Fiction
--109, 963 words
Copyright ©1997
All rights reserved.
(Note: Synnibarr is in a
binary star system. Suns will be
plural.)
THE WORL
Book II
By
Raven c.s McCracken
What has gone before…
In a time of great darkness for Worldship Synnibarr
as she was held in the grim grip of plague.
Her inhabitants, the descendents of the late planet Earth, fought to
remain alive.
Amidst
the turmoil, a great isle remained untouched; a place called Istica. Throughout
the millennia it endured, a tiny enclave of civilization, isolated from the
ravages of the outside world.
In
time the land came to be ruled by powerful Spellord's. These mages ruled entire
communities with as few as three spells, the vast bulk of the power, remembered
only in legend.
In this precarious point a
minion, of the evil God of Suffering, sought to conquer this land. His destiny seemed inevitable.
Hypnotizing
a sect of fierce warrior priests. The
immortal Bonelord fashioned an army to conquer Istica once again. With a terrible power he augmented his forces
with warriors given the power of regeneration.
These Fasyreen, and the
hypnotized Ch'uan'fa, formed the core of an army led by the demon's
Bonegiants. For fodder, Khishka enlisted
the dead.
Eventually they swept all of Istica to fall upon the
fortress Stormhold, under the protection of the young Spellord of the
Unknown to all, the Bonelord had a single
______________
The congregation of the hidden church festered in the
chamber of worship. The dark room,
sheeted with the skins of sacrifices, was strangled by a greater blackness
surging from within a boiling cauldron at its center. Three statures, formed of
rough blood soaked stone, looked down upon the wicked chapel. They were idols of Li’eel, Ta’set, and
Bi’reel, their fist sized fire diamond eyes, glowing maliciously, as if
savoring every bit of chaos in the universe.
Supported on squat black iron legs, the great quartz
vat shook with the contained evil, as flames caressed its soot-encrusted belly.
And although the fire was furious, those in the chamber felt none of the heat;
their sweat was drawn by fear.
Within the rolling mixture lay the remains of the
former Highpriest of the
Assembled within rank sacred place were the only
members of the church to survive the fall of Khishka the Illweaver. Barely one hundred in number-less Ishneal-the
dark triangle was at its weakest in centuries.
However, all that was changing, ever since Bi’reel himself had blessed
the congregation with the presence of a
Since the loss of the war, the gods have made their
presence known once again, reaching out to grip the hearts of the mortals like
never before. This time they offer power
and wealth in an attempt to ensure adulation.
Bi’reel awarded the Highpriest the ability to summon lesser minions from
his divine planes of hell.
It was one of the lesser minions-a Lerp, which Ballen
now summoned. He was anxious to inquire
if the church was in the favor of the God of Suffering. Ballen knew full well, that if they had
displeased the master in anyway, Bi’reel would enjoy their destruction as
readily as he would that of any enemy.
Ballen, ecstatic and consumed with the evil power
awarded him, shouted the final words of the summoning; his voice was harsh and
dripping with conceit. “Kilon’uellem
sagnigath derveisn moletelm! Come minion of suffering.”
With his words there came a response from deep within
the precious crystal cauldron. With a violent mixing of liquids a gateway
opened into the
It
spoke with the voice of a soul tortured well past the brink of madness, “You
have called Highpriest of Bi’reel.”
Ballen
was pleased that the Lerp knew of the former high priest death. The simple statement indicated that the act
did not displease Bi’reel. The
realization brought a small tight smile to the new Highpriest's face.
Steeling his will, Ballen asked his question, “Where
is the soul of Avius
The
Icthocottle fell silent, its black fishlike eyes closing in mystic communication,
bloody gills working painfully in the smoky atmosphere of the enclosure. The creature supported itself on a pair of
pale fin like arms in contemplation, after a moment, it shook as if awakening
from a nightmare.
“It
is in the god Cat’s dark domain, the realm of the assassins, forever part of
the eternal shadow.”
The
creatures answer prompted a swift order from the mage, “Fetch it, and return it
to me, here!” The command drew a hiss of
outrage from the Icthocottle. The
rolling boil increased in intensity.
The Lerp fixed Ballen with a pair of milky orbs, “
Amused, Jaglitch Yuaulpforbibgigdsatr made the
possessed Ch'uan'fa smiled wickedly at Ballen's folly. Knowing full well that,
had it been free of the summoning, the Icthocottle was more than capable of
carrying out its threat.
Although
at this juncture it was the mage who was truly master here and Ballen knew
it. What the Spellord didn't keep in
mind was that the Icthocottle was virtually immortal with an extremely long
memory. One that allowed the minion to
carry a grudge for centuries, the new Highpriest should be cautious, especially
if he ever ventured near the
Stiffening, Ballen shouted at the creature, exerting
his position like a child invoking a promise from his parents.
“Be silent you misbegotten spawn of hell, your place
is to serve!” The mage threw his spittle along with his rage at the evil being
and released a Hex bolt. The beam bit
into the Lerp's oozing flesh, cringing wretchedly, the creature slipped back
into the vat and vanished with a howl.
Ballen had the remains of the psielf brought before
him during the minion's absence. Halak
ordered the guards into action with threats and curses.
Grateful for the Mind Lock spell that prevented the
Bowing with elegant grace, the Highpriest asked,
“Please mighty Jaglitch begin the Raising.
I will need all my strength to perform the restoration on the remains of
Avius
Shrugging his indifference, the
The
mages fluid gestures trailed solid light and fashioned a tapestry of neon
color. With the final gestures, the mass
of undulating magical harmonics draped itself across the rotting remains of the
assassin. Settling in, the light erased
the damage done by putrescence and Teander's dagger, fading only when the body
was perfect.
As Ballen finished his restoration, Jaglitch began,
sensing that the Icthocottle would arrive with the assassin's soul in
moments. Soon all of the finest pieces
of the Mordentium would be back in play.
When the Cauldron began to seethe, the possessed
Ch'uan'fa readied the spell, its mind drifting toward the grim future. With a
putrid flesh filled splash the Lerp rose from the boiling mass.
In
the Icthocottle's pale jaws was a wispy figure struggling as if all the pain in
heaven had poured itself into the wretched shade.
Sighing with the Ch'uan'fa, the
So
far this Ballen had shown to be of merit.
Perhaps, in the afterlife, the master might grant the mortal the rank of
Lerp or better. With a glance at the
fanatical mage he amended…or better indeed.
With deliberate grace the
Ballen
smiled at the beauty of the Art, as it crossed the bridge of life and death, to
have such power- what glory!
