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~*~ TDT2: The Blood Debt ~*~

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Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

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Commander Bennett felt himself tiring. It was a new sensation, one that completely startled him. The battle in the throne room had gone on far longer than he had ever foreseen. Five renegade warriors holding off a squad was one thing, but eventually, they should have been dispatched. But then four of the fighters had chased after Issavan – and each other, he had noticed – and since then, another squad of reinforcements had arrived. How, then, could one single man hold back two squads of the best-trained soldiers in the empire?
Granted, he was no ordinary man. As Bennett shouted orders to his men, he couldn’t help but wonder at the warrior’s size. He was of colossal height and girth, over seven feet of solid muscle. He wore armor that was virtually impenetrable and wielded a sword almost as large as he was, gripping the hilt with both giant hands but swinging it as easily as though it were a toothpick, slicing smoothly through the ranks of Bennett’* men. Soldier after soldier he threw at this giant, and each fell to the ground in a growing heap around the man. The commander watched in horror as the blade crunched into the stomach of a soldier and followed through the motion, catching the man and flinging him sideways across the chamber to land a few yards away.
“Regroup!” Bennett barked angrily. “Retreat to me!” Instantly, they withdrew, but the warrior did*’t pursue. Breathless, injured, and terrified, they fell back down the steps and gathered around their leader as Adrian leaned calmly on his sword, watching with a small smile. His armor was dented in many places, but not yet broken, and no blood yet leaked through the overlapping plates. His sword, too, was notched and drenched in a coat of blood that dripped slowly onto the rug that covered the dais.
“Flanks,” ordered the commander. “Two groups. Surround him. We fight until he is down. We have to get to the Emperor before the other renegades do. He is one man, do you understand me? One man!”

29-Aug-2008 17:40:23

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
“What if he can’t be killed?” blurted out one guardsman in the back of the pack. At this, Adrian threw back his head and laughed, a horrifying roar that sent chills down the soldiers’ spines.
Bennett’s face was like stone. “Excuse me?*
*Nothing, sir...* muttered the young guard.
“That’* what I thought.” Inwardly, Bennett seethed. He would have killed the fool if he did*’t know he would need his useless hide to throw at this monster. Curse him for voicing his own deepest fear. He knew he’d need every man to take down the warrior, and it would probably cost him all those lives. But what if it wasn’t enough? He shook the thought from his mind and focused on reaching the king. “We can kill one man. His friends have deserted him. He is alone, and he will die in this chamber. Am I clear?”
“Yes sir!* they said in unison.
“Good. Go!” The two squads split seamlessly and rushed back up the steps. Adrian waited until the last second before straightening, gripping the hilt of the sword and twisting it upwards, sending two of the soldiers crashing backwards in a spray of blood. Then the others were upon him, tripping over each other, swarming around him, engulfing him until nothing could be seen but the occasional flash of his sword. Bennett stood back, watching, with a small smile on his face as the giant broke free and staggered sideways, blood streaming down his chest plate. Under this ferocious tide, even the most valiant would have to fall.
The soldiers wheeled, chasing him, swallowing him once more, pushing him down the steps. Adrian struggled valiantly, killing the soldiers one by one, but the time grew between deaths, and Bennett’* experienced eye noticed that it seemed to require more strength to lift the sword, and his movements became sluggish, and more blows fell accurately on his head, on his torso, and hacked into his legs.

29-Aug-2008 17:40:35

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Bennett picked up his sword and flipped it around in the air, then began to climb the steps to the dais. Slowly, he marched past his dead soldiers, barely sparing them a glance. When he reached the fray, he stopped, looking up at the monstrous man, wanting to stare into his eyes. The warrior shook off the remaining soldiers, who stood back as they saw their commander approaching. Adrian grinned wearily. “Come to make the final blow?” he asked hoarsely. “I won’t go down that easily.”
Bennett lifted his sword, watching Adrian’s body tense in anticipation, and swung the blade. The blade blurred, but then pain shot through his right arm. He looked down to see a large hand wrapped around his forearm, then traced it all the way up to the muscled arm and Adrian’s body. He fought to break free, straining his muscles, but the man’s grip was like steel. It looked effortless to the commander. Then he found himself sailing through the air, blade spinning out of his hand. The marble floor rushed up to meet him, slapped the air from his lungs in a devastating blow. His head cracked on the stone and everything went black.
The remaining soldiers watched in horror as their commander was tossed back like he weighed no more than a pebble. As blood began to pool, bright red against pale white stone, they were filled with terror. That this being could beat even their commander…all was lost. But better to go down fighting than chased down like fleeing game from a hunter, no? They were filled with a new resolve, a desperate will to survive, and flung themselves at Adrian. There were still perhaps a score left, he couldn’t count as they moved around him, and despite his easy defeat of Bennett, he was in truth tiring. As he moved mechanically, he wondered how long he had stood here, how many hours they had fought in this chamber and how many hours he had been left behind.

