The Star of the West: Chapter 1

By: J. Elias Epp

Illustration By: Xu Zhang, Ubisoft Senior Concept Artist

(I don’t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)

Skah stared at his ox in a half-crouch, sweat dripping from his bare chest.

The ox stared back, muscles tense.

Skah glanced at his goal, the large water jars the ox was carrying on its back.

The ox glanced at the sword at Skah’s side, even sheathed it still gave off heat waves that distorted the air.

The ox took a step back.

“Nah.” Skah held up a finger. Steam rose off the puddles around him.

The ox took another step back.

Skah wagged his finger. “Naahh,” he said louder.

The ox wheeled away from Skah as fast as it could down the muddy path.

“Hey!” Skah took off after the ox, making no headway for a split second as his running feet slipped on the mud. The mud flung up behind him steamed like smoke.

Though off to a great start, the heavy water jars slowed the already fat ox.

Skah gained his footing and gave chase. Mud flew up behind him and spattered his back. Mud kicked up from the ox splattered his front.

“Blech! Chase you dumb ox! Get back here!”

They passed a man leading a donkey who raised his hand against the spattering of mud as they passed by.

A small village appeared ahead consisting of wood houses covered in thatch.

Skah was gaining ground now. With one last spurt he leapt and grasped one of the ropes tying the water jugs. His feet slipped out from under him and he face-planted onto the road.

He kept his grip though and was dragged through the muck.

Chase lowed as he ran into the town, scattering everyone in his way.

***

Meanwhile, on the other end of town a waist-high fog slowly preceded a walking figure. Despite the warmth and humidity of the weather, the figure wore heavy dark clothing. The only part that could be seen were two sharp eyes peeking out from beneath the heavy cloth. A slim white-furred sheath held an orange-handled sword at the person’s side.

Where the stranger stepped, the mud froze solid and ice crystals formed atop puddles. A light rain began falling, clouding the vivid green trees and crops with its gray mists. Where the rain fell over the stranger it turned to snow. The sparkling white drifted slowly, then melted when it touched the ground.

A farmer saw the stranger approaching the town and he cried out in dismay and fell backward.

“Witch! Wizard!” He cried and scrambled to his feet.

Other people of the town noticed and cried out in dismay as well. A few gaped in astonishment before running away, looking behind them as they ran.

“Wait!” The heavily clothed stranger raised their hand, then let it drop. “I…I just want some food.” The stranger held a hand to his stomach. “I won’t get a meal at this rate.”

After a moment the stranger continued walking into the town.

The townspeople had called out their guards and were huddled behind them in the muddy town square by the time the stranger drew near.

A cold breeze blew over them. The fog drifted towards the guards.

“Don’t come any closer!” The guard’s spear trembled. He stepped away from the fog.

The stranger irritably mumbled something under his breath. Then spoke up, “Sell me food and I’ll be on my way.” The voice came out muffled from the thick scarf wrapped about the stranger’s head.

The guard hesitated.

“Don’t listen to him! It’s a trick!” A townsperson said. “The trick of a wizard!”

The guard nodded, his nerves steeled with a crowd at his back. “You heard im! Get on your way!”

The stranger threw up his hands in exasperation. He looked around himself but was unable to find any food left out nearby. His eyes turned back to the guard, then folded his arms in defiance.

The guard gulped.

The rain pattered against the people there as they watched. Someone coughed.

The guard took a cautious step forward and threateningly jabbed with his spear. He swallowed. “C-come on.” He motioned with his spear.

The stranger held his ground even though he was a hand span shorter than most of the women.

The people tensely watched.

The guard motioned to his two other buddies and took a breath as he prepared to advance.

“You fat-farting jerky! Stop I said!”

The guard paused.

People mumbled in the back of the crowd.

The guard felt a wave of heat on his back. He turned as the crowd parted and an ox barreled its way through, dragging the form of a shirtless man through the mud.

The ox stopped and the man let go of the rope he’d been holding onto and slumped on the ground. “A drink, that’s all I wanted, a drink! Why does it have to be a fight every single time!” The man got up and looked around at the people. He was covered from head to food in mud and was a whole head taller than anyone there. The mud on him and around him steamed as did the rain that fell on him. Standing near him was like standing by a bonfire.

The rolling fog curled away from the heat.

The guard slipped on the mud and scrambled away. He brandished his spear. “Wh-who are you? Get out of here!”

“It’s a demon!” A woman screamed.

Pandemonium broke loose as everyone scrambled to flee.

“A wizard! A demon! We’re dead! We’re dead! We’re cursed! We’re cursed!”

The people ran.

With no crowd to back them up, the guards ran as well.

Skah watched them go. “Its like this everywhere I go.” He sighed.

“That sword…”

Skah turned and finally took notice of the person standing about fifteen arm spans away.

Chase was standing near the stranger and whisking his tail happily as he enjoyed the cold air.

The stranger put his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I am looking for worthy opponents. Will you fight me?”

Skah’s jaw dropped a little at the sight of the falling snow and fog wrapping around the person’s feet.