__________________
Satasha,
vampiress of Terra, eagerly awaited the docking of the Seeker; the vessel had
been at sea for far to long for the Vladd's liking. When the first refusal to land came; the
vampiress occupied herself by flying over the city in the form of a great
seabird. Easily mixing in with the
massive flocks around the active waterfront.
By the fourth day's denial Satasha felt the stirrings of anger.
Gliding
to where the Harbormaster had his launch moored; she decided to take a more
direct approach might be in order.
Satasha felt sorry for the man as he was obviously in
a very unpleasant position. Every time
he boarded the massive Seeker, he was forced to confront the angry stares and
words of the crew, many of which were giants.
And then again forced to face the horror of his superiors who were no
doubt eager to allow the minor official to act as their go between.
Today was the final sunrise that the Vladd would
allow the stalemate to continue. Landing
neatly on a piling she retransformed into her human guise. The process almost to fast for the eye to
follow.
Jumping lightly down into the boat she startled the
harbormaster into almost falling overboard.
Catching his hand she reintroduced herself as she easily hauled him back
over the rail.
As the vampiress deposited him on his feet she said, “Greetings,
I’m Satasha of the ship Seeker from the Terra Isles. Why are we still being detained?”
Sputtering from surprise, the harbormaster replied,
the annoyance in his tone not escaping the vampiress, if things were different
thought Satasha with a mental sigh.
To the Vladd the man was a bit on the unattractive side.
“It's not my decision,” whined the harbormaster
throwing his plum little hands in the air, “I heard something about the
Spellord Teander being summoned to personally meet you.”
“Who?” Inquired the ancient vampiress still unable to
tell in which eye she should look.
“Teander,” said the harbormaster rolling his fish
like eyes, “Everybody knows Teander. He
saved all of Istica from the Bonelord's army!”
Smiling sweetly at the man's flamboyant words, and
groaning inwardly at his stench, Satasha crossed her arms, “You seem to forget
milord, we’re not from. Ah, what did you say the name of this place was…Ah yes…
Istica!”
The harbormaster, flushing red, stammered an apology
and explained that they would be greeted within the next day or so; and that
only the Spellord could grant them permission to dock. He seemed unable, or unwilling, to cope with
the fact that they were from anyplace other than this island.
Moderately satisfied Satasha reassumed her bird form
and continued flying around the city. As
she flew off, the harbormaster watched in awe, the emotion suddenly swallowed
by fear as the seagull flew over the city and vanished from his sight.
By evening the Vladd decided to chance wandering
amidst the throng of people in the streets.
Gliding into a narrow space between two shabby buildings, unseen and
unnoticed, she allowed the spell to drop; quickly returning to her human form
in a flash of white light.
Backing to the rear of the building, she began to
stroll through the alleyways of Shippingdale.
Satasha loved the streets of a city, the narrow flagstone paved
corridors lined with tall wooden buildings, made an ideal stalking ground. Old habits of the hunter dying slowly; Satasha
prowled the misty wharf streets and reveled in the ancient feelings.
Walking for the majority of the evening, it was very
near
Once clear of the area, Satasha breathed a sigh of
relief, well aware of the power of the worshippers of the god of suffering were
capable of. It would be good to stay
well away of this place thought the vampiress as she winged her way back to the
Seeker, grim thoughts about an entire island of evil devotees forming in her
mind, it would be disappointing to finally discover a civilization only to have
to destroy it.
_________________
Avius
Well aware of the thoughts and feelings coursing
through the revived assassin, Jaglitch joined in, the pair sharing in an
experience few would ever know.
Calming himself to a mad giggle, the assassin, crossed
his arms, and bowed to Ballen deeply, “My thanks for the experience of deaths
cold embrace master.”
Ballen felt suddenly uncomfortable. Pointing to the possessed Ch'uan'fa, the
blond priest's sharp look terrifying him into action before he had a chance to
realize it.
Silently
cursing himself for his weakness, he introduced the
Halak grinned at the
Highpriest's statement, touching his axe with the fingers of his skeletal hand,
the power in the bones reassuring him.
He was the first of the new Fasyreen acolytes. Not simply content with the alterations
Khishka had made; Jaglitch sought to utilize every advantage. When the gods returned, the
This dark blessing had a pleasant side effect; it
killed all the members of the congregation who were unfaithful. Though it reduced their numbers to just above
one hundred, all were now priests, able to spread the word of Suffering.
Smiling wickedly at the success of the resurrection
ritual, Ballen surveyed the assembled flock of the Mordentium, his troops for
the coming battle. In their eyes he
noted just the right amount of fanaticism; the intense burning never eclipsed
by the lust of power.
This
was an attitude that the church strove to maintain, choosing the hungriest
individuals, completely without remorse, who would faithfully follow
orders. Well aware that all of the
members of this congregation had the actual fires of the gods within their
chests, the Spellord was decidedly confident they would remain faithful
forever.
Ballen moved to a nearby table and retrieved Avius’s
weapons, reverently handing them to the psielf.
And as if it were a prearranged signal, the entire congregation burst
out with shouts and roars of triumph.
The chamber reverberating with the cries of the faithful.
Stamping on his equipment, Avius
Jaglitch bathed in the absolute adoration of the
followers, even if it were not directly aimed at him. As his master grew in strength from the
worship, so did he, the
Very soon they would be ready, with Halak's knowledge
of Stormhold, they would be able to retrieve Khishka's bell and summon the
Bonelord back from his self-imposed torment.
Then all this wretched land would be swept into
submission by the power of the
___________
The next morning dawned brightly with the approach of
the harbormaster's boat. As the Seeker
was easily three times the size of the largest vessel in the harbor, and it was
moored well away from the rest of the traffic, the trip took several
minutes. As the craft cut toward them,
the captain called his crew to the deck; the sailors eagerly awaited the
approach of the small vessel.
The
boat was drawn across the water by four men, their strong measured strokes
digging deeply into the water, in the bow rode the harbormaster dressed in sky
blue trousers white shirt and vest. He
might have looked regal if it was not for his face. Even at a distance, he looked like a
strangled carp. Several of the crew must
have felt the same way judging from the murmurs and subdued laughter.
In
the stern rode four others. Two of them
were standing lightly, dressed in matching robes, the soft brown material plain
and unadorned. They were tanned and
blond. As the boat surged toward them,
they rode as if mounted in place. Their balance astonished the captain of the
Seeker.
Before
them sat two dignitaries dressed in complementing colors of deep blue,
turquoise and rich red. The man carried himself with the manner of a scholar
rather than a politician. By the look of
his eyes, the captain assumed the man was blind, though he seemed to drink in
the approach with the expression of a hawk.
Then
his eyes shifted to the man's partner his heart almost skipped a beat. Where as the harbormaster was a horror, this
tiny woman was the god's finest work, the gulf between the two was
unimaginable. She smiled sweetly up at
the crew and Galadin could feel the warmth.
