turned around slow and deliberate, face an unreadable mask with eyes hidden behind dark shades.

“It is so very good to see you again Momo,” said Iris in her slow and seductive southern drawl. “Judging by the half-finished enchant on your lovely sword you probably figured these here alchemist could give you the missing ingredients to finish it, hmmm.” She wore a small, devious smile.

Momotaru instinctively tightened the grip on his sword handle and ground his teeth in aggravation.

“How can you see my enchantment?” asked Arif Zahur in shocked tones. “The only way to see that is with the Arco Eyes? How did you obtain those?”

Iris laughed to herself and removed her sunglasses. Revealing her new Arco Eyes where the pupil continuously changed between every color in the rainbow at random intervals.

Arif Zahur also knew the disadvantages of having those eyes. Tiny dark lines continuously exited her pupils and spread across the yellowish-white of her iris before disappearing into her body. The Arco Eyes provided the user with great advantages but would cause the white of her iris to slowly turn a dark yellow until becoming completely black and render its owner blind.

The consistently changing colorful liquid pools that stared into Momotaru’s soul seemed to read the messages contained in his heart. He gradually pulled his blade from its scabbard, exposing a meter of razor sharp, black adamantite.

Iris Longwing replaced her glasses and threw back her head laughing. “Oh, come on now Momo, sweety,” said Iris seductively licking her plump lips. “Is that any way to treat an old friend that you have not seen in ages?”

“Now that I know what is underneath those glasses I will surely finish the job and cut you down this time,” said Momotaru. “What are you doing here?”

“There is no need to bring up our last encounter,” said Iris. “I was hired to track you down but we can talk business later. I prefer to think of the good old days when we longed for each other at every waking moment and snuck away from sensei’s dojo to steal kisses.” Iris gave him a wink and a giggle. “Rumor has it you obtained The Void. I always knew you had it in you sweety.” She clapped, slow and sarcastic.

“Call me that again and I will cut those pretty new eyes from your skull,” said Momotaru.

“Oh, come now, you could never harm little ol’ me,” said Iris securing her weapon across her back.

“The Arco Eyes will kill you eventually. You must know that,” said Arif Zahur. “I can save you from them. I can help you if you help us with something.”

“Who says I need to be saved,” said Iris, words filled with scorn. “I am getting sick of your little friend Momo. You better shut him up before I cut out his tongue.” A deep scowl creased her lightly tanned face. She pulled her broadsword that was strapped across the small of her back and walked forward menacingly. The unique blade had a curved sharpened edge with ancient, mystic runes carved into the blunt edge of the metal.

Zahur found himself giving ground under the intense stare of Iris Longwing. He could recognize some of the runes on the blade and understand that the weapon was infused with magic properties.

Momotaru reacted quickly and sprang into action. He rushed forward to meet his adversary before she could perform any tricks and put her blade through the annoying little mage’s belly. Momotaru could not afford to let his personal enchanter be skewered. For the countless time, he and Iris let their blades do the talking. His weapon became a blur of light blue and silver as it spun in his hand, glowing and pulsating while reacting to the vibes of its handler. He hacked and slashed at his old nemesis. Yet every slash and cut was blocked or parried. The two dualist speed and style meshed into a deadly waltz of action and reaction, their blades provided the chorus. Momotaru, to his utter surprise, began to give ground. He could tell that the new Arco Eyes were beginning to guide Iris’ wild and unpredictable movements, keeping Momotaru off balance.

The Arco Eyes directed Iris’ blade in combinations almost inhuman.

Momotaru was backed into a corner, blocking at a furious pace. He had no choice; it was either: lose to his oldest adversary or to lose himself in The Void. He chose The Void. His eyes rolled to the back of his head; the all-white of his iris turned pitch black. He let The Void take him and guide his movements. Momotaru was now on auto-pilot, letting his instincts guide his hand. He let himself lose control, let The Void take over and where his mind went, scared even him.  

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Part II – The Peach and the Mage

The Power Array Saga

Tales of the Sword and the Peach

A dragon flew through the air. Momotaru lifted his head to the heavens hearing the shrill cry and caught a glance of the large flying reptile. He sat low on the brown horse galloping down London Street. Faces dashed by at a blur. Coming up in a few blocks was the popular, 21 Jump Street - nick named because of the youths standing on the corner dancing to music blaring from a portable stereo with large, square speakers.  

Several blocks down the street, a youth dressed in a dark blue robe with a large hood barreled around the corner. The blue cloaked youth slammed into one of the dancing performers. Colliding bodies collapsed to the cardboard spread across the cement sidewalk. Taller men with dark grey hoods covering their face in deep shadows floated after the blue cloaked youth who wore a piece of string as a belt. The grey hooded mage in front of the group raised his hand and the blue cloaked youth rose into the air as if picked up by an invisible hand.

Momotaru’s hand went to his sword, reacting on instinct. He paused, how could he fight magic, thought Momotaru. He could not forget the group of thugs hot on his trail.

