The Eight of Image (Complete Edition 2)

CHAPTER TWO (SEEK AND DESTROY)

        “Calm down kids,” Mr. Walton said with raised hands, unfortunately it took more than that to silence them. “Quiet!” he roared and it silenced them.
        “Everybody, face me,” he said taking a step back, “Do you remember the groups you formed last week? I want you to reform those groups”.
          The students began shuffling themselves, forming six groups with five in each group. Mark stood with Tom by his side; they were joined by two girls and a boy.
            “I have thirty sheets of paper here and I am going to hand one to each of you…” Mr. Walton began to hand them out, “…for you to note down what you see here. The group with the highest number of names of plants and animals is going to win my heart this morning”.
            Mark pulled out his pen as he stared at the sheet in his hand, then at the greenery before him; strangely he missed his old biology teacher.
              “What’s the matter, Mark?” Slick said aloud as he strode towards him, “Don’t tell me all you can see are dead leaves and twigs”.
            The whole class with the exception of Mark and Tom burst into laughter; Mark could feel his face reddening.
            “Well that’s because they were the first things I saw on your head this morning,” Mark shot back and the laughter was louder this time.
            “Why don’t you show me,” Slick growled, stepping nearer.
            “A little closer and I would help you pull them out,” Mark hissed.
            “Time out,” the teacher said, stepping in between them, “you’ll have to do this another time”.
            Slick stepped back, sneering.
            “Nice one,” Tom whispered, patting Mark on the back.
            “Well kids,” the teacher said with a clap of his hands, “let’s start, shall we”.
The class slowly approached the wall of trees before them, there was no doubt fear had them all, even Mark.
              “One last thing,” Mr. Walton said as he slowly trailed behind them, “I know these woods aren’t very large, but that should not stop you from being careful. I really wouldn’t like to be responsible for someone’s disappearance”.
        Mark moved towards the curved line of trees, the rest of the class on his left. The scene behind the trees was very different from the one before it; there was a dark blanket produced by the absence of sunlight which swept over the entire floor with the damp ground looking alive enough to swallow someone up.
          Slowly the class filed into the trees as cautiously as they could be. Todd Summers, a boy with thick glasses, was the first to break the tension when he bent down to examine a certain flowered plant.
            “Has this got a name at all?” he asked, looking up at the members of his group. The class suddenly swung back to life, eyes and hands moving in all directions.
At the base of a tree, Mark stopped and looked down. Its roots played up on the surface of the ground, making it impossible to tell which root ended where. He bent down to have a closer look, there were leaves anchored under the roots.
            He pulled them out and found termites swarming out angrily; finally he would get something on his sheet. With that jotted down, he moved in a little deeper, his eyes playing crucially on the ground. He found a creeping plant and bent down to examine it. 
            Then he found himself thinking of Tom’s words. “I guess it’s all I can do, hope and believe”. Those words strangely had a binding effect on him; it kept coming back every time he tried to push it away. Just like the depiction of the old man in the strange clothing. Mark shook the picture out of his head.
          It was then that he realized that the mummer of the class was getting fainter. He got up with a pang of fear, he couldn’t hear them anymore.
          “Calm down,” he said to himself with a deep breath, “don’t make a fool of yourself”.
          “Tom?” There was no reply.
            There’s nothing to worry about, he thought as he turned around. Mark looked at the trees ahead of him and confidently knew that was his way back. He took his first step and heard a sound he couldn’t quite make out.
        He remembered Mrs. Greta’s claim of wolves in these woods and knew the sound he was hearing wasn’t from his mind.
            The sound of hooves on the damp earth reverberated through his ears with enough clarity. Mark turned sharply to his right and saw a flash of a horse’s flank before it disappeared behind the trees. He swallowed hard and felt his chest tightening with unknown fear, with what he had just seen, was there really a wolf in these woods?
              I’ve got to get out of here, Mark thought, taking another step forward.
