Chapter One: Only Illusions
The wide summer sun flared angry heat wisps and descended into a deep orange of red as its lower body slowly sunk beneath the endless stretch of tree line to the west. Easterly stars winked into existence, twinkling bodies of boiling gasses burning millions of gallons of highly flammable, natural fuel. Others had already reached their limit thousands of years ago, burnt out, but still shedding light halfway across the galaxy. As the ebony sky was set alight by hundreds upon hundreds of additional celestial bodies and reflections from the system’s sun on moons, the synthetic cities below flamed their own fires of electricity, dotting the planet like innumerable fireflies skittering and chirping against a backless void. And so the end of another long and eventful day on Plit came to a wondrous end.
Electronic light sensors embedded deep within the complex control chips of the Royal Mushroom Kingdom Tennis Court’s glow poles crackled to life, throwing yellow luminance onto the green playing ground while casting dark shadows against the stone face of the nearby Royal Castle. The endless ping-pong of a back-and-forth tennis match with no end in sight resounded with whistling cracks against bark and rock. The humid heat of the hot summer day had already left the waving grasses painted with a thin layer of sparkling dew. White boundary lines reflected artificial light poorly, making any rules broken all the less obvious. A wide back-handed slam from one player’s racket caught the fuzzy tennis ball in the center of its tightly stretched, crisscrossed plastic wires, engendering an audible thok and sending the ball rocketing over the middle net and crashing onto the other side at a speed well over eighty miles per hour.
A green- and blue-clothed man of a slightly higher height flung both arms up and catapulted himself into the air, lunging left and bringing up his own racket to bat the bouncing target before it could smack the ground once more. Without a fourth of a second to spare, the racket nicked the ball as the swinger hit the ground hard on his shoulder, tumbling in a blanket roll before coming back up on two feet and one hand. A lithe woman with cascading, golden hair that rose up in full tufts at intervals brought an elbow-length gloved hand to a gold-framed sapphire complementing the top of her pink dress. Yellow decorations like fire rose up from the lower cloth, and below that there was a thin white lace pocked with intricately designed holes. A darker, almost ruby inner dress feathered the ground behind that, while a gilded crown with a small gem completed the expensive ensemble, in no way indicating the fiercely courageous princess that was forced to wear it.
Peach knit her brows and shot a baleful look at the playing field, shaking her head and giving an irritated sigh. “It’s only a game, you two. I wish you wouldn’t be so competitive about a simple tennis match. Someone’s going to get hurt, and when that happens, I’ll have to employ endless will to stifle a told-you-so laugh.”
Mario executed a sloppy overhand that managed only to graze the lip of Luigi’s counter hit. “Now… Princess,” Mario huffed, gasping for a breath just out of reach, “why… would we ever… do something to upset you like that?”
Luigi bent his back low, staring straight ahead with both hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of his racket as he playfully let it twist at points of inaction. He could make out the ball before it was struck, and so he used a quick mathematical equation to calculate its most probable trajectory based on the direction of Mario’s swing. He found the spot and stuck out his racket, smiling smugly as the tennis ball was bounced back without any additional effort.
Toad snickered as he waddled under a willow tree to sling the Princess’ meager supply of outing necessities over his back and trotted off into the castle. Peach smiled and turned back to the court to find Mario and Luigi arguing quietly over the validity of the last point scored. “Impressive match, boys, but I have to go in. Hopefully I’ll see you two tomorrow, but on a pleasant note such as today’s, yes?”
They both nodded their heads with appreciative grins, returning the favor when she waved her fingers to them before turning and entering her massive abode. Finally, Luigi turned to Mario, racket at his side and towel slung over his shoulder. He exhaled after taking a long gulp of a tasty-looking red liquid in a bottle undergoing rapid condensation. “We’d better get back to the pad. We promised Raz to help him dig a swimming pool for his son first thing in the morning.”
Mario arched his neck to one side and followed by stretching both of his arms in the same direction, allowing himself a long yawn. “I’m not sure if I’ll be up to constructing any fences tomorrow morning no matter how much rest I get. Every muscle and bone in my body is dragging me down. Perhaps we should reschedule?”
Luigi sighed and looked back towards the Royal Castle to watch the last of the second level lights turn out for the night. The five stained glass windows of the cathedral-like throne room still filtered synthetic peridot, showing the unique art pieces’ divine beauty. Collages of the Kingdom’s proud Kings of the past stood beaming for all to see. “We promised him. And besides, how would it be that the Mario Brothers are forever known as breakers of their word on the account of laziness?”
