Scattered Ashes - Being the Second Installment in the MMOS KOTOS Series

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   <default>Scattered Ashes - Being the Second Installment in the MMOS KOTOS Series</default>
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</image> <label>Posted On</label> <label>Author</label> <label>You can also find this here</label> <group collapse="open"> <header>Order</header> <label>Previous Suggested Story (Manuscript)</label> <label>Previous Suggested Story</label> <label>Next Suggested Story</label> <label>Next Suggested Story (Manuscript)</label> <label>Chronologically Previous Story (Manuscript)</label> <label>Chronologically Previous Story</label> <label>Chronologically Next Story</label> <label>Chronologically Next Story (Manuscript</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>Series</header> <label>Series</label> <label>Previous</label> <label>Next</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>About the Manuscript</header> <label>Type of Story</label> <label>Canon Status</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>About the Story</header> <label>Date</label> <label>Location(s)</label> <label>Characters</label> </group> </infobox>

PROLOGUE

The morning air was still and silent. Tense, as if it too had rested during the night and was bristling with renewed energy. Gentle breezes strew the dew-dampened grass around, rising mist into the still air, creating a very peaceful scene.

The silence was torn in half by a gut-wrenching scream; a yell that splintered the peacefulness into slivers so small you couldn’t remember it ever even existed. Small animals scurried in a frantic haste away from the source of the shriek, where a minifigure crumpled to the ground, a dagger in his gut.

The minifigure’s vision was blurry and steadily getting worse. A combination of old battle scars and equally old age had dimmed his strength, and he happily welcomed the strange comfort of the stationary ground, which seemed to call to him, saying “here I am. Lie on me.”

A boot in the jaw snapped him back to reality, and he looked shakily up at the monster that had stabbed him. Even through his rapidly destabilizing vision, he could still tell who it was.

“Monster,” he spat at his stabber.

“no im not monster i just think this is nothin to do with lu,” he replied. “butt who is u.”

The cowering minifigure gave a proud smile. “Sir Legoboy, a Knight of the Olde Speech.”

“dat what i thot,” he smirked. “i finally found u.”

Sir Legoboy looked up at the evil face of thedude7500, the tyrant Dark Mythran who had destroyed the Knights of the Olde Speech and single-handedly conquered the free world.

“i no think u was still live,” said thedude. “but a nite i captured told me u still have meh grammer sword.”

Legoboy grit his teeth. “I never had your Grammar Sword. Never even heard of it.”

“pleeze dont insult meh intelligecne,” laughed thedude. “i no u have teh sword.”

Legoboy joined in the laughter. He gave one last knowing smile and then his head rolled back. The Knight was no more.

CHAPTER ONE

His name was Sacul, a foreign name. His weary and battered figure rode limply into the village of Kilmer fourteen years ago, bought a small bit of land from the town clerk and, brick by brick, he built the village inn himself.

Sacul was still the innkeeper, but he moved with much less agility then he used to. His once-blond hair was now grey, and he walked with a shuffle.

A young villager, named Milo, watched Sacul over his supper, looking at the routine way he washed down the countertops and scrubbed the dishes. He wasn’t that old. Maybe thirty-five. There had to be something else aging him. Some old battle scars or incredible stress. Or maybe he wanted to age, to forget, to leave behind everything of his old life, whatever that was.

“It’s getting rather late, Milo,” Sacul called across the otherwise-empty dining room. “Shouldn’t you be getting home?”

“I live nearby,” replied Milo. “But… I do have something to ask you.”

Sacul looked at Milo sternly. “You know how I feel about questions.”

“Yes I do,” Milo stuttered. “But I have questions about… the war. The Syntax War.”

Sacul raised his eyebrows. “Am I the village historian, now, eh? Besides, I come from up North. The Syntax War was way down in the South.”

“Yes…” said Milo slowly. “But when I was younger, I used to sneak around the Inn, and one time I even was able to go into your bedroom. You had this great, big sword hanging on the wall, and engraved on the blade were these weird characters that I couldn’t read. But I copied them down and my father translated them. He’s from the South, you know. He said they spelled the word ‘Kotos.’ Why did you have a sword with Southern characters on it?”

Sacul smiled. “You’re awfully clever aren’t you? Or are you? Have you ever heard of the word Kotos? No? Well that’s because it isn’t a word. Clearly they are characters similar to the ones the south uses, but they’re not Southern characters.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s closing time.” He wasn't smiling anymore.

CHAPTER TWO

Dawn had not yet struck when Sacul was fully packed. He didn’t have much, and he had always prepared for the event of having to leave town in a hurry. Sacul muttered to himself as he strapped some of his lighter armor plates to his person.

“That kid’s far too smart,” grumbled the innkeeper. “And sneaking around MY house! How the brick did he get in my bedroom? Never would’ve happened back in my day, no sir.”

His musings were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door and merry laughter. He heard a voice that was vaguely familiar and two others that he was sure he’d never heard.

“Excuse me, keeper!” cried the laughing minifigure. “I know it’s late – early actually – but it’s been an awfully long night or travelling and I would love a place to sleep!”

“We’re closed!” Sacul shouted back. Although he would love to have a couple customers before he left. It had been so long since he had a boarder and some money in his pocket wouldn’t be bad.

“Please, sir!” pleaded the minifigure. “Just one night! Payment in advance!”

Sacul obliged. He did need the money, and he had no idea where to go next. Maybe these travelers could help him out. He started towards the door but stopped when he heard his armor clanking. Sacul quickly grabbed a couple of pots and pans.

“Thanx, innkeeper!” laughed the minifigure when Sacul opened the door. He bounded in and his boots thudded loudly on the smooth floor of the inn. His cape, hood, and leather vest were orange, and his tassels were silver. A sword hung at his hip and a quiver of arrows was slung on his back. Outside, Sacul could see a rather old black horse tethered to the rail.

He glanced over at the board of rates on the wall and reached into his pocket for some coins. He handed them to Sacul.

“There you go, Master…” he glanced back at the board and raised his eyebrows. “Lucas?”

Sacul turned pale but regained his composure. The way the minifigure had said that triggered a memory that was now hijacking Sacul’s brain. He knew this man.