The laughter transformed to murmurs of reverence. Though too far away for him to see her aura, the captain was sure she was a
creature of goodness.
When the ship reached mooring distance, the thin
lines were secured and Galedin hailed the Harbormaster over the sound of the
sea.
“Greetings Montath,” shouted the captain of the
Seeker, his smile beaming.
Obviously pleased with the days duty, the
harbormaster returned the smile, bowing carefully, “And greetings to you
captain Galedin
Motioning the boarding plank in place, Galedin
mimicked the deep bow of the Harbormaster. “Well met Spellord, please accept my
invitation to board the Seeker.”
Teander gazed at the massive figure before him,
surrounded by what appeared to be at least a score more, barely able to believe
his eyes. Giants, real giants, standing at least fifteen feet tall, they were
the most powerful figures he had ever seen.
They’re bronzed skin, tanned and worn by the
elements, matched the dark hair and ropy muscles. They're deep blue eyes contained a wisdom; no
doubt, gained from battling the unknown.
They were beautiful thought the Spellord, as he boarded the massive
ship, magnificent beyond compare.
His white eyes wide with wonder Teander responded as
if in a dream, “Well met captain
As Teander walked up the boarding plank his wife
followed him, Shanalea echoing her husband's thoughts with a wide childlike
smile. Behind her came the emotionless
Ch'uan'fa, as if unimpressed by the presence of the living legends.
Turning to assist Teander's wife, Galedin applied all
his considerable charm, the beauty of the tiny woman before him demanding no
less. He greeted her with even more
formality than he had shown the Spellord.
“Well met milady, seeing you has made the trip round
the worldship worthwhile. All will
forever bear whiteness to your beauty, I am honored.”
Blushing, Shanalea held her head high accepting the
complement with another to the captain, “And never would any woman believe, the
appearance of legend could be so handsome.”
She finished with a wink that always made Teander's heart melt. The effect was the same on the Seeker's
captain and with a casual grace she introduced the stoic Ch'uan'fa.
As she did so Teander noticed that the priests
arranged themselves in perfect position from which to defend the pair; poised
to spring into action should the mood turn sour. Shanalea, oblivious to the preparations of
their guards continued on pleasantly.
“And allow me to introduce our most trusted friends.
Teander noted that the giant looked at the pair with
unconcealed respect, perhaps he recognized the power they contained.
The giant unfurled a wind blown smile and placed one
fist within the other. The action trailed by a complicated series of
gestures. The entire performance ending
in a bow. The blond warriors reacted with an expression of surprise, something
Teander had only seen two or three times in his life. Returning the elaborate bow, they now
reflected the giants smile.
“Greetings followers of the Tiger, it is good to see
that you have not allowed the Art to fail.
We thought it lost for all time.”
Before
anyone else could speak, Taska blurted out, immediately embarrassed that she
had done so, “The name Terra is not unknown to us; nor the way of the
Tiger. Are you from the same place of
legend?”
The giant looked around at his crew, the bright faces
of the men and women, egging him on with outrageous smiles and looks of
excitement. The crew's mission being to
explore the worldship looking for any whom endured the plague, having finally
borne fruit.
With a single word the crew exploded, the sound
racing across the waking waters of the harbor.
“Yes!” The force of the cheer was as deafening as the pounding in
Teander's chest.
The captain shouted the giants to order with a single
glare, his command of the crew absolute, he then proceeded to introduce the
Terran ambassador. When he gestured for her to join them; Shanalea noted his
smile faded slightly.
As the silverhaired woman made her way through the
massive cheerful crew, the grins melted though all held the light of the
historical event within their eyes.
She
appeared incredibly small, hardly reaching above the giant's knees. With a glance Shanalea felt the hot power radiating
from the woman's form. The ambassador's
gray eyes were deep pools of more than mortal wisdom. It frightened and excited her. The crew,
parted with expressions of respect, and in some cases, blatant fear wrapped in
emphatic dislike.
She
was dressed in blacks, from her head to foot; the swishing robes covered with
an ebony cloak like a message of doom.
Across her midriff was the only splash of color. The crimson sash glared out like a
wound. She wore no jewelry save a single
gold band on her left hand. When she reached the captain's side, she stole the
introduction from him, diminishing his moment of glory with a scowl. It was
appalling.
“I
am Satasha, vampiress ambassador of the Vladd and the city of
Shanalea
drew in a tight hiss. She had heard
legends about creatures called vampires.
Blood drinking monsters with great powers, and very evil. If this was the emissary from the outside
world, they had best be wary of any association or alliances with such a dread
place. With a glance at Teander, they
both felt the sunslight go cold, as if someone had stabbed the heart out of the
occasion.
Teander
immediately disliked the woman. This was
an important meeting of great historical significance, the first of its kind in
thousands of years, the least she could do was have some respect for ceremony! He was struck speechless.
The captain crossed his arms and scowled back at the
Terran ambassador like she was a child.
“Of course vampiress, we all know that immortals such as you have such
great need of haste." He scoffed, "By all means let us short-lived
creatures hurry, so as not to waste any of your
precious time.” Beaming a magnificent salt white smile, he bowed
sarcastically.
At that point, the crowd shuffled with shouts of,
“Lemme through, ya long legged treestumps.” The words created a wake within the
assembled. Shanalea noted the captain's
expression turned to one of fond endearment.
A distinct change from the wary looks, the giants held when the
vampiress made her appearance.
When the giants, didn’t part quickly enough- the
figure let out a shout and suddenly leapt upwards, grabbing the air with a pair
of glistening yellow wings.
To Shanalea it resembled a small drake, only more
human in appearance. With bright yellow
scales, and many many wicked spikes at the end of its tail. Brandishing a fantastically maniacal smile,
with its three-inch fangs, the creature lifted an unusual set of goggles. Chewing on some type of large smoldering
cigarette, it hovered easily and eagerly whistled at the sight of the ladies;
the sound was full of joyful lust.
Coldly, Satasha introduced her associate; “This is
Maximillion, First born Chameleon drake, and representative of the new Terran
Council.” She proclaimed in such a way as to make the title become an insult.
“Maximillion may I introduce Spellord Teander and his wife Shanalea,” her
introduction dismissing the Ch'uan'fa.
To Teander everything about this new creature hinted
at danger, particularly the sunstone armor.
The Spellord well remembered how impervious Ebat was to any form of
attack. Aside from the armor, the drake's
form bristled with what Teander could only take for weapons.
The mage could plainly make out a large sword and
bow, strapped between the flapping wings, but hanging from his belt and harness
were many other strange devices. Teander
had to struggle with himself to not cast a simple sense magic spell. Curiously
gripped him as he gazed at the strange glinting artifacts.