              He heard the sound of hooves again, felt it faintly through the ground and knew there was nothing illusory about that horse. The sound came from behind, Mark turned and saw nothing, but yet knew there was more than that.
                His knees buckled violently with intense fear, his heart thrashing to get out of his chest. Suddenly it was like the trees were slowly closing in on him.
              He couldn’t take it anymore, Mark ran like he had never done before. He tripped over the root of a tree, caught himself and was running by the very next second.
                He didn’t care if the rest of the class laughed at him, the anxiety was suffocating.
                “NO!” he screamed, as he reached the clearing. He watched in crushing despair as the bus rode off, leaving behind a cloud of dust. He sank to his knees, shaking like a dried leaf in the wind, with the fear of the forest still gnawing at him.
                Something wasn’t right, Mr. Walton hadn’t checked to see whether he was there, and neither had Tom. Something was very wrong.
          Mark slowly rose off his knees and looked at the dirt covered road that led out of the woods. Calm down, he thought helplessly to himself, you’re safe.
          Somehow that felt like a lie, he turned to look back at the trees behind him, he was faintly sure no wild animal would break from the cover of the trees. He turned back and began walking toward the road.
        THWANG! .The arrow missed Mark’s foot by mere centimeters as it struck the ground beside him, his heart skipped a beat as he looked down at it, he knew it was real enough to hurt.
          He heard the air sing again as two more flew over his head and struck the bare dusty ground to his left. He turned to face the silent trees and saw nothing but shadows playing deep into the forest, he glanced briefly at the arrows firmly in the ground beside him.
            The arrows had missed me on purpose, he realized with growing dread, somewhere in the mist of those trees he knew he was been watched. Mark struggled to keep the little calm he had left, he had to think.
            Deliberately he took a few steps towards the road, as expected he heard the air sing again and turned towards the sound immediately.   
            The arrow flew past his left shoulder perfectly close enough to touch; it had served its purpose. He now faced the trees that he was sure hid his assailants. They were preventing him from leaving the woods.
            He opened his mouth to speak and found out his voice had left with the bus, he felt paralyzed and helpless.
          His head had begun to ache with millions of questions which demanded insane answers. For a tense minute he stared into those trees, willing himself to see what he possible couldn’t see.
          His mind had finally settled and he begun to calmly diagnose his situation. He had a gut feeling there was a connection between the horses he had seen earlier and these arrows, but what stunned Mark the most was; why?
        “Come here, boy,” the voice drifted out of the trees and directly into Mark’s ears, that commanding voice had a cold edge which made Mark shiver within. The arrows stuck firmly in the ground told him he could only obey.
            He began walking towards the trees feeling helpless and stupid beyond reason, he was willingly walking towards unknown doom. Mark reached the edge of the trees and stopped, the cutting silence told him he had to continue.
            He was soon under the shadow of the trees, straining to adjust his eyes to the dim light. He stumbled over the root of a tree and stopped moving, his eyes sweeping wildly across the greenery before him.
            “Keep moving forward,” the voice ordered with dread calm.
              Mark strained his eyes some more to see the source of the sound but saw nothing. He resumed his walk of madness; his heart had once again begun beating against his chest, a sound he was sure every inhabitant of the woods could hear.
              As he moved deeper into the woods the trees begun to spread apart, with pockets of shrubs growing here and there. Sunrays filtered through the trees in little shafts, enlightening the ground a bit.
              His mind was beginning to play impossible scenes about his future for him, and he found them all uncomforting.
              A few more steps deeper into the woods, he saw something he would have never believed to be here. It was a clearing as large as the perimeter of his house, with lush green grass that looked like they had never been touched before.
              The most surprising feature of the place was the way sunlight streamed over the place.
        Mark stopped instinctively at the very edge of the clearing and looked around, past the grass on the other side of the clearing the trees took over the ground again, casting their blinding shadow over the muddy floor. He suddenly realized standing with his back bluntly to the trees was very unnerving, he stepped into the sunlight and onto the grass. 
