The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga)

by Gary F. Vanucci

  How excited they must be to entertain such easy prey, Rose thought sarcastically. Then she thought to play along for a bit too, in the hopes of teaching them a much-needed lesson.

  This was her town, after all.

  Excitement at the upcoming battle made her hands a bit moist and she felt that heart begin to race in her chest. She could not recall the last time she felt the adrenaline rush. This was what she missed, she admitted.

  At the bottom of the alley, there was a chubby fellow on one knee and a bald man obviously simulating the act of menacing him with a dagger. She slowly walked toward them, wiping her palms on her pants to dry them

  “Leave him be,” she called out to the bald man, following suit with the game they were playing. “I’m sure he doesn’t want any trouble.”

  “But you do…,” remarked the bald man as he shoved the chubby one to the ground and headed straight at Rose. Suddenly, she sensed someone approaching from behind and felt that she might actually be in real danger. Just in time, she managed to lean forward as she felt a partial rap on the back of the head from something blunt. Her movement propelled her toward the bald man who attempted to thrust his blade into her heart.

  Time seemed to slow down for her as she forced her mind to concentrate—and then she simply disappeared, leaving behind a rather confused attacker who stopped his momentum before striking the other.

  She reappeared at the other end of the alleyway, stepping out of the shadow realm and back into the physical plane scholars named Krotto. She was angry with herself now for letting the would-be assassin get the drop on her. That ire sobered her up quickly. She felt herself go into a state of calm as her confidence came back and she steadied her breathing.

  She recognized the blonde man who was now at the near end of the alley as the man who had attempted to buy her drinks earlier. He had not seen her reappear and she maneuvered herself quietly behind him.

  This was quite the trap, she thought, seeing the plan clearly that had unfolded before her. She withdrew her prized daggers, Zaedra and Avorna, a set of magical, jagged and very long daggers. Each measured approximately from the length of Rose’s elbow to the tip of her extended middle finger. They could almost considered swords as far as blades were concerned.

  Rose saw the dark-haired man who had accompanied the blonde in the bar come into view now. He stood with the bald man and the fat one at the far end, many paces away, where she had first entered the alley. They were looking around confused after she disappeared, not understanding what happened yet.

  Perfect, she thought as she positioned herself behind the blonde one. She recalled just then that he’d introduced himself to her as Otis. She gripped her daggers tightly, becoming one with them and allowing her instincts to take over. Rose closed the gap between them fairly quickly and very quietly.

  “I’m warning you—leave now,” Rose whispered from the shadows to him. He whipped his head around, searching the darkness to discern the origin of the voice. It was dark and the shadows were plentiful on the alley walls and cobblestones. Things were about to go from bad to worse for her attackers.

  “I’m not going anywhere, wench!” Otis replied evenly to the darkness. “Why don’t you just come out and get this over with?”

  “Last chance,” called Rose to the group of would-be muggers.

  “I’m not so much worried about me,” Otis threatened. “I don’t run from women.”

  Rose swallowed hard, understanding that they would not leave. She also understood that she could simply walk through the shadows and they would never be able to follow her. She could escape right now and they would be none the wiser.

  Perhaps it was the anticipation of a fight that she’d missed, or a personal test she must overcome. Maybe it was because they were not in league with the Thieves’ Guild, who at least had a code of ethics. Or maybe it was because she believed that they would also be doing this to countless others if left unchecked.

  Something compelled her to stay.

  Once more she let herself fall into that predatory state that allowed her to survive the horrors of her youth…the survival mode that kept her alive on the streets in her adolescence.

  Yes, she thought as she approached her enemy. It was all coming back to her.

  “You were warned—remember that,” Rose stated angrily as she emerged from a shadow that engulfed her only a second ago. Otis’s surprise was evident and his blue eyes filled with dread as he felt the blades. He weakly moaned in pain as he felt the sharp edge of a pair of daggers slash across his throat. The lifeblood drained from his body quickly and he slumped to the ground in a lifeless heap.