“Because we neglected to set our alarm clock?” Mario winked and couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Come on, don’t you think saving the world multiple times earns us the right to sleep in a few extra hours? Of course, you always have to go for that morning jog at 4 o’ clock in the morning.”
“Case in point,” Luigi held up a finger. “I’m more fit than you are. Being stronger doesn’t necessarily have all that much to do with endurance, you know.” Mario nodded half-heartedly. “It doesn’t matter, though,” Luigi said dryly as he looked to the lighter part of the sky. “It’s going to rain tomorrow; I can feel it.”
“Since when have you started divining weather patterns?” Mario asked incredulously. “You think you’re Mallow or something?”
“Let’s just call it intuition. That and the fact that those clouds over there are by the book examples of newborn thunderheads. Which reminds me, expect thunder and lightning as well.” Luigi rolled his eyes and drooped. “Looks like another day of losing to you at all the board games in the cabinet, and then some. Why won’t you learn how to play chess? You’re just afraid of not winning, aren’t you?”
Mario held up his hands defensively and chuckled. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.” He quickly attempted to change the subject. “At least I don’t cheat like that reptilian rat, Bowser.”
Luigi’s face immediately fell into one of genuine concern. “Speaking of that King Koopa and his army of no goods, as well as his rotten array of Koopalings… what do you think they’ve been up to? They haven’t even made so much as an appearance in a month; perhaps someone should tell them they’re overdue.”
Mario looked dubiously at his brother, one eye upraised critically. “I thought you said you hated battles.”
“I do,” Luigi picked up the accusation in a heartbeat, “and let me tell you, even just a month of peace has been wonderful. Perpetual peace, now that would be alluring, and if it means fighting, then I’ll do what I must. And besides, I only say they’re overdue for my worry that they might be planning something big this time. Impatience has always been Bowser’s schemes’ primary faults. It’s highly unlikely, but perhaps he’s finally wised up.”
“Hey,” Mario jokingly added, “the day Bowser wises up is the day we all bite the big one. If that Koopa’s brain had any scrap of intelligence, we’d already be toast. Just think, someone with influence and smarts. Now that’s scary.”
“Yes,” Luigi said, dreadful images of such a tyrant playing out in his heads. He shook the thought loose, hating what he saw, and silently prayed that it would never come true. “That would be extremely bad. All things considered, having Bowser for an arch nemesis is not all that horrible.”
After covering the rise of the next hill, the two brothers took their normal route, the left-sloping beaten path that snaked a short while through dense vegetation before popping out in the small clearing where they had built their house. Twin brooks eddied and flowed on either side of the road, rushing cold crystal water down steep embankments to eventually empty into a larger lake further down the right path and some ways south. It was an ideal place for an afternoon picnic, as well as fishing and swimming. That brought back memories of the time Bowser had dumped several schools of voracious Rip Van Fish into the waters, an incident that the Koopa King would later regret as the Mario Brothers cleverly turned his own malicious plot against him and lured him into the waters for a very painful dip, all of this happening under Luigi’s direction, of course.
Arching roofs of wide leaves mingled overhead, rustling and making a shivering noise in the gentle breeze. Eastern chills were already beginning to set in for a night of rambunctious play before the mother sun of dawn chased them away. Crickets played their natural violins, orchestrating with the various other tunes of forest creatures to create a magnificent symphony of the woods. Luigi half expected to see elves, trolls, or any of the other hundred legendary fables he’d read about in the Castle’s Grand Library to scurry across the thistle-blown pathway. Weathered leaves bustled past, collecting dirt and shooting through bushes and other overgrown shrubberies in full bloom, their multi-hued flowers proudly displaying their silky petals and giving off pleasing perfumes. The twin moons of Plit were hung high overhead, basting the forest tops in a pale light and casting gnarled, branched shadows along the ground.
Mario, who had remained largely quiet since his comment about Bowser, allowed himself a tired sigh and crossed his arms, shivering. “Chilly for a summer night,” he said casually. “It’s usually pretty warm even at night around here. If it weren’t so bright out, it’d seem sort of eerie, you know?”
Luigi turned his head around and peered back down the winding road that tightly hugged a collected bunch of trees before trailing off behind a dense collection of vegetation. It was much the same ahead; it reminded him of Mario’s tales of the Endless Forest east of Toad Town. Luigi shook his head, mostly to himself, placing a finger to his temple and blowing out a lungful of air. “It’s just our sleepiness. A weak mind plays queer tricks on a man when he’s fatigued.” Luigi felt up and down his arm, eliciting a pain-filled protest from his muscles. “We might have to give Raz a rain check on that pool building tomorrow, after all.”