CHAPTER THREE

“Oh, sorry. It’s Sacul, not Lucas. Dyslexia, you know?” Sir Thingguy smiled apologetically. “Terribly sorry.”

Sacul just stood gaping at Thingguy for a second then quickly trudged into the backroom to lock up his money. His hand shook as he counted the coins. Thingguy? Here? It’s been almost fifteen years since I’ve seen the man! I wasn’t even sure he was alive!

Sacul walked back into the main room of the inn. Thingguy had hung his cape on the coat rack and was walking around the room, prodding the walls with his sword and tapping his fingers against his thigh.

He hadn’t changed much. His hair was still red and he stood as strait and tall as ever. His eyes still had that cunning look about them, and he still walked with a slight limp. The only noticeable difference was that his thin mustache was now a thick beard. Sir Thingguy the Unshaven.

Sacul walked up to Thingguy, grabbed his wrist and pointed the point of his sword to the floor.

“No drawn weapons in my inn,” said Sacul. “And I’ll need a name to deposit this under.”

“Well, Sacul,” replied Thingguy with a knowing smile. “I guess you can put it under Yuggniht.”

Sacul smiled back. Of course Thingguy recognized him.

“Let me help you spell that,” said Thingguy. He walked up next to Sacul and leaned in close to him. “Didn’t know you were still alive, Lucas.”

“Same, old friend,” replied Sacul. “Last I saw you, you had been critically injured by thedude.”

“I was sent to another country to heal,” Thingguy whispered back. “A stroke of luck, I guess.” He looked sternly at Sacul. “And you could have chosen a better way to disguise yourself than just reverse the letters in your name. My great aunt Gretchen could have done better than that.”

Lucas clapped Thingguy on the shoulder. “You haven’t changed one bit, Thingguy.”

Thingguy’s expression soured. “I’ve changed somewhat. I’ll talk to you in the morning. There’s something we need to talk about.”

CHAPTER FOUR

thedude was restless. His project was nearly complete, but just one thing was missing. One tiny, irreplaceable detail that the project needed. His Grammar Sword.

He was done with this planet. thedude had done his best to hunt down and destroy all remaining Knights of the Olde Speech, and as far as he knew, he had eliminated all the knights who hadn’t fled the planet.

“cowards,” thedude spat. “but me will show them. yes me will.”

thedude walked back into a small room in the dungeons of his castle. Well, fortress would be a better word for it.

The fortress had once been a mountain, Mt. Thunderclap. But thedude used his moderator powers to carve away the mountain to make a massive stronghold the size of several villages. thedude ruled by fear, and his fortress did that well enough.

thedude entered the dungeons and stared at the two minifigures he had chained to the wall. One of them was one of the most powerful knights of the old war, Sir Talmid. thedude had been submitting him to his most potent mind control devices and tortures for the past fifteen years, but he had held out. He would turn eventually, though. He has before. It's only a matter of time.

The second minifigure was not a knight, but a Nexus Forces Super Sentinel he had captured and turned some odd years ago. He had easily succumbed to the power of thedude, and then the dark lord put him through all kinds of physical tests and missions. He was thedude’s most deadly assassin. Lord Brocktree.

“arise Brocktree,” commanded thedude. “i have verry importint mishin for u.”

“Yes, master,” growled Brocktree. He stood up and ripped his manacles out of the wall. “What would you have you servant do?”

“meh doomsday project is almost compleet,” thedude said in a dark voice. “but i need meh Grammar Sword. u will take the sword from the knights of old speech and take it to the battlestation.”

Brocktree growled in acknowledgement. “The Rhoddwr Marwolaeth WILL be complete, master. I live to serve you.”

(I'm not sure if this is part of the story, I'm just putting it in here - In lack of an actual chapter 5 and in lack of another place to put it in right now, I'll leave it here, too, for the time being)

Chapter 5

The river seems like a good spot to fish. The minifigure thought. He tossed his fishing pole in the peaceful river and waited. Down below, the smell of bait attracted a certain fish that lived in a tank full of water within more water at the bottom of the river. The certain fish swam up to grab the bait, but bumped into the glass down of the tank. Squeaky stared at the bait, its smell coming through the glass. "Maybe I should be cautious." Sqeaky squeaked. He piloted his tank over the the other side of the river and drove onto land. The minifigure hadn't noticed him yet. Squeaky turned around and spotted the minifigure waiting with a rod in the water. About a few minutes later, an explosion of smoke, and fire struck near the minifigure. He yelped and scrambled away, dropping his pole and everything, raced off into the forest. Meanwhile, Squeaky drove his tank over to the fishing pole and used a robot arm to grab the bait and put it into his tank. It was nice to eat after 14 years. His last meal hadn't been so tasty as this...

CHAPTER SIX

The door of the inn creaked open in the brisk morning air as Thingguy and Lucas walked out onto the porch. Well, Lucas walked; Thingguy strutted. It was a beautiful morning, but the two minifigures paid it no mind; they were on a mission.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked for probably the eighth time as he mounted his horse.

“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” retorted Thingguy, swinging his leg over his old and devoted horse Deadbeat.

“But that’s not possible,” continued Lucas. “Thedude could never retrieve his Grammar Sword. We’d all be dead!”

“I know,” Thingguy said grimly as Deadbeat started walking out of Kilmer. “But I saw a servant of thedude take the Grammar Sword from the hands of Sir Sharpie and then jump in a rocketship. Thedude’s a cunning minifigure. If he hasn’t destroyed all of us yet, then that must mean he’s got something far more destructive in mind.”

“But…” Lucas pondered, “What could be more destructive than smashing us all?”

Thingguy shrugged. “Beats me. But I honestly don’t want to find out. I just want to stop whatever it is.”

Lucas looked around Kilmer fondly. He had grown to like the little village immensely. He was going to miss his little inn. He vaguely wondered what Harrison, one of his morning regulars, would do when he entered the inn for a hot meal and saw that Lucas, or Sacul, wasn’t there.

Then another idea occurred to him.

“Hey, Thingguy!” queried Lucas. “How did you find me?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

“You didn’t really expect reversing all the letters in your name to fool anyone, did you?”