  The three men all spun as they heard the body of their now-fallen companion hit the cobblestones. One of them gasped in horror at seeing the lifeless body.

  “Bah! I’ll kill you for what you did! That was my brother!” the scruffy one claimed as he shook with rage, wiping sweat from his unshaven, dirty face.

  “That’s it,” Rose egged them on from the far end of the alley. “Come and get it.”

  The shaggy haired one with the beard withdrew his dagger and club, one in either hand, and charged at her. The other two followed, although the chubby one was several paces behind. Rose took note of this fact.

  She traversed the shadow realm again and stepped out just to the right of the plump one’s heavy frame. With unusual speed and agility for one his size, the mercenary saw her and scored a quick jab with the brass knuckles on his right fist, grazing her, but also hitting her hard enough to draw blood.

  I underestimated this one, Rose chastised herself silently, recovering from the blow and concentrating once more through the pain.

  He thrust his dagger and stabbed at where she had been only a heartbeat ago to find that she had vanished again. Appearing behind him, she put him between herself and the other two assailants. She reached her left hand around and grabbed the man’s chin, pulling it to her left while plunging the dagger in her right hand through the base of his throat, killing him instantly. She winced at the ferocity of her own attack. She was well-versed in the art of killing, but took no pleasure in it.

  “Leave now or suffer the same fate,” Rose cautioned the remaining two, as she stepped once more into the shadow plane, disappearing from sight.

  Rose reappeared and struck the back of the shaggy one’s thigh with a thrust of her dagger, causing him to stumble forward in pain, clutching his hamstring. The bald one, who was now behind Rose, kicked out solidly, connecting with the small of her back. Her head jerked back violently from the force of the blow and the kick knocked the wind out of her. She clutched her stomach and throat and needed time to recover.

  Once more, she traversed the plane of shadow, disappearing and reappearing behind that one, who stood within the shadows.

  He spun as soon as she stepped from the darkness, as if anticipating her move, and grabbed her firmly by the neck. He smacked her once with his free right hand and then wrapped both hands around her throat, depriving her of oxygen and quickly choking her. After several seconds, he managed to get Rose to the ground and sat atop her, maintaining his death grip on her neck. He’d dropped his dagger somewhere in the dark alleyway and could not find it. He did, however, have a pair of brass knuckles.

  He swung a wild punch at Rose’s face, but she managed to block his arm and the brass knuckles with the hilt of Zaedra. She was barely conscious now and was working on instinct as the breath escaped her lungs and would not return.

  She removed her hands from his and stopped trying to prevent the choke, realizing his grip was too tight. Instead, she desperately changed tactics, handling the daggers in a reverse-grip. She launched her attack with a pair of symmetrical inward strikes, using the pommels of the weapons to strike the bald man’s ears. He released his chokehold on her throat, reflexively covering his ears with his palms as his eardrums registered a thundering cacophony of unbridled pain. With that, Rose finally gasped for air.

  Still on her back and with the b
ald one atop her clutching his injured ears, Rose began a second inward motion with her daggers, still held in the reverse-grip, continuing until her wrists crossed over one another. As she did so, the edges of the daggers slashed the front of his neck, directly under the jaw, severing major arteries. He fell backward, clutching his wounds in a futile attempt to halt his quickly approaching demise.

  He was dead before he hit the ground.

  Meanwhile, the last one managed to stem the blood flow from his leg by tying a strip of his left shirt-sleeve around the hamstring. He shook off the pain, just in time to see his partner fall from atop Rose, and she saw him. He advanced on her faster than his wound should have allowed. He was obviously ignoring the pain now and attempting to get to her before she could gain her senses.

  Rose shoved the dead man’s weight off her and stood, waiting for his advance. He swung wildly in a wide and clumsy arc with his left hand in a left to right motion. Rose jumped back quickly, avoiding the swing, and then stepped back in, allowing the magical speed of her daggers to quickly dart her left hand across her body to hit the man’s attacking arm. This action forced the man’s swing further outward and wider than he had wanted.

