“More wine, Mr. Silverlond?” the man asked as he poured
himself another glass of the port. Blue Silverlond sat across the table, amazed
at the man’s ability to intake the strong liquor. But he said nothing of the
matter, and, despite his distaste for the lord’s own taste in fine alchohols,
simply replied a humble
Lord Kader poured the
red liquid into another fine glass and handed it to the man across the long
table. Although nearing the end of his own youth, the lord seemed right at place
among the antiques and olden pictures and statues amidst the elegant dining
room. His jet black hair had already begun to fall out, revealing to the rogue
who took the glass in reply, the signs of male pattern baldness. Kader was
dressed elegantly in a simple blue robe, decorded along with pictures of
flowers; jasmines. The man had he voice of a diplomat in some regard, although
for tuned to induce sleep to those not paying attention, with the face of a
poker player who thinks he might pull off the bluff with the cheap cards he’s
Blue sipped the
wine, its not-so-well liked taste running down his throat. Lord Kader had begun
to talk again, as Blue remembered to look as formal and polite as possible,
“…And so you are to go to the East end of Savron City and infiltrate the castle
of Lord Vestille. You are to take him out by any means necessary, and bring back
to me proof of death for full payment…”
The rich man droned on in his long
voice. Blue brushed his dusty brown hair from his own eyesight, trying to still
pay attention to the important details. He had begun to lose focus, and whether
it was the effect of the cheap fine-wine, or the whine of Lord Kader, he could
However, the man had still been talking about the job for the
magent, and Blue tried to remember as much as he could without starting to
snore, “…a wedding ring, a wallet, or something. His head perhaps?” The man
stared at Blue and seemed to notice the
“Is something the
matter, Mr. Silverlond? You seem a little anxious.” He himself had stopped
pacing about the dinging hall, and had seated himself down at the table’s
opposite end. His wine glass was more than half empty. Blue felt edgy, and
shifted in his seat. He sipped the foul wine
“A little, perhaps,
your Lordship. However, I would like to request I get my half of the payment
now, and be on my merry way.” The rogue leaned back and, forgetting his rule to
be nice around the lord, put his black boots on the table lazily. He smiled and
sipped the wine again. He really wanted to
“Ah…so hasty are we,
Mr. Silverlond. It is settled then, correct? I will give you 300 pieces of gold
before the mission, and another 300 pieces upon completion in which you will
bring to me proof of Lord Vestille’s assassination.” Lord Kader smiled and
emptied his glass as he started to rise to fill his cup and empty his bank.
“Sure thing, your Lordship.” Blue replied as he stood up, dusting off his long
coat. His chain-mail underneath sung softly with the sudden movement, and he
secured his sword and his belongings and fixed his long disheveled ponytail
Kader, with a
new glass in hand, had put on the table a black leather pouch, tied fashionably
with a white linen rope. Blue smiled at the lord’s generosity, and put the bag
within his chain mail shirt as not to lose. “Thank you for the dinner, your
Lordship, it was most refreshing”, the rogue lied as he bowed humbly. “I will
have this Lord Vestille’s death as you requested.”
“Thank you, Mr. Silverlond.”
The lord replied as he took in more of the wine. “I trust you know your way from
here?” he smiled almost chaotically as he showed the magent the door and bid him
a good evening and, as if to purposely make a pun of the matter, “happy
Blue bowed again at
the lord’s own manners, and he strode out from the door and Kader shut the oaken
barrier upon Blue’s exit from the dining hall. Blue shook his head, pondered
Lord Kader’s current blood alcohol content, and shrugged. He laughed quietly to
himself as he begun whistling to himself as he acknowledge a butler and soldier
here and there, and left the compound that was Lord Kader’s own castle. He was
happy to have left the awful wine’s home as the nighttime breeze slowly cooled
the summer’s stagnant,
Silverlond ducked behind the shelter of the stone wall, reloading his crossbow
within the chaos. The sounds and footsteps of the nearing guards echoed loudly
in his mind. He did shabby job of preparation, but his time was waning, and he
hurriedly got up and took a shot into the group of soldiers that were closing in
The arrow flew, and
someone dropped, but Blue knew the attack had unfortunately not been fatal. Blue
dropped the crossbow, its own use now in vain, and took of running back through
the night to the tower he had entered
Blue’s legs burned with
lack of energy, and he almost took a dive twice into the stone floor. He
clambered clumsily about the darkness through Vestille’s castle, trying to keep
ahead of the guards getting closer to biting his heels. He heard faint barks and
growls as he realized dogs were being used to find the
“Shit,” he swore as
he took a wrong turn. He kicked the wall lazily, and turned back down the hall.
He had tried to mentally map Vestille’s castle when he broke in, but he
obviously knew it had been to no avail. He was supposed to leave through the
main doors under guise in the chaos of the lord’s death. But that wasn’t going
to happen. He missed the shot. He missed his target and took off
“Stupid, Blue!” he
yelled at himself as he made his way through the stone and shadows. He seemingly
by luck or fate found the tower he entered from, where he had left a rope and
grapple in the window. He shut the door, made a poor attempt to lock it, and
moved to the window. Looking down, he gulped at the height. “Stupid idiot!,”
blaming himself for looking down. He secured the grapple amidst the stone, and,
just to be sure, tied it to a statue nearby via rope. He took the hemp rope in
hand, and slowly clambered out the window, repelling down the southeast tower of
minutes later, as guards shouts were droned out by the walls of the
surroundings, Blue dropped to the ground, the pain and numbness in his legs
preventing him from movement. He cursed again, and slowly pushed himself up and
sprinted lazily off into the city called Savron. As he neared the lights of the
fist row of nearby houses, an arrow cut through the air, making itself known to
Blue. “The magent turned in haste, looking back over his shoulder. “What the…?”,
more arrows flew through the night, now trailing flame and ash. The forms of
soldiers could be seen emanating from the castle, shouts of orders and growls
and barks of the search hounds grew again more apparent, and Blue coughed as the
smoke from a new storm of arrows ablaze had landed just feet before
himself, regained his composer, and bolted faster towards the city, never
stopping until he was safely amidst the lord’s city and the arrows themselves
would at least stop.
rogue’s own legs had begun to waver again, the pain and tiredness returning.
Trying not to falter, he slouched down by a thatched house nearby, regaining his
struck. But it didn’t miss. His left leg seared with pain as the shaft moved
through the lower part of his thigh. Blue cried softly as possible, and grimaced
at the pain the shot through his body, metaphorically just like the arrow that
was the cause.
He tried to pull the arrow out in its entirety, but the pain
was almost too bearable. He sighed as the sounds of guards seemed to enter the
He leaned back against
the wall, and slowly, summoned from within him his magic. He didn’t have time or
preparation for any major healing spell, so he merely used a spell which he
hoped the bleeding from the arrow’s wound. He cast the spell, the wound slowly
closing, the blood staining less of his white pants and black leather boots. It
wasn’t much, he thought as the spell finished it’s work, but it would have to
He got up slowly, blackness and pain forcing him to nearly to black out.
The guard’s neared him, and as he looked back in opposite direction, he could
see his pursuers on the horizon, the forms of men and dogs, swords and bows,
within the night’s soft blackness.
Blue leaned against the wall, then tried
to run back in the direction of Lord Kader; back to whom would shelter him till
he recuperated and he could get another head
As he exited the alley
of buildings and houses, a mass of guards appeared before him. Damn it! He
thought. How the hell did they get there! He drew his blade from its sheathe,
and prepared to fight, slowly back up within the alleyway, sinking back into its
guards had appeared at the other end, and Blue was forced to watch both sides in
his tiring condition. A guard o his left approached, and he lifted a short-sword
in attack. Blue parried the strike, stepping back from the combination of his
own faltering strength and the soldier’s might. He attempted to counterattack,
and thrust. But the guard moved and a new blow had sent Blue to his knees. Blood
ran from a fresh wound on his right arm, his grip on his own blade slowly
loosening. He propped against the wall and tried to fight back the next
attacker, slowly trying to stay conscious as much as possible.
hit him in the front, on his chest. He shirt of chain-mail took the blow,
prevented any cuts, but the impact itself was enough t knock the wind out of
Blue Silverlond sank to
the ground, the wall of the house behind his seemingly caving in. Blackness had
spread, and he knew he was going to fall unconscious. As the magent lay on the
ground bleeding, he struggled mentally to keep awake. But the darkness came, and
as a slender form stepped in front of him, shadowing the guards, he passed out
awakened in a warm house, the soft light of a candle blinded him momentarily as
reality returned with the pain of his wounds, which were now cleaned and tended
to. His head throbbed with the past’s blows, and he was startled to find someone
in the room with him.
small and fragile-framed garbed in a simple red dress. Her blonde hair fell
softly in whips about her young, fresh face. Large and dark doe-like brown eyes
worked with her as her slender arms moved up and down a washboard, immersed
within a bucket of soapy water. There was the dark traces of blood stained
within the rag she was washing. She hummed softly to herself, a pretty little
tune, and Blue had almost felt like passing out into the darkness of
It was nearly dawn, and the first rays
of the sun over the hills and mountains and seas began to peer through the
window into the small house that Blue still lay in. He would have still been
asleep, had the sun not been right in his eyes, and he was forced from slumber.
He got up slowly, rising. His body ached, and there was a sharp pain in his ribs
as his breath moved in and out from his body. His head buzzed, and for a minute,
he thought he was in a bar, and unfortunately had drank a lot. But his sense
soon emerged, and he lay in a bed, stripped of his shirt and items, his sword
not near him. His wounds had healed more, but he wasn’t sure. He opened his eyes
and scanned the room.
It appeared to be a one-floor house, the wooden walls
and floorboards looked well cared for and shined happily with the approaching
sun. A large luxuriant thread rug lay in the middle. To his right there was a
clothes chest, further down, an assortment of shelves, cluttered neatly with
books and a varying assortment of pots and small urns. A picture was a hung on
the wall his bed lay next to, an ocean view with mountains and trees. There was
a door leading to an adjacent room, but it was shut.
The girl was still
there, across the room at a desk. She was apparently sewing, humming to herself
in a soft and sweet tune. Blue this time did not pass out, but made an attempt
to rise from the bed.
He sat up, and the pain that shot through his body
caused him to groan slightly. He grimaced and touched the wound. Bandaged, and
cleaned, almost healed. A good job, he thought.
Hearing the sound, the girls
jerked around fast, shocked at her awakened patient. Her voice fluttered
slightly, yet sweet to Blue’s ringing ears, “You shouldn’t move, good sir. Not
She had rushed over to him, a hand pressed the wound to make sure
it hadn’t reopened. She slapped his hands away, and tried to persuade him to lie
“Sir, your wounds aren’t fully healed. You should rest another
day. It is not safe.”
She started to plead, but Blue was in a hurry. He stood
up, fighting the pain. But he was overcome with dizziness and a nausea that
swarmed his brain, and he fell to his knees.
“See what I mean”, the girl
lectured. She walked over to him gracefully, and helped him stand. “But you sure
have a lot of strength. After all those blows, the arrow, and the wounds not
being fully healed.” She helped him on to the bed. “You are quite a piece of
work.” She complimented. Blue moaned, and replied with a little effort. “Well,
one sees a lot of variety of art in my line of work.” He could hear his
inner-child laughing at the cheap “philosophical” line he just used to try and
cover the fact that he was a professional assassin. The woman got up slowly. “I
know” she rebuttetld.
moved to the room’s other side, and opened the door. “Stay here” she ordered, “I
have some tea ready, and it’ll most likely do some good for you.” She left Blue
alone in the room.
left to his thoughts as the smell of an herbal tea slowly and almost subtly
filled the quaint room. He recalled the contract with Kader, the lord who was at
odds and ends with a man named Vestille. Blue was assigned to kill him, and has
gone to latter’s castle to do the job. The shot missed. The image of the arrow
falling short before the lord, the guards, the chase, the escapes from the maze
of Vestille’s castle. He pondered the ensuing fight after, the run into Savron
City. The pain and splint on his leg brought back to him the arrow that impaled
his thigh. More guards had begun to close in on him, and a useless fight sent
him blacking out. The woman had rescued him. He almost shuddered at the thought.