One in particular caught his attention; it appeared
to be a holster for a magical wand! The
end of which was barely visible and looked to be fashioned of black stone and
some form of gold, the sheath tied securely to his thigh in a perfect position
for the quick draw.
Teander
also noticed that the leather, like material for the sheath, was the same used
to make the strange headpiece to which the goggles were attached.
Maximillion appeared to take no notice of the
vampiress cold introduction; instead he cheerily dropped to the deck directly
in front of Shanalea, his unexpected action caused Taska to explode into
movement.
Faster that Teander would have thought possible, the
Ch'uan'fa darted around his wife, and poised herself to meet the creature head
on.
The drake, startled as well, rocked back on his
heels, his spiked tail making tiny gouges in the deck. Without missing a beat,
he said, with a tone of chivalrous mischief.
“Well if you insist my lovely,” his fiendish grin
reappeared instantly.
Slowly the chameleon drake reached for Taska's hand
and deliberately peeled it down from its striking position. With a gentle kiss on its back, he finished
the motion in a formal bow, “And who might you be, lovely lady?” His wings settled about his shoulders like a
cloak.
Without emotion the blonde priestess replied flatly,
“Taska of the Ch'uan'fa in service to Shanalea, wife to the Spellord of
Stormhold. You will not harm her.”
Chuckling, the drake said with a humorous leering
tone, “Oh my lovely Taska, harming her was the furthest thing from my mind I
promise you.” His joke drew masculine
chuckles from the giant crew, especially Galedin and Teander.
Undaunted Taska continued as if unaware of the jest,
“Be that as it may, I would advise you to keep your movements less threatening
in the future.”
Nodding an understanding, as one would to the
scolding of a small child, Maximillion agreed, “Yes milady.” Adding a slight curtsy. He backed away politely crossing his arms
with a smile puffing away on his cigar.
Satasha sighed and chastised Maximillion with one of
her looks. Even though the chameleon
drake actually possessed the hypnotic gaze, where Satasha did not, the
vampiress glance was still potent with nothing but ire to back it up. Still undaunted Maximillion shrugged off
Satasha’s rebuke and continued beaming.
Seizing control of the meeting, the vampiress started
again. “Well then if were through with
the introductions, and the kissing… we can progress to the reasons we are
here.”
Facing the Spellord directly Satasha took a deep
breath and began explaining the events of the last fifteen thousand years. She withheld nothing and seldom paused. Her oratory was sharpened to an edge that cut
through all interruptions.
She began with the appearance
of the plague, the explanation providing Teander the answers as to why they
hadn’t encountered anyone from the outside, in millennia.
She
told the mage of the glorious civilization that had once been on Synnibarr, and
their plans to reach those heights once again.
With Maximillion's unsolicited help she then went on to explain the
guilds, and the formation of established adventurer schools, along with the
ideals of the Terra council.
Once she had completed her task, Teander and Shanalea
saw the vampire in a different light, her severity the type of emotional
make-up best suited for this line of work.
She
possessed the cold manners of an account, or merchant, all business and serious
attention to detail. The woman's race,
and dark mannerisms, easily misinterpreted for an evil demeanor.
When she paused for breath, Teander stepped up to
take the hand of the vampiress; her flesh was surprisingly hot to the touch,
“So, now the task of rebuilding falls to you as well. We too have been through our share of
historical hardships. The latest of
which being the battle with the Bonelord Khishka." Teander pointed to the city behind them. "We are only just now starting the
repairs necessary to erase his foul acts.”
At the mention of the servant of Bi’reel, Satasha
drew a sharp inhalation of breath. “I
too have heard the presence of the evil church within your city.” Her words followed by an extension of her
finger, the gesture drew the eyes of everyone present, thrusting them across
the ship's rail.
The
seemingly colorful, and cheerful, docks somehow took on a sinister appearance,
despite the cherry morning light.
“Last night, I heard the chants of the Mordentium,
they practice still.” Satasha's eyes snapped to the milky gaze of the
Spellord.
At the mention of the dark triangle, Galedin and
Maximillion cast worried glances between each other and the rest of the
rumbling crew. All were aware of the
evil churches influence and dark power throughout Synnibarr's history.
Teander held the Vladd's eyes grimly for a moment,
his voice dripping with ill intent, “Show me."
Granting
permission for the giants to disembark with a wave, Teander had the
harbormaster direct the Seeker to the largest unoccupied dock. As the morning breeze was still, the
harbormaster was interested in how the massive craft would make the dock, now
that her momentum had been shed.
Calling for his small crew to man the oars, Montath
seasoned harbormaster of Shippingdale, largest port in Istica, witnessed an
event unheard of in all his sixty years at sea.
Of its own violation, without so much as unfurling a
single sail, the craft began to move.
Quickly attaining speed, it was soon closing on his tiny boat, despite
the best efforts of the oarsmen. Pulling
for their lives, the crew of the harbormaster's boat, was just barely able to
make the docks ahead of the craft.
The Seeker neared to dock and most of the shoreman
gaped wide-eyed in amazement; the craft was fully a quarter of a mile long,
made from great planks of some unknown wood- the grain similar to pine but
thicker and fuller. As the shadow
loomed, they all realized, this was the largest vessel ever to enter their harbor.
The massive bulk closed the distance under complete
control, slowing precisely into a gentle glide toward the relatively fragile
dock, the waters calmly rippled around the waterline.
At the Seeker approach, one arrogant shoremen said to
the other, “Nice little boat.”
Echoing his friend's cocky attitude, with a smug
smile, the other replied casually, “Parts the water well enough.”
Both men's confident grins fell along with the
giants' ropes, as the great mooring lines were pitched over the rail. Easily as thick as their bodies, the first
shoremen was struck unconscious by his line; the other left with a broken nose.
Laughing at the arrogant shoremen, Montath
shouted, “Somebody pick up Laavid, and
get Hoglin a rag. And get those lines
secured…she's starting to drift!!”
“But lord, the ropes won’t fit.” Shouted Hoglin over his nosebleed, his voice
sounding as if he had a cold.
“Then tie them to the railings," shouted the
harbormaster, "Improvise man, improvise!” His good natured bellowing reminding
the Seeker's captain of the Headdocker back in Terra’s Omniport, a vicious
sounding little man with a heart of gold.
While the ship slowly approached the docks, Teander
pulled Shanalea away from prying eyes and ears.
Marveling at how smoothly the gigantic craft responded to the captains
will.
“What do you think so far?” He inquired of his wife,
her lightly wind blown hair gave her and angelic appearance.
Shrugging her shoulders, she said hesitantly- a
slight suspicious tone in her voice, “I
don’t know what to say about the vampiress, but my instincts say that she is
not evil.”
