by Sean Clark
Somewhere in his dreams, a shrill call like that of a bird had begun to echo back and forth, sometimes near, sometimes far. “To attention, Mr. Bently.” Someone yanked him by his shoulder, pulling him to a half-conscious state.
“What’s the issue?” He sat up groggily. The darkness of the night was still upon the exterior windows, and the bird call continued. Chin stared down at him as he played with his long sleeves and messy dark hair. “Up, up, I said. Something strange is afoot.”
“What’s that awful whining sound?” Bently muttered as he found his footing on the hard floor.
“It exists as a warning signal among the watchmen, it seems.” The mage announced. Bently perked up. “I suggest you put on that suit of armor.” Chin said one last warning before pushing his way out the door.
Bently quickly assembled the parts of the armor that had been buried in his collection of things pushed into the corner of the cramped room. Putting on the suit armor had become such a practiced action for him, even in the dim light the pieces came to rest upon his body almost effortlessly. It was lighter than regular armor as well. First the boots, leggings and tassets that guarded his legs, then the both sides of the chest-plate that went over his head and buckled simply with two straps at his right shoulder. The helmet slid on last, even with the clumsy gauntlets on his hands. Within a minute, he had his sword in hand, still bound, as he exited the room.
The morning light had begun to creep between the leaves and branches of the tall trees. Chin stood outside the hall, his breath exiting his lungs in big clouds, much like when he would nurse his pipe. The mage held his eyes tightly shut as he honed his senses towards the exterior world.
Bently marched up next to him, his armor making low clinking sounds. One more of the shrill bird-like calls echoed out and died within the walls of the city. Bently played with the bands of armor around his arms, adjusting them to fit more comfortably. Chin quickly placed his hand upon the metal plate, grasping it in between his thumb and fingers. “I sense something.” He muttered. “Another energy like that of your own.”
Bently swallowed hard. He scanned the dark streets intently as his eyes adjusted to the low light. “Scar, maybe Kensley could be here?”
The mage dropped his hand to his side and shook his head. “Edrian had told me they were planning to move soon. There’s no way either of them would be all the way out here.”
“Then-” Bently uttered, before being interrupted.
“The warning calls have stopped.”
Bently made sure the sword was still secure in the binding in his hand before he took off in a jog down the road.
“Stand back!” Shiloh yelled out to the watchmen attempting to push up the road past him. The dark armor took slow, calculated steps towards them up the path. Behind it, the fallen man lay limp and defeated in the street, having done nothing to be able to slow it down.
“Pass me your weapon!” Shiloh pleaded, peering back at the guard who held a tight grip on the long wooden spear with white knuckles. The man took cautious steps back, grinding the soles of his boots against the paving stones.
More of the watchmen came around the corner to the rear of the armored man. “Halt!” They ordered, extracting little more than a glance out of the intruder.
“There is only one life I wish to take here.” The voice rumbled out from deep within the suit of armor. “If you stay out of my way, you shall be left alive.”
The guard behind Shiloh tossed down the long spear onto the ground with a clatter. “If you want to die here today stranger, be my guest!” The cowardly man spat out in retreat.
Shiloh bent to the ground to retrieve the weapon, his eyes not leaving the hollow helmet of the armor. “Mandabus!” The bodyguard called out. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
Mandabus continued his slow, deliberate steps forward. “A man’s name means nothing after he is in the grave.”
“You know where you are, don’t you?” Shiloh asked defensively. He hung tightly to the shaft of the spear in his hands as he adjusted the point to be aimed at Mandabus’ neck. “The magi here will not allow you to continue unscathed, even with that suit of armor.”
Bently dashed down the street, passing Shiloh in a blur. He charged Mandabus, his shoulder meeting square in the middle of the chest-plate of the dark armor.
Mandabus grappled with Bently, seizing him with the section of armor that guarded the back of his neck, sending him flying back into the wooden building to the side of them. The wall shattered with a compound of crashes, sending splinters pouring out into the road. Bently rolled and returned to his feet, pushing out of the rubble and locking hands with Mandabus.