Mario slowed considerably when a pair of thin slit eyes, gold and slanted, opened up in the dark recesses of the wide forest before them. They blinked, returning for only a fleeting second before vanishing into thin air. “Luigi, I…” Mario trailed off, seeing that his brother was looking elsewhere, and squinted his eyes, searching in vain for what he might have only thought he had witnessed. “I know I saw…”
Luigi dragged his attention away from a constellation he was tracing out in the sky, bringing down his head to face Mario, who seemed very distraught. “Mario? Are you ok? What did you see?”
“Eyes, or maybe nothing. It’s like you said: tricks on the mind.” Mario looked around again, still not bothering to meet Luigi’s doubtful glare. “Something’s out there, though. I might not be able to see it, but I can feel it skulking around us, or in front of us, or to the side, or even behind. It’s everywhere.”
Luigi shook his head in disbelief and cracked a reassuring grin, even though his own resolve was slowly being eaten away by whatever it was that Mario couldn’t decide whether he’d seen or not. It wasn’t like Mario to be the one less sure of himself than Luigi; he was always the unconditionally brave one. Chuckling inwardly to himself, Luigi recalled that Mario was the one always complaining about someone forgetting to turn the nightlight on back when their world had only consisted of two blocks in Brooklyn. Maybe it was just the dark: a phobia of the absence of light is not an uncommon thing. Luigi grimaced and cut off his thoughts. Mentally picking through alternate possibilities was a frequently-fashioned nervous habit of his.
His own gaze was held by another pair of eyes, these burning crimson steam and letting it waft up through the forest tops. A flicker of silhouetted movement shot off to the left and then to the right, followed by the crunch and snap of twisted underbrush. Alarms blared danger in Luigi’s head as he watched Mario crouch into an offensive position, one palm out and the other curled while building a swirling ball of magic fire. Luigi placed himself stoutly behind Mario, taking up a more loosely held stance and facing the opposite direction in case the predator ahead was only distracting them so its mate could outflank the brothers and pounce unfettered. The loveliness of the twilit Mushroom Way was suddenly shattered into one thousand fragments by something much more sinister than a prowling Koopa. But what was it, exactly?
“Maybe it’s a Cobrat,” Luigi put in, voice trembling and not at all convinced as to any truthfulness in his suggestion. The eyes were too deep, too saturated in what all of his human instincts led him to believe true evil was. Fear was of evil occasionally, though, Luigi reminded himself, and he was nothing at that moment if not fearful. Whether by mistake or for anxiety, Mario grunted and pushed forth his fully formed fireball, watching it bounce off leaves and bark, leaving anything docile unscathed. Credit to the strength of the formidable man, Mario’s searing sphere struck the bridge of the two eyes almost perfectly, and as the two forces collided, both were sucked into an invisible vortex, pulled into the night air. The pair of demonic oculars did not return, and, seeming to take a positive note on this, the melodious sounds and fragrant smells of the midnight forest returned, blasting louder and more beautifully than ever before, leaving two extremely confused and wary brothers in the wake of their enigmatic interlude.
“It was an illusion,” Luigi said, hands warding off the final jolts of nervous trembling, unblinking eyes staring straight on where the apparition had been. Before them lay the familiar clearing where their house had been built, and in the center on a small bump of a hill rested the brown wood and green metal Pipe House that they called home. The reflected moonlight returned where before it had been dimmed, sparkling like secular stars on the dewdrops scattered below. All of this was normal for such a night, but then again, that is not what the ex-plumbers were so mortified by. The front part of their double room joined by an open walkway stood in stark contrast with its counterpart because of one ominous difference.
The lights were on.
~*~*~*~
Great pink columns of Nimbian ingenuity peaked in puffy points resembling a whipped cream topping. Tower punched clouds floated lazily above the permanent foundation of Nimbus Land as an intricate travel system of sturdy Bean Valley vines and trampolines zigzagged down to the busy world below. Gnarled thorn bushes bent and tied together dug into melded cloud, forming the homes, shops, and inns of the Dream City. Doors were made of striped cloth since there was no reason to fear any robberies. Since the ousting of Valentina. all had been perfectly peaceful. Prince Mallow smiled cheerfully at each passersby as he made his way through the land’s most prominent marketplace.
Tired of saying his morning hellos, Mallow finally yielded to a temptation to take a dip in the Royal Springs, easing himself slowly into the volcano-heated healing waters. Steam trailed off into the sky in curling plumes of smoke. Four golden statues of his father’s reign proudly guarded all four corners of the bath. And just over the ridge, if one had been tall enough, he or she or even it would’ve been able to spot the majestic form of the Barrel Volcano down below, long dormant, but still deadly in its interior. Mallow splashed a slap of water and chuckled as he remembered just how knowledgeable he was on the matter.