“I’m not asking how you recognized me; I’m asking how you found me.”

Thingguy thought for a moment. “Stroke of luck!” He finally declared.

He was definitely hiding something. Lucas tightened his reigns and spurred his horse on. He was going to keep a careful eye on "Thingguy."

=== CHAPTER SEVEN ===

Talmid heard it. Or felt it. Or whatever. Through one of his senses, he perceived thedude coming down the stairs towards his prison cell. The heavy door slid open, and the terrible overlord of all things despicable and evil entered the dank stone room. And yes, I mean dank. Not dark. The air was permanently moist and it smelled grotesque.

“good nues talmid,” said thedude. “u finally getting a real cellmate.”

Talmid was silent. Silent like he had been for the past fifteen years. He wasn’t even sure he remembered what talking felt like.

“he mite evin be good four conversashon haha,” thedude chuckled at his own joke.

Talmid was expressionless.

“bring in teh prisoner!” thedude ordered.

Two Dark Mythrans came in through the door with a slumped minifigure between them. He was moaning quietly and Talmid could tell he had been beaten brutally.

“im shure u too have alot too cach up on,” said thedude, “so ill leev u too frends alone.”

The light that was pouring in from outside the cell had blinded Talmid so he couldn’t tell who the new prisoner was. He didn’t care either. Frankly, after fifteen years of captivity, he was past caring about anything.

thedude exited the cell and the door slid shut. There was silence for about fifteen seconds.

“So when do they feed us?” asked the other minifigure. His voice was husky. He must have been hit in the throat.

Talmid didn’t answer.

“Not very friendly today?”

Talmid didn’t answer.

“Nothing, Talmid?” he was persistent. “Not even for an old friend?”

Talmid looked over towards him and was shocked to the point of a gasp.

“It’s me!” Thingguy’s voice was less husky now. “Don’t you recognize me?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Talmid tried to say ‘Thingguy? Is it really you?’ But it had been so long since he had said anything that his voice box didn’t really work anymore. Instead it came out as a garbled whisper.

“Lost for words, Talmid?” Thingguy grinned.

Talmid tried again. “Thijji? Gisihrullah you?”

“I guess you don’t really get to talk too much down here,” Thingguy said. “Keep practicing, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Thingguy? Is it really you?” Quiet and rasping, but he got it this time.

“Who else?” Thingguy flashed a good-humored smile. “Good to know you’re not dead.”

“At least you still have a sense of humor,” rasped Talmid. His throat was starting to hurt already. “How bad did they beat you?”

“Not too bad,” Thingguy shrugged. “I’ve taken worse over the past decade.”

Talmid’s eyes were readjusted. He hadn’t changed much. His hair was still red and he was still strong and wiry. His eyes, one of them bruised, still had that cunning look about them, and he was favoring his right leg like he used to. The only noticeable difference was that his thin mustache was now a thick beard. Sir Thingguy the Unshaven.

“You didn’t answer my first question,” Thingguy derailed Talmid’s train of thought. “When do they feed us?”

“Whenever they get-” Talmid’s voice cut out and he started coughing. It would take some practice to get used to this again.

“Whenever they get coughing?” Thingguy acted perplexed. “Well that’s not very helpful. You’re telling me I have to wait until they start to cough?”

“Thingguy,” Talmid said. Another round of strangled coughs. “How *cough* how did you get cap- *cough* captured? After all *cough* after all these years *cough* why now?”

Thingguy was quiet for a few moments. “A stroke of bad luck,” he finally declared.

“But…” Talmid started to cough again and this time couldn’t stop.

“Shh,” Thingguy hushed him. “Don’t tear your lungs out. We’ll talk later.”

CHAPTER NINE

Riding with Thingguy had made Lucas rather nostalgic. He missed the days when the Knights of the Olde Speech was a small-time mercenary-ish organization in Nimbus Plaza that fought for truth, justice, and grammar. Back when it was just him, Thingguy, and Talmid.

Lucas still remembered that last battle on thedude’s ship when Squeaky’s tank was destroyed by a robo-Barney and Talmid was vanquished in battle by thedude. That was a terrible day. He didn’t even know if Talmid had lived or died. He didn’t know what happened to ANY of the other knights.

“Thingguy?” Lucas called to Thingguy, who was in conversation with Joe, one of the minifigures who had ridden into Kilmer with him.

“What?”

“What happened to the other knights?” asked Lucas.

“I don’t know what happened to all of them,” Thingguy scratched his head. “I’ve heard rumors that Talmid was smashed, but I’ve also heard rumors that he’s a prisoner in thedude’s dungeons. Legoboy was smashed by thedude. Sir Sharpie was wounded, but he’s alive. Sir Shadow’s gone missing; no one knows what happened to him. Jonna was taken prisoner some years back but I heard she escaped. Ninjago_Builders left the planet and is running a recruitment drive somewhere or other. I don’t know about anyone else.”

So many lost to ignorance.

Speaking of ignorance, Lucas wasn’t even sure where they were going or why they were going there. All Thingguy had told him was that they needed to stop thedude.

“So where are we going, anyway?”

“To stop thedude, of course!”

“And… where do we do that?”

“Where else?” Thingguy laughed. “To Morcia! To thedude’s palace!”

“WHAT?” Lucas did a double-take. Did he hear him right? Absolutely. There could be no mistaking it. He said Morcia. They were going into the belly of the beast.

CHAPTER TEN

“Thingguy!” Lucas tried reasoning with him. “The two of us can’t just storm thedude’s impenetrable fortress!”

The unshaven knight turned to face his shaven counterpart.

“A wise man once told me,” he said, “that it’s not the destination that’s important, it’s the journey.”

Deadbeat whinnied.

“Okay, maybe a wise horse told me that,” Thingguy retracted. “But regardless, just know that we are not going to storm the palace alone. We will assemble an army or two on the way.”

“An army or two?” Lucas cried hysterically. “More like a dozen! That’s how many we’ll need to even get an inch inside that place!”

“A corrupted spirit is no match for the purity of imagination!” Thingguy said valiantly. “A Masterbuilder told me that.”