          He blinked, his eyes straining to adjust to the sudden presence of light.
          Mark turned around to face where he had been standing a few seconds ago as he felt the presence of a being. He saw something, just behind the third line of trees. Straining his eyes, he realized he was staring at what looked like a man. But a strange one for sure.
            This ‘man’ seemed exceptionally tall from the shadows and was actually bare-chested. Strangely Mark felt he was encountering a wild creature. Mark took a wary step forward in an attempt to see the ‘man’ better; he was beginning to wonder if a prank was being pulled on him.
            “Who are you?” he suddenly blurted, the ‘man’ in the shadows remained silent but merely tapped a leg idly. Mark was about to take another step forward when a deep gut feeling told him this ‘man’ wasn’t harmless, an  icy feeling washed hard over him like a high sea wave on the shoreline.
            He stumbled back and almost fell, his eyes fixated on the figure before him.
          “Now minding our manners, are we?” the ‘man’ said with a chuckle, “I was beginning to wonder when you would realize the nature of the situation you are in”.                                                                                                       
            “Who are you?” Mark repeated, more weakly now, “What do you want?”
            “Hey Frenze,” a new voice sounded to the ‘man’s right, “Are you sure this is the one?”
            Mark saw another similarly strange ‘man’, the one who had just spoke, step forward into limited view.
            “This situation looks similar to the one we were briefed about, doesn’t it?” the first guy grumbled, folding his arms.
            “I don’t know,” the second one said reluctantly, “besides, you know what happens if we mess up”.
              The first one sighed silently, “The only thing that actually bothers me is that, this mission seems just too easy,” he said.
            Mark could hear their perfect English and yet it felt like they were speaking Greek.
            “What’s going on here and what are you talking about?” Mark demanded with withering courage. The two ‘men’ fell silent and looked at him as if noticing him for the first time,
            “Let’s get this over and done with,” the one called Frenze said.
Two more ‘men’ appeared into view in front of the boy. Mark heard the rustling of leaves behind him and turned, four more strange men stood there, a little into the shadow.
              “What do you w-want?” Mark whimpered, as sheer fear made him fall to his knees, “I-I haven’t done anything wrong”.
          The eight ‘men’ stepped into the bright sunlight and straightened up against the warm sun. For a few seconds, Mark blinked stupidly at them; obviously to make sure what he was seeing was out of his head. The picture remained the same and in at that split second, Mark found himself screaming with all his might.
          He screamed with all his strength and will, feeling his head expand as if to burst open. The eight beings around him were not men, not even close to humans.
          Mark stared blankly at them, centaurs. Mark had seen them in movies, read about them in books and was sitting in their mist today. Centaurs, with the torso of a man connected to the headless body of a horse, eight of them.
          Slung across their shoulders were leather belts, which in turn held long swords across their backs.
            Frenze stepped forward, his eyes playing slowly over a paralyzed Mark, “He has no idea what’s going on”.
            The remaining centaurs burst into laughter at Frenze’s words.
            “Which means,” Frenze continued, his hand moving slowly to his back, “that Alterer hasn’t contacted him yet”.
      Mark could hear the metallic hiss of Frenze’s sword as he pulled it from its scabbard at his back. The long straight edged sword glinted in the bright sunlight, as the centaur leveled it to his side.
            “What are you going to do with that?” Mark asked, even though he knew the answer.
              Frenze portrayed a smile which sent a chill into Mark’s skin, “It’s a pity to die and worse, not know why you die”. The centaur raised the sword over Mark, its gleaming edge facing him directly.     
        But this Monday was different, its invincible hands stretched far back into the past to bring forth what had been waiting patiently for this day. It had been delayed years back. But then, what could a few souls do against destiny that was well defined beyond physical intervention, it would claim its right of power, irrespective of situation and event.
