Chapter 5 - A General History

Living by the sword, Allendrie thought, does not always fill one's pockets. He sat to the side of the street in a black cloak and a cup in his hand. This was not an uncommon occurrence for him. Devoting all of his time to training left him with no other option than to beg for money. With the end of winter coming, though, he could return to camping on the fields outside the town that had become his home the last four years. Training was his life now, because he felt that one day he would have the opportunity to pay his brother back for his misdeeds.

Hearing the clink of money dropping into his cup, he looked up to give thanks to the man or lady who had provided him with his dinner. As the first word left his mouth, a punch from his beneficiary knocked him over. Allendrie got a clear look at his attacker before the second blow was struck and muttered, "Childe," as the third made him dead to the world.

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Issin Duralt wandered the halls of the palace trying to find something to take his attention away from how dull the day was. Yawning, he entered the audience hall, where he had heard voices. He found Damien and Selphrin locked in conversation. "The rebels were finally defeated, Lord Emperor," Damien said. "They were killed to the last man on the plains of Vacknar two days ago. They are no longer a threat."

"Good, Damien. The extinction of the rebel army is the show of power we need to bring the peasants back in line. How many rebels fell prey to your flame in the battle, General Hurolt?"

"Seventeen were slaughtered by my hand, Emperor."

"Impressive, General. More impressive," Selphrin said, noticing Issin's entrance to the room, than General Duralt's fourteen at the battle for control of Windan Heights two months ago."

"Thank you, Lord Emperor. Might I take my leave of you now?"

Issin glared angrily at Damien as he left the room, but his jealousy quickly subsided. He approached the throne and made a proper ceremonial bow to Selphrin before speaking. "My liege, I request a combat assignment."

"Did you not hear Damien's report just now? The rebels have been eradicated. The civil war is over. My reign is now complete."

"Lord Emperor, there must be something that can sate my bloodlust," Issin asked almost hungrily. "Some peasants that refuse to pay taxes, perhaps?"

"No, Issin. There is nothing..." Suddenly a tall man in a black cloak appeared at the door and approached Selphrin's throne. "What is so important that it requires you to interrupt?"

The man's dark and raspy voice seemed almost a whisper. "I must speak with you , Your Lordship." He turned toward Issin. "Alone."

"If this concerns the research I had you do, then Issin may stay."

The cloaked man shrugged. "I have found the locations of all the relics you seek, save one. I reccommend that the search for these items begin immediately."

"Ah, yes. Perfect. Issin?"

Issin stood at attention. "Yes, my lord?"

"You and Damien will begin the search for the first of these relics immediately. Which of the relics is closest to the palace?"

The cloaked man answered. "The nearest lies one hundred miles south of here in a large complex that was buried during the Dead Winter after the Last War. It is the Sword of Drakmord, sire."

"Excellent," Selphrin said gleefully. "Give the two Generals all the information they need. Issin, you and Damien will take fourty soldiers and claim the artifact in the name of the Emperor. Report back to me when you have the sword. Then I will decide how it shall be used."

Issin's grin became gleeful as he and the cloaked man left the room in search of Damien, but it was nowhere near as gleeful as Selphrin's, because he knew in his blackened heart that the relics of the Forbidden Technology would be instrumental to his future conquests.

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Issin thought about what a fool Selphrin was as the two of them searched for Damien. He had no idea that it was actually the man walking beside him who actually ruled Dewvron. Selphrin had become so engrossed in his plans and conquests he seemed to forget about the territory he already held. The rebellion had brought his focus back to the country he actually ruled, but now that most of the resistance had been quelled he would return to his pitiful dreams and the day to day tasks of running the government would once again fall into the hands of Cloak.

Cloak. The name had started as a joke, but had eventually become the man's nickname. A nickname was needed, though, as Cloak had never spoken his real name. Cloak had simply showed up one day three years previous and requested to be placed in the service of the Emperor. Proving himself a scholar, he rose up the ranks and became Selphrin's master of intelligence, and eventually the Emperor's aide.

The appearance of Cloak had helped make the government stable at a time when the people had been ready to revolt. It also seemed to further prove Selphrin's incompetance in ruling. Not that Issin cared, of course. He followed Selphrin for one reason and one reason only. Blood. Issin lived for death and blood. He felt that the rush he gained from battle was the greatest feeling a man could feel. It was like a drug to him, and like any drug, the more he had it, the more he craved. That was why he had conviced Damien that they should work for Selphrin back when he had been Prince-General.

Damien. The two of them had grown up together in a small village near the border. They had been best friends since the age of six. One day when they were nine, Damien's house caught fire and his parents were killed. Hours later the villagers found Damien while searching for remains. Though half-dead from dehydration, he was perfectly unharmed. The villagers, God fearing people that they were, later performed tests on Damien. They discovered that, though he was fully affected by heat, flame and smoke could not touch or harm him. The mayor and priest had him declared a witch and Damien was cast out from the village.

Damien begun living in a small forest about a mile from the village. The loss of a parent is traumatic to any child, but the expulsion and resulting seclusion forced him to become withdrawn and uncaring towards the world. It became worse when one day, attempting to light a fire, the kindling had burst into flame at his touch. He tested several materials and found that when he touched an object and thought of fire, fire was created. Even stone became coated in flames at his touch. It was that day that he realized the fire that had killed his parents had been started by him.

The only thing that had kept him sane up until this point had been visits from his best friend, Issin. Damien felt that it would be safe to show his new ability to his onlly friend. With Issin watching, Damien set fire to a stick. Issin panicked, and that moment discovered his own powers by extinguishing the flame with a spray of frost.

The two set out that very day, only ten years old. Over the years they learned to fight and to control their abilities. They even met a few like them, people with extraordinary abilities, most hiding, but a few living comfortable, open lives.

Memories are always a precious thing, Issin thought, but the present is much more important. He forcefully ended his reminiscing as he and Cloak reached Damien's quarters. Knocking, they entered. "Damien, we've got a job to do."