The day was going perfectly.
I had been traveling thru this shadow on my way to visit my friends the Tecys when I got a strange feeling that had been described to me by my uncle Benedict many times. Who had gotten a Trump for me? Thinking that it must of somehow been Benedict, I open myself up to the call...
I knew who the man on the other end was instantly. It was my uncle. Brand.
"Greetings nephew, Benedict bade me make a Trump for you so that he might contact you when he wished. It pleases me that it worked. "
Behind Brand was a bright design that I could never forget. But, it was out in the open, under a half famiiar sky. Brand noticed my curiosity.
"Ahh nephew. I notice that the image of the pattern has caught you attention. Perhaps you require a greater look?"
At this he moved himself so that I could get a clearer view of his surrondings. By this time are link was so clear that it seemed we were actully standing next to each other. I leaned foward for a closer look...
His power fell upon me then, tearing into my mind. My body shook and I found it hard to move. His left hand shot foward then, driving a sharp object into my vitals. I screamed out. As my blood fell upon the ground fire and black smoke surrounded us.
When the blade was thrust into my midsection it caused me to double over, instead of fighting the reaction I threw what little strength I had left into rushing foward, headbutting Brand, the tactic worked and my forehead slammed into Brands nose, hard. This lessened the attack on my mind somewhat, enough for me to act. With one hand I grabed Brand just below the collar by the shirt, twisted and pushed. As he choked I grabed the arm that held my Trump, leaned back and pulled his arm into the fires of the Pattern. For a moment it seemed that he would resist the heat, he clenched his teeth and fought to pull his burnning hand free. Then he spat, "Bastard!" and released his hold both on his blade and my mind. Everything went black for a moment then I found myself laying in a bloody heap in the forest.
The next few hours, days weeks, are still a nightmare. I remember the blood and Brands voice screaming in my mind. My last thoughts were of Death, Revenge, and the dark slim figure standing over me...
| Monday, November 10, 1997 |
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