Getting saved by a woman he scoffed.
In moments the girl had returned, with
an iron kettle and a porcelain mug, filled with the black, steaming tea. “Here
you go, good sir”. She handed him a cup. “My name is Elissia, by the way.” She
introduced herself as she got up and proceeded to the desk where Blue had found
her working previously.
“Mine’s Blue…” He responded, “My name, I mean.” He
took a long refreshing sip of the remedy. The tea felt nice and warm, and energy
had soon returned to Blue not long after.
“I know your name.” The girl said
as she bundled what appeared to be Blue’s coat and belt,, fixed and patched up.
“I also know why you came to Savron, Mr. Silverlond” she added, handing the
other his clothes. Blue thanked her humbly and asked for a refill of herbal tea.
Blue cocked an eyebrow, giving Elissia a quizzed look. “Oh? And how might
that be?” he inquired as he took his belongings and set them aside.
here to change our government. The ruling state of Savron.” She looked sternly
at the man, and she knew she had guessed right. “I also know that I need you for
that purpose,” she added.
“Need me? And what am I supposed to do for you?”
Blue was puzzled by the odd web that was beginning to form within the politics
Elissia gracefully moved back to the desk, and shuffled through
one of the drawers. She produced a small cloth pouch, and stood again before it
to Blue. She emptied the contents into the palm of her feminine hand, and showed
to Blue a small green pill.
“This is a poison, known as quarecide. It
is not deadly in most cases, and is quite beneficial as a stimulant to depressed
merchants or lawyers. She put the small pill back into the pouch. “However, it
has a extremely deadly effect to Elves. There is something in their pointy-eared
blood that makes this quarecide freeze blood and plasma, making their
insides cold and ice-hard within an hour. It’s like inhaling the Void within you
and then holding your breath.”
Blue was amazed at the potency of the little
guy. “Not a very friendly little pill, is it?” he stared at the floor, and then
at his coarse hands, stained in many ways with blood. He raised his head and
looked back to the beautiful lady called Elissia. “So who am I supposed to feed
this thing to, and how much will ‘ya pay me for risking my neck. You realize
these services aren’t free.”
“I am aware of that. You would be paid a sum of
1000 pieces of silver, and reimbursed on any expenses. I expect this is a fair
offer, Mr. Silverlond?”
Blue shook his head. “Depends on the target, Miss
“Missus,” she corrected, “And your target would be one of the
current running lord of Savron. An easily cracked, if not jokingly doubted, man
named Tamieras Kader. That is your man. His residence can be found at the
Southern borders just outside city walls.”
Blue didn’t listen to her last few
words, Kader’s name shocked him enough. What the hell does she want Kader dead
for? He shook his head, discarding the loose ends that weren’t his to kitten
around with. If she had paid for Kader dead, Kader would be dead. “I’ll do it.”
He finally replied. “But, what does the pill,
“quarecide,” she helped. “The quarecide will
dispatch Kader as promised. Just get close to him, and slip it into his food, or
his mouth, if extremes are required.”
“But, how’s that gonna kill Mr.
“You are unaware that the lord Tamieras Kader is half elven by
Blue was again shocked. Damn! How could he miss Kader being a
half-elf! He pondered to his meeting and realized he hadn’t actually looked at
the bastard. He made a mental note to be more aware next time. "No, I was not. I
have only been here for a day,” he lied.
“I see.” Elissia handed him the
pouch. “Well, now you know better.” She smiled. “You may stay here for the
night, to finish the healing, if you wish.” Her subtext was subtle, and although
Blue knew exactly what kind of healing she desired, he still had some kind of
honour he wasn’t going to give away. Besides, he backed himself up, his name was
already poisoned ages ago by an old royalty who was executed. I wouldn’t want to
make any mistakes like that.
“That won’t be necessary. I plan to leave within
“I see. A pity” Elissia shamefully retorted. “Very well. Let me
know when you leave, then, will you, Mr. Silverlond?”
“ I most certainly
will, Miss, err, Missus. Elissia.” Married? To whom?, he
Elissia nodded, took the bundles of bandages and crimson cloths and
left to the adjacent room, with Blue to collect his thoughts about what to do
After a short time, Blue had dressed, washed, and packed his
things. With a kiss goodbye, Blue left Elissia’s house in the outer edges of
Savron City, and has started his journey to, and list of excuses for, Lord
Kader. And so he went South in two days travel with light sleep and some food
well cooked by Elissia herself, to accompany his solitary life.
It was late
afternoon when Blue reached the small stone wall that laid out physically what
was Lord Kader’s fief. He traveled down a cobblestone road that led winding down
through some boring hills to the door of Kader’s castle. Blue had thought about
the girl, Elissia, and her request to kill the lord. He played with the small
green pill she had given him. Quarecide he remembered.
“He is an elf.
The poison should take affect within the hour. It is ice in his blood stream”,
the memories said. Blue crazily wondered about why he hadn’t known the man was
elven blooded before. Of course, being half-elf, the features of pointy
ears and slender, slanting eyebrows were much less significant. Still, his ass
hurt from the kick the blunder had given him.
And what about Elissia, he
pondered. What does she have to do with these two babies? He expected foul play,
or a midnight back-stab, but he wasn’t certain. Many possibilities were open.
His best assumption was she was working for Lord Vestille. Upon reaching this
conclusion, he shrugged the matter off. Their spousal business should be none of
mine, he decided, and continued down the trail to the large oak framed door at
He stood in the entranceway of the door, and raised the large
iron ring, banging it several times for permission to enter. A large ominous
thud echoed through the walls and the door, and after some muffled shuffling and
cursing, a small iron window opened up to peer at Blue from behind the door’s
heavy and secured protection.
“Who be there!” called a scrawny and nagging,
“It’s me” was Blue’s reply as he started to wait
Little bloodshot green eyes looked Blue over suspiciously.
“That’s great, boy. I’m me too, but lest me gets a name, your entrance be in
vain” the high pitched voice squealed behind the door. “Heehe, that one rhymed”
the hidden man complimented himself audibly.
Blue knew the doorkeeper. He was
a stocky, puberty challenged dwarf named Ridnick. Blue had told him before his
parents should have more aptly named him “Redneck.” Ridnick was very guarding to
Kader, Like Igor to his mad scientist. Blue knew this might take hours, and he
was getting more impatient by the passing minute. He kicked the door.
on, dammit! It’s Blue Silverlond, Redneck!” He shouted through the
“Who?! I’s be hard of hearing nowadays. Swears don’t go far in the
caravan of Ridnick the short man!” He laughed again at his ingenious stupidity.
The iron window slammed shut, and bluntly never opened.
Blue was mad now.
Fine, he thought. The bastard wants to play hard ball, let him. He went through
the reaches of his mind, scrolling through his soul, puling forth the magic he
needed to get past.
He was trying draw forth the spell of passing. If he
concentrated he’d be able to put mind over matter, eat a sandwich, and go right
through the door before in him. He smiled at the surprise on Redneck’s face as
he would be doing so. The magic was gathered, his spirit in tune to do what it
had to do. He summoned the power, and stepped through the door.
In a minute,
his entire body, coat and all, materialize within the entrance halls inside
Kader’s castle, behind the locked door. Ridnick was still making odd faces and
poking out definite fingers seemingly to Blue from behind the metal view plate
that Ridnick had closed. Blue grinned. This will be fun.
He dusted himself
off, stood tall, and tapped Ridnick on his four foot high shoulder, now at
Blue’s thigh from a visible stack of books and naughty bed time literature.
Scared and shocked simultaneously from Blue’s appearance, Ridnick leaped
into the air, cold and stiff; his face showing signs as if he had suffered a
heart attack. Blue waved a friendly hello to the short and scrawny dwarf, before
drawing back a clenched fist and allowing Ridnick to view stars through the now
shut lids of his bloodshot eyes.
“Well, now. That wasn’t too hard, was it,
Mr. Redneck?” Blue asked the unconscious watchman. “Guess not, your great
excellency Mr. Blue Silverlond” was Blue’s throaty, high-pitched, mockery of the
dwarf. He laughed and continued up the stairs ahead of him to Kader’s study,
where he knew he would find the man. Probably playing foosball, he
Blue knocked on the door, and the man called Kader was quite
surprised to see the rogue. “Mr. Silverlond, I’m honoured, yet, puzzled. Is
Vestille not dead? I heard no news, and it’s almost sun set. Surely I would know
if you had struck down my foe or not by now.” He was in a black robe, sipping a
cup of vodka. He looked down at Blue, who had now gone to kneel at the Lord’s
“Forgive me, your
dear Lordship.” Blue humbly faked. “I have failed in my attempt. The arrow I had
missed him, and I was forced to flee into hiding.” Blue let the water works go.
His acting had paid off. Kader kneeled next to him and helped the rugged magent
to his feet. “Come now, my dear boy. Come with me and tell me everything.
Perhaps we can try again?” Kader huddled Blue in to the book laden room and
beneath his illusion of sorrow he smiled happily at Kader’s stupidity.
took almost an hour for Blue to retell, and make up, the events of his mission
impossible. He told about the stray arrow he shot, the guards, and all the
running. He told the sap about his wounds, but lied completely about the
encounter with Elissia, for obvious reasons. He instead, invented an inn he
passed by on his exiting Savron, and said he stayed there the night, and was
healed by a traveling cleric who blessed him. “Thank goodness for the little
monk too, or I’d be groaning about this damned leg.” Kader nodded in
understanding, downing his fifth glass of the harsh alcohol.
“It’s is okay
Mr. Silverlond. We will eat tonight, a hearty meal, and then tomorrow we can
plan a new attempt, since timing and circumstance had changed.” Being a poor
reader, Kader bought all the lies Blue fed him, and Blue now had a chance to
kill the sucker at suppertime, and be home by bedtime.
Blue thanked him
kindly, and Kader led him to an eastern hall, where lie Blue’s room in which he
would stay. Blue again faked some manners, thanked the dumb bastard, and went
into the room and locked the door. He had a lot of planning to do before the
food was ready.
Blue decided that he would slip the quarecide into
one of the many ornamental gourds of wine that Kader obviously would have for
beverages that evening. With all the unnecessary details settled, Blue relaxed
and practiced some sword techniques before the meal.
Two hours passed, and
Kader had supper ready on the long table of his in his old and pride furnished
dining hall. Blue recalled a seemingly similar set up only a day earlier. He
entered the room, where he met Kader, who was finishing a tall glass of
chardene’. Blue inquired to Kader if he could have the honour of passing drink
around after the supper, and Kader, seemingly sober, agreed. Blue was still
amazed at the man’s alcohol addiction talent. He was like a freaking
The dinner passed on lazily, and Blue and Kader talked short handily
about many subjects, touching here and there on things from poetry, art, and
types of armor knight prefer in combat. Blue was bored, as usual, with the mess
of the lord’s droning and intoxicating words, and smiled as he played with his
food and dubbed Kader the “beer-mage.”
At the evening’s end, Kader produced
the liquor, and Blue was given his chance to slip in the green pill that would
make Kader croak. He picked a jar of some old and fancy sounding elven stuff,
remembering to be aware more often, and poured the sparkling white liquid into
his own tall glass at his eating place.
He then proceeded down the table, and
as he moved, he took the pill from the pouch it was contained in, and slipped
the drug into the wine jar. He smiled happily as his plan fell right into a
vacation slot next week. Upon his weary arrival, Blue began to remove Kader’
arsenal of glass soldiers, which were, still shocking to Blue as Kader seemed
untainted, all empty. Blue shrugged, sighed, and poured the elven brandy into
Lord Kader’s glass. His smile of success was neatly reflected off the balding
man’s shining dome.
