The Outlaw Torn II: Shinsou vs John Cromwell

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

“What is it about Cromwell that fascinates you so much?” Arius Mephisto, Shinsou's friend and right hand man, piped up. His voice was almost a whisper on the howling wind, “I'm not so sure we need this kind of man in our life, given our current endeavours with the Brotherhood and the way the public already perceive us. You won't be able to recruit him, so I think we should let this particular sleeping dog lie.”

Shinsou Vaan Osiris frowned at his friend, his brow creasing and his golden eyes narrowing into slits. They sat together on a hill about three miles from the breathtaking colossus that was the Citadel. It cut a wonderous sight; its black stone spires propelled high into the gloomy Radasanthian sky and its shadow projected across the urban ocean below. He could see the specks of people entering and leaving the grand courtyard of the Ai'Bron's finest creation, none of them perturbed by the dark storm clouds that swaddled the isle, flickering with lightning yet refusing to spill a drop of rain. Thunder rolled distantly.

"I'm not interested in giving him a job, Arius. He'd turn it down even if I did. I'm interested in fighting him, and understanding him,” the Telgradian paused, and tilted his head. "He possesses strength in ways that others simply do not."

“Do you think he is a threat?” Arius reclined on his grassy patch. His brown, wiry hair floated in the breeze and his hazel eyes drank in the sky.

"Of course he is, but so is anyone with that kind of power. If he takes exception to anything we are doing, the likelihood is that he'll challenge us. But that's part of the reason I'm here,” Shinsou reminded him, leaning forward on his knee. “I'll be ready for him if he does, because I'll know what he is capable of."

“Part of the reason?,” Arius scoffed, like raindrops whipped against a window and refusing to leave the subject of alone. "Want to know what I think? I reckon there's a part of yourself that listened to what he said last time. I think John makes you doubt yourself."

"You're overthinking it, friend.” Shinsou put his left hand up as he uncrossed his legs and stretched. He breathed in the salted coastal air, stirring the memory of his last fight with John Cromwell. It had ended in a stalemate, but the fight itself had represented for the Telgradian a moment of doubt, a moment of weakness, and yet one of such deific might. It was still, though, a mere micro-appetizer for the feast that awaited.

The two men paced for a short while down the hill, coasting to a stop they neared the Citadel's gates. Arius shook his head, his fingers fluttering in an open gesture.

“Go on, then.” The man shrugged. “Get it out of your system.”

Arius disappeared in a hazy cloud of blue magic, his words chasing Shinsou down the parade. As his brown hide boots crunched on the gravel path, he glanced over his shoulder. His friend had vanished. His words still echoed in his ears, testing the parts of him that remained in doubt.

***


The arena he had chosen for the encounter reeked of nostalgia.

He strode inland toward the dense jungle that sat within the ring of sand. The wind tugged at his white clothing, pressing the tailored fabric flat against his muscular frame. He rolled broad shoulders and cracked his neck, running a hand through close-cropped brown hair and scraping it over the stubble on his chin.

Years ago, the island had been the arena of his friend Joshua Cronen as a master of the Dajas Pagoda. Shinsou remembered that he had fought and overcome many challengers there, on the beaches, through the jungle, and in the building at the center of the isle. It was there he had instructed Shinsou to meet him once before, for a real life training session with the demigod. Luckily, Shinsou had survived the encounter with his life and body barely intact, but it taught him a valuable lesson - that he wasn't so invincible. Although angry thunder clouds still blotted out the sun, he knew it was nearing noon. As usual, the Telgradian arrived early.

The Ai'Bron had recreated the Pagoda's grounds perfectly. The path through the jungle had grown over in the years since he left the island. Roots and brambles clutched at his boots and pants, and dangling vines brushed against his back like curious serpents. The close-grown trees blocked out most of the wind, allowing him to become accustomed to the smells and sounds of the forest. Insects trilled and the occasional bird chirped, and the musky scent of loam filled the air. Before long the path opened into a clearing dominated by a ramshackle building.

The Akashiman-style building’s ornately arched roof was covered by dead leaves and sticks. A fallen tree had sliced a swathe through one of the paper-thin walls, and the double doors hung open loosely on their hinges. Every so often they gave a grating whine as the wind moved them back and forth.

As he moved through the arena, the Telgradian could not sense a heartbeat or breathing and could not detect any arcane signatures. But Shinsou was aware there were people who could have taken steps to shield themselves. Of course, it was possible that anyone had yet to arrive.

Lightning flickered in the clouds overhead, and thunder rumbled its agreement.