“The stone…I want it.” Draven explained bluntly, holding out a hand as he cautiously closed in on his pray.
“The only way you’re getting this stone is by jerking it out of my dying grasp…” Voyse replied, his voice full of venom.
That brought an even wider grin from Draven. “That can be arranged, of course.” Out came his second dagger as he jerked free the first one from the wall.
Voyse clutched at the short sword sheathed on his belt. He grimaced as a flood of emotions fell over him as the sentient blade called out to him, promising great victory for the lust of battle. Devil’s Sin by name, the crazed blade was once wielded by the murderous ruler Lokye, who is said to of killed over one-thousand men with the blade alone. He was driven so insane by the blade that he had killed his own family and eventually withered away to nothingness when the sword’s overpowering will had dominated him. Voyse had used the blade before, and it nearly took over him then. He reminded himself of that time, and how hard it was for his will to resist. He would have to have even stronger will power this time if he hoped to keep his humanity, for with every kill with the sword he grew stronger, but so did the blade’s overpowering emotions. Building a wall of sheer hatred around his mind, Voyse unsheathed the blade and was nearly knocked over by the ensuing flood of emotions. He gritted his teeth and held the blade firm, keeping it from dominating him. Forward he went, his blade leading, a sheer growl of outrage on his lips.
Draven, surprised, halted his approach and stared at Voyse for a second, not long enough for the assassin to strike, of course. He struck out with both his daggers to the side, parrying Devil’s Sin, but he had to shake his hands a bit from the numbness in them after the sheer power of the strike. The two went into motion, a dance of ringing metal, Draven solely on the defensive now.
Voyse was acting on sheer anger now, keeping the dominating powers of his deadly blade away. His swipes and thrusts were extremely powerful, yet a little less precise. Draven could see this, and he took note to find the weakness in the flurry of strikes from Voyse’s enchanted blade.
The assassin did a sudden low spin on one heel, bending his knees to go low and spun back up in a twirl of death. Draven back flipped out of danger’s way and drove forward with his two daggers. They almost hit home, but Voyse snapped his sword down with defiantly quick speed, knocking the two daggers aside. Up came the sword again in a diagonal slash, leaving his right shoulder exposed. That was Draven’s mark. In went his left dagger, barely penetrating through Voyse’s armor to scratch his skin, but that was all Draven’s dagger needed to do its dirty work.
Slowly, Voyse began to get tired, his entire body becoming quickly exhausted, his vision blurred. He clutched at his head with one hand, his right arm already limp. He nearly toppled over, but managed to lean against the wall nearby. Draven stalked in once again, but Voyse couldn’t tell, for his vision was too impaired by now. He slumped against the wall and finally to the ground.
Draven shook his head as he leaned down and snatched the Adept’s Stone from Voyse’s belt pouch. “You’re lucky I only nicked you. Your soul would have been mine if I would have gotten a good bit of the blade in you.” With another laugh, he spat on Voyse’s mask and walked off.
Voyse sat there motionless for just a few moments, trying to tell what was going on. Finally, he just closed his eyes and accepted the fast approaching darkness.
**********
“This is your fault, I hope you know…” Asher complained, shifting uncomfortably on his cot, pulling at the uncomfortable jail rags.
“My fault?! Pray do tell, how it is MY fault? If I remember correctly, YOU were the one who barged through the guards to get into the city.” Omurai snapped, equally disgruntled.
“Stupid guards…if they hadn’t gotten so mad…” Asher started to complain, but let the argument go, he had been over it with Omurai many times over already, each time with him mumbling to himself.
The two had entered Knollwood quite forcefully, shoving past the irritable guards and angering them. They quickly took to the offense and threw the two companions in jail where they were to stay until they felt like letting them out. Who knew when that would be? Both of them spent the first day complaining to the guards about being in jail, while they spend the second day yelling at each other. Today, however, they seemed to just grumble to each other every once in awhile.
“I cannot wait for them to finally let us out of here!” Omurai whined, giving a heavy sigh as he looked over his horrid wardrobe and thinking of the luxuries of home he passed up for this. “I wish they’d hurry up…”
“They took our armor…our weapons…but they can’t take our magic.” Asher reminded him for the fifth time that day. “C’mon, let’s just bust out of here and leave.”
“And break the law?! We’d be getting ourselves into deeper trouble then.” Omurai replied, the same thing he replied every other time, but Asher’s patience had grown thin.
“Well, you said it yourself, I can’t wait to get out of here. How true that statement is now!” Asher shouted, leaping out of his bed and walking over to the back wall of their cell.