Blue whistled as he then walked back to his place on the
table, bowed, and sat down. But Kader’s look was puzzled. He looked Blue in the
eyes. “Mr. Silverlond, are you trying to kill me, or harm me in some liquid
Blue put his feet up, again forgetting the manners, and
sipped his wine. “I beg your pardon, your lordship?” He was shocked. Had Kader
been leaked information? “I do not understand your inquiry of why I might have
poisoned your beverage, as I see you had inferred. Is something the matter?” He
frowned secretly. Damn it! His ruse was almost unburied. He thought about
running, but then decided Kader was playing games with that voice of his.
“Well, Mr. Silverlond. Unless you’re trying to commit suicide before my
eyes, I must assume you are trying to commit homicide.” He raised his glass.
“You see, for some reason, your drink is a sparkling and refreshing white elven
wine, while mine seems to have turned to a dark shade of blue…” He looked at his
alien glass, and back to Blue. “Can you explain this to me before the guards
come, Mr. Silverlond?”
Blue’s jaw dropped. What the hell happened! The damn
quarecide must have changed the color of the damn wine! But how? He was
mad, and his ass hurt even more for the steel toed boot that Elissia was kicking
him with as her words ringing in his ear…”And slip it into his food, or his
mouth, if extremes are required..” her sweet voice sang his stupidity and
“I…Well, you see…funny thing happened…” he stumbled about on words
and lies. Kader had stood now, and had poured the vile drink onto the carpeted
stone floor of the silent dining-hall. Blue’s breath was harsh, and his heart
pounded. “You see…Mr. Kader…my family was…an apothecary and…well…” he scratched
the back of his head in a manner as to stand up. Kader had not moved since, and
Blue decided to make a rush.
Kader did not move. He knew exactly what Blue
Silverlond wanted to do now, and he would make him pay. Ridnick, as summoned,
had already entered the room, and Blue didn’t see him. He smiled his chaotic
His sword was drawn from its sheath. And Blue had jumped on to the
table. Blue ran fast, across the table, his sword ready to sever Kader’s head.
He summoned the magic within him, his brain focused, and he cast a shield spell,
which protected him from harm to his front. He smiled. He would have Kader dead.
Hr reached the end of the table, jumped up with his sword in the air, and the
impact of the arrows to his abdomen threw him sprawling doubled-over on the
table, and, with the dining cloth pulled alongside, he fell to the floor
Kader’s smile faded with disappointment. “Such a poor fool”, he
said. “To think…I could use the workings of such a man.” He knelt down and
rummaged through Blue’s chain shirt as he lay on the floor, and pulled from it
his bag of money, which he put back on his own person, and then he pulled forth
the white pouch that Elissia had given the
Kader’s stern face
turned to a cold stare of anger. “Damn them!” he cursed as he rose and stored
the pouch with the other into his robes. “Take him to the prison. He will be
executed as sun’s setting tomorrow.” And with his condemning order, he strolled
out of the room, and Blue’s cold body was taken by the dwarf down three floors
and chained up behind bars in Kader’s castle.
Blue awakened groggily
in the rattling caravan. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his new
surroundings. A circus he thought? No. He grabbed the iron bars of the caravan
and peered out into the gray day’s surroundings. He wasn’t near Kader’s castle
anymore. He saw a shrine which had looked familiar, and he realized he was in
Vestille’s lands. But what the hell was he doing here?
He looked around,
moving clumsily about in the cramped caravan, the chains around his hands and
feet making his agility even more less graceful, and saw he was being carried by
a horse, with a patrol of spear wielding guards around. He counted four or five,
but wasn’t sure. He tried to undo the bindings about his limbs, tried even magic
and other spells, but none had seemed to work. He didn’t like these what
appeared to be magic-inhibiting ropes, he thought, and called out to the guard
closest to him.
shout, a large and burly, built if not bear related, guard clambered in his
chain-mail, put his dwindling spear to rest, and peered at the magent through
the lead bars. “What do you want, you scum bag!” his gruff voce, bad hygiene,
and even worse taste in past time beers was enough to make Blue retch his guts
out. What is with this damn region and bad wine, he though, before remembering
to focus on getting
“Where am I?” he
questioned the soldier, disadvantaged, but hoping the damn sentry had no brains
“Where the hell do
you thinks you are, you dumb fool! You’re in a magic-sound caravan, goin’
countryside!” He laughed at his remark, and Blue suddenly shivered at the
thought of this jerk at a dinner conversation with the dwarf Ridnick He wanted
to leave more than Kader’s castle of
“No” Blue detested,
“I mean, where the hell are we going? Better not be Oz, I already killed three
wicked witches.” Blue shifted his position in the cramping cart to relax him
The guard gave
him a queer look. “You’re going to visit the great Lord Vestille, that’s where
you’s is going. He wants to have a chat with you about your trying to shoot him
down three ‘eves past.” The guard spit on the ground, and pulled forth a pipe,
which he lit with tobacco and happily and greedily smoked. “So…must think you
got some big balls to wanna take down Vestille Opnev!” He smiled an ugly
Blue had ignored the
guard, and continued his information retrieval game. “But I was in Lord Kader’s
dungeon. I was to be killed, most likely. How did I wind up in Vestille’s
position? What the hell happened while I was dreaming of sugar plum fairies? The
guard gave another rotted grin after a relaxing drag on his
“Don’t ya remember
anything, boy? It was really freaking cool!” He blew a failed ring from his
pipe. “Yeah…Vestille took all his neat little men, me included” he happily
appraised himself. “And we went over to that son-of-gun Kader’s home, encircled
it, stole that dumb dwarf guy that was in the door, and we’s say something like,
‘Surrender the prisoner we want to kill, or the midget will see his own body
from ten feet away’”. He chuckled heartily. “So Kader thinks you was working for
good Vestille, so he throws ya to us, and the dwarf goes home like a little
big!” He laughed again, spitting in Blue’s unfortunate direction. “Man, ya
should have seen us! We was something!” He laughed some more, and eventually
dawdled, got bored, and went back to his post some ten feet away as Blue had
taken no more interest to the
the sun had dropped, and the moon took its own throne amidst the stars, Blue’s
company had reached the inner walls of Vestille’s castle. Blue was taken a harsh
and rickety ride up a road, trough two gates, and was left for fifteen minutes
in the night’s cloak within a courtyard, as one of the soldiers “had to go.” He
was getting really furious at the guards present, and decided to tell Vestille
his feelings of the poor
The caravan was
opened up by a tall guard who said nothing in words, but motions and hand signs
as he waved Blue out of the caravan, which was hard enough considering Blue was
tied and bound hand and feet and had to bounce out into the courtyard until that
guards finally cut the ropes on his legs so he could walk normally on two
Blue was then hurdled
by spear-point into Vestille’s castle, the summer’s cold air and dampness from
the rain which waited to pour the next day turning to the heat and staleness of
the castle’s walls of mortar and dusty stones. Blue was marched up a couple of
flight of stairs, three to be exact, and through more doors than he cared to
count after the first twenty or so. No wonder he thought as he was led
like a rat through Vestille’s dungeon-like home Now I know why I got lost in
this damned maze of halls! They all look alike, and with very few rooms, it’s
like one’s going in circles. Nothing’s as I remember running through…It’s like a
whole new castle.
was true one was going circles. Vestille had his castle built on a hill, so when
a person neared the center, which was cliched as Vestille’s quarters, the castle
halls went in circle around it like a whirlpool of corridors. The lack of rooms
was also quite apparent, and Blue figured that Vestille must really hate
solicitors and salesman. He smiled at the thought of impersonating a salesman or
seller of cheap crap that would just piss the rich bastard right out of his
expensive trousers. The other work was Vestille’s use of magic and deception in
his home, the art of the illusion
And all the while Blue
thought of funny things he could be doing at the moment, he was sadly being led
to a man who wanted him dead. He swallowed hard against the thought and dreamed
a little more never-weres before the sentry with him in tow approached a
furnished set of brass and steel doors that obviously was Vestille’s own
The guards opened the door, the room ahead was a study, with a desk
in back, and rows and rows of books and tomes and literature for a cultured man
to spend his time with. Blue took a step back, but the guard’s, with a mighty
burst of energy and strength, dumped the magent in, his body hitting hard
against the rugged stone flooring, and the doors instantly shut and locked,
leaving Blue Silverlond alone with Vestille Opnev. Blue stood wearily, gained
some balance and posture, and faced the man he was originally charged to kill,
now in person, and not the last time some twenty yards in the
A tall man, more
imposing than the drinking Kader, Vestille had a frame and face that represented
iron rule and will. His face was long, and sharp, a long nose and bulging grey
eyes that most nobleman of his race had. His hair, orange and red like blaze of
wild fires, was cut short, and formed a funny goatee upon his chin, and not
nearly as old in appearance as Kader was. He was garbed in a blue long vest
which covered his elbows to thighs, underneath he dawned a purple coloured
tunic, tied with a sash of green dyed silk, and black leather breaches, fitted
to size with pockets for money, and a loop for a sword. Although gaudy and
almost clownish in the attire, it seemed to highlight Vestille’s temper and
desire of either money or death, and never both for the same. A man with more
dignity Blue thought to himself. Vestille looked him over with either a look
of curiosity or malice, which frightened Blue because he could not tell
And finally, after a
silent examination of body and soul, Vestille spoke, in a harsh, and worn out
voice, much more fitting than the drone and whine of Kader and his army of
bottles and booze. “So…” he pondered, stroking his goatee, “You are the man who
was hired to assassinate me? Such a noble fool, such un-noble needs. What is the
world coming to these days? Neh? Political rivals can’t even have a good fight
any more without the flinging of slander and mud, the blanket of lies, the
hidden glint of the hired sword. The world is just all going to hell I suppose.”
He threw a punch into Blue’s abdomen. Blue gave a short shout, followed by loss
of breath and quick tumble to the ground on hands and knees. He gasped for air,
a small trickle of blood running down his chin. “And you had to involve me in
it.” Vestille accused as he turned on heel and moved back to a desk within the
room’s annex. He sat down, and folded his hands under his chin. A smile came to
he continued, “If Kader wants to invent new rules, so be it. As the winds of
society itself, I suppose I must change.” Blue rose weakly to his feet,
struggling against the blow, the pain, and the chains that bound his hands. He
was ready to kill Vestille now, end the madness, strangle the bastard with his
own worn and bloodied hands. Vestille’s eyes seemed to light up at Blue’s
faltered attempts. “You can stop trying. Those ropes are magic woven by the
dwarven smiths north in Devouri. The runes are imbedded into them, suspending
the use of magic as well the might and brute force one might use to leave their
bounds. All your struggling will only end in more blood on those torn wrists of
yours. ”Blue gave up, and, with a rugged sigh of loss, he sat down with crossed
legs upon the hard, cold stone floor and waited for Vestille to finish his
was surprised, and enjoyed his prisoner. “You are quite a man. You accept the
defeat I have handed you, but also never give up on your pursuit. Like a lone
wolf. Such determination. Such honour and pride.” Blue rose his spinning head to
face the other. “You know exactly what I am going to say, don’t you? You that I
am about to ask something of you, and you want to accept, no, you will accept.”
He raised his hand motioned Blue to rise. Blue sat still, disobeying. “And so
stubborn. None the matter. I still will ask you…” Blue’s ears perked
Damn it! What
does the bastard want from me? He must think I’m Restoll the Bringer or
something. Blue pondered the lord’s words in anticipation. Vestille sensed
the rogue’s dwindling patience and smiled.
“I want you to join my army,
to help in the extermination of this rat, this Tamieras Kader.” He spoke the
name with disgusts if Kader was a grotesque demon or disfigured planar entity
that would turn other who saw him turn to stone like the medusa.