“We’d need advanced weapons, armies beyond reckoning, and the best strategists in the universe to even touch that fortress!”

Thingguy thought for a moment.

“Or…” he began hesitantly. “We would need… a HELICOPTER!”

Lucas facepalmed.

“A REALLY SHINY HELICOPTER WITH MASSIVE MACHINE GUNS!” Thingguy dismounted Deadbeat and began running and jumping around, ecstatically imitating a helicopter and making machine gun noises. “They would NEVER see that coming!”

He turned to Joe and started telling him to look around for the cheapest shiny helicopter and to think of a way to mount big machine guns on it.

“Still crazy, I see…” Lucas muttered.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Talmid was much better at talking now. He had been in isolation for so long, with only a brief period of freedom over a decade ago, and he had a lot of questions for Thingguy. He answered most of them cheerfully with the normal amount of sarcasm and humor, but seemed strangely evasive whenever Talmid asked him how he was captured after all these years. All he ever said was “a stroke of bad luck.”

“So what happened to all the…”

“Talmid, we really need to get out of here,” Thingguy interrupted. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet, and this isn’t a safe place to say it.”

“Okay…” Talmid was hesitant. In the fifteen years he’d been imprisoned, he’d only managed to escape once, and that was due to a rebellion thedude was trying to suppress. He had been recaptured, too. And that was in thedude’s old castle. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Well, I don’t think we can break these chains,” Thingguy tugged on the manacles holding his wrists against the wall. “So we’ll need to unlock them. So we’ll need the key.”

“Brilliant,” Talmid said sarcastically. “How are you going to get it?”

“When the guard comes to feed us, you kick him in the face and I’ll grab his belt with my toes,” the unshaven knight plotted. “Then we’ll take the key from him and unlock ourselves!”

“With your feet?”

“Yup!”

“Can you do that?”

“Of course!” said Thingguy proudly. “I got first place in feet athletics when I was a boy!”

“Cool. Let’s do it.”

Just then the door to the prison cell slid open and a guard walked in with a tray of food in his hands.

“Supper time, inmates,” grunted the guard. “Tonight is croissants, which is a finger food, so you get to use your fingers.”

The guard put the tray of croissants down and unlocked Talmid’s and Thingguy’s chains.

“Eat quickly. I have to lock you up again,” said the guard.

Thingguy glanced quizzically at Talmid and then punched the guard in the face, knocking him out cold.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Talmid tried to pick up the fallen guard’s sword but he had been chained to the wall so long his muscles had all but deteriorated; he was barely able to lift the sword.

“Ernf,” Talmid grunted. “They’re heavier than I remember.”

“You’ll get your strength back,” said Thingguy. “For now, let me take that.”

Thingguy grabbed the sword from Talmid’s hands and ran out of the cell. He looked left, looked right, and then just stopped. He turned back to Talmid.

“Where do they keep the prisoners’ personal belongings?” asked Thingguy.

“I think left,” said Talmid. “But why not just go right to the exit?”

“There’s a few things I need,” said Thingguy. “You said left?”

“Yeah I think so,” Talmid ran after Thingguy, who had already taken off down the corridor. “What do you need?”

“I need my stuff!” said Thingguy. “And a very important map!”

It’s a good thing that Thingguy’s beat up, thought Talmid. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

Thingguy reached the personal effects armory and yanked on the handle.

“It’s locked!” he yelled in exasperation. He tugged again and again. “Do you have the guard’s key?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Just give it to me!”

Talmid shrugged and gave him the key.

“It doesn’t fit!” Thingguy threw the key across the corridor and started kicking the wall.

“Thingguy…” Talmid said.

“WHAT???”

“It’s a push door.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It took a little while of navigating through a maze of twisted hallways, but Talmid and Thingguy eventually made it out of thedude’s fortress. There were no windows inside the accursed castle, so the two minifigures had no conception of time of day. When they emerged from thedude’s palace, it must have noon or close to it; there were minifigures bustling around the city at the base of the mountain fortress and the streets were choked with horses, wagons, and cars.

“Looks like we made it,” Talmid sighed.

“Not yet.” Thingguy glanced around, squinting in the bright sunlight. “I used to know a guy who could smuggle us out, but I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Is the city gate heavily guarded?” asked Talmid.

“Yeah,” Thingguy said hesitantly. “But you know what could get us out… is A HELICOPTER!” Thingguy ecstatically began running and jumping around, imitating a helicopter. “A shiny helicopter! They’ll never see that coming!”

“Get yourself together, man!” Talmid scowled. “Where the brick are we going to get a helicopter?”

“From… from…” Thingguy faltered, but regained his composure. “From the rent-a-helicopter people!”

Talmid clapped him on the head. “You’re cracked! And you weren’t even in prison that long!”

Thingguy shook his head. “No, really. The rent-a-helicopter people. They’re right down the street.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah!” Thingguy gleefully shouted. “Let’s go!”

Thirty minutes later, Thingguy, Talmid, and one of the rent-a-helicopter people who had to come along to return the helicopter when they were done with it, rode a shiny helicopter to freedom.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The helicopter touched down far away from thedude’s palace in a lush, rural part of Morcia; something that had become rather rare of late. Thingguy tried to negotiate with the rent-a-helicopter person for more helicopter-ing, but he stubbornly refused to give them any more time with it.

The turbines roared and the helicopter soared into the distance, receding into the blue symphony called the sky until it was no more than a speck, and then nothing.

“So… what did you need to tell me?” Talmid broke the silence.

“thedude has the grammar sword,” Thingguy answered, still dreamily staring where the helicopter had disappeared.

“WHAT?” Talmid screamed. “HOW ARE WE ALL STILL ALIVE?”

“I don’t know,” said Thingguy. “But I saw a servant of thedude take the sword from Sir Sharp, and he must have it by now.”

“I do remember hearing thedude assigning one of his servants to fetch the sword,” Talmid mused. “But I assumed he failed.”

Thingguy perked up. “What else did he say?”

“He said something about…” Talmid strained his mind to remember. “A… rowing marmalade.”

“A rowing marmalade?”

“Or a rollicking marshy-warshy or something.”