      There was a loud swooshing sound from the trees and all nine heads turned towards the sound. With blinding speed two saplings came flying out of the darkness, roots first. 
        THUD! The two centaurs at Mark’s sides were forcefully pushed off their feet as the flying trees slammed straight into them. They crashed straight into the trees at the other side of the clearing, unconscious.
        “An ambush!” Frenze shouted, stepping back. Two of the standing centaurs lunged straight towards the trees, whipping their swords out of their scabbards in the process.
        As Mark watched, he noticed something strange about their movements. The speed at which the centaurs moved was unreal; they were so fast he could just barely see them.
          Another swooshing sound brought Mark out of his trance; he looked to the trees just to see two more saplings shoot out of the shadows like bullets.
          Mark heard a bone crunching sound as the two advancing centaurs were tossed back by the flying trees. He watched transfixed as their bodies flew past him and crashed to the ground at the other side of the clearing. 
          “Who’s there?!” Frenze roared at the trees which remained silent. The swooshing sounded again, nearer this time. “Get ready!” Frenze said to the three remaining centaurs that suddenly dropped into a stance.
            Two trees shot out again with the speed of the previous ones, two centaurs dodged them in time, one wasn’t fast enough as a tree hit him full in the chest and took him clearly off the ground.
              Just as the centaur fell to the ground, a man suddenly lunged out of trees and straight towards Mark, under his right arm was a sapling.
              Mark felt like screaming again but his strength had been drained by fear and amazement. Yet again he saw the man advancing with the same strange speed, possibly faster.
      The man slid to a stop in front of Mark and swung the cow sized tree over Mark with ease, the three remaining centaurs moved back as the roots of the tree missed their faces by a hair’s breath. Using the momentum he had just gathered with the swing, the man spun a perfect 360 and tossed the tree at the centaurs.
            Frenze and one centaur dodged to their left using that unusual speed Mark still couldn’t comprehend; the other centaur took the impact squarely and was thrown to the ground beside his unconscious comrades.
        The clearing fell into silence for about a minute as the four figures froze, observing each other. The man calmly straightened up and exhaled loudly, his eyes playing slowly over the two armed centaurs before him.
          Mark looked up at the man who had just saved him from Frenze’s sword; he was surprisingly young, possibly in his twenties. His light brown hair was curly and short, framing his face to the top of his neck; he had brown eyes and thin eyebrows. He wore a green t-shirt and blue faded jeans, with white sneakers. The man looked like any ordinary man and yet, Mark had just seen him swing and throw trees as though they were pieces of sticks.
    Mark noticed the man was grinning, he found it strange. In front of two towering armed centaurs, there was nothing to grin about.
            “I never thought the king’s soldiers would ever stoop this low,” the man said in a clear voice “to turn their swords on a helpless unarmed kid”.
      The two centaurs lowered their swords and seemed to relax a bit, “I knew this mission seemed too easy,” Frenze said, grinning back at the man.
        “I must say that I’m surprised,” the man continued, “they sent 3rd year soldiers to do the job. Isn’t your commander getting too relaxed?”
          Frenze laughed out loud, obviously amused by the man’s words, “My, my, you must be very experienced to know my level of skill and power with just a glance,” the centaur said, amidst his laugh.
            Mark felt like sinking into the ground at this moment without anybody noticing, the three figures before him looked very relaxed but he could tell a fight would break out any moment. It was an undeniable feeling in the air.
          “Now, let me see if I can tell anything about you with a glance,” Frenze said with a tilt of his head, “from the way you just speedily took out six of my soldiers, you must be a 6th  year fighter. Also with that show of tremendous power and superhuman strength of yours, you must be the famous Loren I’ve heard a lot about”.
            The centaur beside Frenze stiffened at these words and Mark could distinctly tell fear had taken hold of him.
              What insane strength! How can a human be this strong?…it’s impossible! The centaur Calix thought and swallowed hard.
              Frenze seemed to also notice and turned to his comrade, “There’s nothing to fear, Calix. He might outrank us in strength and skill but there’s two of us and one of him”.
