Art of Destiny: The Elite Way, #2

By Vincent Bowe

"There are going to be some hard tests . . . for all of you. But no matter what, never interfere with somebody else's test. You'll be hindering them rather than helping."

 

Rijo Jake, Richard and Kao are preparing to embark on the most difficult journey of their lives. After being transported to a new world, and trained as universal warriors known as the Elites, these four men will be put to the ultimate test.

 

The Council of Waywar's Gate has warned them of an approaching danger that could wipe out all of civilization. Now, the Elites are tasked with summoning a magical tree hidden in a dangerous forest to discover the threat they indeed face. None of the four men have any idea what awaits or who is pursuing them. Along this journey, they must use their newfound powers of the Way while uncovering secrets about their new world and its foreign government. The chance to prove themselves has just become greater, and the outcome of this wild journey will prove to be their Art of Destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Vault Publishing
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734250534

Book preview

1

RICHARD MITCHELL GAZED at the festival dancers and revelers as they gyrated through the marketplace in front of him. Just a few months ago, he’d been scratching a living on the margins of the law in New York. But now, he was . . . here. The utterly alien city of Waywar’s Gate, in some far-flung corner of the universe unknown to humanity.

Yes, things had changed. For the better, mostly.

But he still wasn’t quite used to the wonders of Waywar’s Gate. He watched from the vending stall he was manning as masked citizens of the city made their way through the marketplace. The booming music of a marching band reverberated through the clay buildings, tents, and wooden stands. The drummers were beating their drums so fiercely that Richard felt his brain might dance right out of his ears.

The marketplace was full of wildly dancing creatures. Lux illuminare—glowing humanoid beings, whose flesh pulsed through a rhythmic kaleidoscope of gold and blue—were clanging bells and blowing horns, whistles, and flute-like instruments. Some creatures strode through the crowd on stilts, towering over the dancers, while others were roped together to make up huge representations of the animals that roamed the wilderness beyond the city. Children ran after the main parade, whistling through smaller flutes and waving sparklers and lanterns.

Richard watched them and remembered Fourth of July parties on his grandmother’s stoop with sparklers and party-poppers. He smiled briefly and then took a deep breath as he thought about his son, RJ. As Richard had endured the rigorous training to become an Elite, he’d known nothing of his son’s well-being or whereabouts, and still didn’t. He could only pray that RJ was alright and doing well for himself.

The parade came to a stop in front of Richard’s stall, where patrons were placing bets and making purchases. Deep within the crowd, people tossed brightly-colored powder into the air that floated above the throng momentarily like smoke before drifting down onto the parade. Each time the powder went up, the crowd sang, "Ade le le hoo ah . . . Ju-mu-ra!"

Richard had no idea what this meant. A few weeks ago, he probably would have joined in anyway. But today, he only frowned at the wildly dancing lines and the colorful dust that stained his dark vest. He brushed himself down and regarded Cleophus, the stall owner and his notional employer. Cleophus was almost twice as wide as Richard but about the same height. His huge belly quivered beneath a mustard-colored shirt. Cleophus was not human. He had a grey, warty face and leathery flesh. A few bristly tufts of hair sprouted from his head. And he had a short, mobile trunk, like a tapir, or baby elephant.

Isn’t this getting a little old? Richard said. How can they possibly still be this excited? It’s been a month and a half.

Cleophus didn’t look up from counting his shallons. Four hundred, he said. Four hundred one . . . He glanced up at Richard. They’ll be over it soon enough, he said.

Richard was ready to launch into a full-on rant but a plump Harrib—a thing that looked like a cross between an ogre and a warthog—led a group of other creatures up to the booth.

Welcome to Hufo, Richard said. What bets you trying to place?

The Harrib glowered at Richard. I’m not here to place any bet. I’m here to collect.

Richard smelled liquor on the Harrib’s breath. Collection days are tomorrow. You know that.

"Yeah, but I won today. Besides, I won’t be here tomorrow. Me and my compadres are hunting in the Freepass Plains."