“About time!” Shiloh yelled.
“Get out of here!” Bently shouted in return, attempting to gain leverage against Mandabus’ grasp. “Mandabus, you have to stop this!”
The metal of their opposing gauntlets grated loudly. Bently winced. His eyes followed the movements of Mandabus’ helmet as he looked into the void within the eye slits. Mandabus’ knee lifted into the air and landed into Bently’s chest, sending him backwards. Their hands remained intertwined as Bently fell to his knees.
“Stay out of this!” Mandabus seethed as he pressed his weight down upon Bently’s shoulders.
Shiloh jumped upon Mandabus’ back, wrapping the shaft of the spear under the chin of his helmet. The dark armor writhed and attempted to shake him off. Bently pushed himself up from the ground and leaned into Mandabus once again.
The dark armor’s vicious writhing caused the spear to crack, sending Shiloh toppling to the ground. He quickly rolled to the side as Bently managed to catch Mandabus off balance, sending him to the ground where Shiloh had just been.
Mandabus rolled backwards and returned to his feet, then charging into Bently and pushing him into the rubble of the building. At the center of the structure was a tree that the house had been built about. Bently’s back made contact with the bark, as Mandabus pushed him into it, wrapping his heavy gauntlet around Bently’s neck.
Bently could feel his hoarse breath become strained as the grip tightened, causing the armor to buckle. “Shiloh, my sword!” Bently spied the weapon among the shards of wood, having dropped it during the first attack.
Shiloh dove into the building, pushing apart the splintered boards and grabbing at the binding of the sword. The weapon refused to budge as he yanked at the twine holding on the cloth covering. Mandabus continued to press Bently harder against the tree, the armor begging to budge. Bently kicked helplessly with his feet. “I am your ally, Mandabus! Listen to me!”
Shiloh gripped the handle of the sword in both of his hands, flexing his knees in order to stand up straight. His arms strained from the immense weight of the weapon. With a quick turn, he began to wind up the sword for a swing, aiming for Mandabus’ turned back.
As the clumsy swing came into range, Mandabus reacted, catching the blade in his hands. With a yank, he caused Shiloh to tumble forward from the weight of the weapon. The dark armor tossed the broadsword into the air before catching it by the handle. His other hand released Bently, but the knight was quickly trapped again by Mandabus’ foot ramming him back against the tree. The dark armor recoiled in preparation to swing the weapon, when a blinding light penetrated the interior of the building.
The sword fell to the ground with a loud clang. Charlstine stepped over the rubble and moved inside, her staff projecting the bright aura about the room. Mandabus growled, the plates of armor vibrating with a dark aura as he attempted to fight back. The Arcanus jutted the staff towards him, channeling more of her power into the spell.
Chin followed after, helping Shiloh up from the rubble. “Mandabus.” He uttered upon spying the dark armor. Bently pushed past Mandabus and out to the street, slumping down to the ground. With a loud cough, he adjusted his helmet and ran his gloved fingers down his neck and across his chest.
“I believe I- we all- are owed an explanation, Mr. Bently.” Chin accused him, stepping outs
ide.
“That may wait, Mr. Chin.” Charlstine interrupted, her staff still holding the dark armor still. “I can’t hold this… beast here indefinitely.”
“Lady Arcanus.” Shiloh patted the woman’s shoulder. “Zethurus knows of a way to cancel out some of the armor’s power.”
Charlstine looked back, her lips pursed unpleasantly. “Go, retrieve him. He is on the bottom floor of the building closest to the central hall.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Shiloh nodded and quickly stepped outside. He took off in a jog down the street.
“Now…” The Arcanus turned her attention back to Mandabus. “…you must have an important reason for having a second soldier here, Mr. Chin?”
“We believed he was dead.” Chin stated, his eyes scanning the tarnished and dirty suit of armor. “At least, that was the word passed onto us from Bently and his squad lieutenant.”
“Oh?” Charlstine pondered as she looked over her shoulder to Bently.
The knight stood up after catching his breath. “This man- our captain, Mandabus- requested he be left behind and that we tell General Edrian he perished.”
