by Jason Jones
“No, no, we shall get the scroll, bring to Altestan we will, yes, yes…for God.” Gregore raised his hands to the sky, feigning a bit of religious fervor.
“Are you well, my lord? You seem in need of rest. You are speaking as if the sun or cold has had some affect on you. Please, let me take you below and get you refreshment.” He tried to step in front of his superior, but the man turned away, facing down and avoiding him. His attempts to see his cousin’s face were failing, drawing his suspicions in as to what could be wrong with Lord Alamud.
“Do not bother me, Samiri. No, no. I am well, keep an eye on the northern horizon for the fleeing ship with the precious scroll. Yes, yes, yes, the blasphemous scroll.” Gregore did not like this man's closeness, it abhorred it, making the thing feel impatient and angry.
“Scroll? What scroll ? We came here to refuse and embarrass this Johnas Valhera, nothing more. He must take three of our refusals and we have his contact en route to…”
“Change of plans then, Samiri.”
“Alamud, it is me, your cousin and closest friend. Something is wrong with you, cousin, you are not well. Let me see you.” He tried to turn his cousin around, grabbed his shoulder, and felt something unnatural about the way his muscles tightened, like something in his clothes was not his clothes, like this was not his cousin.
He was pushed back, Alamud suddenly facing him, somehow, without actually moving. Samiri was knocked back with a mere push from a man that could not possibly be that strong. His curved thin shamshir was out in a flash, seeing eyes of deep black where his royal cousin’s eyes of sky blue had been previously.
“Who are you?!”
Gregore drew the enchanted scimitar, stolen from the corpse of dead Alamud. “Men, it seems my bodyguard does not agree with me on our tactics. He wishes war on the Chazzrynn vessel, yes, yes, he does.” The doppelganger raised a sinister voice, ensuring the men and slaves heard it. Yells and boos followed, mostly from its other kinsman in place as topside men of the Headhunter.
“I would kneel quickly, cousin. Yes, yes, I would,” Gregore whispered at the confused and outraged Altestani swordsman.
“This is not our lord! He is a creature, an imposter, a fiend!” Samiri lunged with a twirl of his flashing blade, slicing into clothing. Clothing that bled as if it were flesh.
“What in the names of all unholy demons are you?”
“You will never know, little human. No, no, never know.” The shapeshifter swung the scimitar with poor skill, over and over, the attacks easily parried by the trained warrior it stood against. The blows were heavy, the swords ringing loud on the upper deck of the slaveship. Gregore quickly surmised that it would have to find another way to kill this one.
Samiri, still in shock and fury with many worries and questions, returned the powerful attacks with quick and precise cuts, his left arm behind him, palm down for balance. He ducked under the scimitar, cutting seven times into the flesh of the man that appeared to be Lord Alamud. Then, seeing purple blood slowly seep through cloth and flesh, he knew that surely he dealt with something else. He had seen his cousin wounded, his blood should have been rich and red like his own. He lunged after a high feint, piercing the creature through the chest, with expert precision, through the heart.
“Where is my cousin, creature?!” Samiri demanded, sure the fiend was dead, his blade buried hilt deep through the heart.
Gregore chuckled, feeling the slight pain of its disguise and flesh being disrupted by enchanted steel. It drew back, grabbing the man’s arm. Stepping forward, face to face, it put its hand on the warrior’s chest. Samiri tried to get loose, free his sword arm, but could not.
“It has no heart, no, no, none at all, human.” Bones of pointed death, one by one, elongated with incredible speed from the creature’s fingers and through the bodyguard’s chest and armor and out the other side.
They retracted, the Altestani man unable to breathe as his lungs and heart had been punctured, then he felt the cut of the scimitar across his throat, and the feeling of falling. His body splashed into the Carisian Sea, washing under the trireme warship as the waves of motion pulled along.
“Yes, yes. Full sail to the northeast! Find the Bronze Harpy, men.” The doppelganger pretended to be scuffed, but not injured, and made a show of brushing itself off and sheathing the blade. Quickly it made the clothing appear torn and cut to add to the illusion.