              “I don’t know, Frenze,” the centaur called Calix replied, still looking at the man with fear in his eyes, “the highest ranking I’ve ever fought was a 5th year whom I nearly lost my limbs to. To make it worse, we are going up against the Loren”.
        Frenze snorted, turning to the man. “That’s fine, Calix. Take care of the boy and I’ll kill this man”.
    The man grinned once more, “I guess it can’t be helped”.
               
CHAPTER THREE (LOREN FROM THE LAND OF IMAGE)

What happened in the next second, Mark never knew. He looked up just to see Frenze suddenly appear directly before him, sword coming down incredibly fast.
          He heard the air whistle sharply just before Frenze’s sword stopped centimeters from his face. He looked up and saw the man holding the centaur’s arm.
  Frenze chuckled, “You were able to catch up to my speed, I’m impressed”.
            “You must be quiet stupid if you meant that crawl of yours,” the man replied tartly.     
            “Then what about this?!” Frenze shouted. Mark blinked and saw the centaur’s hoof in front of his face, on top of it was the man’s foot.
            Even though he hadn’t seen it, he knew what had just happened. Frenze had tried to kick him but was stopped by the man. All that, had happened in less than a second!
            “Now Calix!” Frenze shouted.
        The other centaur appeared behind the man, bringing his sword down on the man’s back.
        There was a heavy sound as Calix slid forcefully backwards on his hooves, clutching at his chest. The man’s other leg was up; Mark stared in amazement with a gaping mouth. The centaur had just being kicked and nobody had seen it.
                Unbelievable, Mark thought, looking up at the man. The speed at which these beings were moving broke every rule in Newton’s laws of motion.
              “Impossible,” Frenze murmured; some fear reflecting in his eyes as he looked at the man.
              Frenze suddenly wrenched his arm out of the man’s grip and dashed back, his sword leveled in front of him. “Are you really a 6th year fighter?” Frenze demanded.
            “I never said I was,” the man replied calmly, “it’s been a while since I last fought your Army General and I think he has gotten very confident to think I’m at the same level”.
              Mark had begun to calm down; he knew this man was here to save him. As bizarre as it was, he was grateful for that.
              “Mark, can you stand?” the man asked, looking down at the boy.
              “Yeah,” Mark said with a shaking voice, with still trembling knees he stood up.               
              “Good,” the man murmured, then turning back to Frenze he said, “As you said, my name is Loren, but I am not a 6th year fighter. My advice to you would be to call off this mission before you get yourselves killed, you could simply tell the king you couldn’t find the boy”.
          “Why you……,” Frenze snarled, taking a step forward, “you are going to regret underestimating me!” 
            Loren smiled, “Really?” 
          Once again Mark could feel the tension of an upcoming fight, turning he saw Calix had recovered from the blow and was standing ready to charge again.
          “Yes, you are,” Frenze replied with a disturbing grin.
Oddly Mark found Frenze’s smile unsettling, so far as the fight was concerned Loren seemed to have the advantage. Yet there stood Frenze grinning confidently, Mark felt something wasn’t right.
        He suddenly remembered the arrows that had almost hit him earlier; a bow was needed to fire those arrows. He looked at the unconscious centaurs sprawled on the ground; none of them had a bow. This could only mean one thing.
            Mark’s body moved of its own accord, he grabbed hold of the man’s shoulders and pushed him down. He heard the shredding of his shirt and knew the arrow had just missed flesh. It struck the ground a few meters away.
          “Run Mark!” Loren shouted as he got up.
          “You’re mine!” Frenze shouted and dashed straight at Loren. Loren suddenly disappeared into thin air, only to materialize behind a fear stricken Frenze.
          The centaur raised his hind leg to kick the man but was too slow; he stumbled sideways from Loren’s sweeping kick and slammed hard into a tree. He slumped to the ground with a cry of pain, to stay there for a while.