I don’t make the rules, Richard said and started to turn away. You’ll have to take that up with the boss.

The Harrib peered over Richard’s shoulder at Cleophus, still hunched over his loot. He looks busy. How about me and you work something out. He studied Richard. I like that piece you got there.

Richard remembered the chain dangling from his neck, a Christmas gift from RJ. Richard suspected it was cheap, but it was the only thing he had to remember his son. The chain bore an octagonal charm with clear stones at each point, which shimmered in the setting sun. I like it too, he said. And before you ask, no, it is not for sale or trade.

There was a sudden explosion. Richard jumped, despite himself, as a bunch of street fireworks went off in the crowd, accompanied by a huge cheer. Coruscating sparks and trails of color shot up into the sky and drifted away across the rooftops. Richard could not even hear himself think over the explosion and the roaring crowd.

Somebody grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him backward. What the— 

He spun around and saw Jake behind him, smiling beneath his shaggy blond hair. What the hell is wrong with you? Richard growled. Jake’s lips moved but Richard could not make out the words. What? I can’t hear you with all of this noise.

We have to go! Jake shouted into his ear. They’re giving us a showcase. We’re late.

Man, not another showcase! Aren’t you tired of this shit? It’s like, our fifth show in two days. Richard turned to Cleophus who was already chuckling.

What’s so funny?

Of all the brilliant things that go with becoming an Elite, they forget to tell you about the trivial things you have to do in the process.

The Harrib slammed his meaty fist on the counter of the stand. Hey, don’t you keep me waiting over here.

Richard grunted. Yo, chill out. Your winnings ain’t going nowhere. He turned back to Jake. Why can’t you three just go and tell me how it was? I’m working the stand.

Richard suddenly felt a hand swiping at his neck. What the hell? he said and felt the chain ripped away from him. As he twisted around, he saw the Harrib and his cronies vanish into the crowd. Shit! Richard shouted and vaulted over the counter. I knew this dude was no good.

He plunged into the throng and Jake jumped out after him. Cleophus watched impassively from the back of the stand.

The Ju-mu-ra Festival exploded all around them. They were bumped from all sides by dancing, flailing creatures. Flying streamers whizzed up into the sky and fell back onto the heads of the revelers. Jake shook streamers out of his hair as they pressed through the bodies. What sounded like cannon-fire blasted beyond the crowds, each fusillade accompanied by cheering.

Good luck finding him in all of this! Jake yelled.

Richard scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of the drunken Harrib. They pushed through the press of bodies and came out on a sidewalk beyond the marketplace. Jake pointed at one of the bars on the crowded street. Is that him?

Richard squinted. The air was full of smoke and color and noise. Hell, yeah, he said eventually. That’s him. He raced forward and cupped his hands over his mouth. Yo! Get over here! he shouted.

Jake hung back. I’ll wait here, he called. In case I need to come at him from a different angle.

Richard took a step forward and felt a hand on his shoulder again. Jake, he said and turned. I—

It wasn’t Jake. It was Rijo. Looking as irritated as ever.

Yo, Richard, Rijo said. Let’s go, man. He nodded back the way they’d come.

I’ll be there in a second—

No, now. We don’t have time for this.

Jake stepped between them. Dude, back off. The man is getting something that belongs to him. A chain.

"A chain? Rijo said, his eyes widening. I don’t give a damn about that. And I could care less about you, him, or a chain."

You know, man, Jake said. You’re really starting to piss me off.

Rijo squared his shoulders. Then do something about it, Jake.

Chill out, guys, Richard said, trying to keep one eye on the fractious duo and another on the Harrib. Both of you.

You a pussy, Rijo said. All bark and no bite.

Richard saw Jake’s shoulders bunch, ready to launch an attack, and he grabbed Jake’s arms. What the hell is the problem with you two? he sighed.

Jake stared at him for a moment. This guy has got serious issues.

I can see that, Richard said. But could you please act civil? At least until I get my chain back? He turned back to the bar and the Harribs were gone. He shook his head and released Jake’s arms. You know what, don’t even worry about it, he muttered and started walking back towards Cleophus’ stand. This is ridiculous.

