Chapter 42: Tale 4, Ch 8: The Prophet Burns

“Mandrin,” Zel said calmly, clenching his grip on his sword and pointing the blade away from Mandrin. “Don’t do this. Think about what will happen.”

“I’ve thought about it. Trust me Zel, you have no idea what I’m going through.”

“Zel!” a woman’s voice cried. In the small chamber was the two-foot thick, round white hatch with a circular window. It opened into the incendiary room, and Silen put her face against the thick window. A quick look of recognition flashed into a brief smile of joy. Then she snarled and looked at Mandrin with contempt. “Just kill the traitor!”

“Silen, don’t worry. I’ll get you out of there,” Zel said, tension building up in him as a salty bead of sweat fell onto his glowing sword and melted away.

Mandrin wiped the sweat off his own brow, but kept a firm hold on the lever. “Keep quiet,” Mandrin said.

“Mandrin, why are you doing this?” Silen asked, unafraid.

Zel, on the other hand, was inwardly terrified.

“Don’t… don’t say anything,” Mandrin said, sadness and fear in his voice. “I’ve tried all I can. You can’t see it — no one can.”

“All I see is a murderer, someone who doesn’t care about the consequences of his actions,” Zel said, trying to be catch Mandrin off guard for just a few seconds so he could pull him away from that lever. Zel looked at Silen, an expression of helplessness on his face. She looked at him with hope, confidence in her forgiveness of him.

“Don’t say things like that. Do you think I’m enjoying this? Do you think I want to kill people?” Mandrin asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Then don’t. Here. I’m going to let these people out,” Zel said, and moved toward the door.

“You take one more step and that door will lock down tighter than a safe. I’ll pull this lever, I swear I will!” Mandrin shouted.

Zel froze.

“You know you don’t want to do that,” Silen said, turning to calm the men, women, and children nearly panicking behind her. The room wasn’t full, but there were over two dozen people inside, pressed fearfully against the blackened walls.

“No, I don’t Silen. But I don’t have a choice. Can’t you see? We’ve been fighting a war we can never win. We’ve been struggling against something that’s in our very nature,” Mandrin whined.

“What are you talking about?” Silen asked as if addressing a fool.

“Evolution.” Mandrin sighed. “One day a minor race, us, someone else, will rise up and fight the Grichians. Do you know how many people will die because of a war like that? With the advancements we’ve made?”

“So you’ll kill people now to stop that?” Silen said.

“Yes!” Mandrin shouted, nearly slipping his hand down on the lever.

Zel had a brief moment of horror, but Mandrin tightened his steady and unmoving grip.

“That’s a flawed idea, Mandrin,” Zel said, trying to sound pleading. “Stopping one war won’t prevent all future ones. The only hope is to unite this planet peacefully, and end the very ideas of minor and major race. That’s what Korrich’s been trying to tell people. Please, back away.”

“No,” Mandrin bit. “I know it’s flawed. But Grichia can’t be united peacefully. We’ve been hating each other so long we don’t know what else to do.”

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“Zel,” Silen said, “you’re a great man. And I’m glad you came to help us.” Zel’s heart sank. “See? I hated Zel before. We all did, you saw it! People can change.”

“But human nature can’t,” Mandrin said. “If I help the Grichians win out once and for all, then maybe one day this planet can have peace.”

“You pathetic fool!” Silen shouted.

Zel didn’t want them shouting. He said, “Silen, don’t—”

Silen interrupted him and shouted, “You selfish fool! Don’t you care how many people will die or that thousands of years of culture will fade away because you think only one can survive?”

“The ends justify the means!” Mandrin shouted, tears streaming down his face. “I know what’s going to happen and I know it’s evil. But I can’t let our world go on like this!”

“So since people fight each other one side should simply be wiped out, is that it? You’re an idiot!” Silen said, and pounded on the window.

“Mandrin, Silen, calm down. This—” Zel tried.

“It’s the only way for peace!” Mandrin cried.

“It’s the only way for you to save your skin!” Silen shouted.

“It’s evolution! It’s the natural way of things!”

“Screw nature, we’re humans!”

“I won’t let our world get torn apart!”

“Then let us live! You’ll be dead soon too, you fool!”

“The future is for others. I know it’s not meant for me!” Mandrin shouted, and pounded a fist on the wall.

“You don’t have to die for this!” Silen said, now crying.

“Yes I do. We all do,” Mandrin said, and pulled the lever.

Flashing red lights and a piercingly horrifying siren went off. Zel tried to stop Mandrin, but his shockwave hit the man right as the lever clicked down. Mandrin fell against the wall in a heap as Zel ran to the door and slashed desperately with his sword.

Pound, pound, slash, slash as his sword ringed with the sound of the turbines readying and the fires igniting. The door dented and pushed in, but Zel couldn’t break it. As Zel moved with lightning speed, he could hear the cries of panic from the people inside. Zel could see Silen’s teary look through the window. She seemed sad, but calm and still resolute as she nodded thanks to Zel.

The red-hot blaze exploded upward and blew out the damaged door. The sun seemed to leap out to catch Zel. The Prophet had no time for horror or pain and leapt into the inferno without hesitation, his glowing sword held firmly in one hand.

Pain searing and undeniably torturous even to a Gold enveloped Zel as he blindly edged toward Silen. The fire was so intense that he felt no bodies standing, only the mass of charred flesh lining the grates on the floor. Zel’s flesh dripped off him as the heat wrenched all the power out of his dying body.

One step further, one more agonizing and searing step through this blaze and he knew he’d be done for. But Zel still walked, feeling his clothes melt away, indistinguishable from the charred flesh as both burned.

He stumbled forward for one last step, and came to a cooler spot in the center of the room.

The fires there had been lighter, missing the person standing there, and the Prophet reached down and felt a soft, cool body. Without thinking, and using the last of his strength, Zel grabbed the body, curled it in his arms, and leapt out of the flames, rolling across the wondrously cool concrete outside the ruined door as the flames licked after him.

It had only been a few seconds.

The fires were so intense that as Zel lay there, charred, naked, and panting, he could see no discernable shapes among the black remains on the floor as the fire went out with a crack and a rush of air.

“I’m… sorry,” Mandrin said, leaning against the wall as he tried to rise. “I hope that history forgets this. And that when Grichia is at peace, people will forgive me.”

Zel breathed heavily. Then he looked up, and through his charred face, Mandrin saw a horror greater than any tale he’d ever wept to.

For the first time in his life, Zel allowed his rage to fill him. He rose and speared Mandrin through the heart with his golden Prophet blade. The man looked on the verge of tears of anguish and pain as he stared in shock at the glowing, unmarked sword protruding from his body. Both men collapsed, blood staining the floor as Mandrin tried to speak then fell silent.

Zel coughed, blackened flesh and blood on his tongue, and leaned over to see the feminine shape he’d rescued. It was a little girl, no older than ten. Her body had missed the worst of the fires, except for her legs, and she had black smeared all over her face. She wasn’t breathing.

Zel reached out. He couldn’t feel her face, but he could feel his power go into her as he coughed and winced in agony. As his tears seared his ruined skin, Zel could see the girl cough once, then breathe faintly. And as her charred legs returned to normal, Zel’s vision faded, and he held his bloody sword close to his heart. He felt weakness and despair take him as the world grew dark. Something in that little girl’s face, her hair maybe, told Zel that he couldn’t let himself go. He had to survive.

“I can’t,” the Golden Prophet said.

The emergency lights grew dim, and Zel heard the stomping of approaching guards. He didn’t see them, though. All he saw was the little girl he’d saved, and his blackened hand gripping his glowing sword.