Without liquor he
probably is Blue jokingly
But the lord had
ignored Blue’s daydreaming, as he knew his words were still sharp on the
magent’s ears. “You have quite the skill, surviving my own army, running from my
castle, Kader, his own soldiers, all quite remarkable. I need someone like you.
It is a necessary in such rivalries these day, unfortunately.” Vestille rose
from the chair, it’s wooden legs squeaking loudly against the slabs of stone of
the room’s floors. “So, will you join
Blue was looking around
the room, paying attention to books and shelves, reading the titles of the tomes
and stories kept within. His head turned sharply to see Vestille Opnev suddenly
next to him. Startled, he stepped back. “huh, I beg your pardon…” he stumbled
about. Vestille frowned slightly. Perhaps his assumption of this character was
wrong. Perhaps he wasn’t paying attention to him. His frown sank deeper,
then became flat again. He repeated himself. “Will you join with me? Become a
legend, earn your status, fame. Money. Lots of money. Women too, in their prime,
no less, and no more.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes widening and fiery
eyebrows rising for recognition and response.
Blue was caught
slightly off guard, but bent his head in thought. If I say yes, I’ll be
free…but then I’ll have to work for this sleaze, probably still die in the
end…but if I say no…my head will most likely roll off the guillotine for
sure…Blue sat another minute torn by the indecision before coming to his
conclusion. “Yes.” He
Vestille Opnev’s face
lit up with enlightenment and success. He smiled maniacally. “Excellent.”
clapped his hands, the sound brining a guard escort who entered the room, taking
Blue by the arm, and leading him back through the maze of corridors and stone
walls, made to look a little nicer with paintings of odd genres and caliber, and
tapestries of varying colors. He was led down the halls to a wooden door at the
end of one of these odd and inconsistent hallways. The guard stood still for a
minute, and. Ruffling through his person, drew forth a small blue handled knife.
He cut the ropes which bind Blue’s hands behind him, and pocketed both within
his black uniform. “This here is your room. You are free to roam the grounds for
now, get used to Vestille’s design. This castle is quite a unique thing to
behold. Just don’t do anything funny, or the Lord will know right away to send
you down to the guillotine.” The guard handed him a small brass key, with a
short explanation of it being, obviously, the key for Blue’s own room. Blue
sighed and waited impatiently for the guard to finish his automated lecture of
doors and keys and relationships therein, then bid the guard away, and opened
the door with a turn of the brass key and small “click.”
His room was rather
large, well furnished. A four post, black silk curtain bed lay in center back,
with a lamp next to it. A wooden dresser, brass plated and filled with varying
clothes of taste and money, lay to the right. A small vanity set lay on top, a
mirror, about mid waits high, with a washbasin and washcloth folded and put
neatly with the set. A painting of landscapes, a large framed window, and
matching black silk curtains completed the other side of the scene.
Occult Blue thought. He slowly, at an expense of energy, into the room.
The past events and
encounters had drained him energy and stamina, and the tiredness and need to
sleep hit him like a blow to the head. He stood to the bed, his head beginning
to spin. He laid down on the black sheets and fell sound asleep.
Blue dreamed that night, and
got little sleep from the reoccurring events of history seemingly repeating
themselves in his mind, one by one, leaping like proverbial sheep through his
slumbers, wakening him often in cold sweat with the beginning and end of each
new moment. He rubbed his head. The dreams, as he recalled, were merely thing of
He dreamt about
his childhood, his training as a knight for his homeland, the blood-fought
kingdom of Shinaria. His father was an excellent warrior, and had served the
king deeply. But during a small war within the country, Blue’s father had
assassinated the king’s son. His father was executed, and Blue, who had happily
achieved status as a knight for his country, was expelled.
His dishonor had carried him
south to his grandfather’s hometown, Keltin. It had been here where he met the
old man. The old eccentric, senile old bag named Yugu. The old goat had been
wise, if not slow, and taught him in the ways of magic, in the realm of
Mentalism. Blue learned many tricks of his trade, and was forever grateful to
Yugu. When the old man died, Blue remembered mourning silently one gray
afternoon, and leaving that same dreary night, alone.
In his travels, he came
across a man who would become a good friend. The man was a well-dressed, sharp
worn man called Lochlin. Lochlin was a mercenary, a veteran who had seen time
deteriorate his youth and looks, but not his skills. Upon meeting the ex-knight,
Lochlin asked to hire Blue Silverlond to help defend a territory called Vandal
Spire. This land was neutral area in Shinaria, but after the recent wars, and
the minute hunt for the assassin’s own son, the Knights of Shinaria had deemed
the land necessary for ruling the country. Blue remembered cursing a storm,
going on about revenge and how he hated the bastards at the capitol of Beowulf.
He agreed whole-heartedly.
Blue was a vigorous fighter.
His skills in arms and magic had proved his own ability and competence within
the battle. He was motivated by the hatred for his own, the hatred for the
Knights. He intended to win. After a fierce and ongoing campaign against the
Shinari elite, Vandal Spire had been saved, and the military gave up on the
land, allowing it to be the unowned territory for runaways and thieves escaping
the law. Blue was thanked for his help, and after time, his skills were boasted
about the land, and Blue had begun to travel the same road as his buddy Lochlin
as a mercenary. He was good at his job, and had, for the most part, completed
his missions as ordered, and been paid handsomely.
And although he burned
quickly the money he earned, he had lived happily, wandering the lands as a
sword for hire. Money and revenge would propel him one day to regain his
At least, that’s what
And so, Blue
dreamed of various events-missions he had done during his time. Although in the
end of his youth’s prime, he felt he was at least doing something with his life.
Blue told himself this each time he wakened, clenching the sheet, with hard,
rapid breaths. He shrugged the fatigue, and soon went back to
roused to wake by a large repetitive banging at his door, like a bird at sunrise
that doesn’t shut up to let the lazy man sleep. Blue thought of implementing the
strategy to the guest as he did that bird by putting it back to sleep with the
impact of large rock. He smiled, laughed silently to himself about doing so, and
rose and opened the door. It was the same guard as before, the black dressed
robot of stupid. Blue groaned and shut the door upon the sight of the
But the knocking
continued. Now louder, and louder, faster. Eventually there guard had begun to
play music with different beats of the door. Blue rose his head from under the
pillow and decided living might be better than suffocation. He got up slowly
again, grabed his sword, still sheathed, and opened the
“I ha-“ the guard fell
with a blow to his head to the ground. Blue was about to close the door and
return to the warmth and lazy comfort of his bed when the he noticed a rolled up
scroll kept tightly within the guard’s hand. He took it, shrugged, and turned
into his room, closing the door on the guard outside who took his
Blue stood for a moment,
collecting his thoughts, then unrolled the parchment. It was not:
Breakfast is in One hour. Please come to the Dining Hall. (You’ll
find it when you think you
note was signed by Vestille. Blue threw the note to the ground, and his set his
sheathed sword next to the bed, propped against the carved wooden bed-post. He
moved to the dresser, where he washed up. He cleaned his face and hands, and
dried them with the convenient towel nearby. He stared at himself briefly in the
mirror before deciding he better bathe fully before the day’s done. He was
dirtier than hell, and probably smelled worse. His brown hair was more
disheveled, messed about more than usual and torn and rags from the travel. He
made a mental and material note to do so, then began to rummage through the
drawer of clothes.
appealed to his liking, but Blue thought he should borrow a couple before he
left. Although he didn’t find any of the apparels good looking, he figured he
could use them someday, or give them as gifts. He closed the drawers and left
the room in his own coat and chain
Lord Vestille waited
patiently in his dining room. The large and marvelous, and quite expensive,
marble dining table was being filled with food and treats by the servants and
squires he paid to do so. He looked at his watch, and pondered the obvious and
easily recognizable fact that his guest was lost. He smiled, sipped his morning
tea, then made a few gestures of the hand, waving and pointing. Under his
breath, the incantations of the illusionary magic were sounded, the thought and
mind of the arcane power slowly working about the castle. Vestille sipped his
tea again, and patiently waited for Blue
Vestille made not
note or mention of upset when Blue arrived at the dining hall an hour later. His
breath was short, and one of his hands was badly bruised and bloodied, battered
and worn. The lord could only guess at what the magent had tried to accomplish,
being lost in his castle of mind altering trickery and deception. But, despite
the tardiness of the magent and the now cooling temperature of the breakfast now
gone to waste, Vestille simply smiled his maniacal smile and begged Blue to sit
at the opposite end of the table with him.
Blue did so, the embarrassment
from becoming not only lost and tardy for his appearance with the lord,
but also of seemingly becoming the end and punch lines of jokes which spread
from ear to ear and mouth of the castles numerously hidden guards and servants.
Blue sat down slowly, and bowed slightly as he did so, as to keep his manners,
more so than he had done for Kader. There were no words shared between the two
for a long time as Blue poured himself a cup of the black tea, as it was the
only thing still kept warm by the servants for r their
happily on his tea, watching the lord across the table. Vestille seemed
different than Kader, more…bearing, more up held in his demeanor. He assumed
that this guy must be the one the people like for lord around here. But again,
the exact details of politics would only interfere with the fact that he was
still being paid, however inconspicuous that now seemed, to kill the man. Blue
sipped his tea again.
found the whole situation not only a blessing from the little leprechauns, a
charm and radiant beam of luck and fortune, but also quite ironic. He was doomed
to be executed, by the man who hired him to kill the lord he now as with, and
Blue failed, deemed to be killed by the latter. Now he was being saved by the
very man who should be having his head fed to the Behemoth-king Gorre for trying
to kill him. He silently chuckled the whole prospect. At least the girl Elissia
was working for him. He thought about getting a shot at a relationship
with the odd hostess who had hired him to kill his first
Blue shook his
head, and took a long sip of the tea before him on the marble table. All this
thinking and sewing of missing pieces and puzzles was beginning to confuse him,
and, although the idea of this massive government conspiracy and uprising
happening in Savron seemed all fun, he was getting headaches from trying to
think about the matter. He lazily decided, after the stress began to get to him,
that he would simply play it all by ear, kill Vestille, and leave the region,
fleeing-hopefully-from Kader and his men.
It was Lord Vestille who,
after contemplating the thoughts of the magent, whose name was still unknown to
him, broke the silence. His voice startled Blue, as Vestille calculated that the
breakfast had been continuing on in its current silence for almost half of an
“I apologize for my
frankness, but, I have hired you as my personal assassin, and I still do not
know your name. It would be much easier for me to call you by something other
than….”you there”, for instance.” He smiled again, and Blue tried to hide the
shudder this man seemed to send to him. “Perhaps you could tell me what you are
Blue looked down at
the swirling cup of tea within his cup, and thought the situation over. He
determined that it wouldn’t matter now if used his real name anymore, as no one
who wanted to kill him didn’t know who he was. “Blue Silverlond, your
lordship.” He told Vestille. He frowned slightly at the prospect, seeing that
his skills were not being used to potential and wavering slightly. He decided to
do better at his job next
Vestille poured another
cup of the dark tea, and then continued on his speech. “You see, I used to be
the ‘goody-two-shoes’ of the competing lords in the regions. In earlier-perhaps
simpler-times this all would have made a difference. Back in the day, it would
have all accumulated to something more profitable and worthwhile as a
politician. It might have made sense.” He sipped his tea. “But times have
changed. People change as well. The desire for these “good-boy” politicians and
rulers is nearing its last breath. Oh, people want a good, pure hearted
leader. They want such a man to rule there lives, insignificant, a paladin to
their everyday journey of home and market, problems dealt by the court of such a
man. Yes, the people desire such a leader. They deserve it.” He looked a sharp
glance at the magent, his grey eyes searching for recognition of his words. He
had found it.
“But nowadays”, he continued, “Such men are almost never born.