“That’s…” Whatever Thingguy thought it was, he never had the chance to disclose that information. There was a snap of a branch somewhere through the bushes and Thingguy drew his sword, which he had reclaimed from the prison impound. Talmid, with incredible effort, hefted the sword they got from the guard into a defense position.

Nothing.

Talmid and Thingguy glanced at each other, feeling relieved and rather silly, when the disturbance barged through the bushes.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tripping and stumbling, Lucas, Thingguy, Joe, and Marty (the other guy Thingguy brought with him who had been previously unnamed) stumbled through the thick bush, pulling their horses behind them. The four minifigures were grumbling so much about the stubborn underbrush that it took a few seconds for them to even notice Talmid and the other Thingguy.

When Lucas and Thingguy finally looked up from dusting off their pants and saw Talmid and Thingguy, their hearts leapt for joy. When Talmid and Thingguy’s initial fear wore of and they realized who it was, their hearts leapt for joy too. The Knights of the Old Speech founders ran to each other and made a big group hug, babbling about how excited they were to see each other.

It took a solid minute for them to realize there were two Thingguys.

The two unshaven knights screeched and jumped back at exactly the same time, reaching for their swords. They drew their swords simultaneously, but neither of them attacked the other.

“Who’s he?” asked the Thingguy who had come with Talmid.

“I’m Thaddeous Nathanael Thingguy the Second!” the Thingguy who had come with Lucas proudly stated. “Who are you?”

“You can’t be!” the Thingguy who had come with Talmid objected. “I’m Thaddeous Nathanael Thingguy the Second!”

“It’s true,” Talmid said to Lucas. “He is.”

“But this is Thingguy, too!” Lucas cried. “Look! He has Deadbeat and two other knights!”

“Yeah!” Joe chimed. “We’re with him!” He pointed at the Thingguy who had come with Talmid.

“Wrong one!” the Thingguy who had come with Lucas hissed.

“Oh, sorry.” Joe blushed a crimson red.

“Deadbeat ran away when I was captured!” Talmid-Thingguy said. “And look! I have my personal crest and shield! And my real sword!”

“I lost my original sword in my duel against thedude!” Lucas-Thingguy retorted. “He probably kept it and gave it to you! Imposter!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“They could have done the same with you and Deadbeat!” Talmid-Thingguy replied furiously. “When I was captured and he ran away we were surrounded! He was probably taken prisoner too! And then thedude gave him to you so you could replace me and track down all the knights!”

Deadbeat chewed some grass nonchalantly.

“Hey!” Talmid interjected. “That’s enough! There’s an easy was to resolve this!”

“How’s that?” Talmid-Thingguy replied doubtfully, still eyeing Lucas-Thingguy and holding his sword in an aggressive position.

“Which one of you can understand Deadbeat?” asked Talmid.

“Me!” They both raised their hands. Concurrently, they turned to Deadbeat and started talking to him. They both seemed to communicate with him fine.

“Okay…” Talmid retracted. “Thingguy was the best swordsman I knew. Whichever one of you is better with a sword is the real Thingguy.”

“Well that’s hardly fair, Talmid,” said Lucas-Thingguy. “That guy’s all beat up. I’d crush him.”

Well, Lucas-Thingguy had a sense of honor at least.

“Worry about yourself,” said Talmid-Thingguy. “I’m more than healthy enough to beat you.”

The two knights charged at each other, clashing swords and spitting insults at each other in-between parries.

“Not… even… the right… sword!” Talmid-Thingguy yelled.

“Well you don’t even have… the right horse!” hollered Lucas-Thingguy.

“I don’t have a horse at all!” bellowed Talmid-Thingguy.

The duel lasted an hour before Talmid finally called it off.

“Enough! You guys are exactly the same in combat,” said Talmid. “We’ll have to try something else.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“So the fact of the matter is,” an exhausted Talmid explained, “that we’ve tried every test any of us can think of, and we still don’t know which of you is the real Thingguy.”

“Well I know which one of us is the real Thingguy,” Lucas-Thingguy said through gritted teeth, glaring loathingly at Talmid-Thingguy.

“Quiet!” Talmid shouted. “We’ve been at this all day! From talking to horses to swordfights to trivia to a push-up contest to a pizza-eating competition to I can’t even remember what else.”

“Don’t forget the staring contest,” Talmid-Thingguy interjected.

“QUIET!” Talmid hollered. “You guys have matched each other at everything we’ve thrown at you. You look exactly the same, down to the last freckle. You guys have the same memories up until about two months ago, and BOTH of your stories check out!”

Lucas had fallen asleep about an hour ago during the sewing contest, Joe and Marty were playing a heated game of cribbage, and Deadbeat was still just grazing. Dusk was approaching rapidly and Talmid was really beginning to feel the sudden change from being motionless in prison to being on the run from a tyrant.

“We need Thingguy,” Talmid continued. “He has the most knowledge on recent events and the best connections to the other knights. We can’t risk sending the right Thingguy away and keeping the wrong Thingguy.”

“Good so you’re going to keep me and throw him out,” Talmid-Thingguy jerked his thumb in Lucas-Thingguy’s direction.

“SHUT UP!” Talmid bellowed. “So what I’m saying is… we’re keeping both of you.”

“WHAT?” Both the Thingguys were incredulous.

“I’m going to have to put up with this tasteless imitation of me?” Lucas-Thingguy asked despairingly.

“You don’t have to,” growled Talmid-Thingguy. “You could always just leave, imposter.”

“ENOUGH!” Talmid was really getting exasperated. He pointed at Talmid-Thingguy “I’ll keep an eye on you.” He pointed to Lucas-Thingguy. “Lucas, you’ll keep an eye on him.”

This was met by silence.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Lucas? Lucas!” Talmid-Thingguy ran over to the limp body of Lucas and began shaking him vigorously. “Wake up!”

“He’s sweating buckets!” Talmid felt his forehead. “He’s burning up!”

“What’d you do, poison him?!” Talmid-Thingguy screamed hysterically at Lucas-Thingguy. He hadn’t seen Lucas for fifteen years. He didn’t want to lose him now.