  This simple but effective maneuver had taken her attacker off balance and he stumbled toward her, his right hand dropping the smallish club as he fell forward. Aided by both his awkward fall and her dagger’s speed, her blade penetrated the man’s mid-section, traveling up under the rib cage, where it pierced his heart.

  Olaf felt the blood drain from his face. He was a well-trained fighter from Norgeld’s army as well as having been trained extensively with the Veldennian mercenaries. He was a hardened soldier with many years of hand-to-hand combat experience, as were all of the mercenaries who understimated this skillful woman.

  Olaf and his brother in particular, had a combined twenty or more years of seasoned combat under their belts. All four of the mercenaries had trained with some of the best combatants in all of Wothlondia.

  They had many things in common, these four.

  This night though, the only thing they had in common was that they were victims of a red-haired rogue with a pair of wicked blades and the skill to use them.

  Rose took a deep breath, trying to slow the adrenaline rush as it washed over her. It felt good, she admitted, and she craved more. It was a welcome release to let go—to release the animalistic side of her again that helped her survive her teens. And with the aid of the daggers she held, her natural prowess was doubled.

  Rose wiped the blood from her exotic daggers on the shirt of one of the dead would-be-muggers. She calmly snagged his belt pouch, retrieved the valuables from him and then the other three victims, and headed for home.

  She did not enjoy the act of killing, she admitted, but she had long ago come to accept it as part of the territory. Rose also realized that she was no longer the slightest bit inebriated.

  Dammed adrenalin rush is a buzz-kill, she mused as she headed out of the Entertainment District toward her home, not realizing that she was being watched.

  Chapter 8

  Elec knew that the presence of a giant eagle descending into a civilized town would probably incite trouble. His plan therefore was to set Adok down out of sight of Oakhaven’s gates and walk from there. Once he had informed the guards of his intentions, he would then call Adok to him using a bird-whistle, which was the customary procedure for the Wind Riders of Acillia to hail their steeds. He would have to stay the guards and their crossbows first!

  Adok landed just out of view of the city gates and Elec dismounted. He readjusted his belt pouch and bandolier of potions into a more comfortable position before striding off. He walked for several moments until he could get within earshot of a watchman patrolling the gates.

  “Good wishes,” Elec said, bowing politely before the sentry. “I was wondering if you might have a place for me to house…an exotic pet…. He is not only my steed, but my friend as well” he added, thinking to clarify his bond with the giant eagle. “Perhaps you have heard of the Wind Riders of Acillia?”

  “I have not,” he answered respectfully, looking back to one of his associates to see if perhaps he had, but he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. The man returned his attention to Elec once more. “Are you staying for The Days of Holy Enlightenment?”

  “I am not certain of the length of my stay, but it is quite probable I will be here, yes,” Elec politely responded, pulling his cloak tighter about his frame. His leather clothing was warm enough, but after weeks of flying, the sharp winds of Winter’s Bite had worn on him. The month of Winter’s Heart was around the corner, he acknowledged, but he would have to check with the time-keepers here in Oakhaven to be sure. It had been a long journey so far, Elec thought.

  “I will enquire to see what is available. There are scores and scores more people here than usual and the inns and guest housings are near bursting,” the guard admitted.

  “I understand, good sir,” Elec nodded, once more bowing graciously in acceptance of the situation. “I am also here to visit with the High Council on a matter of politics,” Elec said to the second guard that had come down the stairs of the interior wall-parapet to further greet and inspect him.

  “Then I will get you an escort to guide you through the city and to the Hall of the High Council,” stated this new guard as he adjusted his helmet, “although, it is not difficult to find.”