At least, not into politics. Such hearts and souls are bred as monks as knights,
and templars to a church. They do not have the exact calling, the
feel for the politics. And with no such feel, there are no good men to
lead. He real politicians-men such as myself, or my rival Mr. Kader-are of
little of that caliber. We have no such morality, no-honesty. We have to resort
to men like you. Am I wrong?” The last words came with a hint of a sneer
from Vestille. Blue had felt it, known the meaning of Vestille’s words, but said
nothing of that matter. Instead, his rebuttal was for Vestille’s
Blue, setting down
his empty tea cup, shook his head. “No your lordship, you are
wrong. Such men are not always born into such roles. Some men of heart and
spirit do get caste for the role of the knight or man of the cloth. They become
contempt with such casts, they play the lines, they move in harmony with the
music of their chosen path. They are as happy in any such field, helping the
good of the people. But, men such as yourself, bound to thrive in the world of
politics, men such as yourself who desire to rule, even though your heart isn’t
as pure as the people would like it to be, well you can change that.” He poured
himself another cup of the dark tea, took a sip of it, then pressed on in
“You men can rise to such positions, and become the
ideal leader. You can become such men, ruling with good heart and mind.
You throw mud and strike with sword to obtain such positions, and you continue
your ever straight path in such manners. You politicians get into that chair or
that office, and you still continue to fling mud at your rivals. Only now, your
actions splatter dirt and grime on the very people you wish to help. You soil
the people by being such a man. You see, your lordship, it is men such as
you who can change. You can make a transition as such while in power.
Become a man of your people.”
Vestille’s eyes seemed to glisten at the
rogue’s own attempt. Although he found the words amusing, and intriguing,
Vestille was laughing inside. And after a moment this laughter became audible,
and Blue was puzzled, ands slightly insulted, at the unknown humor the lord
found in the words of the magent. Vestille’s laugh was loud and roared like a
lion that was tickled with a feather. And Blue Silverlond was suddenly angered
by Vestille Opnev’s ignorance. His hard face was overcome slightly with rage,
his eyes flared, and a knife nearby him had been grasped. A movement of the arm,
a throw of the steel. The knife cut fast through the air as the magent tried to
make the strike contact the fool.
Vestille was still laughing at the
magent’s plea when his hand was impaled by his very own kitchen knife. His face
reflected with pain, and his red hair only seemed to enhance the similarity of
his face to a candle flame. Blood began to leak from the wound, staining the
cloth of the marble table, into the tea. Vestille screamed with rage and
His head jerked up to meet the unkempt rogue’s gaze, and Blue suddenly
grabbed for a sword that wasn’t there. Damn it he cursed as he remembered
his sword was still in his room, somewhere deep in the labyrinth compound. Blue
rose from his chair hard and fast as to knock it over onto the dining room’s
carpeted floor. He was driven by rage, and hate, sprinting to Vestille, wanting
to silence the bastard. His legs carried him quickly over the expanse, and in a
moment his fist had connected with full force across the lord’s jaw. A crack was
heard, and the impact sent Vestille sprawling to the ground. He clenched his
jaw. The blow dislocating his lower face. His eyes seemed to glow red as he
raised a shaking, uncontrollable bloody hand at the
A word, an arc of
energy and magic, a spear of magic and essence formed at the biding of Vestille.
Blue had no time to react as the spear of light and energy flew through the air,
gracefully, into his left shoulder. The shear force and pain sent him screaming,
the shaft went through clean, and Blue tumbled onto his back, with a loud thud,
and the clanging of his chain mail under his now burnt brown coat and ashen
with the support of the marble dining table, now stained autumn with spilling of
the dark, black tea and crimson color of his own blood. His face was akin to the
magent’s, fury and rage blinding all senses. The betrayal had not only shocked
him, but left his jaw unhinged. Blood now ran down his face from his mouth, the
wounds and crimson fluid merging with the fabrics of his tunic and cloak. He
raised another hand, more magic at his command. Coming into a ball at the
fingers, a swirl of energy and mana, glowing green with the faint light of the
essence’s power. His face twitched, and he sent the ball hurling through the
singed air, onto the magent that lay on the ground.
Blue was just coming to his
senses when the magic bullet hit. He screamed, the energy enveloping him like a
blanket of fire, the green power sparking about in swirls and arcs like
lightning in a fierce storm. Blue tried to struggle against the magic, but even
he knew there was no use in such a vain attempt. The soft sizzle of his now
tattered and blackened coat and charred shirt of chain, his pant bloody and
scarred with soot and multiple tears was the only sound amidst the two wounded
men’s ragged and faltering breath. With a short sigh, the magent fell to the
ground in a lazy, burned
The guard repeated
the banging of the sword against the bars another time. The simultaneous rattle
and vibration of the prison’s bars, the constant noise of the guard, was enough
to make Blue go insane. Still, he did nothing. He just lied on the clod stone
cot of the damp, musk cell, and waited.
Blue recalled being knocked
unconscious after a fierce attempt to slay Lord Vestille Opnev. His body was
charred, burned as a result of the ignoramus’s magic. Blue had been struck in
the shoulder. A lance of magic and mana. The spear had torn through. A gaping,
bloody hole in his flesh still marked the wound. A wound that wouldn’t let him
sleep. It burned his flesh, brought him pain whenever touched. Even the air
seemed to wind through it like acid, making the pain all more unbearable. Blue
had whimpered in his cell for at least a day. And then he gave up trying. He
gave up caring.
visited him once, since he awakened in the small stone prison room. He came to
mock the magent, and sing about his execution day. Blue tried to ignore the man,
but his voice, as strong as it was, begged Blue to perk an ear for attention.
Vestille’s own wounds had been healed, probably by magic, and there was no trace
of a broken jaw. Vestille’s anger had seemed to subside, although Blue heard the
hatred in the lord’s voice every time he spoke. It almost made him shiver with
It as another day of
laying in the cold damp cell, upon the stone, rock-hard cot. Blue sung softly
himself as he awaited the execution day’s coming. Only one more night. This
one he thought as he tried to devise a plan of escape.
there were more than ten guards in excess guarding the magent’s prison cell, and
probably some mage-warriors or sorcerers waiting outside the large wooden door
at the end of the hall. Blue’s cell had also been guarded, from the inside, to
prevent the casting of any of his own magic as a means of escape. Blue had
looked over these runes, studying them, for any hopes of being able to break the
chain, destroy one, and allow him to do something but, of coarse, there
was no way to penetrate the lord’s defenses.
Blue hummed his song, tossing
and turning on the uncomfortable bed, hoping sleep might come to him, allowing
him to escape the situations dire outcome that seemed now all too real and
apparent. He started to feel depressed that his stupidity and pride had gotten
the best of him, again, and that he was going to die for such mistakes. He tried
to shrug off the feeling, but it still lingered inside him, nagging at his heart
and soul. It was like a massive ball of despair that seemed to bounce and grow
bigger and bigger. Blue was almost on the verge of breaking down, bawling aloud
within his cell like a broken man.
But Blue Silverlond wouldn’t break. He
wasn’t that small of a lowly being. He was a man. He was determined to live, get
his revenge. He would make things right. He wanted to leave, kill Kader, kill
Vestille, end this whole tangle of feuds, and leave. Savron City had suddenly
become a hell for him. Vestille and Kader were like twin devils-Satan and a
clone. He merely chuckled at the thought, the small burg-a realm of torment? The
thought of Kader and Vestille ruling together made him laugh even louder, and he
almost got the guard’s attention. Blue’s humor subsided shortly, its moment
gone, and he sat up on his bed, and pondered.
Tamieras Kader stormed into
his briefing room, a large circular cellar with maps and tables for campaign and
warfare purposes, with Ridnick trailing behind. He moved to his giant map of the
region, and stared at it with furious eyes. Ridnick, a little frightened, spoke
“M, m, master?” he asked. His body trembled, shaking violently. “What
shall you do now?” The dwarf seemed smaller than usual as he shrank beneath the
shadow of Kader.
Kader’s nostril’s flared, and he batted off the table all
the little figures that were the army of Vestille. “That idiot has two-faced us!
I have to take care of things my way now!” Despite the dwarf being the only
other person in the briefing room, Kader was raising his voice shouting. The
dwarf seemed to fall to his knees in a fetal position, frightened at the storm
of the man. “Y,y,yes” he stuttered about,”B,bu,b,but what will your Lordship do
now? You lost your assassin, and he’s with Vestille now.” Kader looked down at
the dwarf and smiled.
“I’ll go personally to his castle
“You heard me. Rally all my soldiers, gather a battalion
from the northern barracks, and have them group up at the astern walls. I’ll
meet them there. We will march right up to Vestille’s castle, and we’ll stomp
him out. It can easily be accomplished.” He played with the figures on the
table, visualizing the words he spoke. Ridnick was silently watching, noting his
orders to gather men and arms.
“What about the Western Border Guards?” The
small dog questioned. “They’re not needed out that far for another week, and we
can pull them out and have them at your estate by the afternoon’s end. Then you
will have five hundred men strong.” The dwarf circled the table to stand closer
to the lord, in hopes of praise.
“You’re right, Ridnick. That’s a novel idea.
Contact the Border Guard at once, then. Let them know the details, and I’ll wait
for them at the eastern gate with the other units. As for the local sentry, I
need you to divide the, and send them here.” He wrote the directions on a scrap
piece of parchment laying stray on the table, and hoped the dwarf would
“Why here, your lordship?” He was puzzled at the sentry’s
Kader moved gracefully to the door. “I have a feeling Mr.
Silverlond might b playing another side. We don’t want any surprises from the
town.” He strolled out of the room, and Ridnick gleefully skipped on after his
lord, and then left to prepare for the oncoming attack. He sent out letter to
the Western Border Guard, told the soldiers to wait at the eastern gates, and
then dispatched the local sentry. Still… he wondered, Why the
Night fell seemingly quickly that day in Savron, and the clouds
whisped away, the blanket of darkness covered the sky, and the sun bowed to let
the moon stand. The stars peered out from the back cloak to lend their shining
brightness to the summer’s warm evening. Kader inhaled the fresh smell of the
Tamieras Kader stood with an army of his soldiers, atop a hill
on the eastern outskirts of the city. Waiting patiently for this moment, he
lifted his right hand, which clenched a shining brass war trumpet. He paused
momentarily to survey his men, their uneasiness about the long battle ahead
didn’t show in the waiting black mass of armor clad men, with sword spear and
bow. There was almost an air of desire to march quickly to his rival Vestille
Opnev’s castle, and he smiled. Today he would rule this city, Savron. Later, he
would be ruler of the entire country. He would see to that. He pressed the brass
of the trumpet to his lips, and blew, the large bellowing sound echoing along
the slight breeze of the wind.
At the command, Kader’s men had picked their
bodies off from the grassy fields, and began a steady, anticipating march to
Vestille’s castle. Some sang songs of battle and victory, other smoked pipes, or
chewed tobacco. There was a feeling of glee with high morale among the
They marched along the fields, trampling the fresh blades of grass.
The army moved like a snake, a snake armed with a mass of weapons of blades and
arrows. A snake with a greedy, selfish brain called Kader. The snake wound its
way on the edge of the city on foot, silently and paced as not to tire. The
battle ahead would be long, and the struggle would be a challenge. But the
barrel of gunpowder that was the politics in Savron had to be set ablaze, or the
situation would remain solid and unmoving for too long. Kader wanted nothing
more that to win. Even if he were the last man standing against Vestille he
would win. He would be ruler of the land. He deserved it.
The snake crept
swiftly through the blades of grass in the summer’s cool night. And the brain
directed the orders to spare no one. Not even a rogue magent.
quietly in his stone cell in the depth of Vestille’s castle planning escape. Or
perhaps his death. He was starving and his mouth hurt from lack of drink.
Vestille had not come again. He had not been visited, or taunted to by the lord
of the castle. It almost puzzled Blue.