Lucas-Thingguy just stood there, his mouth gaping open for a few seconds, but he snapped back to reality. He pointed at Marty, who was still playing cribbage with Joe. “Marty! Get some cold water! Joe! Try and build a wagon!”

“Yes sir!” Joe and Marty leapt from their seats and started building a wagon out of the trees around them.

Talmid-Thingguy was checking Lucas’s breathing and pulse and Talmid was running around, trying to do something.

“Listen, Talmid,” Lucas-Thingguy grabbed Talmid by the arm and talked into his non-existent ear so that Talmid-Thingguy wouldn’t hear him. “Don’t tell the other guy this was my idea or he’ll object and waste time, but I know a guy in the capitol who can help us out.”

“Just being in Morcia is dangerous enough,” Talmid was reluctant to closer to thedude or Lord Vladek. “We really shouldn’t go to the capitol.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Lucas and neither do you,” Lucas-Thingguy spoke softly but decisively. “But this guy has been helping the knights for years.”

Talmid was hesitant. “What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t like to throw his name around, but he calls himself the Gateway,” said Lucas-Thingguy. “I know he can help Lucas, no matter what’s wrong with him.”

“Okay, Thingguy,” Talmid gave a small smile. “I’ll trust you.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Did HE tell you we should go to the capitol?” Talmid-Thingguy stood defiantly between Talmid and Lucas. “That’s probably right where he wants us to go! Vladek’s probably waiting for us with an army and a half!”

“Look, I don’t want to go there either, but Lucas may die!” Talmid argued. “We let him lie there for over an hour, and who knows what’s that done to him? This is his best chance!”

“Marty! Put Lucas in the wagon!” Lucas-Thingguy ordered. He turned to face Talmid-Thingguy. “We’re going to the heart of Morcia because that’s what’s best for Lucas. You can come along if you like, or you can go do something else. I really don’t care.”

Talmid-Thingguy scowled, but he decided it was beyond arguing. He watched as Joe and Marty put Lucas on the wagon they built and then reluctantly walked over to Deadbeat and swung his leg over the horse, mounting him with a familiar ease.

“Hey!” Lucas-Thingguy said angrily. “That’s MY horse!”

Talmid-Thingguy smiled mischievously. “Catch me if you can!” He veered Deadbeat around in the direction of Morcia’s capitol and spurred him to a fast gallop.

Talmid laughed and rode Lucas’s horse after him, yipping loudly.

Fuming, Lucas-Thingguy jumped into the back of the wagon being towed by Joe. “Just wait,” he growled. “That imposter will pay for all this.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“You’re taking us to the Gateway?” Talmid-Thingguy was incredulous. “You know about him?”

“Of course I know about him!” Lucas-Thingguy said sourly.

“But you’re thedude’s spy!” said Talmid-Thingguy.

“Who is this ‘Gateway?’” Talmid quickly interjected before Lucas-Thingguy could continue arguing.

“He’s an old friend to the KotOS,” said Lucas-Thingguy. “He doesn’t like us talking about him or what he’s done, but just know he’s a friend.”

“Where in the capital is he?” asked Talmid.

Lucas-Thingguy and Talmid-Thingguy exchanged looks. “We don’t know,” they said in unison.

“We may have to look around for him a little bit,” said Talmid-Thingguy. “But I’m sure we’ll find him.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” came the surprising voice of Marty, who until now hadn’t spoken much. “He’s just getting hotter and hotter. He’s beginning to melt.” A feeling of horror hung in the air once Marry said “melt.” It was an incredibly painful fate, and there was almost no way to stop it. “I hope this Gateway is as good as you say, otherwise he doesn’t have a chance.”

“We have to find him,” said Talmid. “Where can we start looking?”

“I know a place or two we can ask around,” said Joe, not wanting to be outdone by Marty.

“We’re a few hours from the capital,” said Talmid. “You two ride in and try to find the Gateway. And you, the Thingguy who was in prison,” Talmid pointed to Talmid-Thingguy, “I need your help.”

“With what?”

With great difficulty, Talmid picked up a sword. “Learning to use this again.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Talmid-Thingguy leaned back on his sword in amusement as Talmid picked himself off the ground for the umpteenth time.

“The aim of the game is to swing the sword at me, not the ground,” Talmid-Thingguy smirked.

“I’m trying to!” Talmid said irritably. He hefted the sword between his hands and ran at Talmid-Thingguy. He charged at the unshaven knight and brought his sword back over his head for a mighty blow. Unfortunately, he swung too far back and hit himself on the back of the head with the crosspiece and faceplanted at Talmid-Thingguy’s feet. The two Thingguys looked at each other.

“Faileth,” they said in unison.

Talmid glanced up at Talmid-Thingguy’s knees and swung his arm around, knocking Talmid-Thingguy’s legs out from under him. He crashed to the ground and Talmid leapt on top of him, placing his knee on the fallen knight’s neck and the other knee on his lower stomach, effectively pinning him to the ground.

“Faileth,” Talmid spat.

It took several seconds for the shocked expression to leave Talmid-Thingguy’s face, and when it did a wide grin replaced it.

“Well played,” he gasped. “Now can you get your knee off my neck?”

Talmid obliged but he had barely lessened the pressure when Talmid-Thingguy’s arm shot out and wrapped itself around Talmid’s neck, pulling him down to the ground next to Talmid-Thingguy.

“I never tapped out,” Talmid-Thingguy grinned once he finally released Talmid. “Never let an undefeated opponent up.”

Lukas-Thingguy was laughing uncontrollably and leaning on the makeshift wagon for support.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I haven’t seen such a pathetic pin since Oxbow!” Lukas-Thingguy laughed, pointing at Talmid-Thingguy. “I mean, what did you think he was going to do? Get up and smile politely, being nice enough to go back to his starting position?”

Talmid-Thingguy blushed but then started laughing too. “Yeah it was pretty lame,” he grinned. “Remember that one time at Little Gorta?”

Lukas-Thingguy actually fell on the ground laughing. “Ha! You’re right! That has to be the worst! That little guy sure could jump!”

The two Thingguys laughed for a few more seconds, but then remembered who they were laughing with. They quickly stopped and Talmid-Thingguy turned to Talmid.