He laid his Ribbit Stick to the edge of the hollowed Springs and closed his eyes, sinking below the steaming liquid. After a bubbling sigh of relaxation, he opened up his vision, Nimbian strength warding off any heat damage, and his throat let out a surprised gurgle when he saw a shimmering black shadow standing over him. In an instant he was standing up, Ribbit Stick angled defensively in front of him. All that remained was a piece of aged paper, some scratchy words written upon it. He dried off his left hand and picked it up, finally making out “Mario” and “Brothers”. The rest was illegible and mostly made up of odd punctuation symbols, hearts, and even musical notations. Whatever it meant, he had an aching pang in the pit of his stomach that told him his best friends were in trouble. Without another thought, he tied his blue cloak tight around his neck, shifted his Ribbit Stick to his left hand, and made his way to the Royal Bus Depot.
What Prince Mallow, Heir to the Nimbian Throne, did not realize was that the strange letter had disintegrated, its fragments already being carried by the wind, higher and higher until they touched the stars. Far away, the shards of paper solidified and twinkled beyond a thin, hazy cloud, forming something strangely reminiscent…
Chapter Two: Traveler
Luigi’s prediction had been proven correct almost instantly.
From the far east of Plit came a billowing family of volatile thunderheads that rose and flickered deadly incandescence. Purplish malevolence mingled and mixed, rising and coiling around the inner blackness that greedily soaked up ample moisture from the shadowed oceans below and behind. Atmospheric pressure booming its limit, the massive clouds roared and emptied their burden onto the rolling plains of the Mushroom Kingdom and spat blue forks of dry crackling lightning that tempted the sound barrier and elicited several cacophonous blossoms, all of which enveloped the air and rang it like a rented gong. Flat, dense sheets of stinging precipitation slanted in like hail, rapping against tin, thumping dryly about the arid dirt, and smashing wet clouds of dust from the solid stone face of New Koopa Castle.
A pair of hungry eyes, bloodshot and searching, pierced out of an open arched window. Wind forced in buckets of bullet rain every other second to land against the pebbly, unflinching skin of Bowser. Rightful heir to the Koopa throne, a glistening crown of scintillating gold rested over his menacing horns, curved outward and up as if to symbolize devilry. Silver claws sharpened down to a point capable of splitting a falling tree bark rapped anxiously against damp rock as the others curled into a fist, resting at the center of the Koopa’s spiny shell. “It’s a beautiful night,” he remarked, knowing his most loyal vizier to be close behind him and most likely a few inches to the right. Bowser turned his head to look over his shoulder, not surprised to lay eyes on Kamek standing respectfully still, wand probably at a second’s reach somewhere deep within the folds of his blue cloak. “Don’t you agree?”
Kamek only nodded, knowing that any truly definitive answer would have less-than-savory results when directed to such an unstable individual as His Highness. Of late, to make matters worse, Bowser’s actions had become even more unpredictable. The whole of his mind, body, and soul was concentrated on finding the bane of his will and strangling the life out of them. Every day he would stand by the same window for hours upon end, eyes fixed on the horizon of the Vista Sea, posture always immaculate. And every day he would comment on what a beautiful day it was, no matter what the weather or any other sign by which most beings based the quality of a day on.
Now more than ever Bowser’s seven power-hungry children sought his throne. Kamek had worked diligently to stop two assassination attempts as time had already allowed, but there wasn’t any proof to accuse those whom he knew were to blame. Bowser pivoted his head back towards the angry sea and the flashing walls of lightning.
“My lord, what has plagued you for these past weeks? I am no healer, but I know more than most that something otherworldly has been eating you from the inside. To hold onto such things is not only unwise, but unhealthy.” Kamek winced. “It is the Mario Brothers, is it not?” He stepped back lightly on his toes, ready to dash when Bowser reeled and leapt from his point of stillness.
“This is the point of no return for me, Kamek,” Bowser said instead.
The confused Magikoopa squinted his eyes doubtfully and moved his hand from its position near his wand, coming down from the tips of his feet to regain his composure. Bowser hadn’t seen him. “If it does not anger you, my King, what do you mean by this?”
“I am not so easily riled in a state of such bliss, Kamek, for you see,” Bowser said, turning so that his vizier could see a wave of reassurance pass over his eyes, “I have finally deduced a way to eliminate those pesky plumbers once and for all.”