Blue sat quietly on the cold, rock
made cot in his cell. His escape was not possible. He sat, and imagined death.
He imagined the bony claw of the reaper grasping him, the dark figure draining
from him his life, his energy. Blue saw despairingly the scythe of death taking
his head. Blue saw no way out.
The guards, all ten of them within the
corridor, had disappeared. The soldiers who held him here and harassed him had
gone away. Blue knew not where, and decided not to learn where. It wouldn’t
matter. He was happy with the silence. The long, endless silence save his own
person. He had thought he was going mad. He began to shout, curse ramblings to
Vestille and Kader. He was going to kill bot of them if he wasn’t killed first.
Which, of course, was the now blatant
He sat with his face
buried in his hands, worn and dry, and wanted to die. But, without any means of
escape, he’d have to bury out his heart with his own hands in order to kill
himself. He stood straight up from his cot. I can’t go insane! He shouted
to himself. “I can’t go insane!” He punched the stone wall of the cell,
hard and cold. His hand became bruised, and blood began to drip to the floor. He
said nothing. He began to pace around the room, in circles. He sung to himself
ballads and tunes; all he knew. He hummed the parts of symphonies and musical
scores he could remember. He tried to keep a right
A loud bang against the
wooden door at the hall’s end. A shuffle, a sound of a man’s cream. Blue was
startled, and rushed to the barred door, peering out from the right side’s edge
to see the hallway, the door just barely visible to him. The scream subsides,
and there was for shuffling. The door was being jimmied open, rattling and
screeching against the stone floor. And then it opened. Blue left his position,
and hid against the wall, out of sight. He slowed his breathing, trying not to
be heard by the intruder.
shadow appeared in the door, and Blue glimpsed its movement as the sound of
metal clanging against metal was heard, and the lock went off with a switch. The
steel barred door swung open, and a familiar blonde, short girl stepped in the
“Blue?” she questioned with her soft, feminine voice. She turned her
head to see the magent, who, upon her arrival, had rushed up to hug her in his
“Am I glad to see
someone other than a soldier!” he happily said as he swung her girlish body
about in his arms. “And a beauty such as yourself!” he had almost been brought
to joyful tears. “How did you get in here Elissia?”
Elissia smiled at him,
brushing her long hair behind her shoulders. Her dress was blue, with white
laces. Blue noticed that it was the outfit she wore now she had been sewing when
she rescued him may nights past. She looked at him with her large brown eyes.
“Consider it a reunion by the gods” she told
Blue smiled at her, then
bowed as best he could, stumbling and falling over to the stone ground. “Here,
let me” the girl said as she produced a large water gourd from a leather belt
she wore around her waist. It was filled with cool, fresh clean water which Blue
thirstily and thankfully gulped down. He used the little that was left to
briskly clean his hands and face, the wiped his mouth with his
“Thank you so much. I
thought I as going to die” He got up slowly, and seated himself for a moment on
the cot. She handed him a loaf of bread from another pouch, and he munched it
down hurriedly, making sure not to choke. He ate until his stomach was full, and
finished the last drops of
“You almost did” she
said in her soft voice. “Now come on, Mr. Silverlond. We have to get you out of
here. You have an assortment of work to complete” she told him with a smile. She
grabbed him by his arm and dragged him out of the cell. The two hurried down the
hall, past the wooden door, into the adjacent room. A guard, who’s neck was
broken, lay in the door’s way. Blue stepped over it, easily guessing what
happened. “Here, your things are somewhere in here” Elissia told
The two looked quickly
for the magent’s coat, chain shirt and sword. They rummaged amidst the hoard of
weapons and armor, until Blue not only recovered his uniform and blade, but his
beloved black oak crossbow he had originally used to attempt to kill Vestille.
“Thought I’d never see you again baby!” he told the weapon. He turned to suit
up, and tied and secured his weapons to his belt. “Ok, Mrs. Where now?” he
asked, turning to find himself alone in the room. The girl had gone.
“Elissia?” he looked back down the prison hall, and midst some of the bigger
pieces of artillery in the room. Damn it! Where the hell did she
go! He looked quickly again, and still found no trace of the
Shaking his head, he
left the matter alone. “None the less, I have two missions to do.” He took his
equipment and bolted out of the next door, into the halls of Vestille Opnev’s
castle. He found a flight of stairs leading up, and followed them into an large
chamber, where he found the masses of Kader’s army against Vestille’s guard.
Sword were clashing with each other, arrows were being shot about. Down every
visible hall, the sounds and sights of warfare were heard. Blue looked around.
He had stumbled in the middle of the deciding war between Vestille and Kader.
The room was ablaze, charred from strewn candles and tapestries. Paintings and
statues, used as offense as well as defense, were all in shamble.
Blue looked abut, but from a
glint in his eye, he caught a guard running at him. With a quick dodge and
strike to the gut, the guard fell to the ground. Blue scanned the room, the
large crowd of warriors, but didn’t spot Elissia.
He fought off another two
guards, and began to move across the room to a nearby hallway. Swarms of arrows
began to soar across the chamber, and Blue picked up the pace. On his right side
was a hallway, thirty feet distance. He sprinted and made it past the battle,
into the corridor.
its safety he found one of Kader’s men, dressed in a leather jerkin, recognized
by the large black “K” sewn across his chest, running to meet him. Blue dueled
the man, the quick exchange of blows ending in a cut across the man’s torso, and
Blue kicking him over. More guards were piling in from various intersecting
corridors. Still, no
Blue ran down the
hall, slaying more men. At the end of the hall he found only one person. His
eyes fixed on the man: Tamieras Kader.
The man stood, waiting in a large
room. He had with him a large two handed sword, which he flailed about
skillfully with only one hand. Guards from Vestille fell at the lord’s point,
and tumbled in heaps of armor and blades.
Another wave of soldiers came at
Kader, running with sword and shield, and Lord Kader swung his blade about, in
circles and waves, cutting the attackers down. Blue was impressed. Kader now
turned. He saw the magent in the hall, watching, and smiled his chaotic, evil
Blue was almost scared
stiff, but brought courage from the anger that started to rush within him. He
cooled his head, and strolled out into the chamber to meet the
The chamber was shaped
like an octagon, with candles on the walls, burning silently, allowing
illumination to the room. There was a carpet of red velvet on the floor in the
center, where Kader stood his ground. Blue noticed there was no blood on the
carpet, and spilled only on the stone floor around it.
The two eyes met, glaring at
each other. It was almost like a staring contest, a battle of the will. Blue’s
green eyes meeting with Tamieras’ dark blue stones. Kader was the first to
interrupt the silence, his voice now stiff, and not as dull or boring to the
magent as when they had pretended to like each other.
“Well, well, well. If
it isn’t Mr. Silverlond. I trust Vestille has paid you well to be in his ranks.”
He twirled his sword around and rested it on his shoulder. “Poison any good
chuckled. “Vestille hasn’t done anything for me,
Kader looked past
the rogue, into the hall where the bodies of his men lay dead on the stone
floors. “Is that so? I bet you’re working for free then. How pathetic. Joining
his side, killing my men to help him win this war, going after me yourself.
Vestille is a fool. He can’t even fight his own
“So that’s it, isn’t
it?” the magent interrogated. “You think I’m working for Vestille, don’t you?”
The magent cleaned the blood off his sword with a torn piece of one of the dead
there be any other explanation?” the lord asked soberly, and calmly as he lifted
his sword off his shoulder. Blue knew he would strike soon, and set his blade
ready to defend.
there is.” The magent proclaimed as he brushed his rugged hair from his face. He
straightened his long pony tail, grown more from being locked up, and smiled.
“You see, your drunken-ship” at which Blue noted the flare and blood rush to
Kader’s poor concealing face, “Your me are too dumb. I just waltz around and
stick my sword out like this-”,he demonstrated as he turned to have his blade
meet the ribs of a soldier of Kader’s who had tried to creep up behind him. The
man gave a gurgle of saliva and blood and fell to ground in the corridor. The
magent continued, “And all they do is die.” He smiled. He knew he was winning
this one. “It’s like you programmed them to be moron. Dumb, drunken, incapable
screamed as he bolted off heel to rush as Blue with his large two- handed sword.
But Blue was faster, and the blade met Blue’s parry as the magent sent a kick to
the lord’s midsection. But, surprisingly, the kick yielded nothing, and Kader
simply took his sword and struck
But the size and speed
variance was too much. Although the impact of the large sword sent Blue
stumbling back a few steps, the blade couldn’t hit because Blue was smaller and
faster. Blue counterattacked with a slash to the shoulder, which hit. He tore
cloth and flesh, and blood leaked from a mall cut in Kader’s
The lord said nothing,
but continued his assault. Blue was crushed under the blow, and attempted to
roll away to the side, but Kader caught him in the side of his chest Blue let
out a short scream, and tumbled in failure. He got up, and noticed more
soldiers, four leather garbed reinforcements, had arrived to defend their lord.
Blue caught one of them as the guard rushed at him, and cut his face. Blood and
flesh fell with the soldier screaming to the stone floor. Kader’s face did not
change, and he still seemed passive.
Kader picked up his sword,
and with two more soldiers, charged at Blue. Blue turned, stabbing one of the
men in the back, and threw it to the other, who stumbled onto his back, his
blade cutting himself on the way down. Blue’s sword was up just in time to meet
the large force of Kader, and Blue quickly retreated his sword to catch the
A strike, and
the Lord fell to knee, blood pouring from an open wound. Kader grunted, and his
face now grimaced, twitching with the pain. Blue side-stepped around the robed
lord, and caught the last guard running at him down the chest. The threat fell
swiftly onto the carpet and stone. Blue turned to meet Tamieras
Kader rose from his
spot, slowly and painfully. He used his sword as a crutch, it’s blade worn and
chipped from contact with the stone. His legs trembled. He looked at the magent,
blood streaking down his face. His bald head was untouched, and Blue saw in the
reflection the dwarf behind him. The magent turned to meet
The dwarf stood in a
suit of plate and chain, stained with blood and ash. A large battle axe rested
in his armored hands. He resembled a true dwarf in that instant, whose spirit
was meant for such battle. Blue walked to face the dwarf. He stood not five feet
from the short man, and almost two feet taller.
Ridnick raised the axe to
strike the magent. His chest heaved with his slow, rugged breaths, and his eyes
flared with the pain the magent brought to his lord. “You…” he said in a rasped
voice. “You shall not harm my lord…” He took the axe over his head, and
Blue drew his sword from the dwarf’s belly.
Ridnick said nothing, but
his eyes showed betrayal and meaninglessness. Blue said nothing but pushed the
dwarf over, and let the dense short body fall to the stone floor of the chamber
with a crash and
Tamieras Kader was now
on both his feet, standing tall and unwavering. “This is it…this is the end for
you magent…Blue Silverlond!” He raised his sword and attacked Blue. The other
defended, but Kader seemed to have a new found force that was incredible. Blue
flew back, his sword flew from his grasp, his body went numb. He hit the wall
behind him with a loud thud and grunt. He groaned and rose slowly and wearily
from the wall. With a quick sense, and spot of the glinting metal he jumped to
his left in time just to miss Kader’s massive sword cut a six foot gash down the
wall. Blue rose to a knee. Kader stood like a golem now, a mass of might and
Blue realized he couldn’t joke around any more. He had to play
seriously or Kader would kill him for sure. The magent found his sword to his
right, slightly behind the oncoming Kader. He had to reach it. Fast. He got up
and ran clumsily to the other side of the room. Kader was after him with
remarkable speed. He was almost on top the rogue with his blade, but Blue
stepped to the right, allowing the blade to ruin the stone behind where he
previously stood. Kader looked over to where Blue now stood, to slow to dodge
the fury of punches the magent had started to throw at him.