Jake fell in beside him. Come on, bro. I think I saw them go that way.

Richard ignored him.

You heard him, Jake, Rijo said from behind. He said forget it. Let’s go!

Hey, Rich, you sure? Jake said.

Richard finally stopped and turned to Jake. Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just going to the stand to grab my stuff. I’ll meet you two at the showcase.

He pushed his way into the throng of dancers and left Jake behind on the sidewalk.

❖

When Richard got back to the stand, he found Cleophus counting a new pile of shallons.

Sorry about that, Cleophus, Richard said. I have to get outta here. There’s another showcase. You going to be alright?

I’ll be fine.

Richard gathered his belongings—a bag that held his daily earnings, his shoes, and a small basket of tiny red and purple fruits called tamaroons—and stepped from behind the stand.

Before he left, he turned to Cleophus and said, Hey, can you keep a lookout for that guy. He’s running around here somewhere, and I know he still has my chain.

That thing worth a lot?

Not really. RJ probably got it from some coin machine, or the book fair at school. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It’s the only thing I have from him, so that makes it priceless. 

Cleophus nodded. I’ll keep a lookout for it, kid.

Richard smiled and hoped it looked less fake than it felt. Peace man. I gotta go before the ladies start fighting again.

At the far end of the marketplace, a crowd was gathering around the showcase stage. Richard could see a line of creatures up there, with ornate masks over their heads. It was hard to be sure from here, but they looked like papier-mâché caricatures of each of the four new Elites. Richard noticed his first because it was the only one with open-toe sandals, of the type he’d started wearing since arriving in Waywar’s Gate.

The four figures were standing in a line, bouncing up and down as if pogoing. Richard cursed under his breath. Do we really have to sit through more shit like this, he thought, but hurried towards the stage anyway.

When he got there, he headed around back and found Kao, Jake, and Hileena there. Only Kao and Hileena smiled and waved.

It’s about time, Kao said and looked at his wrist, which didn’t have a watch on it.

Richard smiled but then frowned when he noticed Jake staring straight ahead. When he followed Jake’s gaze, he saw Rijo standing out front, facing the crowd with his arms folded.  Richard looked down where the missing chain had rested on his chest, then back up at Jake’s furious face.

"All this for a chain that I’ll never get back," he said and shook his head sadly.

2

THE LAND OF Degenerates is the most captivating place in the universe, Oom thought.

The sun was setting over the desolate plains and both moons were visible through the heavy clouds. A beautiful-looking storm was boiling over the hills in the distance. Oom strode across the rocky terrain, scanning the ground for the few items he was searching for. His hired muscle, the Lugaknights, were tracking the Elites and with the expected arrival of the enormously-powerful Némar, Oom knew he was in a prime position to enjoy the Elites’ downfall. But Oom was far from naïve, and he knew better than to place all of his hopes in one plan.

He clutched a brown cloth bag and shook it open at the sight of a black snake slithering between the rocks at his feet.

Hello there, little fellow, he said and reached down to pinch the snake’s tail. He lifted it as it writhed and coiled. Aren’t you a beauty!

He marveled at the snake’s sleek, shiny body, gleaming as if it had just shed its old skin a few seconds before. You should do nicely, Oom said and placed the snake in the bag.

His eyes were drawn to a violet lakon flower standing alone among the rocks and pebbles. He immediately snatched it up and put it in the bag with the snake. A few paces behind where the flower had sprouted was a small pond, little more than a puddle of thick, murky water. It seemed lifeless until a Slit Fish jumped out and flopped back into the water, followed by another, then another. Oom watched the leaping fish for a moment then lifted his hand and sent a streak of searing light into the water. The impact stunned the fish, which immediately floated to the surface. Oom reached into the water and plucked a couple out by their tails.

Now your life will be useful, he said and threw the fish into the bag. I still need something else, he muttered and strode past the pond and its inert floating fish.