“Now, let’s do it again,” Talmid-Thingguy said. “This time, keep your elbows tucked in a bit more. Instead of using your triceps, utilize your back and shoulders. Whenever you parry, think of it as throwing your elbows in the way rather than your wrists.”

“Okay,” said Talmid. “Let’s try it.”

Talmid-Thingguy swung at Talmid’s left side and Talmid blocked it with his elbow.

“Ouch!” Talmid cursed. “How was that supposed to help?”

“You weren’t actually supposed to block it with your elbow!” Talmid-Thingguy sighed in exasperation. “You were supposed to think of it as moving your elbow! It helps you use the correct muscle groups!”

“Well, sorry!” Talmid nursed his bruised elbow. “You should have explained that better!”

“Hold on a second, imposter,” Lukas-Thingguy walked over. “Did you see how fast he blocked that stroke?”

Talmid-Thingguy paused. “Yeah…”

“Well, I might have an idea,” said Lukas-Thingguy. “A good one, too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

They were a lot lighter than they looked. Talmid swung his arms around, trying to get used to the feeling. Lukas-Thingguy had made him a pair of elbow-pads, made of thick leather with a steel outer coat. They were specially angled so that swords would skid and bounce off of them, making the attacker spend a lot more extra energy bringing his sword back to a useable position.

“Ready?” Talmid-Thingguy raised his sword into an attack position.

“Ready,” Talmid replied, shifting his weight form foot to foot; staying on his toes.

Talmid-Thingguy ran two steps toward Talmid and made an underhand stroke to Talmid’s left side, but then feinted and spun around, making a false-edge slash to Talmid’s right. Normally, Talmid or any other swordsman wouldn’t have had time to react and the duel would have ended right then and there, but Talmid has some fancy elbow pads now.

With lightning speed, Talmid deflected the stroke and threw it back, forcing Talmid-Thingguy to stumble a couple steps. Talmid stabbed at Talmid-Thingguy but he ducked it and did a shoulder roll to come up right next to Talmid. He sprang up and delivered an uppercut to Talmid’s jaw, sending him reeling back a couple paces. Talmid used the momentum to send a powerful kick at Talmid-Thingguy and the unshaven knight grimaced when it made contact with his shin.

Talmid regained his footwork and made a series of true-edge attacks but Talmid-Thingguy blocked them all. Talmid swung at his opponent’s waist but he caught it with a false-edge raised parry. Talmid-Thingguy swung his sword and thrust Talmid’s weapon into the air, but he kept his grip on it.

The unshaven knight made one last lunge at the exposed Talmid, but he used his elbow pad to push the thrust away and then spun around, crashing the pommel of his sword into Talmid-Thingguy’s head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Talmid-Thingguy went hurtling to the ground and he dropped his sword. He tried to turn around and aim a kick up at Talmid but his vision was still swimming and it just looked like a weird exercise; his kicks were nowhere near Talmid.

Lukas-Thingguy erupted with laughter, and he clapped Talmid on the back. “Good job,” he praised. “Just like the old days.”

Talmid-Thingguy was trying to get up, but he was experiencing immense difficulty finding the ground. This just made Lukas-Thingguy laugh even harder.

All of a sudden, Talmid-Thingguy stood strait up, with a look of shock on his face. He took several careful steps back, his mouth moving wildly like he was on a rabid quest for words. Just as suddenly he snapped out of it and returned to his Thingguy-self.

“Are you alright?” Talmid was a little startled.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” Talmid-Thingguy shook his head, trying to clear it. “I guess you just hit it a little bit too hard. That was a good match.”

“It sure was,” Lukas-Thingguy remarked. “Well, Talmid? How do you like them?”

(Side note: Talmid, I would like your opinion on whether or not to have Sir Talmid keep them, as I don’t want to make a change to your character’s weaponry or armor without your approval)

“They’re interesting,” commented Talmid. “Very interesting. It might take a little getting used to, though. I might just want to return to how I used to be.”

Lukas-Thingguy shrugged. “Well, let me know if you want to keep them or not.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“So you know where we can find him?” asked Talmid.

“He’s in a safe house on the edge of the capital,” Joe explained. “We should be able to bribe the guard at the west gate and find the Gateway pretty quickly.”

“Alright,” said Talmid-Thingguy. “Let’s get this over with.”

The knights threw on some plain cloaks and loaded their weapons into a chest in the back of their wagon. Lukas-Thingguy was about to throw Talmid’s elbow pads into the chest when Talmid stopped him.

“I actually really like them,” he said. “I think I’ll keep them.”

Lukas-Thingguy smiled gleefully. “Cool. I was hoping you’d like them.”

“Load up, ladies!” called Talmid-Thingguy, trying to keep Lukas cool with some water. “We’ve got places to be!”

Talmid swung his leg over Lukas’ horse, Kilimanjaro, and gripped the reigns firmly. He really hoped this went as smoothly as Joe and Marty said it would go. He didn’t want to go back to prison.

This time it was Lukas-Thingguy who got to ride Deadbeat, and Talmid-Thingguy sourly sat in the back of the wagon. It took a few hours of riding, but they finally reached the fortress-like capital of Morcia, Orlan, with the Citadel of Orlan in the center of the city. Orlan was the official capital of Morcia, with the former King Mathias’ castle, the Castle of Morcia, just a few miles away. Orlan had changed much over the past decade, changing from a fortified city to an impenetrable fortress.

When the knights reached the drawbridge to the city, Joe waved casually to the guard and he turned a smug but equally blind eye to the unauthorized entrance.

“Welcome to the jungle, ladies and gentleman,” said Lukas-Thingguy, looking around familiarly. “The jungle of steel.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Joe marched up to the door of the brick house and knocked on the solid oak. A small slot slid open, with two bright eyes staring out.

“Er… Hullo!” said Joe. “Marry! Might thou know the location of a certain gateway? These friends and I seek safe passage!”

The face on the other side of the door nodded knowingly and the door swung open. A cloaked and stooped minifigure appeared, holding an apple and beckoning them inside.

The six knights entered the little house, the two Thingguys carrying Lukas between them. They carefully set him down on the sagging leather couch inside and Lukas-Thingguy turned to face the stooped minifigure.