The men went back to work, and any that talked of the matter over the next night at sea strangely came up missing. The strange family of shapeshifters followed the moons at night, and the distant but nearing Bronze Harpy during the day. The Persistence slowly faded from view, until it seemed to give up the chase, and turned back west, toward Valhirst. No one dared ask again why the Lord Alamud did not wish to meet the Chazzrynn king.
Hunters I:IV
Temple of the Whitemoon
Chazzrynn
Kendari smiled at the form of the satyr in the fetal position, blood running from his gut and mouth, pooling on the white stones set in the courtyard of the sacred circle of the Temple of the Whitemoon. His moaning and whimpering brought pleasure to his ears, mixed with the fey melody that rose from under the stone steps leading to the secret shrines, to all that he hated. His wickedness now taking over, the smile that would not leave until he had finished and the Nadderi swordsman turned and walked across the grounds of the holy site.
Trees moaned again, the grass withered back into the earth where he stepped, and the wind blew harder, as if something in nature was beyond simple anger at his presence.
“Oh? You do not wish for me to be here, is that it? I challenge you Seirena, to come and stop me! Bring your earthen face here for me to cut apart! Let me show you the result of your curses and cause! If you actually cared for your servants, you would appear, coward Goddess! For you and I both know what I am about to do inside your temple!”
Yelling at the wind, the quickly clouding sky, the ages old elf cursed and called out for the Goddess herself to appear, for he wished most to inflict upon her what he had been given so many centuries ago. Hearing nothing, Kendari marched, blades out, toward the steps leading underground.
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The stare from the small crowned face of the fairy Finwel-Dur said more than any words could. Her eyes were full of sadness, of acceptance, her mouth still chanting the words to close the temple and have it awaken in another far away sacred circle. Many eyes looked at Lavress as he awoke, hearing the scream of his name from the satyr. No one could speak, his mind quickly clearing of Lady T’Sarrin. He could not ask for advice, he did not know if the temple would close without him inside, nor what she or the sphinx had seen.
Lavress of the Hedim Anah had to choose now, to follow his order, or face whatever was outside that the hiroon must have failed to stop. He knew who it was, only if he was alone or with an army of trolls was uncertain. No one could stop the chant, hours in the making, or else they would be in much greater danger should someone reach the inner sanctum of the court of the temple. So close to leaving this frontier land of cold and treachery, so safe in protecting the princess of the temple, yet Lavress could not wait any longer. As he stepped forward, a voice froze him for but a moment.
“We are of the earth, of the Goddess that breathes our life and we must go and remain with her. You are an elf, child of the moon, Lavress. Our paths will cross always, but yours will forever have its own course guided from above, where ours is from within and below. May Seirena bless you and guard you. You haven’t much time,” her words, like Shinayne’s, were full of emotion, her mouth only moving in the chants of the ancient fey, and her eyes pleading for his safe return.
Lavress bowed, touching his fingers to his head, his chin, and his heart, then drew his blades and turned to face his enemy. He felt no fear, nothing but purpose, no emotion save concern for those outside and inside the temple. He ran up the stairs, weapons at his sides, and saw a form approaching the top of the steps, marching toward him. H
e took to the shadows, keeping hidden as he sprinted up the ancient steps.
Lavress stared at the chest of the Nadderi swordsman, glanced quickly to spot any allies he might have. He noticed Bedesh laying to his left, surrounded by much blood, but still breathing. His keen elven eyes caught the body of Jevendial to his right. The hiroon was not moving, certainly in the next life now by the wounds that his limp corpse showed from its position over the stones. Lavress focused, avoiding the eyes, his peripheral vision noticing posture and stance of this assassin.
His movements suddenly changed in the blink of an eye, the hunter from Gualidura feigned to raise his weapons, then kicked forward with all his strength, directly into the upper abdomen of Kendari, sending him tumbling to the ground backwards and landing in a roll to his knees. The cursed killer had been paying attention to the sky, his own ego, and had not seen Lavress come up the stairs so rapidly and so silently. Blades though, the glimmer of steel in moonlight, he would have seen.