Teander nodded, “I agree… just severe," said the
mage.
“Yes that's it exactly, severe. But the drake, he seems to be friendly
enough.”
“And the captain?” Asked the mage.
“I like him, I did the very moment we met. Him, I think we might be able to trust. But it's still impossible to say.”
Agreeing with his wife's assessment, as always,
Teander put his arms her. The two
watching the massive Seeker slowly edge toward the seemingly tiny docks.
Once the ship was safely secured, Teander answered
the captains beckoning gesture, “Am I to assume that we will be allowed to go
ashore unrestricted," he asked carefully,
"And perhaps engage in a little trade?” Galedin slapped his hands
together in glee.
“Of course,” replied Teander, “Tell Montath and I am
sure he will be able to assist you.”
Scowling, Galedin whispered conspiratorially. “At a
handsome mark up in the price as well I’ll assume.” Then the giant's face took
on a pleading expression that Teander had seen on the Merchant Guildmaster many
times. The look of a desperate business
man.
Pursing his lips Teander slowly replied, “Well I
don’t actually know any of the Guildsmen personally. But I am sure that oh, what's his name,”
snapping his fingers his wife came to his rescue as she always did in these
situations.
“Nathdolman regent of the
Merchants guild," said Shanalea sweetly.
“That's right Nathdolman," he said, visibly
relieved, with a thankful peck on his wife cheek. “He should be able to arrange
the proper connections.”
Galedin clasped his hands in glee, “This was worth
the wait. Can I mention your name?” The giant believed that something other that
his formidable presence might be needed to impress the obviously important man.
Teander smiled, knowing full well that the giant
would have no difficulties doing business in Shippingdale. “Go right ahead
captain and may your business be profitable.”
When the boarding plank was extended, Teander, the
Ch'uan'fa followed his wife, Satasha, and Maximillion.
As they neared the base of the ramp they noticed
sizable crowd present. The sight of the
gigantic vessel, not to mention its crew, had drawn people from all around the
city.
Satasha drew the hood of her cloak, shielding her
face, while Maximillion strutted importantly, all the while puffing on his
cigar.
However,
when the crowd got a glimpse of Teander, they suddenly began cheering. Embarrassed, the Spellord waved at the
assemblage, the people parting reverently at his approach.
When they cleared the docks Teander motioned for them
to use the carriage the mayor had gratefully provided him upon arrival. The Ch'uan'fa running comfortably along side,
they started off.
______________
As the carriage pulled away
from the docks, a silent figure slipped off the Seeker unseen. Easily infiltrating the city in the morning
light despite the crowd of curious onlookers, he moved as smoothly as a shadow.
Pausing to check his surroundings, Tuch allowed
himself a thin smile, as he noted the masses of people in the streets. This place would be fine pickings.
_____________
“Before we search out the evil church, I think it
might be advisable to tell the mayor where were going,” grunted Teander,
bracing himself as the carriage took a stone.
Nodding her approval, the vampiress pulled off her
hood, “That sounds prudent,” she cast a look at the drake, “What say you
Maximillion.”
The drake completely caught up with the passing
scenery waved them away with a noncommittal, “Yea sure whatever.” His eyes never strayed from the carriage
window, “Just tell me where… they… are.”
To her companion's flippant response Satasha rolled
her eyes toward the ceiling, “Why in the name of Sirius, did they have to send
him with me?” She whispered beneath her
breath.
Smiling Shanalea called the drake's name, her sweet
voice swiveling his head as if he were possessed, “Maximillion.”
“Yes milady,” stammered the drake. He had to control himself lest his gaze
capture the woman's mind, he could feel the power within him begging to reach
out and pick the flower that was her will.
“Teander suggested that, we stop by the mayor’s
office to inform him of our destination.
Satasha was just wondering if you agreed with that suggestion.”
Maximillion gave Shanalea a flat stare, Anger
sweeping across his eyes. He puffed
deeply on his near gone cigar, all trace of his typical humor gone. “Lady, since I don’t really know ya that well,
let me tell you a little bit about me.
First, I don’t give a graver's kneecap what you decide to do as far as
jawin or plannin. Just get on with it,
and let's get to the fun part.” He cracked
his knuckles with an evil leer. “If I
think your plan has holes I'll be the first to yell, 'til then, leave me be!”
With that said the chameleon drake returned to the window after a final puff on
his cigar.
“Max, you’re such a charming fellow,” remarked
Satasha with another embarrassed roll of her eyes. Shanalea only smiled, she liked this one's
fire; it was clean and honest, and so utterly alien.
Teander's mind, filled with hundreds of questions,
swirled as they rolled through the streets toward the mayor's mansion. He
settled on one. “So you mean to tell me that where you come from, there are
established guilds for the disciplines.”
“Yes," the Vampire smiled casually. Her fangs
glinting in the suns light. "The
Alchemist guild was the first to open its doors, followed by the Ninja, and
then the Gnomes.”
Teander returned the smile, “What of the mages?' He
pressed his fingers to his chest; "do they too have a guild?” Bewildered
at the Vladd's words. The raw strangeness of the outsiders was delightful. The couple could not get enough.
The vampiress shook her head after a moments
contemplation, “No I do not believe so," she said pursing her lips,
"But the guilds are still young yet, barely one hundred and fifty years
has past, since the eradication of the plague began. Many are still affected to this day.” She carried the burden of it in her shoulders
as they rode on.
“We have recently established such a guild here in
Istica,” Teander went on. “It's called the
The ancient woman's face lit up with surprise; “One
of my duties is contact any that wish to assist with the rebuilding of Terra.”
She said slyly.
Wonder
gripped the Spellord's snow-white eyes; “I would dearly love to see the world
beyond the rolling sea.” His gaze found his wife's. Shanalea recognized the longing in her
husband's face. A longing shared by all
on this island for thousands of years.
Sighing, she returned his look seriously. She knew full well that if the
chance to travel from Istica presented itself, she would hardly be able to
refuse her mate. And though her heart
cried out at the slightest chance that they might be separated, she kept her
feelings to herself. Her husband had
earned her absolute respect, and the right to decide his own course. If she constantly weighted down every decision
he had to make with concerns of her own, it would increase her husbands burden
tenfold.
Shanalea, wife of the Spellord for the last several
years, had experienced much in the way of life.
From her mother's death and her own imprisonment at the hands of
Khishka's solders the Fasyreen. She had
endured the siege of Stormhold and the birth of her twin children. She believed
she was capable of enduring more, should the need arise.