“Gateway,” said Lukas-Thingguy. “Our friend is sick, on the verge of melting. Please, can you do something?”

The Gateway stared blankly at Lukas-Thingguy and then looked inquisitively at Talmid-Thingguy.

“He’s a spy,” Lukas-Thingguy gestured at his counterpart. “Now can you help us?”

“I am not!” Talmid-Thingguy said indignantly. “You’re the spy!”

The Gateway waved his hand casually and began pouring a bunch of oils on Lukas. A small minifigure entered through a small door in the wall and began speaking in a high, nasally voice.

“The Guardian will tend to your friend as he will,” said the little guy. “Although he is a little curious as to why you are calling him a gateway.”

Lukas-Thingguy facepalmed. “Guardian! Not Gateway! Close enough!”

“Why didn’t he say anything about it?” asked Talmid.

“The Guardian prefers not to speak,” said the little minifigure. “Not since… well… since a while ago.”

“I can speak,” the Guardian muttered. “But I will do so in my own leisure.”

“Is there anything you can do about Lukas?” asked Talmid-Thingguy.

“No.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“No?!?!?!!?” screamed Talmid. “You mean there’s nothing you can do?”

The Guardian gave a deep chuckle. “I was only kidding. Luke will be fine.”

“Oh.” Talmid blushed.

“While the Guardian heals your friend,” interjected the little minifigure, “there is someone he believes you would like to meet in the other room.”

Joe, Marty, and the two Thingguys filed out of the room, but Talmid stayed back and studied the Guardian. He was dressed in brown and grey, and he had a long grey beard that went down to his stomach.

“Kentis is right, you know,” the Guardian said. “I think you might want to see them.”

Talmid walked past Kentis, who was dressed in green and not as short as Talmid had originally thought, and into the other room. When he did, he saw one very familiar face and four faces he had never seen before.

“Good to see you,” said King Mathias jovially. He was as grey-haired as ever and rather tired-looking. “But I must say you look worse than usual.”

Talmid shrugged. “That’s the prison life.”

King Mathias gave a hearty laugh. “Come! I want you to meet my knights! They've been fantastic over the past fifteen years!”

The first knight was tall, dressed in red armor, and had a bear crest. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a gruff voice. “My name’s Santis.” His handshake was unusually strong.

The second knight was dressed in purple armor and had a wolf crest. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said. He seemed to have a very refined and intelligent voice. “My name is Danju.”

The third knight had green armor, a monkey crest, and was restlessly shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. “Well met and all that,” he said in a joking voice. “I’m Rascus.”

The last knight had light blue armor and an eagle crest. When he introduced himself, he spoke vary fast and in a very young voice. “I’m Jayko.” He said. “I’m the rookie.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“It’s good to meet all of you,” said Talmid. “But I didn’t even know you were still alive, your majesty.”

King Mathias raised a disapproving hand. “Just Mathias now,” he said. “I sit on no throne.”

“But only because Vladek took it from you!” said Rascus. “We’ll put you back on it!”

“If I lack the strength and wisdom to defend my kingdom, then I don’t deserve to rule it,” Mathias spoke with a forgotten authority. “My people deserve a better ruler.”

“Don’t you have an heir?” asked Talmid-Thingguy. “I’m pretty sure I had to go rescue her from some weird valley.”

“I thought that was you,” said Mathias. “Well good. Now you can do it again.”

“WHAT?”

“Right now Vladek’s men have her in a camp in the Moorlands,” said Mathias. “It’s another weird valley.”

“Why did they take her?” asked Lukas-Thingguy.

Mathias jumped in shock. “There are two of you?”

“He’s an imposter.” Talmid-Thingguy pointed at Lukas-Thingguy.

“He’s lying.” Lukas-Thingguy returned the point. “He’s the imposter.”

“I sense a story here,” said Mathias.

“Later,” said Talmid. “Right now we need to…”

“No! Let’s do this now!” shouted Talmid-Thingguy. He drew his sword and pointed it at Lukas-Thingguy’s chest. “I’m tired of putting up with this spy!”

“NO!” Talmid slapped both the Thingguys. “FOCUS!”

Both the Thingguys slapped Talmid back.

“YOU KNOW WHAT?” Talmid grabbed a map of Morcia from a desk. “GO FIND JONNA!”

The Thingguys tried to resist but Santis picked them both up and carried them out of the house. Talmid tried to calm down.

“We need to strike back at Vladek,” said Talmid. “But first we need an army.”

“We have a plan,” said Danju. “But it’s missing a piece.”

“What piece?”

Jayko help up a map with a piece missing. “This piece.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Talmid, Marty, and Rascus snuck around the street corner. It had taken a few hours of argument for them to finally decide who was going to get the map piece, and then they had to figure out how they were going to get it. The piece was being kept in an armored warehouse guarded by some of thedude’s best legions. After a discussion of brains versus brawn, the brains won out and they decided a stealthy infiltration was best.

There were three checkpoints they had to breach before they could get the map fragment: first there was a Dark Mythran guarding the only door to the warehouse. Then there was a forcefield inside that needed to be hacked. Lastly, there was a small army guarding the piece, and one of Vladek’s Shadow Knights was holding onto the map itself.

The first checkpoint was up to Talmid, the only one who had ever fought a dark Mythran. He carefully peeked around the corner and saw the dark red-clad Mythran stewing in his dark energies. Steeling himself, Talmid took a deep breath and charged at the dark Mythran, silently screaming a battle cry.

After fifteen years of near complacency, the dark Mythran never saw Talmid’s attack coming. Talmid slashed at the dark being, and only the Mythran’s lightning reflexes allowed it to survive with only a scratch across its chest. Talmid spun around and smashed his fist into the dark Mythran’s face. The creature stumbled back and hit its head on the warehouse door it was guarding. The Mythran recovered quickly and raised its hand to the sky, summoning a sword from the netherrealms of reality. Talmid rolled to avoid the devastating slash from the Mythran and then sprang up, using the momentum to hurt the monster.

Checkpoint one secure.

>> Next Chronological Story>>Scattered Ashes, Volume Two.

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