A pasture of bright yellow yunos stood tall in the distance, the multi-colored flowers abundant in the dry soil. Beside the lakons, they were about the finest—and only—vegetation in the Land of Degenerates. Their heady scent was both floral and musky, at once light and dense. Inhaling it too deeply would cause a rush to the head and make one dizzy.

Oom hurried toward them and planted his feet deeply among them. Of course! he said. "How could I forget yunos?"

He pulled a handful from the ground and sighed a breath of relief. Alright, let’s get you home, he said and dropped them into the bag.

❖

Horoous waited patiently in the Chamber of Sorrows as ordered. Left with nothing but his thoughts and a dreary view of the Land of Degenerates, Horoous had found it hard not to snoop around the chamber. The majority of the flowers in Oom’s private garden had been mysteriously plucked and Horoous noticed dried petals all over the floor by the window. The bookcase, which Oom usually kept well organized, was in disarray. Some books were missing and others were knocked over or misplaced. Toward the back of the chamber, a slimy pink liquid seeped from under the door to the potion room—a room to which Oom had forbidden entry.

What could possibly drive the Great One so mad, Horoous wondered, but the howling of Oom’s guard dog, Zefer, started up again, cutting off the thought. Since Oom had left, the three heads of the beast had taken turns to sing in pitches resembling a bloody scream. The noise sickened Horoous but he could do nothing except try to ignore it.

As the howling rose to an almost unbearable peak, Oom suddenly reappeared through a Shift Portal. The air shimmered in the center of the room, rippling like clear water in a chalice, and Oom gradually appeared, at first like molten glass, and then solidifying as the glass filled with color and substance. Finally, the air crackled into ozone and Oom stepped forward.

How can you just stand there with Zefer going on like this? he said and moved toward Zefer’s cage.

Horoous blinked and watched Oom calm Zefer with a single hand gesture. When the beast was quiet, Oom walked back into the chamber, past his comfortable armchair, and headed for the forbidden door to his potion room. Follow me, Horoous, he said.

Horoous gagged as Oom walked through the sticky pink liquid. He slowly followed Oom into the room anyway and found it larger than he’d expected and drafty, like the chamber. Wooden shelves lined the stone wall, bearing bottles of many sizes and colors. Two long, wooden tables stood in the center of the room, crowded with bottles, some empty, some full. A couple were tipped over and spilling a sticky substance onto the floor. That explained the pink goo coming from under the door, at least.

Making a solution, my Lord? Horoous said.

Precisely! Oom dropped a cloth bag onto one of the tables. Let me ask you something, he said. The last time you looked into the Elites, what did you make of their desires and fulfillment?

Horoous thought for a second and smiled. He felt his third eye turn upward in his forehead as he recalled the visions he’d had of the Elites. "I see that they are all genuinely accepting of where they are. They boast of the fact that they are Elites, but each still questions who they truly are. And like any male creature from their world, they seek companionship, my Lord."

Oom smiled. His reptilian snout curved upwards, revealing rows of small, razor-sharp teeth. And what kind of companionship do they seek, exactly?

A woman! Horoous said. They all yearn for a woman, Master.

Oom’s grin widened. His long tongue flicked at his teeth. I have just the solution for their problem, he said, rubbing his scaly palms together. He began pulling bottles of potions and herbs from the shelves, lining them up on the table. I’ll make the perfect batch of women, he said and giggled. To Horoous it sounded like a lizard hissing in the back of its throat. Women that they will not be able to resist.

How long will that take? Horoous asked.

It won’t happen overnight. They will have to grow and learn to be everything the men dream of. Only then will these Elites be vulnerable enough for us to expose them for who they are.

Horoous stood back and watched as Oom gathered his potions, along with a mixing bowl made from the shell of some long-extinct animal. He liked Oom’s idea, but he had no taste for the process. Besides, it was tedious and required a lot of drudge work.

Oom had been frequently absent since sending the Lugaknights off to reconnoiter likely routes the Elites might take in the coming days and weeks. Horoous figured Oom had spent the time testing various combinations of herbs and potions.

They will have to be sweet, Oom said as he poured drops of liquid into the bowl, in order to lure the men in. Seductive enough to keep them interested, striking enough to hit them where it hurts.

