Chapter Four:
People had always warned him that eventually he would meet the kraken, and that it would swallow him whole should he let it. He had laughed at them, confident but naive, comfortably aware of the power that filled him to the point of overflowing. He had travelled the length of Gielinor to unlock them; the bonds within his mind had snapped with little encouragement. Now, a few years later, he was regarded as brilliant.
That fateful day his reputation weighed heavily on his young shoulders. His peers looked to him for reassurance; at his side they felt safe, thought that in the presence of a master no harm would befall them. The real master, their leader, stood with them, lips tight with anxiety; they dared not mention it, but all of them were afraid. Power was heavy in the air, crackling like the sky before a storm, the deep breath before the plunge.
A lazy breeze stirred the air, scattering lacy shreds of smoke drifting from the torches around the walls. The sluggish sun skulked along the western horizon, staining the sky a rusty vermillion. As tiny stars winked into life above them, diamonds studded on the indigo velvet of the sky, shadows creeping like spilled ink across the ground before the wall, they advanced. Their numbers were few, yet the danger they posed was unimaginable, for one among then was not human.
Their approach was slow, languid, creeping forward like the inexorable tide at midnight. Robed in black, faces obscured by cowls, they were an intimidating sight; their silence contributed to the aura of fear that emanated in great waves towards the walls. About fifty feet from the walls, they stopped, forming a perfect line. Two stood apart, about another twenty feet behind.
A voice rang out, authoritative, commanding, full of self-assured power.
“Mages of Yanille! You have no chance here to resist us. Our magic is superior, our knowledge greater, and our demands are simple.
14-Jun-2011 17:29:01
- Last edited on
24-Jun-2011 17:42:40
by
Lokintr