“I see.” The Arcanus nodded. She began to pace about Mandabus, her staff still held high, glowing. “Care to tell us why?”
Mandabus stood quiet, the armor trembling just slightly. “I doubt he will talk to you.” Bently interjected, loudly stepping through the rubble to the inside of the building. He carefully slid off his helm, revealing his red face and messy short hair. Cautiously, he stepped around the still armor before stopping just in front of Mandabus.
“You recognize me, don’t you?” Bently pleaded, staring into the dark eye slits. “It’s me, Bently.”
The dark armor continued to stare blankly at the back wall of the room. “I’m afraid asking for a response is too much. There is something not right with him.” Chin scoffed.
Shiloh skidded down the street outside, Zethurus dragging behind. “What took you?” Chin nodded back to the group.
Zethurus scowled back in response. “Long time since I’ve seen your face.”
“We had to retrieve his bag of things.” Shiloh explained, while Zethurus fumbled through the sack at his side.
“What do you have for us?” Chin folded his arms tightly.
“Sing root.” The mage finally announced, pulling a leather pouch out of his things. Shoving his hand inside, he extracted a bunch of skinny tubers, colored naturally sanguine red. “They only grow at the base of the mountain here. I’ve found that the pulp acts in shielding one’s self from magical forces… among other things.”
“Then it will hold him?” Charlstine asked expectantly. She shifted uncomfortably with her staff out, the light wavering slightly.
“Enough for this… thing to be properly restrained.” Zethurus growled, looking up and down the suit of armor. “I could have a bit extra, too, for this second individual.” He added, glancing at Bently.
“Get to this quickly, and maybe I will be able to save enough energy to consider lessening my punishment for you.” Charlstine growled, her staff clacking against the wall behind her.
Zethurus clamped his jaw and begun rubbing the roots between the balls of his hands, dying his wrists red with the thick liquid that seeped out. Carefully, he approached Mandabus and began tracing lines down the shoulder-plates of the armor. The suit trembled and growled from his touch. “Keep a hold on him.” Zethurus urged.
The mage continued around, tracing the thin, crimson lines over the surface of the armor. After finishing, he stepped back and took a second look at his work. “Release him, and see.” He said, glancing at Charlstine.
The Arcanus slapped the base of the staff on the floor, extinguishing the bright light. The room went dark, save the early morning sun drifting in through the shattered exterior wall. The suit’s knees buckled, and Mandabus began to fall to the ground.
Just before his knees made contact, Mandabus caught Zethurus’ wrist, pulling the mage to the ground with him. The heavy gauntlet pulled him close to the mask of the helm, where Mandabus finally spoke. “I will find my opportunity to take your life, mage.”
Shiloh quickly yanked on Mandabus’s arms, pulling him away from Zethurus and off the ground. “We shall not allow you to escape so easily this time.”
Zethurus stood up stiffly, holding his arm. Underneath the sleeve of his robe, a trail of blood had sprung, leading down to his wrist. “What is this?” Charlstine yanked at his arm, pushing back the fabric. “This is not the Sing Root, is it?”
“He’s had that wound festering for days now, perhaps a week or longer.” Shiloh called back. “I saw you tending to it on the way here, did I not?”
“Being locked up in your cell prevented me from keeping up wrapped up properly.” Zethurus sneered, attempting to pull his hand away from the Arcanus.
The woman held tight, and pushed back the blood-soaked dressing just above his elbow. “No normal wound should appear like this.”
“It was from this knight!” Zethurus cawed, finally removing his hand from Charlstine’s grasp. With a swift kick, he sent a large piece of splintered wood skidding across the ground towards Shiloh and Mandabus.
“Perhaps we must reassess the nature of your judgment, Zethurus.” The Arcanus hummed.
“Retrieve your weapon, Mr. Bently.” Chin urged, pointing to the gleaming metal under the shards of plank on the ground.
“Sir.” Bently nodded before kneeling down to the ground and finding the handle of the weapon.