Blue gave him
multiple left and right jabs, then kicked the lord in his leg, but still no
damage. Kader began to laugh, and Blue began to move backwards, toward his
blade. Kader’s eyes seemed to flare as he pulled from the wall his ruined large
sword and walked slowly up to Blue, the sword raised in hand. Kader smiled the
evil, wild smile, and dropped his blade on the magent. Blue stumbled back, but
it was a little late. The blade came down his chest, cutting a large part of his
chain shirt, drawing blood. Blue gasped and fell to the ground. He groaned, and
left the handle of his sword next to
Kader laughed. “This is
the road’s end of your life.” He said, his sword rising again over his bald
head. He began to swing it in circles, like a propeller. “Tell me if anything
interesting pops up when you see your life flash before your eyes!” And as if in
harmony with his following laughter, the sword cut through the air to meet the
sword shattered at contact with Blue’s sword. Blue ducked his head into the
collar of his leather brown coat to dodge the shards of metal from Kader’s
monstrous edge, and he rose quickly to his feet while the advantage was still
Kader was in shock as he brought up the remains of his precious sword.
All left to him was an ornate family heirloom handle, with torn wrappings, and a
stub of warped steel. His eyes rose to meet the magent, and then widened as Blue
Silverlond delivered the killing blow, two strikes down the chest, in an “X”
pattern, just for flair and style. Blue smiled. Tamieras Kader fell to the
carpet, and the only blood to leak onto to the red carpet in the room was the
lord’s very own. His eyes went milky, his body shivered, then lay still. The
magent went to the body and produced a small black leather pouch, which jingled
softly with the sounds of money. He also took out a small iron caste box, which
was the other half of his undelivered pay. Blue sheathed his sword, and
continued to find Vestille Opnev.
Blue wandered down the halls of Vestille’s
castle, cutting down any person he saw that was not Elissia. He struck out both
Vestille’s men, and those of Kader who were not either yet dead, dying, or
fleeing due to the unawareness of their brain. The first snake began to coil up
in the fight, losing its life.
Blue picked up the pace, passing a multitude
of doors and halls, ignoring any indirect threat. The soldiers were too emerged
in their own duels to care about the magent.
Eventually, the magent knew
where to go. He realized where he would find both Elissia and Vestille. He took
up his blade and made his way to the castle’s exit.
It was some time before
Blue found the entrance hall. He went through a large pair of doors to come into
the room atop balcony, with a stairway that led down into a large open room that
had only one adjoining hallway which led outside. He then saw them. Vestille and
Elissia were in the center, among dead soldiers and blades. They were both
waving their arms about, and shouting words of power. Elissia blue dress was
blackened and torn from wounds, and there was a slight trace of blood on her
bare back. Vestille, across the room, was in a black and gold high-collared
robe. He appeared unscathed. The air sizzled with the taste of their magic, and
Blue began realized what was going on.
He ducked behind the stair’s banister,
and pulled forth his crossbow. He took an arrow from his quiver, and started to
load the weapon. As he did so, the flames and magic from the battle below lit up
the room like a celebration, and Blue tried to shied his eyes from the green and
blue flashes of light. He concentrated his own magic, preparing to make the
arrow strike the heart. He wouldn’t miss. He rose to his knees, and steadied the
crossbow on the banister, allowing a perfect shot below. He squinted, sighted
the target, and pulled the trigger.
The arrow flew through the air, towards
Vestille’s heart. The lord, concentrating too much on Elissia’s spells, was
caught entirely off guard from the magent. But, as when Blue first tried, the
arrow hit a shield of magic, and detoured into a nearby wall, where it his the
ground with a clatter of metal against stone.
Blue stood up, frozen from both
shock and fear. Vestille looked to him. Anger and hate filled those loathing
grey eyes, and an arm reached out from under his black robes to form another
spear of magic and energy. I formed quickly, and the lord hurled it towards the
magent, who was hiding for protection behind the banister.
Elissia looked to
Blue, and, coming out of distraction and lost focus the arrow had caused, fired
another similar spear of magic in Blue’s direction.
“Damn!” Blue cursed as
he saw the spears coming for him. He got up and ran for the other side of the
stairs to attempt to dodge the magic spears. But he had gotten the wrong
impression, and Elissia’s magic again collided with that of lord Vestille’s and
both spears shattered in a pretty picture of light and dust. Elissia gave a
smile to Blue, who had ducked under his coat due try and survive the blast of
magic that hadn’t happened. He rose slowly, and peered out to see Vestille and
Elissia at each other again, throwing bolt and balls of flame and ice and
Spells were being cast quickly, action, reaction. Vestille
had cast a wall of earth and mud, but Elissia had responded with teleportation
spell behind him to catch his illusion image off guard with a blast of
electricity. Vestille’s true self laughed as he appeared above, casting a
torrent of rain and heavy water to soak and drown the girl.
But Elissia was
just as cunning, and had cast a wall of air and wind, which she directed
upwards, causing the water to rocket into its caster. This time she had gotten
the lord. Blue watched as the battle wore on. He drew his sword. He wanted to
help. He had to wait. This was Elissia fight. She had to kill her husband on her
own. And so he sat, waiting.
Vestille hit the stone ground with a large
crack. He rose cautiously, and raised a hand to the broken rib, which in
moments, was regenerated. He shot an arrow of mana at the girl, who cast a
missile turning spell. The arrow hit the shield, causing the light around her to
fluctuate. The arrow went astray, and missed Blue by nearly a foot, shattering
into tiny bits of mana and energy. Blue ducked under his coat for protection,
dropping his sword, and cursed magician’s for not being as smart and calculating
as they wanted to think they were. He decided not to move until the magic war
Elissia ran to take cover behind a pillar of stone that stood
within the room, supporting floor and ceiling. Her stamina was wavering, and her
breath was becoming heavier. Both she and lord Vestille were exhausting their
power. The magic would soon fade and weaken, and they would eventually fall
unconscious. But she had to kill him before that happened. But how? She
questioned her panicking mind.
And then it came to her: Blue. The magent was
still quivering beneath his coat, trying to remain a safe bystander of the
battle the two wizards waged below. She had to reach the stairs, reach Blue.
Then she could devise a plan with the magent, and Vestille would fall…at least,
she hoped he would.
She looked around, darting her eyes about to scan the
surroundings, peering through the fading smoke and dust of magic and essences
about the large chamber.. Vestille was still there. He stood about thirty feet
from her position, tall and unmoving, save for his arms, which were outstretched
before him, gather his power. Gathering the magic, forming before his tall frame
a large ball of green energy. A sneer went to his once strong composure,
unwavering face, and his red hair lay about his face in wisps. His goatee was
singed, blackened and burned from the backlash of the magic gone haywire.
“Come out, girl. I have a present for you! If you’re good, it won’t hurt a
bit!” He began to laugh. He laughed loud, maniacally, like he had taken the
world as his own. He let go his direct concentration on the massive ball of
magic and power that hovered next to him in the air some five and a half feet
off the stone ground.
“I sense your presence, witch. I know where you are!
You cant hide from me.” He turned in the girl’s direction, and moved slowly
towards her, in small, practiced steps. The globe of energy and magic creation
moved with him, ready to strike. Vestille smiled. He knew where Elissia was. He
would have the wench dead.
Elissia pressed her body against the stone
pillar, trying to think fast a solution. Her heart pounded harder, faster, in
tune with the rush of adrenaline flowing through her blood. She turned and
loomed over to her left side, in the direction of the stairs. Blue hadn’t moved
yet, and she began to conjur a spell to get her to the top of the stairs
Vestille stopped. He
could hear her breath. Her panic and fear was radiating strongly. He took
another step. “Come now, Mrs. Elissia. Don’t you think we should end this like
civilized people. That is, my dear, what we are trying to be, I assume?” The
magic globe hovered about his black garbed frame, slowly making circles, glowing
faintly in the chamber’s candlelight. “Wouldn’t you just want to end all of
this, end this madness and fighting. That would be a great thing my dear, would
it not?” His words echoed across the room, and although Elissia heard them, she
made no attempt to communicate back. She had to concentrate on reaching Blue at
the op of the stairs.
who had been cowering away under his coat from magic and energy that still
lingered briskly in the air, now got up. Slowly, he got to one knee, and
surveyed fully the surroundings. There were three pillars to the left and right.
In the center of the room, Vestille was standing, tall and fierce, his red hair
making quite a spectacle of the blackness he had worn. A strange sphere of green
magic had been gently hovering in the air next to him. He couldn’t see Elissia.
He looked about, but all he could see besides the castle’s lord were
candelabras, a few doors, and the hall that led outside.
Blue prepared a moment, and
cast a sensing spell, which would make him aware of any sentient beings within
the vicinity. He sensed people. He counted them-three in all. Vestille and I
are in the open, so we’re accounted for. So Elissia must be the third person.
But where the hell I she? he wondered. He began to panic, thinking that
perhaps was not Elissia that was there, but an ally of Vestille’s. Blue
swallowed down the notion.
Nah, that couldn’t be the magent assured
himself, I heard Vestille talking to Elissia. She has to be here. He took
his sword in hand, and peered over the banister
darted from behind the pillar’s safety, like a mole from the ground, and began
running towards the magent, towards the stairway. She threw her arms in the air,
and a flash of light filled the room. The next instant, a faint, rainbow aura
had covered her body, a shield of light. Vestille had cloaked his eyes from the
sudden brightness, but turned to see the girl trying to run away. He sneered.
“Not yet, my dear!” He
shouted to her, as his arm raised, his finger pointing at the running woman. The
magic globe hummed softly, twirled in a circle for just a moment, and then shot
right towards Elissia, like an explosive arrow.
Elissia heard the sound of
the magic sphere. In her hastiness, she turned to see the globe coming directly
at her. She lengthened her steps, trying to run faster, but the globe was
gaining speed. It wasn’t going to miss. Blue looked in horror as the realization
that Elissia wouldn’t make it came to him, and he had to do something. He
got, looked about, and devised a
It probably’ll never
work he told himself bit I have to try! She saved my life, and I do have
to return the favor. I’ll probably break a leg for this one. Blue you moron, how
do you get into these thing,. Well, here goes nothing-except me. He leaped
onto the banister, sliding down the brass rail like a bottle on the sea. Despite
his beliefs, h reached the end safely without faltering, and he leaped in the
air, brining his sword with him. He came down on the green energy globe, his
blade crashing down on the sphere of magic. Sparks and magic flew everywhere,
and Blue heard someone scream. His blade contacted the energy, the magic, and
shot through him like a poison. The magic sphere shattered into little piece,
and Blue, fried and burned from the power of the obstacle, fell to his knees,
smoke rising from his injured body.
Elissia ran to his side
without hesitation , producing a small vial of a brownish yellow liquid. “Blue!”
she screamed as she fumbled with the cork of the glass container. “Blue, you
idiot! It wasn’t worth it!” Tears began to swell in her eyes, stinging them. She
began to weep. “Such a stupid way to clock out!” she yelled at him. She pressed
the vile to his lips, trying to get him to drink the medicine, but there was no
sign of life. He appeared not to be breathing. Vestille said nothing. He stood
unmoving, uncaring, of the events that had coincided. He simply smiled and began
to walk off.
turned to rage, and she turned to Vestille. “Opnev you bastard, I’ll have your
head myself for this!” Vestille stopped, and turned his head. The girl clenched
with both hands Blue’s sword from off the charred stone ground, and stood up,
her body shaking. She trembled, almost dropping the weapon, but justice for the
magent’s death had to be sought. “I’ll kill you Vestille.”
The lord simply
said, “Are you so sure?”
“Yes.” She replied back. She ran towards him, the
sword raised, ready to kill. Vestille simply raised an arm, casting a
blade-turning spell. The blade came down, and then the attack moved to the
right, Elissia’s light body with it, the blade missing Vestille by more than
three feet. The force of the spell’s entirety sprawled Elissia on the ground in
a tangle of blue dress and blonde hair. The blade left her grasp, and she gasped
as the air was knocked from her. “Dam you Vestille!” She clenched the cold steel
of the blade’s handle, and tried again. She raised the sword up, and brought it
down on the lord’s figure. But Vestille was taller, and much stronger that she.