One of the mages in the group whispered on the edge of hearing and they turned to walk away. The blue cloaked youth screamed out for help, hood falling away. He struggled against the invisible, magic bounds that held him aloft. Short, spiky, purple hair and large dark eyes met with Momotaru’s.

Momotaru rode past, ignoring the pleas for help. He was no hero; this business was none of his. It pained him to turn his eyes away and focus on steering his horse through the crowded streets.

The boy would surely be killed.

One of the young street performers that was knocked over by the blue hooded mage, stood and shouted to the retreating grey cloaks. A blood curdling scream followed. Momotaru looked over his shoulder to witness bodies exploding. The last young dancer stood shaking in his boots, pants reeking of feces, too stunned to move. The lead mage lifted his hand while his comrades wore a callous grin.

Against his better judgment, Momotaru found himself wheeling his horse around, the beast sneering and whinnying in protest at the abrupt change in direction. He wove between the pursuing street thugs sitting atop their tiger mounts. They swung at him with lazy sword thrust and rusted daggers that he deflected easily with his forty inch, pitch black, adamantite, straight blade. Momotaru swept past the mage, close enough to send his cloak billowing out in ruffles.   

The mage standing on the corner tried to cast a spell and destroy the last youth of the 21 Jump Street dancers. The mage tried to wiggle his fingers and cast a spell yet to his surprise, there was no response. His face held a questioning expression wondering why the young man was still alive. The mage looked down and realized his hand was no longer attached to his wrist; it lay lifeless on the dirt road.

Sending the horse careening off alone, Momotaru flipped off the back of the steed to land nimbly on his feet, sword poised defensively in front of him.

Mages pulled out daggers and sinuous Kris; meager weapons used for rituals that would prove futile. They rushed forward, shouting and casting arcane bolts that lit up the street with white lightening. Bystanders that had not fled the scene already stampeded away from the powerful combatants, turning the busy London Street into a ghost town.

Flipping through the air to avoid streaks of lightening, Momotaru cut his way through the first few mages in order to get the ones in back forming a summoning circle. Purple light glowed around the remaining mages who formed a triangle. A dark whole in the ground grew darker. A shadow crept towards the opening, accompanied by hellish sounds from the underworld. Before the mages could finish, one mage lost an arm and screamed before the sword plunged into his throat. The other mage broke into a mad dash but fell to his knees, only to look down at twenty centimeters of cold, dark steel protruding through his chest. Momotaru yanked the sword back on a thin string hidden in the hilt of the weapon. He let the last mage run.

The grey hooded man almost made it around the corner before a lance of white hot energy struck the retreating mage in the back. Following the line of the long, thin energy of light, Momotaru watched the energy beam dissipate from the outstretched palm of the young man with spiky purple hair. The young mage wore a coy smile and shrugged his shoulders.

            The tiger riding gang members watched the fight scene play out. Each of them looked to their leader for an idea of what to do next. They had no choice but to throw angry glances over their shoulder and follow when the leader galloped away in the opposite direction.

Momotaru put his green, conical hat back on his head that had fallen during the fighting. He stepped over the bloody mess. The one remaining dancing boy stood watching, shocked and silent until Momotaru lit a cigar. The young dancer collapsed among the dead, unconscious.

            The spikey haired mage ran to Momotaru, “My life is in your hands, kind swordsman.” The olive skinned youth with dingy purple hair wore a bright smile.

Momotaru looked at him, blew out a puff of smoke and continued walking.

The mage had no choice but to follow behind Thame. They walked along silently for many blocks. Finally he asked, “Are you heading out of town?”

“Shower,” replied Momotaru.

“They will come for you,” said the young mage, moving his legs fast to keep up with Momotaru’s long strides. His dingy, thick, cotton robe whooshed softly as the mage pumped his arms, trying to keep pace.

“They won’t be the first or the last,” said Momotaru. “Whoever they are.”

The olive toned, baby faced mage paused for a moment, thoughtful expression before changing subjects. “Your sword.”

It sounded like it was more of a question yet Momotaru remained silent.

“If you help me take down the Mage Monolith I will enchant your sword,” said the purple haired youth. “They will come for you…, the mages. There is no doubt about it, when those Adept mages don’t come back they will scry the truth…,” he paused, licking his pink lips. “But if you help me to strike first and return to the Mage Monolith in order to gain the Knowledge Transfer spell; it will be worth your while.”

“Not interested,” responded Momotaru turning down an alley, trying to get away from the annoying young mage.

The purple haired mage scampered around to stand in front of Momotaru. He stopped with arms outstretched.

Coming to a halt, frustrated, Momotaru stared down at the stubborn child in front of him with a threatening gaze. The luck of the Gods was with Momotaru this day. He caught the reflection of two elven swordsmen in the young mage’s dark eyes. Like a ray of light, Momotaru turned and slashed through the lead swordsman. The other could not get his guard up in time as Momotaru sliced an X across his back that sheered through ribs, and backbone.

The dead swordsman hit the side of a building and slid to the ground. The Aver City Guards badge clanged to the floor.

The young mage voiced Momotaru’s thoughts, “You have to leave the city now.”

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