Chapter Twenty Five: The Man That is No Longer
“That thing inside the armor is no longer Mandabus.” Chin remarked. He sucked nervously on his pipe, exhaling more purple smoke than usual.
“Kensley, Scarborough, and I came to a similar conclusion as we left him behind.” Bently pouted. He sat on the bed in his room, staring at the vaguely finger-shaped dents on the metal plating of his helmet. “Of course, there was no way to confirm it, nor did we want to return with an explanation sounding so harebrained.”
“Seems there was just enough intuition among you three to get at least something right.” Chin offered the false praise. “Even we of magical blood sometimes fear the effects resulting from the clash of aberrant powers. Though I doubt we could determine exactly what forces came together to twist Mandabus… and that armor… and turn it in to whatever it is now.
“You know we can’t leave him in this city. The Order will wish to have him… put down, destroyed.”
“I should not have to repeat myself, fool. That thing is no longer your captain.” Chin placed his hands on Bently’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “I doubt there is little sense left within that shell of armor.”
Bently plopped the helmet down on his bed and stood. “You can’t just say that. You heard the thing; he is after that mage here from Tulefore… Zethurus was his name.”
Chin paused midway through inhaling the smoke from his pipe. “That is the only thing driving him… it. He is not guided by a sense of duty or honor any longer.”
“I don’t know Mandabus as well as Kensley did, but I find it hard to believe he would be so easily tempted by revenge.”
“You are not listening to me. You don’t feel what I feel, the dark energy within him.” Chin paced around the room. He pushed the door open a crack and peered out into the empty central hall. “He is running on primal instincts. Like a beast. You must understand the feeling, right? When you put on the armor?”
Bently glanced at the shiny metal of the sword posed in the corner of the room. “When we assaulted the Tuleforian settlement early that morning… yes. I felt it. The blood-lust. But I always knew my underlying duty.”
“Normal men seem to be effected strangely when they are exposed to those powers of magical origin. Eventually, people find a limit to which they find hard to endure.” Chin said.
“That Arcanus managed to halt the movements of the armor through some strange means.” Bently remarked. “Same as you did to me during the squabble
with Shiloh.”
“In combat, that enchanted armor is an extension of your body, more so than a regular set. The enchantments enhance your natural abilities, but also protect you- both from outside forces, and from yourself. Most undue strain to your body is mitigated- your feet impacting on the ground from your weight, your joints and muscles hyper-extending- the enchantments protect you from all that.” Chin continued to explain, his eyes squinting in focus. “When the strength of such protection is increased, the armor halts your movements all together.”
“I see.” Bently remarked, peering at the knuckle joints on the gauntlets.
Chin turned his pipe over and tapped away at the bell, dumping bits of ash on the ground. With slow steps, he moved to the bed and picked Bently’s helmet off the blanket. “I made sure to pass onto Charlstine the technique. We were fortunate it worked on Mandabus. Who knows how that strange magic may have corrupted the enchantments, and not just the man inside. He’s been under the influence of that armor for weeks now.”
Bently quickly yanked the helmet back from Chin and placed it under his arm. “At least grant Mandabus a single opportunity… allow us an attempt to save him from himself.”
“There’s no way I can guarantee that.” Chin shook his head slowly. “First… I must consult with the Arcanus… and that man who supposedly struck him down.”
Chapter Twenty Six: Mage Blood
Zethurus collapsed down upon the chair, his limbs weak. Shiloh yanked at the sleeve of his robe, ripping the thin fabric up to his shoulder. The wound oozed thick, dark blood. The cut into the mage’s muscle was obscured by the secretion, but the surrounding skin had taken on a dull purple hue of a bruise.
“You never thought to tell anyone of this?” Shiloh’s eyes met the mage’s.
Zethurus bared his teeth. Charlstine drifted through the doorway, her robes flowing behind her. “It is no ordinary wound at all.” The Arcanus announced her arrival. In her hand, she held a sheet of folded cloth and a ceramic pitcher that sloshed with the sound of water. Shiloh stepped back from Zethurus while Charlstine yanked on his arm.