Skah glanced at the remaining townspeople watching from a distance. He looked at himself, covered in mud. He wiped it from his face and flicked it off to the side. He was dirty, sticky with sweat, and most of all, thirsty.

“Nah, I’ll pass.”

The stranger gripped his sword handle tighter. “You would dishonor my invitation?”

Skah raised an eyebrow and dried mud flaked off his face. “You sound like you’re no more than fifteen years old, don’t look much taller either.” He calmly walked over to Chase.

As Skah drew closer he felt a cool breeze on his skin. He turned to the stranger and pointed at the his sword. “Is that-”

“Yes. This is Adhiam, the fourth sword of the Snow Ridge blades to be made. Among its brothers are-”

“It’s the source of the snow? It isn’t magic?”

The eyes frowned at him angrily. “It’s from the sword.”

Skah nodded and mud fell from him. He walked to Chase and lifted one of the jar’s lids. He took a ladle hanging from the jar and splashed himself with water before taking drink after drink. When he was done, he nodded in satisfaction. The cold air and the drink had refreshed him.

The heavily clothed person tapped his fingers on his sword impatiently. “Are you quite done ignoring me?”

Skah looked at him for a moment, then turned away and belched. “Nah.” He could feel the glare on his back.

“Hmph, I’m sure you couldn’t beat a kid like me anyway.”

“Yah.” Skah checked the knots on Chase by trying to pry them apart with his fingers. They all held.

“I could stab you right now.”

“A kid like you who asks for a fight? Doubt it.”

A pause.

“I’m not a kid.”

Skah rested his forearms on Chase’s back facing away from the stranger and grinned. “You’re right, sorry, a child.”

A foot step crunched on the frozen ground and Skah turned. The stranger had taken a step forward and had one hand on the sword as if to draw it. The stranger’s eyes glowed with anger.

“Tsk, a noble warrior such as yourself being goaded into stabbing a man in the back? Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“You would be dead if I didn’t have to kill you in an honorable duel.”

Am I the one looking for a fight? Skah thought. I need to back off before I do get stabbed. “Nah, you won’t find an honorable duel here. Hey, that sword of yours, where’d you get it?”

“I haven’t recognized you as worthy. Only then can you ask questions.”

Skah shrugged and smiled.

The stranger waited for Skah’s response.

Skah waited in silence.

“Well?” The stranger asked.

Skah looked side to side and waggled his eyebrows. “What?”

“Ahg! Will you fight?!”

“Oh! Ummm,” Skah stroked his beardless chin and looked the stranger up and down, “nah. You’re not worthy to ask questions.”

The skin around the eyes turned red. “Then why don’t you leave?!”

Skah motioned to the stranger’s sword. “The chill air feels good.” He cocked his head. “Aren’t you getting warm?” He patted his own sword.

“No! I…” The stranger looked away.

Skah raised his eyebrows as if to say, “and?”

The stranger gathered himself and faced Skah again. “You will fight me.” The stranger unsheathed his sword in a flourish and a blast of frigid air buffeted everything around him. The sword was straight and slender with one edge and an angled point.

“Ooooohh, oh that feels, oh…I think I’m going to take a nap.”

The stranger blinked as Skah and the ox slumped to the ground together. Skah rested his back on the ox and their eyes began to grow droopy.

“Hey!”

“Huuuh?”

Ice crystals were forming on the puddles up and down the street. Fog rolled out from the town as tall as one’s waist, just above the knee if going by the local height average. If one didn’t know better, the small town looked like it was in the middle of a strange winter snowstorm. However, around Skah everything was lukewarm and the snow dissipated into a fine mist.

The stranger fidgeted angrily. He even made a few feints in attack toward Skah. Skah didn’t respond to any of them.

Skah let out a snore.

The stranger made a movement to put his sword away but stopped. “If you defeat me, this sword is yours.”

Skah’s eyes slowly opened wide. He hesitated a moment, then leapt to his feet and shook out his arms and legs and rolled his shoulders. “Yah yah? You don’t have any buddies around?”

“On my honor.”

“You don’t have much left after talking to me.” Skah rubbed his hands together. “May I ask why you want to fight me so badly? Nah, that’s right, it’s a question.”

“No, I’ll answer that. You have the right to know as my opponent. I have been sent on a mission to prove my honor. Part of that mission is to defeat one hundred swordsmen. I have defeated ninety-nine.” The stranger settled into a stance. “You will be the one hundredth.”

Skah grinned and lowered his chin, then drew his sword from its broad sheath. The air around him wavered from the heat and a cart near him started smoking as its wood started turning to charcoal. He held a glowing white blade almost too bright to look at. It was a strange shape, starting out straight, curving in a shallow half-crescent and ending in a point that hooked backwards.

A strong wind suddenly blasted from behind Skah, whipping and snapping the stranger’s clothes like flags. Above them a cloud formed that slanted upwards away from Skah and towards the stranger. Lightning arced through the cloud and a blast of thunder shook the homes around them.

Skah pointed his sword at the stranger. “I will be taking your sword. And when I do, I’ll take a nap with it.”

The stranger’s brows raised. What have I gotten myself into?