Kamek mentally followed Bowser’s claim word for word as he declared it. After all, the King of the Koopas had repeated the same speech, and many times from the same spot, hundreds of times, each rendition ending with the same disastrous result: failure. “I apologize for my lack of enthusiasm, sire, but you must understand we’ve come to this conclusion time and time again in the past, and as of late, we still have not achieved the goal we strive so earnestly for. How is it that you think this new plan will outdo all of its unsuccessful predecessors?”
“I was so blind, so oblivious to their strength!” exclaimed Bowser, choosing more philosophical repetitions over answering Kamek’s query directly. “We’ve never been able to announce victory over both of them, and the reason is so blatantly obvious.”
Kamek was growing frustrated, and so he made a show of it, crossing his arms and sighing. “If this is truly the case, then I can see cause for such exultation, but please, Master, enlighten me!”
Bowser disregarded his servant for a fleeting moment, long deadly claws interlaced and pumping excitedly. His eyes were wildly intense, foggy with a deep concentration. Kamek surmised the Koopa King was admiring his “master plan” one last time in case his loyal vizier, as he often did, found a fatal design flaw. As if just noticing Kamek was in the room, Bowser turned and started again, “What Mario has on us is not any divine powers that we cannot overcome, but his brother. And likewise,” Bowser held up a finger as a frightening grin played across his snout, “Luigi has him. Together, they are unstoppable, but apart… well, I think our chances would improve astronomically.”
Kamek smiled a patronizing smile that he knew curdled Bowser’s blood. He’d already formulated the same plan long ago, and yet one impassable obstacle stood in the way of its realization. “Bowser, my Lord, have you taken into account the difficulty of separating them for any length of time? If so, I’d be more than willing to hear your proposition.”
~*~*~*~
Muddy footprints saturated by the fierce downpour eased along the outer edge of the Koopa Castle, perfectly linear and sure. A guard Koopa named Razor studied the rapidly filling marks with an off-hand interest, bending down to trace a rough finger along the outer edges of one as thick raindrops pelted his shell and upper hide. He held only a spear, welded in the sweltering furnaces of the Castle’s lowest basement. A rust-colored dagger was sheathed at his side, wobbling with the wind while it hung loosely from his belt. Razor grunted and then shuffled over to the next footprint, exercising the same caution and performing the same ritual. He didn’t expect to find anything, but the tracks were most certainly not left by a Koopa, and as a night sentry, he rarely encountered excitement in any degree. Stooping over mud prints in a rainstorm seemed much safer than marching into battle against the legendary Mario Brothers anyway.
The marks continued on along the forward right corner of the castle’s highest tower, the one where Bowser oftentimes kept the Princess Toadstool prisoner. Curious, he thought, shuffling his bulk again, back aching as he scanned the electrically charged air for another print. Instead he stopped when two black boots came into his line of vision; before shock could even register, he found it odd that they did not sink in the mud. As he lifted his head up, he stared into two crimson orbs, glowing as if bioluminescent.
He let out a surprised chortle and felt a sudden pressure against his chest and then grunted when his body hit the muddy ground. Pain exploded from his left side, and he screamed aloud, roaring pitifully and moaning. He tilted his head up to see a black-cloaked figure, cowled, and with those same burning eyes that melted his soul. A motionless hand gloved in black was wrapped around the hilt of a broad battle sword, the blade’s tip buried deep in his left kidney, pinning him helplessly to the ground.
“Ishkit!” the figure cursed before avulsing the blade and drawing another horrible cry. “Who is the master of this castle?” it demanded, ruby eyes slanting inward, pulsing fluorescence. Razor tried to form words, to make a gesture, to do anything in his power to save his life, but nothing came. Fiery pain engulfed his body and paralyzed him. “Speak, worm!” Razor only closed his eyes and sputtered pleadingly, mud and spittle spraying onto his chest. His mind was going, and the edges of his vision were darkening. He wanted to go home, to be with his family. The figure snarled viciously and rose its blade high before swinging it back down in a low arc, ending the Koopa’s worries. It was best that the ignorant and peaceful be laid to their eternal rest beforehand. It made an obscure motion with its free hand and smiled when blurs of black moved in the dark forest behind it.
~*~*~*~
“A distraction, I suppose,” was all Bowser could come up with, and from the look of Kamek’s dubious visage, the Magikoopa did not seem very convinced. He snarled and extended his claws near Kamek’s face, causing him to flinch slightly. “And perhaps you would like to advise on this matter instead of only pointing out faults!”
“Well,” Kamek began, pacing steadily away from Bowser’s razors, “I would recommend that we command your seven children to distract Luigi while the rest of our forces eliminate Mario, but because of our many failures, that would be quite impossible, what with all of them holding no respect for you and bitterly hanging onto their territories in the Koopa Lands on the other side of the world.”
