“With very real lies,” Aryu answered while sniffling heavily and with more than a dose of cynicism in his response. “Most around here disagree, but I've never once believed in him as any more than a very powerful man. Only a man could have done something so reckless and self-centered.”
“Ah, so ya know of his final days, then?”
“Yes. It's jammed down our throats from birth. He was denied his eternal rest and punished the world and those hungry for power, with no discrimination in his anger. Embracers of the Power at the time were all killed. None were spared. Such a clear overreaction could only be the work of a man, not God.” Aryu hated that story, but he hated the people who worshiped the God Ryu even more. One who had not spent their life shunned, mocked, and generally hated likely would have been more receptive to the moral of the man and not the action he had taken.
Nixon’s smile returned in full force. “I admit ye're a little hazy on the details, but tha bottom line is tha same. You’re correct, and it truly warms m’ heart t’ hear ya say it. I'm glad t’ know tha poison of ‘is words is slowly bein’ purged.”
“Most people believe his to be the ultimate power, his story being one of warning and not foolishness.” Aryu tried remembering more details to the story, but his head was still murky, and they didn't come quickly. “You say you are granted the power of God, yet claim it wasn’t him?”
“No, sir. Not at all. I'll not bore ya with preachiness, but I serve the one true Lord, He who reigned long before tha one ya speak of, and with considerably more mercy. He is whom I serve, and will forever, despite his essence being gone from this place fer so long.” Nixon seemed to sadden slightly with these words, as if they were difficult for him to say. As his smile slipped away, so did Aryu’s brief respite of peace as the visions of a machine murdering his parents rushed back. The tears still came but the sobbing ceased, so he opted for a change of topic.
“You'll forgive me if my interest is elsewhere right now, but I'd like to know why that sword is so much more important than me finding my friend.”
Although his eyes didn't brighten any, his soft smile did return. It seemed to Aryu that he was thankful for a change of topic as well. “Well now, that's a very long story indeed. Suffice t’ say it'd take much too long t’ regale ya with it here and now.”
“Listen Nixon, my eyes are red with tears and revenge, and I need to see my best friend alive again. My hatred is just enough to make me consider running and taking my chances against whatever you are. All I'd like to know is what's so important that you'd save me, just to torment me now.”
Nixon seemed to agree to the logic. “Ya make a strong point, sir.”
“Aryu.”
Nixon faltered. “I'm… I'm sorry, wha’?”
“Aryu. Aryu O'Lung'Singh. It's my name, as opposed to 'sir'.”
Nixon looked astonished, an expression Aryu could read even in the poor light. “Ye’ve got to be kiddin’ me! Aryu? Aryu O'lung'Singh? Ya canna’ be serious.”
Aryu didn't know what to say. His parents had told him that where they came from it was a perfectly normal name, although he was the only one he'd ever know with it. “What’s your issue with it?”
“Well, it all but confirms my original assumption about ya, that's all.”
“And what assumption is that, Nixon?” Now there was an odd name.
“My assumption tha’ I'm supposed t’ kill ya, and do it very quickly, Aryu O’Lung’Singh.”
Aryu was still alive. That was something he was certain of. But his words were so precise. So purposeful. He knew that this man-thing across from him was not lying.
Aryu was still breathing. His head was still aching. His family was still gone. “Why? Why save me only to kill me?”
“Believe me, I wish I knew.” Something very large was tormenting Nixon. “I'll put this as simple as I can, and if after I tell ya, ye still feel the urge t’ pester me further on it, I'll gladly do wha’ I'm supposed to, make no doubts about tha’.”
Aryu understood. Embracer or not, he was still associated with the Power and needed a wide berth.
The large man rose and pointed to the ground partway between the two. With a 'SNAP' and a bright flash, a bolt of fire shot from his hand like a bullet from a gun. Aryu wobbled back on his rock, shielding his eyes for a moment as he did so. Looking back, he saw a crackling fire now between them, but he could see no wood or kindling. Simply a hearty fire burning on nothing more than a bed of rock. The light it gave off illuminated them both, adding to Nixon’s terrifying and powerful appearance. He then took his seat again.
“I want ya t’ see me and hear me true as day, Aryu. Do ya promise?”
Not a doubt in his mind. “I promise.”
“Good, because I have many, many reservations about telling ya any of it and not just cutting ye down right here. Do ya believe tha’?”
“I do.”
“Alright then. Listen. Cry yer tears until they run dry. Mourn. I know ya want t’ see yer friend. I know ye are trapped with a man sworn to kill ya. I know how difficult this story will be t’ believe and understand, but I am not a man prone t’ lyin’. It is all true. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Good, now listen and listen well. What year is this, Aryu?”
An odd question to