Shanalea, when very young, was determined to have
little affinity for the Arts. Her
parents sought to school her in the ways of diplomacy and governing
instead. Hoping that she would marry
well, and put her natural talent and teachings to use. Their daughter didn’t disappoint them;
eventually she became the wife of the most powerful Spellord's to ever rule in
Istica, Teander.
Together they made a fine pair. The will of the
Spellord, indomitable and unshakable, combined with wisdom and wise practical
teachings, of his wife. Their
tribulations forged them into an anvil of government upon which the hammer of
responsibility rang out in triumph.
Riding in the coach Teander gazed out at the
As
they approached the mayor's mansion, Shanalea looked at her husband; he too
caught up with the scenery along with the chameleon drake. Loving him dearly, she felt a pang of loss at
the adventure he would be embarking on.
The hollow emotion was mixed with a touch of fear. Her husband was powerful, but he was forever
schooling her on how any can fall under the right conditions. At the sound of Teander's voice within her memory
she winced. Why did he have to be so
cold about such things?
As they cleared the gates, Shanalea noticed the
Vladd's eyes grow wide as she caught the sight of Lution resting conformably on
the wide lawn. The great beasts head
rising at the sound of the carriages approach.
The sunslight glinted off his emerald scales and crimson neck. Satasha smiled at the sight of her old
friend.
“Nice guardian,” admired the vampire a hint of awe in
her voice.
Before anyone else could get in a word Maximillion
threw open the carriage door, “Cousin!” he saluted happily as he leapt from
still rolling carriage. His booted feet
scarcely touched the ground before he caught the wind with his wings and
glided, in-between, the jogging Ch'uan'fa with a smile.
Lution's eyes grew wide and with a snort, as if he
were trying to clear his nose of a stench, he reared up and spread his massive
wings wide. Body braced for combat, his
clawed forelegs held in the position taught to him by the Ch'uan'fa.
His
roar stopped Maximillion in mid-flight, “Keep away from me abomination!” The words were a roar.
Landing sourly, Max shouted back, his voice
surprisingly a match for his larger relative, “Abomination am I,' he growled
dangerously, "well at least my race was spawned with intentions of love,
where as yours came from a wretched vat!”
Lution stamped the ground, the tremor felt by
everyone present, “Wicked little creature, all your race should perish.” Hissed
the massive drake, his tail digging a small furrow in the immaculately
manicured lawn.
In a motion faster than any eyes could follow Max
drew his sword and another unusual weapon from his side, “Talk to me like that
again and we’ll see who’s gonna do the perishing.” Waving the unusual weapon to the side it suddenly released some
form of spell; of exactly what type, Teander couldn’t be sure. The effect was a tremendous explosion above
Lution's head. The concussion of which
was beyond anything anyone in Istica had ever witnessed. The severity sent the horses into a panic. The echo rolled down from the hills like
thunder. Somewhere Satasha uttered an
embarrassed groan.
Max shifted the aim of the weapon to right between
Lution eyes casually, “I don’t want to fight you cousin,' his tone civil,
"I rather we acted as the kin we are, but don’t push it.”
Lution shook his head in an effort to clear it. It was a strain to make out the abomination's
words. But his pride would not allow
apology, instead the drake glared down at the smaller creature, “And what do
they call you little one.”
The chameleon drake resheathed his sword,
“Maximillion.” His other weapon remained
clenched in his fist like a threat.
With the death of the explosion's final echo came the
mayor's guards. Looks of anger and a not
just a little apprehension on their faces, they closed on the group. Teander
jumped from the carriage and waved them down, “All's well gentlemen,” said the
mage confidently. “The drake and our new friend here were just getting
aquatinted.”
Glancing between the two drakes, the captain gave
Teander a scowl that revealed that he didn’t yet agree with the mages
assessment of the situation.
Hesitantly
he stammered through a short bow, “No disrespect intended…but are you sure Milord?” The warrior eyes shifted between Lution and
the smaller figure. He bore the fresh
scars from the war. The livid marks gave
him the right to question anything Teander might say.
The great drake answered the man with a hissing
laugh; “He is quite sure, commander.”
His voice rumbled into the subsonic.
Hardly mollified, the guard shook his sword, “We
shall escort you to the mayor’s office.” It was not a request.
With a withering glance at Max and Lution, Teander
started for the house. Max holstered his
grenade launcher and followed with backward glances at the drake as they moved
away. No one knew how much the response
hurt him, or how much he longed to call the creature kin.
Shanalea caught Max's glance and looked at Satasha
arching an eyebrow. “What was that all about?”
The vampire stepped from the carriage regally, a tone
of flat contempt in her voice, “The great drakes do not accept the presence of
the chameleon drakes. They consider them
to be half breeds.” Satasha could tell that for some reason this pleased the
mysterious vampire.
Shanalea looked at Lution, horror spreading across
her face as he allowed her mind to wander.
Satasha knew what was passing through her mind and laughed. “It wasn’t
quite like you would imagine, at least, we don’t believe so.” Shanalea blushed. The vampiress waved away
her discomfort her black dress shuddering like a shadow. Shanalea’s lurid expression hinted that there
was more to this beautiful girl than she assumed.
The Ch'uan'fa arranged themselves between the mayor's
solders as the two ladies stepped free of the carriage. The guards cast looks of open respect as they
escorted the group to the mayor's mansion.
The mansion was a fine stone affair with tall pillars
lining the front of the three-story building as if supporting the weight of
history on the ivy covered rock. Leading
to the large double doors was an elaborate flagstone walkway, artfully made to
wind through a small garden. Satasha
noted that they held all they typical verities one would expect. After this islands enforced isolation she
half expected to see wild mutations within the blossoms.
Looking around Max casually tapped his ashes into a
flowerbed; “Nice digs."
At the end of the walk was a massive set of thick
wooden doors. The guard fanned out along
the front, two of them breaking ranks to open the way. Satasha could hear their roaring heartbeats
and smell their excitement noting that most were young and healthy. She had to fight down her hunger as they entered
the large main hall of the mansion. Her stomach rumbled.
__________________
Ebat circled the tiny valley, caressing the thermals
of the morning. A movement caught the
Her prey started for its bolthole happily, positive
in its safety. Ebat, not to be outdone,
released beams of pure psionic energy.
Her eyes flashed and there was a moment of stinging satisfaction. The thin purple rays neatly seared through
the Titanium Scorpion's armor into the giant insect's brain. Its momentum carried it from the rocky path
amidst a shower of sparks where it plunged to the green below. Pleased with the lucky shot, Ebat continued
to search for signs of possible trouble, her wings alive in the winds.
Below Ebat, in the shelter of his valley, Bridge
Frostharper worked to restore his destroyed garden. Still grumbling after three
years, as if it were yesterday, Bridge had to smile to himself. He was happy again.