Oom cackled and from the corner of his eye, Horoous saw the cloth bag move . . . and then go still again. There was a loud crackle from the bowl followed by a vibrating sizzle. Smoke suddenly billowed out of it and filled the room like a thick fog. Its stench was as rank as the gases emitted from exploding magic lanterns and it felt cool then hot on Horoous’ skin. He covered his mouth and nose but the taste of bitter powder was already tickling his throat. He coughed and tried not to retch. At once, he heard the papery whispers of fallen spirits as they were released by Oom’s concoction.

Almost done, Oom hissed, though Horoous could not see him through the smoke. Just a few more things . . .

A bright pink light oozed from the bowl and cleared the smoke. The glowing liquid bubbled up and began to turn as if stirred by an unseen hand.

Oom moved around the table and untied the cloth bag. He pulled out a lakon, two dead fish, some yunos, and—to Horoous’ horror—a long, black snake which writhed and coiled as Oom held it by the tail. Horoous stepped back as far as he could while Oom dropped the objects into the pink liquid. He kissed the snake one final time and released it into the bowl.

There! Now all we have to do is pour everything into the Quadrant and watch the liquid go to work for itself.

The Quadrant was a large, complex-looking device against the back wall. It was covered in a dense network of variously-sized tubing, which Horoous took to be hollowed-out tree roots. At one end of the contraption, there was a kind of funnel hanging over a tray of open cocoons. They were the size of Horoous’ fist, with a small opening on top. Each of the amber-colored cocoons was gnarled and rubbery-looking.

Before Oom began pouring the liquid into the Quadrant, he took a bottle of red powder from a shelf and sprinkled it into the bowl.

The final touch, he said and grinned.

He poured the contents of the bowl into a tank at the other end of the Quadrant. There was a loud sizzle as the potion went to work.

Here Horoous, Oom said, handing him another bag. Horoous peeked inside and saw it was filled with crushed crystals. I primed these a few seasons ago. Pour a good amount into each cocoon. It’s finally time to see them.

Horoous started filling the cocoons. Time to see who?

The Elites! I’ve waited long enough.

What do you plan on doing, my Lord?

I’m going to see them face to face, Oom said and narrowed his bright green eyes. "I’ll make sure they don’t recognize me, but I want to look into their eyes and see who they really are. That will reveal to me who I want."

Horoous filled the last cocoon and waved his hand over them. What about these? What shall come from these creations?

Oom clasped his hands and his reptilian snout opened in a sharp-toothed smile. What shall come from them? The four most evil, scandalous women this universe has ever seen will walk the earth, soar the skies, inhale the air, and maliciously destroy anything I tell them to. They will be mysterious and manipulative . . . and conniving, of course. He looked at the tubes snaking across the Quadrant. They will have spice—and everything nice! He hissed a laugh. Look at it this way, Horoous: we’ll all get what we want. The Elites will get their women and I will watch them self-destruct.

Horoous stepped away from the Quadrant and bowed. Will there be anything else, my Lord?

Yes! Seek out the Lugaknights and tell them to attack the Elites on sight. I will give them double their price for their trouble. Tell them I will be in touch soon, to inform them of the Elites whereabouts and their expected path.

Horoous nodded and hurried out of the potion room, wasting no time in fulfilling Oom’s orders.

❖

The excitement of all these plans, ready to unfold, was enough to make Oom start panting like Zefer around a fresh carcass. The sorcerer crossed to the window overlooking the Land of Degenerates and whistled loudly, prompting his ranks of Verins to rise from the ground and approach the perimeter of the Chamber of Sorrows. Their oily, dirty figures bowed toward Oom and he cackled again at the thought of the Elites’ collision course with death.

Now, he hissed, I think it’s time we properly introduce ourselves, children.

3

RIJO WELKER STOOD proudly with his fellow Elites in the Eminal Portal, on a platform high above the floor in the new room within Waywar’s Dome. They were waiting for their important meeting with Ada, which the old man had been reminding them about all week.