          This time, Mark heard the bows sing as they released their deadly loads.
          With lightening speed Loren grabbed hold of a felled tree beside him and swung it in front of Mark, the arrows struck the tree. The sound of feet and hooves on the forest floor reached their ears.
        “He had reinforcements,” Loren muttered, taking a step back as he looked wildly around.
          Mark and Calix stood frozen, one out of shock towards the unbelievable things he was seeing and the other, out of fear of a man called Loren.
          “I told you to run, Mark!” Loren shouted, glancing back at the boy. Mark blinked out of his trance at those words and turned to the trees behind him. He ran towards them knowing that the sound of feet and hooves was in the opposite direction. What in the world was going on?
            Behind the first line of trees he stopped and turned back, a pang of fear had suddenly struck him for Loren’s safety. But then again from the reaction showed by the two centaurs, he was certain Loren was really powerful, not to mention the fact that he had seen him in action with his own eyes.
            Mark felt immobilized by an internal raging war, his mind demanding for logics and his heart shouting for what it felt was right. Go back and help him because he saved you or run away because he said so…
            He heard a noise and turned, two arrows were imbedded in a tree behind him.
            That told him they knew where he was, which he found discomforting now that Loren wasn’t with him.
He ducked instinctively as he heard the bows fire again; the arrows struck the tree once more; lower this time. He took off; moving deeper into the trees and hoping it wasn’t all in vain.
                                                                  *
        Loren watched as men and centaurs ran out of the trees and into the clearing, forming a circle around him.
        “Twelve,” he murmured to himself as he turned slowly to observe them all, “shouldn’t break a sweat”.
          At the edge of the clearing, Frenze staggered to his feet, supporting himself with his sword.
            He turned to see the surrounded Loren and smiled, “Be careful, he’s a 7th or 8th year fighter!” he said, stepping to the edge of the living circle.
            “I told you not to underestimate me,” Frenze sneered as Loren turned to face him, “now you are going to regret it”.
        Loren took a deep breath and increased the distance between his feet, he then spread his arms at his sides, bent his knees slightly and balled his fists while exhaling, “I didn’t underestimate you”.
He knew he would have to use it to end this quickly, even if it felt… unnecessary. 
            Frenze watched with interest as Loren dropped into a stance he had heard a lot about.
The ‘flight of tokori’ as it was called. It was said to be a style of hand to hand combat used primarily in the absence of melee weapons. This stance was the first out of three levels.
            “You plan to defeat us with ‘flight of tokori’s initial phase, my, you are confident,” Frenze scoffed.
            “I think you’re the one underestimating me,” Loren replied with a smile, “especially since you really know nothing about this stance”.
      For a fleeting moment, the air around Loren seemed to suddenly push away from him. As an effect, the grass rippled gently away from him
            The soldiers suddenly lunged straight at Loren.
              2nd year fighters, Loren thought as he watched them come, comparing his speed against theirs felt like cheating. They were still downright amateurs.
              The first one reached him, swinging his sword to his left. Loren’s right arm shot up and knocked the sword clearly out of the man’s hand and into the air. His arm stopped in the air and with lightening speed came crashing down on the man’s head.
            The man fell to the ground forcefully as Loren shot an outstretched leg behind him at a centaur in midair. The centaur flew backward and crashed forcefully into the trees, never knowing what had hit him.
            To his left, a man swung his sword down; Loren sidestepped him and watched the sword fall harmlessly past. Very slow… 
            Loren’s elbow connected with the man’s chest and sent him flying into another confidently approaching soldier. From the corner of his right eye, he saw a spear shooting straight for his head; he leaned back and watched it sail past his nose.
                He caught hold of its wooden part and pushed back at the centaur holding it. It slipped through the centaur’s hands and slammed hard into his chest with such force that it snapped.
                Still holding the broken spear, he swung it around him. It connected with two heads before breaking off again. Two swords rose up fast in front of him, shooting straight for his chest.
