Kuro: A Land in Eternal Night

Chapter 19.2: Treaty 7745

"Welcome back to the land of the living. You have been brought back because I have questions. And I must satisfy my curiosity." Okira moved closer to Drake. The old man looking more mouselike than ever before. The muscular bodyguard with the eyepatch had his hands on the hilt of that dreadful sword again, but it was Okira who held the light blaster, its muzzle aimed squarely at Drake.

"Now, you have exactly sixty seconds to answer each one of my questions. Give me an answer I do not like, and back to the land of the dead you shall both go. This time for good."

Not knowing what else to do, Drake nodded his head. He needed to buy time – time to plan a strategy for getting themselves out of this mess.

"Are you a government spy?"

Drake shook his head. "No."

Drake felt a sharp blow to his face as Okira took the blaster and hit him squarely across the face with it, the cold steel digging into his face, cutting into his skin and drawing blood.

"That was warning number one. When I ask you a question, I want to hear a real answer," said Okira. The old man moved his face closer to Drake, so close Drake could smell the foul breath and the sweat on the unwashed man.

"What is an Upper Plater doing with Fala's Cipher?"

Drake needed to think quickly. His mind was still a mess and the blow to his face from the blaster had his head reeling. He took a gamble with honesty. "Sister..." he muttered, out of breath. "Fala is my sister." Drake was surprised he managed to get it out.

The old man's raised his brow. "Oh?" Everyone in the room gave pause. "Fala never mentioned a brother..."

Drake's eyes widened. This man knew something about his sister. "You knew Fala?" He blurted out. The large warrior with the eyepatch stepped forward and brought the hilt of the scary looking sword to Drake's gut. The wind was knocked out of him instantly and he gasped for breath, sucking in air with whooping sounds.

"Easy, Straik," whispered Okira. The old man raised his hands, stopping the large bodyguard.

Straik grunted a little, but did as he was told and stayed back.

"Assuming what you say is true, boy," Okira spoke again, "Why would Fala send you such a cryptic message?" The old man went back to stroking his beard. Drake breathed easier. The old man was considering his story, taking him seriously.

"More importantly, she must have been counting on you to know what it meant. You do not appear to understand the significance of what she sent you." Okira lowered the blaster this time. His eyes looked downward, pensive, his hands were on his chin, gently stroking his pointed beard.

Drake shook his head. "I have no answers," he began, "Fala was trusting me to find the answers. Somehow, she knew I would be able to find the ones who could give them to me." He lifted his head to look right into Okira's eyes. "My sister has gone missing. We came down here, to the Utter Darkness, to find her. All I have from her is this message. We have not seen her in over three weeks."

The old man nodded. "That explains why she went silent all of a sudden." His eyes hardened for a moment. He pulled the blaster back out, pointed it back at Drake. "For all I know, you could still be a government spy and she could be in your custody. You could be feeding me this false story to get more information out of us."

"Do you not see the resemblance between my sister and me?" Drake asked. Sweat beaded from his forehead. He was getting light-headed. He needed to do something about the situation before he passed out.

"Unfortunately, young man," Okira spoke in a sharp tone, "No one in this room has ever seen Fala, much less know what she looks like." The old man put the blaster away a second time. He began pacing the room. "All we know of Fala has been in the virtual world. There, in that world, our world, we knew her well."

"How is it that you happen to know my sister?" Drake decided he would risk a question again. It appeared that Okira was giving the situation plenty of thought. He did not respond for several minutes. Suddenly, he turned back to Straik and nodded his head.

The large bodyguard stepped forward again, his muscles bulging out from under his armor. His eyepatch looked menacing in the dim light. This time he drew his sword, the ugly large toothed-sword that had been hanging from his waist. Drake cringed, convinced he had somehow said the wrong thing and that he was getting sent to the land of the dead for good. He braced himself.