Kendari caught his breath, laughing. He stood up to face the still pursuing wood elf hunter he had yet to formally meet. “Lavress Tilaniun of the Hedim Anah? Let me return your kind greeting.”
At that, he lowered his guard and crouched, Shiver radiating heat and his pyramid pommeled longsword held reverse near his thigh. He waited for a response, but the hunter simply raised his blades on guard and marched in, not even meeting the gaze of Kendari.
“You will not catch me off guard again, but I may let Shinayne have her way with me, when I find her.”
The taunt surprised the hunter, who now met his gaze, his deep brown forest eyes meeting the wicked green orbs of the ancient assassin. Words and curses ran through his mind, anger flooded his veins, yet Lavress remained silent, focused, not giving in to manipulation. His wolf-pommeled falcata cut toward the heat spewing longsword, making contact, then he followed by stabbing forward in a thrust of steps with the curved kukri dagger of the Hedim Anah. It was now glowing a faint white, which it had never done before.
Kendari easily parried all three cuts with Shiver, not bothering to use his left hand in this small test of skills between two elves. He noticed the shimmer from the reverse curved dagger, however, the same time it’s wielder did. The two paced in circles, sizing out the reach and steps of the other.
“You were unaware that your ceremonial dagger was especially enchanted to kill ones like me, Lavress?”
“Indeed.” the hunter spoke, caring nothing for the distractions this cursed one was attempting. He knew now that his adversary would be paying close attention to the glowing kukri, and he planned to exploit it by using the falcata to get inside his defenses.
Kendari's mind was planning as well, sensing that the wood elf had no idea that he was well protected against fey magicks from his deal with the demon temptress Nareene, so many centuries ago. He would feign his concern for the dagger, and be aware of the curved falcata, without letting on.
“Why do you wait, Nadderi? Are you not in a hurry to kill me and make for the temple?” Lavress returned words, hoping to throw this bastard’s confidence off mark. He watched the steps, noting that every fourth step taken was sideways to keep his turn and guard in place, his breathing shallow and seldom, but in all ways consistent.
“It’s not my forest friend bleeding to death on the ground, savage. I have all night, unlike you.” Kendari grinned, his green eyes laughing with him at the hunter trying to intimidate him or throw him off.
Lavress charged, hearing enough, his matched curved weapons cutting across at the face of this murderer, both parried by Shiver. The Nadderi returned attacks with a close sweeping slice toward the hunter’s hips, and the kukri blocked it. Then a downward chop with Shiver, meeting the falcata, followed by a kick to Lavress’ chest, the boot heel hitting the sternum and knocking him back.
Kendari did not wait, lunging with his heated sword at his foe’s neck, out of reach, then stepping in low and cutting across at the thigh level with the backheld longsword. The hunter turned around a banyan tree after jumping over the crosscut of the Nadderi, propelling himself to the other side and appearing behind him.
Lavress, in turn, crouched low and brought a rapid succession of short cuts toward Kendari's body. The first two were caught by the spinning parry of Shiver as he turned to face the wood elf, the second two he backed up and used his off hand in close to counter, and his bracer deflected the last. The sparks shot in all directions as the two attacked and counter attacked, in and out of the sacred circle.
Kendari took the lead, forcing Lavress back with a series of quick attacks at his right arm, then stepping in to sweep cut with his left. When the swords missed or were parried, he rose and spun, chopping down with diagonal slashes followed by another cross cut from the reverse gripped blade that seemed to parry everything. Four cycles had Lavress stepping from side to side without realizing he was reacting to the swarm of blows, barely avoiding the edge each time. The wood elf crossed his weapons on Shiver, locking the blade for a moment, and then jumped over the off hand cut from his foe.
Lavress spun left, blades out at face level, trying to escape the reach of the Nadderi killer who had him backed up near a tree. As he spun, feigning those outstretched attacks, Lavress dropped low, his leg sweeping Kendari’s, hitting the back of the knee. Just as he was swept, the cursed assassin reached with a double cut toward his enemy, catching the ear.