                He ducked low and swung his leg in a wide arc, throwing the two men clearly off their feet and crashing to the ground headfirst. Loren spun round to face the remaining three and jumped back, sliding to a stop some meters away from them.
              Frenze felt his knees shake slightly, his eyes had stopped blinking. What is the meaning of this? he thought as he looked at the now visible Loren.
              He had seen his soldiers charge simultaneously at the man. Then for a split second the man had vanished from sight, all he had seen were his soldiers falling all over the place. To be able to counter ten simultaneous attacks with such ease…
              Forget 8th year, Frenze thought, this guy is a 9th year. This was a speed his eyes couldn’t follow. A speed that challenged that of the legendary 11th year soldier; their army general.
        “Let’s end this little game, Frenze,” Loren said, digging his feet into the ground, “because I’m getting bored”.
                                                              *
            Mark stumbled over a tree root and fell to the leaf covered ground; he remained there, breathing heavily. He coughed as he managed to sit up against a tree; he hoped he hadn’t been followed.
            Nothing made sense, the centaurs, the man, their incredible speed and strange conversations. It made him want to scream and scream. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to slow his hammering heart. Calm down Mark, just calm down…
            His eyes snapped open again as he heard the sound of dried leaves being stepped on, what he saw paralyzed him beyond reason.
            “Hello there,” the centaur said, reaching for the sword at his back. Mark recognized him as Calix, the fear struck centaur in the clearing.
              “Y-You followed me…” Mark stammered. 
                “There’s no Loren to save you now,” Calix said as he saw the expression on Mark’s face. He pulled his sword slowly out of its scabbard, “Say, don’t you think it’s strange for someone’s death to bring life to another?”
              Mark swallowed hard as the centaur neared him with the raised sword; his mind racing frantically for what to do.
                “I think it is,” the centaur continued, “especially when that death has been long foretold!”
                Mark rolled towards his left instinctively; less aware of himself as the sword cleaved into the tree he had been leaning on. He felt a jab of pain in his right shoulder; he hadn’t been able to dodge the attack completely.
                “That’s surprising,” Calix mused as he pulled his sword out of the tree, “you have great intuition for sensing danger, so great you were able to dodge such a fast attack”.
                Mark scrambled away from the centaur and pulled himself upright against a tree, the centaur was playing with him and he knew it.
                The blood slowly seeping from his shoulder into his shirt made him uncomfortable, he knew another attack like that would finish him off instantly.
                “Let’s see how intuitive you really are,” Calix said as he turned to face Mark. The centaur suddenly flickered out of sight and Mark knew what would happen next. He would be dead before he actually knew it.
                  That’s when he saw it. The sword flickered in and out of his sight like a dying light bulb as it closed in on his neck. He ducked low and heard the sound of wood being sliced.
      The centaur’s hoof came up fast at him, hitting him full in the chest. Mark flew backwards with a muffled shout of pain, hit the ground on his side and rolled to a stop against the base of a tree.
            Unbelievable, Calix thought as he looked at the boy, he had actually been able to fully dodge such an attack.
              The centaur found this a bit disturbing, sensing that this boy had no presence of a liveball in him; such potential could turn out monstrous one day.
              “The more reason why you should die,” he muttered, pulling the sword out of the tree. Mark staggered to his feet with shallow breathing, his aching chest made him double over in pain; who knew a kick from a horse could hurt so much.
                “What have I done to you?” Mark gasped, leaning against the tree, “What have I done wrong?!”
      Calix raised his sword to his side, “It’s not what you’ve done…, it’s what you’re going to do”. 
                “What am I going to do?” Mark asked, stroking his chest as he struggled to breathe. 
                “That’s what we can’t allow you to find out,” Calix replied.
                Mark tried to calm down as he glued his eyes onto the centaur before him, for some unknown reason his eyes had been able to follow the previous attack and that was the reason why his head was still on his shoulders.