“Don’t even indirectly refer to those selfish brats!” Bowser growled, backhanding Kamek to the floor with a bone-jarring force. He spat on the floor in front of the groaning vizier’s face. “They are welcome here no longer; their last act of defiance was the final one. I won’t allow such disrespect in my courts. Do you understand, Kamek?!”
“Y-yes, sire,” Kamek managed, pulling himself off of the damp floor. He looked longingly at the door. His master had finally gone insane, and it was time to leave. “If it pleases you, my Lord, I will retire to my chambers for further consideration of your grand battle stratagem. I won’t stop until an effective solution has been reached.” Kamek hurriedly dismissed himself, not looking back until he was well clear of the Castle. After countless years of loyal service, he was still treated so, and as such, the angered Magikoopa saw no reason to linger.
~*~*~*~
If the system’s primary was distressed by the battles that had transpired on the fourth closest of its brood, it revealed nothing to the average viewer. The bright golden radiance of the unperturbed sun shone across the system, but as its slow crawling sunlight played against the world’s punished surface, more sinister things became visible. Where precious blue, green, and white had once prevailed, ash-gray and a sickly reddish-brown now were predominant. Choking smoke chimneyed from immolated cities once home to hundreds of thousands and plumed from tracts of firestormed evergreen forests. Steam billowed off of superheated beds of boiling lakes and shallow seas piled high with festering aquatic carcasses.
And then the sun winked out, blanketing the strange universe in total darkness before abruptly opening back up, not as a solar body but as a great flame-licked eye, wreathed in torment and anguish. The cornea spat flares of molten lava while the pupils were of the deepest black, sucking all life into its gaping maw. Then without warning everything shifted to red, ruby, and crimson, all colors of blood mixing together and spitting out and bringing in. With an awing, rumbling laugh that silenced all sound, the system imploded.
Raul’s right eye teared blood before he closed it, absorbing the fluid and opening it again to bring his consciousness back to reality, back to the moment. Twenty archers stood still behind and around him in a deliberate semicircle, bows pulled taut with gilded arrows leading the form of a cloaked and cowled Koopa hurrying from the Castle and into the woods. The black form raised an outstretched hand and leveled it flat on an invisible horizontal surface, reaching out to test the escapee’s prowess. A surge of anger and power backwashed, causing Raul to wince and his hand to retreat a centimeter. It was a Magikoopa and a powerful one at that. But no matter. If he was leaving, then he was of no importance. But then again…
“Cele!” he half whispered, half screamed, issuing a level of authority that could only be heard by those trained to interpret his will. A female human approached, donning an attire similar in style to her master’s. She was beyond physical fitness with a lithe form and a fair face that betrayed her deadliness. He gestured, and she removed her hood, letting her trim, red-gold hair fall down to her shoulders. In a flurry of hand motions, she deftly tied it up behind her head and stared with flaming emerald orbs into Raul’s crimson eyes. “Stop the fleeing Magikoopa before he can reach the city, and make sure to question him thoroughly. Once you are sure he has worn out his usefulness, eliminate him.” She turned to leave and stopped, anticipating Raul’s final words of warning. “And practice caution. He is of the order of the Magikoopas and strong in the ways of Doomstar.”
In a blur of unflagging swiftness, Cele had disappeared into the woods to diagonally converge on her quarry. Raul snorted, confident that whoever the Magikoopa had been, he would not live to see the daylight. With another contemptuous gesture, a second darkly dressed warrior trailed his cloak while the twenty archers spread out to encircle the Castle. Ahead, two dozing Koopa guards leaning on their makeshift spears drifted in and out of awareness, oblivious to his presence. This would make things all the easier.
Both sentries watched the traveler cautiously as he neared their position, the trespasser’s companion still too far in the distance to be spotted through the thick rainfall. He lifted his head to meet them and exerted intimidation through the glow of his eyes. “I apologize if I am curt, but I seek an audience with the king of this castle, whom I presume goes under the name of Bowser.” When one of the guards leveled his spear threateningly, Raul extended a finger and the weapon clattered harmlessly to the soaked wood of the drawbridge. “Mine is a force beyond any of you. Do not tempt my patience.”
The armed Koopa stepped forward with the gait of someone who was extremely nervous but did not want to show it. “The Lord Bowser has commanded that we allow the passage of no one until the time of his choosing. Persistent rain is of no consequence to his Kingship and is your misfortune. Turn back.”