He
managed this by convincing himself that there was a little landscaping he had
meant to do in the first place. Pausing
he looked lovingly at the new patch of Psisheen Mushrooms and noticed the by
the glint of their skins that they were ready for harvest.
The elf washed his hands in the clear pool he had
just restored, swishing the water a final time; he rose and moved to his new
cave, drying his hands reverently on a clean piece of cloth.
He moved through a halo of potpourri to the rear of
the cave. On his short trek he collected
a clean glass jar. The jar, sitting
sheltered above a fire was almost too hot to handle, quickly re-grabbing the
towel, he cradled the container and returned to the patch.
Sitting in the dew, the surface of the mushrooms had
the appearance of yellow tinted glass.
Beneath the skin, Bridge could clearly make out the blue veins, swirling
within the brainlike flesh. Each of the
swollen four-inch stalks resembled a miniature Spinal Column.
Bridge carefully tapped each of the tops with a twig
to loosen any stray spores. After
removing Ebat's perch, he settled in to collect the enchanted fungus from the
warm womb of the earth. For this he used
Telekinesis. It was the best way of
harvesting them. They were too sensitive
to bear the assault of psychic energy in a living beings touch. If picked by
hand, they would still yield, but the quality of the product would be
diminished.
Bridge opened himself as he settled down on the cool
grass. The perfection of nature drenched him in its wonder; he smiled. The elf could feel the mushrooms
telepathically singing, harmony with the others, they're delicate chord was in
key with the voice of creations mysteries.
Like
tiny chimes, they announced they're presence to all that could listen. The elf invoked his telekinesis;
the appearance of the art thrilled the tiny plants. The chiming intensified, spilling out around
him as he reached out. The stalks
quivered with pleasure.
Harvesting twenty full heads and stalks, he placed
them gently into the glass container and rubbed his hands together with
glee. Carefully he replaced Ebat's perch
in the center of the patch, and carried the treasure into his cave. His heart held by the perfect chord like a
mantra.
Retrieving a set of complicated glassware containers
the elf began arranging it as would be required. Checking himself often he referred to a
diagram carefully written on parchment.
Ruffling the soot-covered edges of the precious document, he was glad
that the Bonelord's forces had not discovered it. The glass he could replace, but the
arrangement of the pieces had to be precise.
Without this parchment, his life's work could have been lost. Berating himself for the one hundredth time,
he considered copying it, but again the danger of the information falling into
the wrong hands stopped him. Just as it
had for over two hundred years. With a
sigh, he dismissed the dreary thoughts and joyfully began the process of
creating the mystic Psisha Adreemus.
In there present condition they mushrooms could be
used to give anyone three basic abilities and the power to use them for a short
time. The abilities were Telepathy,
Telekinesis and Clairvoyance. The three
pieces of the art useful to any. In
times past there have been wars won with aid of single of these precious
plants.
He added a small amount of distilled water and
crushed the mushrooms into a fine pulp with silver rod. Placing the mash under pressure, the elf
began the first filtering process, a process he would repeat several times over
the course of the morning. Once complete
he took the strained mixture, already showing a faint bluish tint, and started
it through the first distillation process.
Applying a small amount of heat Pyrokinetically,
Bridge was able to maintain the perfect distribution of temperature. Smiling as the first vapors started to
collect, the unmistakable blue tint was richer.
Concentrating the psielf continued the psionic heating effect, until the
vapors disappeared. Eagerly collecting
the thimble full of cobalt fluid, he was overjoyed at the large quantity.
Moving to a miniature version of the distillery
equipment he excitedly, ran the tiny amount of liquid through again. Finally he received a large drop of the now
glowing substance. Reaching for a
special vial, the elf telekinetically manipulated the Psisha Adreemus into
it. The drop shined like a tiny blue
star, as it floated its way to join the five others.
Grasping the glowing vial with shaking fingers, the
eager psielf noted the level had reached the tiny mark: just enough to give the
gift to a new student. Listing the
proper candidates within the family, Bridge suddenly frowned at the thought of
his cousin,
________________
Galedin strolled with his two
assistants, the first mate and Holdkeeper.
The first mate was a strong limbed woman standing fifteen feet seven
inches, with shoulder length braided red hair and fiery green eyes. The potbellied Holdkeeper on the other hand,
was barely 13 feet tall, short by giant standards, with a bald head and stiff
gray beard. The steel color matching his
blue eyes. All three were very eager to
reach the merchant guildhall for they carried wonders beyond wonders for the
low-tech culture.
Elbowing Galedin, the Holdkeeper snickered when he
saw the central sundial, along with the primitive torches lining the streets.
“We could replace the torches within two days, the
poles’ed make fine places to string the cable.” The Holdkeeper happily
explained to his two companions, the spirit of profits completely consumed the
giants soul, “Just adda solar generator and there you have it, instant
streetlights.” He snapped his massive
fingers and smiled at the children at his feet.
The giantess adjusted her load by swinging the full
sac at her shipmate playfully, “
He was incredulous, "Ilonia do you always have
to let your principles get in the way of business?” Sighed the Holdkeeper, groaning, at what he
knew was the start of a futile argument.
"Yes as a matter of fact I do!" Said the red haired giantess, peevishly, “
Straight faced and thoroughly embarrassed,
With the last words still ringing in his ears
If
Passing through a massive arch, the elaborate stone
carved and painted with a beautiful design, the giants left the cool shade of
the street and out into a wide open square. At they’re appearance it seemed as
if every face within sight turned to view the trio. At once a sudden silence strangled the usual
clamor of a marketplace. With looks of
astonishment and wonder mixed with fear and distrust, the townspeople beheld
legends in the flesh. For a moment no
one moved, until the spell was broken by Galadin's gigantic smile.
___________
Tuch adhered to the shadowy parts of
Shippingdale. Investigating all he could
of the thriving metropolis. Noting the
beggars in the streets along with the whores and the ever presents
cutpurses. Smiling beneath his hood, he
wondered if they were having as much fun as he was, probably not.
For most of the morning the traffic was slow, but
then the figure caught sight of a quiet assassination. With delicate precision the killer swept in
and took his client from behind. The
bodyguard's left clutching their bloodstained chests in failure. Finished with his work the man casually left
the scene without so much as a second glance.
Tuch followed from the rooftops as the assassin made his way across town
to a narrow alley.
Stunned, Tuch had a moment to appraise his
adversaries; all three were humans, something Tuch noticed was a
regularity. He also noted they were
armed with primitive weapons, another commonality of the charming place, they
were fodder.
He leapt into the trio and smiled at how slowly they
moved, obviously trained fighters, they were only human, and could not hope to
match a Terran Ninja.
With a single flash of his sword, two assailants fell
soundlessly clutching at their slit throats.