                The centaur was unreasonably fast as far as Mark was concerned, but then he was beginning to read through the lines of the centaur’s movements. He found it upsetting to feel hope at a time like this.
                He’s watching too closely, Calix thought as he prepared to attack again …or is it really possible for the boy to see me at such speed; this will tell…
                Oh no, Mark thought as Calix flickered out of sight again, suddenly to his right he saw the air thicken strangely and jumped to his left.
                Tree bark was sliced clean off the tree where Mark had been standing seconds ago; the boy fell to the ground and rolled away from a surprised Calix.
                The centaur could now feel fear ebbing at his insides, even as a 3rd year soldier he knew his speed was impressive and for a kid with no liveball in him to have read his attack made the world feel pointless.
                He did not know into detail why they had been ordered to kill the boy; all he knew was that this boy was to become a major threat to the kingdom if left to be. With what he was seeing now he couldn’t have agreed more.
                Calix tightened his grip on his sword and lunged at Mark with all he had, he would get him this time.
                  Mark felt confused as Calix disappeared again. He suddenly whipped his head to his left just before the centaur’s sword slipped past his ear and into a tree behind him. 
                  Blood trickled lightly down Mark’s cheek.
                  “What are you?!” the centaur shouted, grabbing the boy by the neck with his free hand. Fear was now very evident.
                  Mark clawed frantically at Calix’s arm as the centaur’s grip tightened. Without thinking Mark shot his fist up into the centaur’s belly. Calix gasped in pain, releasing his grasp.
                  “Damn you,” he coughed and stumbled back. Mark wiped the blood trailing down his chin and looked desperately around, all he saw were trees that all looked the same.
                  He turned back to the recovering centaur; he knew he didn’t stand a chance if he just kept dodging attacks that would get him sooner or later. Mark dashed into the trees with no idea of where he was headed. His heart lurched as he heard the sound of hooves behind.
                  He dove sharply to his right in an attempt to lose the centaur in the trees. A shadow fell over him and Mark realized he had made a deadly mistake. With the shadow on the ground before him, Mark saw Calix’s sword coming down. This was one he couldn’t dodge.
                  A loud clap reverberated through the woods, followed by an intense silence. Mark noticed the shadow on the ground had stopped moving and turned.
Loren stood behind him with Calix’s sword in between his hands.
                  “Are you alright, Mark?” Loren asked, glancing briefly at the boy.
  Mark opened his mouth and closed it without a word; he really didn’t feel like he could talk right now. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t imaging things, when had Loren got here to stop Calix’s sword?
      He was beginning to understand why the centaurs had been so unnerved around the man; Loren’s speed was just unbelievable.
                  “Do you know you are defying the king’s orders?!” Calix shouted as he tried futilely to pull his sword out of Loren’s grasp.
                “He’s not my king!” Loren shouted; driving his foot into Calix’s belly. The centaur slid backwards so fast he blew right through a small tree, spun wildly from the force and crashed to the ground on his flank. The tree fell to the ground with a deafening sound.
    Mark sank to his knees, panting loudly as he realized had been a hair’s breadth from death. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.
                  “Are you alright, Mark?” Loren asked, reaching a hand out to help the boy to his feet. Mark pushed the hand away and staggered to his feet.
                “What in the world is going on?!” he shouted, stepping away from Loren.
                “Calm down, Mark,” Loren said coolly, “I’m not here to hurt you”.
    Mark stopped in his tracks and looked at the man carefully, “We’ve never met before, how do you know my name?” 
    The man slowly stepped closer. “I…, I’ve been watching you for quiet a while” he said.
                Mark leaned against a tree, his eyes still on the man, “I feel like I’m losing my mind, like I’m going crazy”.
    Mark glanced at the centaur on the ground, “He’s not supposed to be real, so how come he is?” 
                  “He is as real as me and the other ones back in the clearing,” Loren said as he sat against a tree, “and they want you dead”.