Kendari hit the ground on his back, blades up and ready. Lavress shook his head, feeling the burn of Shiver on his ear and the side of his face where he had been cut. The smell of burned hair and skin, moist blood and stinging, agitated him, distracting for a moment, allowing the Nadderi elf to regain his footing.
“Burns, eh?” Kendari took his traditional on guard, standing taller, blades low and head tilted down, a menacing stare and grin driving into his enemy.
“’You tell me.” Lavress moved to lunge with the kukri, then stopped and kicked under Kendari’s hand, tipping the very tip of Shiver into his chin. The burn was but a blink of an eye, drawing no blood whatever, but the pale face of the cursed swordsman turned as red as the new mark on his face.
“Now you are dead, savage.” Kendari’s grin was gone, his focus and anger redoubled, humiliated by the trick. He lunged toward Lavress, intent on a quick kill.
Shiver leapt forward, point first, and then his off hand blade cut across at the wood elf’s face, almost taking his eye. His steps precise, in time with his sword cuts, Kendari spun round with his left leading arcing cuts, followed by his right, spinning the blades in his hand for quick stop cuts rather than solid parries, which allowed him to get closer and Lavress to only be effective with the dagger.
The dance begun again, Lavress barely able to see the attacks roaring in, but his elven speed allowed him to react and keep pace. The Nadderi backed him up, then pulled his arms back to the point of pain in the elbows, striking his fist into Lavress’ face, and Shiver dove deep into his shoulder through his leather armor. The hunter did not let himself be caught off guard, and cut the dagger across Kendari’s thigh, kicked him off, and spun round the tree, regaining his stance as pain and singed flesh tried to put him down.
The two stared once again, both determined as they paced around one another. The echo of steel strikes by the hundreds rang through the sacred forest as the two masters of blade and step started again with the moons overhead in the coming night.
Beasts I:II
Cat's Eye Island
Carisian Sea
Saberrak waded into the shallow waters that the away boat had taken them to, never having set foot in the sea, let alone walked waist deep in it. Cold, chilling his body, yet he did not care, all part of freedom he thought, gazing at the strange island ahead of them. The gray minotaur, axes in hand, walked upon the small stretch of sand that foreshadowed the thick forest of strange trees too dense to see much more than high hills and steep valleys. In the near dark of night, hearing the others disembarking the small torchlit boats, he trudged ahead to
ward the inland hills, curious as he spotted something out of place.
After a bit of a walk, the horned warrior brushed aside some ferns and weeds, revealing an enormous carving of wood as tall as a two story building, ending round and engraved. The very top had an eye carved in it, open and feline, with many decorations of cats, men, and various poses of the two all down the wooden pillar that held up nothing. Saberrak assumed it to be more religious waste and walked in further. Up the steep valley floor, with a trail made for small animals, the minotaur hacked and marched his way higher, spotting several more of the wooden pillars with cat’s eyes atop them.
“Hmm, hence the name.” He smiled and followed the trails upward, sensing that there was something to see if he followed the carved totems and the trail, something he wanted to find. It was all a part of freedom and he enjoyed it immensely. There was no one here to order him to a cage, chain him, or tell him he could not walk where he wished. So, he did.
Shinayne and James helped the crew load barrels of dried breads, water, ale, cheese, wine, and other supplies onto the away boats, having found a small gathering of thatched bunkers.
All the barrels and crates were marked with the black falcon of Chazzrynn and James knew that he was now privileged to commandeer them as a knight of the realm.
“Where did our horned friend take to, my lady?” James was lifting a crate with one of the sailors, looking about for Saberrak.
“Exploring in the night. He followed the trail there, so leave some for the big beast. He should be helping here instead of wandering off.” Shinayne rolled a barrel with one of the mates.
“I will track him down. And the others?” James loaded the crate onto the away boat, patting the sailor on the shoulder and looking at the clear starred sky.
“Gwenneth is deep in study with the scroll and Azenairk is helping offload and make room below deck for all of this,” she pointed at the cargo heading back to the Bronze Harpy. “Go get the minotaur to carry these last two heavy ones, I am heading back, Sir James.” Shinayne bowed, smiling and noting that he was wearing the blue sash from the king.