Before the more gregarious guard could bring his spear to bear, Raul pulled his sword and spun to quietly separate the Koopa’s head from his neck. Cloak beating the wind wetly as he whirled, he snapped the remaining obstruction’s spear with his free hand and sliced the holder from left shoulder to right thigh. Raul brushed resting raindrops from his clothing and stepped inside the torch-lit vestibule of the Koopa Castle, motioning for his shadow to follow at a closer proximity.
~*~*~*~
Bowser rose from his throne and snarled an incoherent threat as the inconceivable figure of Raul appeared in the doorway, sleeved hands crossed solemnly in front of him. “Kamek! Who let this fool in?” he boomed, glazed eyes searching earnestly for his missing assistant.
“King Bowser, Sovereign Lord of the Koopas, it is an honor to finally meet you,” Raul said calmly, spreading his hands diplomatically. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Raul, traveler from far beyond the Vista Sea.”
“Raul?” Bowser repeated, nodding his head and cocking an appraising eye. “Listen, I don’t know how you got past the night watchmen, but you are not welcome. My attendants will show you to the door… in pieces.” The King raised one side of his mouth to show a gleaming row of sharp teeth before gesticulating with his left hand.
From the far corners of the throne room came two heavily armed Terrapin, each clanking in their superfluous armor with a chain-linked mace across their backs and a broad, shining sword in their hands. Raul snorted and pushed out both hands to his side, leaning forward slightly. As if impacted by an invisible punch, both guards were thrown to either side of the room, heads impacting with a bone-crunching finality. After a short preparatory breath, Raul began anew, “I am sorry that, presently, you wish not to entertain guests, but I come offering my services for a cost that will most likely not faze you in the least. I recommend you hear me out. Are we agreed on the matter?”
Bowser stared at the two fallen Terrapin with a contemplating air of feigned disinterest, shifting his eyes to a far window and staring at nothing in particular. Finally, he turned to the figure again and then the Terrapin once more. “For one with such power you are incongruously civil. I would’ve stormed in demanding an audience, not requesting one.”
“Power does not necessarily constitute rudeness, but rather one’s character,” Raul retorted, hands clasping behind his back. “True, the reach of one’s influence does often impress certain undesirable qualities in a being, but that is not always the case. My desires rank high above that of mere power, but in a world full of such intractable wills, I find it useful to have an eclectic selection of skills with which to employ in ways that I see fit.”
Bowser took the lengthy reprimand in without a stir of wrath, most likely because his mind was focused on sizing up his competition instead of listening to philosophical nonsense that didn’t apply to him. “Very well… Raul? Yes, that is an unusual name, indeed. Tell me, where exactly beyond the Vista Sea do you come from?”
“That is of no consequence,” Raul cut the curious Koopa off swiftly. “Yet, if you were wondering, the place I once called home is unknown to you, at least specifically, I think. Out with the old, though, and in with the new; as my proposal implied, I believe that my aide will significantly increase your odds of victory, yes,” he whispered a hiss.
Bowser studied the newcomer for another moment, tapping a foreclaw thoughtfully against his snout in deliberation. “I must admit, Raul, the prospect of finally bringing about the end of those troublesome plumbers is very appealing, but I don’t even know what you look like. And you’ve already chosen to keep details of your origin vague. Won’t you do me this one honor?”
“I anticipate that I’ll be expected to do you many more honors in the future,” Raul commented sardonically. “Still, if I were in your position, may the Stars forbid, I would request the same compromise.” He paused to await any possible reactions the Koopa King might’ve put across, and upon hearing none, he finished, “Very well; perhaps this will satisfy you.”
With the utmost level of meticulosity and teasing patience, Raul wrapped both hands around his hood and pulled it off, bringing his hands down palms outward as he had done before. He was a young human, only in his twenties if Bowser wasn’t mistaken. Fairly handsome as far as the scaleless bipeds went, he had glistening black hair that was stylishly unkempt, adding to his semblance of mystique. A cut half-mask curved and covered the right side of his upper face, ending right above the larger part of his cheekbone. The same eerie red eyes gleamed back threateningly. “Well, have your suspicions been lain to rest?”
Bowser gave him another quick once-over and let out a deep rumble of a laugh, his bellowing roar filling the throne room like a pipe organ. “Brat! You are only a child! You expect me to work equally with you? Hah!” He swiped a clawed hand to silence the argument.
“I am of the proper age to accomplish that which is my purpose. In fact I am nearly the age of those who are your primary problem. Do you dismiss them as children when they beat back entire legions of your forces?” Raul snorted derisively. “I think not.”
The massive Koopa snarled his third curse and flicked his tongue in a typical frustrated gesture for such an unsettled saurian. “Your point is duly noted, save for a tingling sensation advising me canniness that still persists. Relieve it, or I will force you to handle much more than two Terrapin taken off a shift change.”