He grabbed the girl’s arm which held the blade, and took his other hand to the
sword’s hilt. He ripped the tool of death from her grasp and thew it behind him,
it’s metal slowly clattering as it hit the stone.
“It would appear that is
not the case, my dear, is it not? You have failed. I am the ruler of this region
now. Even the church can’t stop me.” His face was still hard, and he bothered
not to look at the girl as his grip on her arm tightened, and he lifted her up
to face her. “Come now, why don’t you desire to rule with me? It would be just
like goof old times, my dear Elissia. Wouldn’t you want to be known as the queen
of this land? Think of the power, the glory you would attain through me! We
would be unstoppable, my dear!” His grey eyes were sharpened, looking past her
lovely faces, into Elissia’s own deer brown eyes.
Elissia tried to kick the
oppressor, but Vestille blocked the attempt with his freehand. “such slender,
beautiful legs, Elissia. You haven’t changed a bit” He smiled, his hand moving
slowly up her thigh. “Well, what is your answer, Elissia. Do you want to remain
my wife, become ruler of this great empire I will forge?” His hand continued its
perverted progression, passing the first of the blue fabrics of her
Elissia struggled. “No!” she shouted, flailing about, resisting the
lord’s advance. But he grasped her arm tighter, raising her off the round, bring
her into the air, to match her face with his. “I will not be a tool of your
monstrosity!” she cried, spitting in the lord’s fiery face.
“Then die.” He
simply said. He turned the way he was going, Elissia still in hand. He thrust
his arm out forward, sending the girl’s light body through the air. She hit
stone behind her, falling to the ground. The impact was enough to send her
unconscious, but she fought to stay alive. I have to do this she cried to
herself For me, and for Blue. She got up, slowly, her frame quivering.
Her arms and legs gave out, and she tumbled again to the ground. It was no use.
She tried again.
Vestille lifted a gnawed hand, and sent a wave of magic
upon her, like a net of energy. It enveloped her, sending magic through her
body. She screamed, the pain racing through her blood, every inch of her body
ached, cringing with the magic. Vestille continued to advance towards her. “Well
my, dear. Are you prepared to die?”
“No!” screamed the voice.
raised her head. Vestille turned in surprise. The voice that shouted wasn’t a
woman’s but a mans. It was Blue Silverlond’s voice. He was standing up from
where he had fallen. Blood and burn marks tattooed his body in a scene of pain.
But none of that seemed to bother the magent. He looked Vestille in his evil
worn face with hard green eyes. “Let her go.” he demanded. His voice remained
Vestille, although taken back by this happening, simply laughed.
“Come and get her, fool.” He dared him. Blue began to walk towards the two, his
steps firm and sound. He drew from within his chain mail shirt a knife, which
glinted in the candle light.
“Let her go. Now.” His voice wasn’t raised. It
was like a determined plea. But Vestille wasn’t listening He simply stood to a
side, his black robes floating with him, and waved an arm at the girl huddled
against the shadows of the stone wall ahead of the magent.
“She’s all yours.
Come and have her. Like I did.” He leered at the magent. Blue took the knife and
threw it in the air. It spun I circle, and he caught it again, like a coin,
“Very well, then.” His steps were more rapid, and he increased
his speed. He was almost running by the time he reached Elissia.
you’re alive! But, but how? How is this possible?” she questioned him as he put
a finger to her lips.
“No time for explanations. Are you
“yeas….it’s a broken rubs.” She humbly replied, grimacing at the
movement which strained her chest.
“Can you walk?” the magent asked
“Yeas, I can manage.” She rose to her feet, Blue helping her, keeping
her balance. She leaned on him, the motioned him away. “Thanks,” she replied,
“But I’m fine.” She leaned against the wall. Her brown like eyes met the
magnet’s own, then shifted to confront Vestille, who watched the whole thing
“Good, Mr. Silverlond. Ver good. Now that both of you are
here together, I can kill both of you!” His face seemed to twist in sadistic
pleasure, and Vestille raised both his scarred hands from beneath the black
robes. A large swell of energy formed at his finger tip, magic, powerful magic.
It was crimson in color, a dark red, like blood. He simply smiled as he closed
his eyes. The magic coming to life at his hands. He conjured up the red power,
forming it, spinning it between his fingers like a spider’s web, into a large
Blue and Elissia watched in horror as the magic sphere was formed. It
grew, bigger and bigger. The red went darker, little sparks of electricity and
magic flew through the globe in random currents. The magic hummed and swelled,
and Vestille stood motionless, conjuring up all is power, all his energy, to
kill the last to meddling rats.
Blue suddenly realized this. He pulled
Elissia to him. “Elissia, you have get out of here. Now.”
She was startled.
“Wha, what do you mean?”
“No time for talk, lady, get out, now!” He swung her
around by arm to his other side, and pushed her towards the exit, the main
doors. With a short stumble, Elissia regained her footing, and began to run out
of the chamber, out of Vestille’s castle. She stopped at the doors, taking one
last look at Blue before she pulled the brass handle, opened the door, and ran
out into the night. She knew where she had to go, and went there. She would
return. She was determined to see Blue again.
Blue watched quickly the girl’s
flight. With her gone, the magic would only kill one person. He could
concentrate on killing Vestille. Blue knew Vestille’s entire strength was going
into this magic. He could see the lord’s tall frame quiver, wavering. Struggle
was shown in his clenched eyes and set jaw. Exhaustion would soon come, and Blue
had a short moment to react. He took is knife, and began to run, strafing from
side to side. He called out to Vestille, but the words were fruitless. Vestille
would know where the magent was. Blue just had to weave out in just enough time
to catch the lord.
He ran in a line, left and right, stopping every now and
then to hurriedly cast a spell on the knife, making it more effective, making
the edge sharper, the flight true, the aim unwavering. The magent knew Vestille
would not have another shield up. There wasn’t enough magic in the world that
could save Vestille after he used up that sphere. Blue took his knife in ready,
Vestille slowly came around, his eyes opening. Blue saw the
lord’s once grey eyes had gone bloodshot, turned red with the over exposure to
the magic’s raw power. Vestille looked at Blue. He spoke, his voice deep and
scratchy, as if being used up by the magic.
“Mr. Silverlond…” he smiled. “You
have no…place to go…! He raised his arms over his head, the magic ball going
with, attached to him like an arrow that would fire when e pulled the trigger.
“You have….no place….to….live!” the words rang in Blue’s ears, and Blue tried
not to lose his concentration. “You shall….die!” he voice creamed as Vestille
threw his arms down, throwing the destructive, deadly red magic sphere at
The magent had to react. He quickly ran to his right, and then leaped,
making a falling strafe. He took his arm back, and threw the knife just as
Vestille let go of the magic globe. The knife flew straight, and lord Vestille
Opnev fell to the ground as the blade his the center of his skull, puncturing
The magic sphere lazily flew towards Blue’s general direction
where he had once stood, and shattered against the wall in a burst of energy and
flames. Blue ducked under his coat, trying to hide from the flames and heat. The
wall it contacted shattered and crumbled, and the floor stones were torn up,
burned away by the shear force of the magic. Blue’s coat was also burned away,
and he cursed himself as the last rays of heat and magic wavered and dissipated
into the nighttime air. He coughed, heavy smoke filling his lungs.
at Vestille’s body, which lay in a mangled, dead heap on the ground. There was
no blood, just some torn material of the robes that resulted from the lord’s
duel with Elissia previous. Blue himself was mangle of blood and burned flesh
and scars. His body ached, and he was dirty and unclean. I need a bath he
Blue kicked the corpse over, then left, walking towards the castle’s
exit. Vestille’s castle, now a graveyard to Savron cities political seers,
loomed darkly amidst the night sky. He hummed a little tune, slowly crossing the
grassy fields and dusty roads. Blue Silverlond bother not to look back as he
made his way to the city of Savron below.
sat in the back of the Great Goat Tavern, sipping a fresh cup of the elfish ale
he had ordered. The bar was empty, save for the gruff old barkeep, and a lowly
piano player, who sat upon his trade and played softly tunes the entire evening.
The magent waited patiently for his guest to arrive, so he could be paid for
He tilted his head back. Two days had past since that
night….this was his last day in Savron. He recalled the events that played out
after the death of Kader and Vestille under the light tune of the piano in the
Apparently, Elissia had been married to Vestille Opnev, as
Blue had determined in the battle. She left him because of his selfish ideas for
domination and ruling, which she wanted no part of. Kader had been the same way,
and she wouldn’t back him up either. She then worked with the city’s church.
This was the third party. The church wanted to instate the prime minister as
Of coarse, even the people realized that if such a thing were
to happen, Vestille and Kader would have both killed the prime minister. So they
wanted to get Kader and Vestille out of the picture. Elissia told Blue when she
heard he was hired by Kader to kill Vestille, she realized that the magent might
be the church’s break. So The church set up the entire confrontation, so they
could leave the lord’s fighting each other in ruins. When the two were dead,
which had been sooner than expected, the prime minister would step in the fray,
picking up the pieces as a hero.
The people liked the prime minister, and so
the plan went out without a hitch. The prime minister was elected as lord, and
he took the seat a day ago. Elissia married the minister, became a lady of the
court and is helping rebuild the region. Blue hadn’t heard any complaints as of
yet. He figured it was his time to
As for himself, he had
been bandaged and healed, and, despite the recommendations of his doctors, and
wanted to leave as soon as possible. His material possessions had all been
replaced by the church, happily, and Blue only had on thing left to take care
The tavern doors swung
open, the old wood creaking from age. A woman entered the bar, moving gracefully
in the magent’s direction. Blue brushed his hair back as she sat down next to
him. The blonde hair was pulled up with pins amidst a dress of many ruffles and
frills, plum purple, and quite revolting with added dark greens for “taste”.
Blue was staring, almost
“It came with the
job.” Elissia remarked about the dress. “I rather like it myself.”
almost said nothing but sipped his wine.
“It looks good.” He told
her. She smiled back. She knew he was lying. She was able to tell with
“You don’t have to
please me, Mr. Silverlond.” She said in her soft sweet voice. “I know you don’t
like it. I know you’re lying right now.” She
taking another drink. “Yeah, but I know you’re lying too.” He saw the deception
she had tried to pull, knowing she loathed the wardrobe as
She was caught a little
surprised. “You’re right. I don’t like it either.” She told him, almost as if
He straightened his coat. “So?” he questioned.
Elissia cleared her throat.
“You’re very frank, Mr. Silverlond.” She pulled forth from a small handbag a
black wooden box. She set it on the table, sliding it to the magent. “Your money
is all there, plus some extra bonuses for the other work you helped us do. You
were quite helpful, Mr. Silverlond.” Her brown eyes begged him to stay. But she
knew he’d be going.
yeah. But it’s my job to get screwed over.” He said jokingly as he opened the
wooden box. He counted one thousand silver crowns a mythril shield, and two
hundred bronze doublet. He smiled happily, knowing he’d have no financial
problems for at least a week. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Elissia. I am happy to
serve you.” He kissed her hand and
He began to get up
from his seat. “Now, if you’ll ex-“ the arm grabbed him, begging him
“Don’t go” she pleaded,
“Stay here, with Savron, with me.” Her brown eyes were staring right at him.
but I can’t do that to your husband. I wouldn’t want to start any more wars here
in Savron. Now, please, Mrs. Elissia.” He took her arm away, and kissed her
gently on the cheek. He gathered his equipment, secured his money inside his
chain shirt, and left the bar, whistling a little tune of happiness. Blue
Silverlond stood still outsized the tavern a moment, then continued on his way