Pulling back the ninja made a final strike to the last man's heart. The thief’s eyes opened wide, astonishment
plastered on his face, as he dropped off the ninja's ebony katana, falling into
the realm of the dead.
Although his movements were done with maximum
efficiency, the sound of the door caught the attention of his opponent's
friends. Wondering just what he had
stumbled into, the ninja tuned to meet his next assailants issuing from a door
and loudly charging down a wide hall.
In a group of five they charged him, and as a group
of five they met the god of death. Their
bodies sprawled across the hallway floor in moments. Their blood mingled with that of fallen comrades. Moving grimly forward, the ninja charged the
outer door of the Assassins Guild, just as it burst open.
His next opponent was limed with a subsiding magical
corona, undoubtedly created by the mage behind him.
With
unprecedented speed the warrior attacked.
His movements matched the enhanced reflexes of the ninja. In poetic slow motion they engaged.
Meeting with a crash of blades, the two began the
first maneuvers designed to feel out each other's prowess. Moving in their dance, each felt as if the
other were within the realms of beatable, even if just barely. To the observers they were a blur of
motion. Grinning, the warrior almost
caught the ninja's guard aside, Tuch narrowly avoiding a strike to the heart.
Suddenly
realizing that this was not going to be a simple kill, the ninja flipped
backward resheathing his sword and gaining a precious few feet he needed to
withdraw his blaster. Taking aim at the
puzzled warrior, he calmly squeezed the trigger, just as the man was within his
own blade's range.
The lasersonic impact beam caught the surprised
assassin completely off guard. Having
never seen such a device, he was confused by the actions of the black clad
figure. His expression evaporated into
anguish as the two-ton force struck his chestplate, knocking him to the
threshold of the still open door, where he lay unconscious and near death.
Shifting his aim, the ninja fired a shot at the
mage. The wizard narrowly blocked it
with an Invisible defender. Growling,
Tuch charged the doorway, firing a barrage until the gun was empty. The mage
dove to the side, scrambling just out of the ninja's sight. The walls and paneling burst apart as the
impact beam punched holes around him.
When Tuch bolted in to the room, he didn’t have time
to note the rich paintings on the walls or the elaborate furniture, for he was
again assaulted by over a dozen of the best assassins in Shippingdale. Composing the entire bulk of the guild in the
city; they were a force to be reckoned with.
As they poured in they made room for the mage to flee, charging with a
roar.
Tuch dove upward, resheathing his spent weapon he
rose to the ceiling. Clinging there for
just a moment, he released a Chi force blast along with a fist full of his
trademark throwing stars before gravity took hold once more.
His
Chi caused all but four to fall unconscious; his shuriken felled two.
The last of the assassin's threw down their weapons,
falling to the floor in huddles. Grinning beneath his hood he sent each one of
them to the Ringzazarackrazad’s quiet embrace, no mercy, and no remorse.
Rising from his last victim, Tuch moved quietly to
the door. Throwing it open, he was
confronted with what he assumed was the beginning of the assassin's guild
proper, and the business end of several arrows.
The hastily loosed shafts sticking deeply into the wood of the floor
about him. For a moment Tuch considered
donning his armor. But with a look at
the slaughter, he reconsidered with an arrogant smile.
The building was obviously a converted warehouse,
evident by the stacks of merchandise against the far wall. Pulling back into the room he established his
invisibility and crept through the doorway as silent as the floorboards would
allow him.
Fifty feet above, on a slender wooden catwalk, were
archers, at least six of them. The men
apparently guarding another rather elaborate metal door. On some of the crates were others with
crossbows. Eyeing the weapons
suspiciously, Tuch quietly crept towards the catwalk.
As the ninja moved, he was a vessel for purity of
thought and intention. Gone was the
ever present internal dialogue, his mind transformed into a still pool of
consciousness. This was the discipline
that allowed only the ninja to remain invisible when they attacked. Spells would dissipate with the slightest
physical contact, while ninja could deal death and remain unseen.
Tuch
carefully moved up to the first archer and casually tossed him from the
railing. The man's screams drew
attention, but as no once could see him, not a single arrow was loosed.
As he crept toward the second, Tuch was especially
careful to keep from vibrating the catwalk's planks. Reaching the nervous man, he felt guilty…
almost.
The third time, the archer squirmed a refusal to
quietly fall over the rail. Rather
shocked at his victim's lack of cooperation, Tuch almost missed the thrum of
the bow-string. Quickly twisting his
target, he smiled as the arrow thunked wetly into the man's body. It was plainly written on the fourth archer's
face that he hadn’t intended for that to happen. And just as he reached for another arrow,
something slashed his hand from his wrist in a single clean strike. Grasping his maimed arm in shock, the man
screamed as he was hoisted over the side of the railing.
At this point the rest of the terrified guards threw
down their bows, broke ranks, and began running toward the elaborate door;
pounding on it with the horror of certain death in their voices. Relentlessly Tuch slaughtered each of them,
following the first rule of assassination, even though invisible, never leave
any witnesses. He was awash in blood and
glory.
The iron door was locked, so Tuch quickly set about
picking it, his kit appearing in his wet fingers in a fluid motion; within
moments he twisted the metal lock free.
Inside the large office type room, was the mage and
another human casually sitting behind a desk.
The man twirled a fine dagger capped with a beautiful gem, the mage's
hands glowing in some type of spell.
Confident in his invisibility, but not too confident,
the ninja tried to quietly sneak into the room.
Unfortunately he had to open the door just enough so that the occupants
noticed.
Although
both men started, they didn’t attack.
Still the Invisibility protected him.
This was almost too easy. Snaking
up to the mage, he silenced the glow with a quick snap of the man's fragile
neck, the wizard's head nearly twisted off in Tuch's unseen hands.
Seeing
is friend suddenly contort and die, the man behind the desk cast furtive
glances at the empty air. Terror cupped
in his voice, “So..so now what do you intend to do? You’ve killed almost all the members of the
guild to get to me.”
Astonished the startled man replied, “Why..th.. the
Assassins Guild, of which I am the master.”
“Assassins guild you say,” added the ninja
mysteriously, “I too am a member of the assassins guild of Terra, licensed to
make kills in any city on a thousand worlds.
Pity your not covered under the membership.”
Waving his hands as the ninja drew his sword, the
jeweled dagger falling forgotten to the rich carpet, the assassin Guildmaster,
had only a single chance left. Reaching
for his desk he was able to touch his communication stone before the black clad
figure struck his head from his shoulders.
In the last instant before death the assassin poured all he could of the
scene into Landau's mind, hundreds of miles away.
In his morning bed the head of all the assassins awoke with a vivid set of images coursing through his mind seasoned with the flavor of death.