Raul almost grinned, and Bowser didn’t like that. Not at all. “Come now, there is no need to be hasty or hostile, for that matter. I planned to explain all of that, but of course, how can one do so when under such a constant barrage of doubting queries?” He continued, this time not allowing Bowser even a second to retort. “Let’s see, where to begin… ah yes! My goal is simply this: to seek out the strongest and most courageous of this world to travel with me back to my home land, where there is a desperate struggle that involves the survival of my people’s hopes and dreams. Although I reserve the right to keep your arch-enemies alive if I approve of them, they will never bother you again, I promise. As such, you will be able to conquer the Mushroom Kingdom without any further difficulties. Is this to your liking?”
Bowser paused for a tense moment, unsure of what to think, and then said, “Not entirely, but,” he admitted, turning and raising his eyes, “if it does work, then it will be the only thing that has done so thus far. My vizier, Kamek, might take your intrusion into my confidence with some reluctance, however.”
Raul’s photographic memory backtracked to the powerful Magikoopa fleeing the Castle. This was undoubtedly the assistant Bowser mentioned with such profound confidence. “This Kamek you speak of was seen decamping your Lordship’s mighty chateau shortly before I arrived. I tasked the job of silencing him to one of my most skilled accomplices.”
A look of unbridled rage directed towards the Magikoopa’s treason on Bowser’s face was hastily replaced with a sly sneer. “You did, did you?” Seeing that Raul would not take the bait laid before him, he twitched his scaly mouth uncomfortably and started again, “Your accomplices? You did not mention them.”
“Yes,” Raul said. “I saw no reason to at first. But they do exist, two being my most trusted warriors, and twenty being skilled archers and swordsmen/women if they need be. All are notably formidable, and just one can hold off hordes of martial regulars. They will assist you in your coup.”
Bowser’s initial mistrust was displaced by Raul’s referring to the coup as his. At least the puny human knew his place. The king had been wary of his impressive battle skills at first, but now pride was getting the better of his providence. “Of course, that is most promising. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”
Bowser picked up a comlink resting on the left arm of his golden throne. He thumbed the activation button and spoke clearly into it. “Adamant, report in! This is King Bowser; I’ve sent the proper clearance codes electronically and wish to be connected with Admiral Jade immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” replied a stuttering junior officer. “Immediately, sir.”
There was a pause in which Bowser threw a quick glance at Raul, who seemed to be perfectly entertained with standing by idly. His hooded companion of a slightly higher stature acted similarly. “Admiral Jade reporting for orders, my Lord,” came a brusque, slightly feminine voice, obviously with the inflected chortle of a Koopa.
“You will rendezvous with the Eviscerator and the Cerberus in the Vista Bay at 1200 hours tomorrow. I’ve made a most roseate deal with a band of travelers offering help. We will assemble there and decide on a suitable course of action.”
The returning voice was full of ebullient excitement, but it was laced with the certain doubt of past hopes long quashed. “That is most encouraging, sire. We will fuel and depart directly after making another reconnaissance pass. Adamant, out.”
Bowser turned back to Raul, awaiting his comment. “I find it surprising that you have a fleet, King Bowser. I’m assuming those names belong to airships, and three of such a craft is a force to be reckoned with.”
“Indeed! We have four of those magnificent vessels, the last being my own flagship, the Leviathan. It is quite clear to me that your arrival was not a coincidence, for the finishing touches on that particular ship were completed not but a few hours ago. Isn’t that interesting?”
Raul dismissed the question as rhetorical. “This meeting you have called… who is invited?”
“You of course,” Bowser said, searching the man’s eyes for deceit and being forced to turn away from the haunting glow. “Myself, Admiral Jade, General Jagger, Vizi… well, I suppose Kamek will not be attending. That leaves only four, a small number, yes, but I trust we shall get the job done in due time.”
“I plan on it, King Koopa,” Raul said flatly. “Victory depends on much more than that, though. I suppose all will be brought into light tomorrow.” His complexion darkened as his vision wandered before coming into focus again. “Until then, there is rest, for me at least. I’ve already set several other steps of my larger plan into motion that you need not concern yourself with.” Bowser seemed wary, but he once again was cut off.
“I sense the location of the room your attendants have appointed my companion and me.” He turned to the dark figure behind him and beckoned as he headed briskly for the room’s only door. “Come, we will retire for the night.” Raul turned to Bowser one last time before leaving. “I think,” he said, “that this long war’s end is going to occur ahead of schedule.”
The fire in the young man’s eyes demanded an answer, even from the prideful king. “Yes,” he agreed, “I believe you are right.”