  “Again, I thank you for your hospitality,” Elec responded, flicking a tangle of his black hair out of his face. His hair was quite long and somewhat curly, which made it difficult to control, and one particular lock of hair wanted to hang in his eyes this day. Elec noticed that the two guards conferred and exchanged gestures and glances at Elec as they spoke, seemingly discussing his stabling issue. After a long while passed, the first guard came back.

  “We can certainly house a pet for such an esteemed guest.”

  Elec bowed low in thanks and appreciation of the respect he was offered from the guard and the city of Oakhaven. “I was told that there would be a representative arriving from the high-elven isle of Acillia. Forgive my manners, good elf,” mentioned the initial guard, while the second took to informing the men on the wall of the impending appearance of his giant eagle.

  “We have a special stable to house such magnificent and uncommon creatures,” the first guard informed. “But we haven’t had to make use of such commodities for years. How…exotic…is your steed?””

  “Quite,” he replied.

  The city of Oakhaven was evidently familiar with caring for these types of pets, Elec thought, and was pleasantly relieved. He was beginning to think that this particular city was somewhat different from most other civilizations of man and admired their people’s tolerance and charm.

  “Do not be alarmed,” Elec cautioned after he blew into the bird-whistle. Seconds later, Adok came into view. Some of the guardsmen were visibly startled, but followed their orders and made no aggressive moves that would agitate the giant eagle.

  “Stand down!” the two guards on the ground continued to instruct their newest recruits as the giant eagle dropped swiftly and landed in front of Elec.

  “I instructed you to take care!” continued the guard on the parapet, chastising a young man who held his crossbow in a hostile manner.

  “This is Adok,” Elec said calmly to the guard. “Please take great care of him.”

  The man approached the eagle very timidly and Elec whispered something to Adok. He then stepped over to the guard and handed him dried seeds, informing him that if he offered it to the eagle, it would certainly follow him wherever he went. The guard took the seeds and looked somewhat relieved. Many of the sentries on the parapet stared at the giant eagle in amazement.

  Another member of the Watch came to the gates with a city official in tow, spoke to the main guard, and then left.

  “This is Denys,” offered the guard. “He will guide you through the city and to the Hall of the High Council.”

 
; “I thank you kindly,” Elec bowed again and followed Denys into the city of Oakhaven. Elec turned back and could see the guard with Adok off in the distance, leading him away. He watched them until he lost sight in the midday sun and he paused as he heard bells toll in the distance, sounding somewhat pleasing to the ear as they chimed.

  They soon passed an impressive fountain in the main courtyard of the town’s square, behind which a resplendent structure was clearly seen. The fountain depicted some of the pantheon of the gods, carved in a type of stone with which Elec was unfamiliar.

  “Please show me this,” Elec gestured to Denys, regarding the fountain.

  “It was a peace offering made by the dwarves hailing from the Brimstone Mountains and the entire region of Hunter’s Glen. It was the very first of many offerings made after the reign of Ashenclaw. It helped resurrect long abandoned trade routes and encouraged the exchange of goods once more,” Denys said and then paused a moment. “It is a shame about the orcs.”

  Denys began to recount a brief history of the trading customs between the various races. He explained to Elec the history of the fountain in particular and some of its surrounding architecture, including a few notable statues around the square that represented the rest of the gods missing from the fountain’s base. Then he headed off toward the Hall of the High Council with Elec following closely behind, listening intently still to the man’s tales.

  The third bell tolled on The First Day of Holy Enlightenment. The steps at the entrance to the Hall of the High Council were teeming with would-be heroes, bounty hunters and the like. All manner of character, race, age, creed and sex were mulling about.

  Two women specifically noticed one another’s presence from the evening before at the Tall Tale Tavern. Both Rose Thorne, sporting a cut on her lip, and Saeunn of Chansuk took note of one another and Rose even nodded at the barbarian woman who, in turn, dipped her head back respectfully. That was the only exchange the two offered as they went back to mentally preparing and surveying the crowd. Suddenly, the main door swung open and a robed servant marched out and gave instructions.