29-Aug-2008 17:41:14

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Raising his head to the stained glass windows in the walls he saw light slanting through, glowing like a rainbow through the various colored panes. This mixture of light poured through the chamber, shining on his armor as he battled endlessly.
There were too many soldiers for even a warrior of Adrian’s caliber to withstand. He felt it with each blade that sliced through his armor and bit his flesh, felt it with the burning of his muscles as he swung the heavy sword, felt it as the tide of soldiers overwhelmed him. It was only a matter of time before his battered legs collapsed and his weight toppled forward. Even then, on his knees, he fought them off, knowing he had to hold them back, take them down with him, give his friends a chance to find Issavan and capture him. He wanted to be there at the end just as much as everyone else, but he knew now that was not his destiny. Some part of him crumbled, crying out that it wasn’t fair, that he shouldn’t die now after all he had survived. Looking into the fresh morning light, he knew that this was his end, that he had done all he could.
The victorious soldiers roared as the warrior slumped sideways, lying on the ground, blade slipping from his lax fingers to clatter heavily onto the steps. They stopped to collect the body of their officer, and then they fled the chamber to regroup. Awash in the fresh morning light, Adrian lay on the steps, surrounded by those he had killed, and he died.

29-Aug-2008 17:41:30

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

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*~*~*~*
Arwing had run for another five minutes before reaching the intersection. There, she halted, breathing heavily. Which way had Maston gone? Her experienced eyes searched the ground for any kind of track: a smear of blood, a dusty footprint – but the stone floor was bare, save for a deep white gouge. She crouched to examine it and chalky white powder clung to her fingertips; the mark was fresh. She wondered what could have made such a mark and imagined Maston flinging his mace to the ground in his rage that his prey had eluded him. This must have been the place where he shouted his challenge to the Emperor, then. Straightening, she searched again for another sign, but found none. She would have to guess and hope that she chose right. Lives hung in the balance.
Her eyes flitted back and forth in indecision before making a choice. Turning right and beginning to run once more, she prayed she was correct.
After another five or so minutes, Kzahar arrived at the same intersection. He, too, scrutinized the **** in the ground. He appeared much as Maston had, with his nostrils flaring, his whole body rigid. “Where did you go?” he whispered to the still hall. “Where did you go, Maston?” Louder this time. The words echoed faintly, but there was no reply. Only one thought was coherent in his mind: find Maston, find Issavan. He had to find Issavan, he had to beat Maston, and he had to kill the Emperor. He turned and dashed off down the right corridor.
Lil arrived only a few moments later, the last of the group to reach this pivotal place. She paused, as had all the others, and examined the mark Maston’s mace had carved in the stone. She stared down the length of each hall, listening intently, but heard nothing. She felt lost and abandoned, alone for the first time since this adventure began.
Unlike the others, Lil chose the left corridor – but she was not the only one.
- End of Chapter -

29-Aug-2008 17:42:00 - Last edited on 29-Aug-2008 17:42:18 by Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
- Chapter Ten -
Maston ran through the corridor without stopping. It was filled with twists and turns, but never any branches. It was one way, simple, an escape route. After a while, he came to a door. It glowed faintly in the torchlight that illuminated the narrow hall. Maston slowed to a walk and tightened his grip on the mace. The door was ajar, and he felt himself tense even further, tuning his senses to every sound, smell, and sight. His own breathing sounded deafening, and he found himself holding his breath as he approached, searching for any kind of clue of life within the chamber. A small circle of light sprayed out across the floor, the flickering light of a flame, mingling with the torchlight. There were no sounds.
With the mace held tightly at his side, he clenched his other fist, and a ball of fire appeared. He had saved his magic for when he really he would really need it – when he found Issavan and had him at his mercy – because he wished to conserve his energy. Now, with Issavan inside, he was ready. He stepped through slowly, eyes darting from side to side.
To his left was a great canopy bed, decorated with violet hangings embroidered in gold. The bad was unmade, white sheets flung in all directions atop a thick purple quilt. To Maston’s right, a tall hearth flickered with a dying fire. Directly in front was a table with two small armchairs. The walls of the emperor’s bedroom were painted light lavender and decorated with paintings in ornate gold frames from floor to ceiling. The ceiling was tall, forming small arches to a high dome in the center, all the way painted in vivid frescoes. Maston took all of this in in a single glance, but only one detail mattered to him. The room was deserted. The Emperor was not here.
Maston extinguished the fireball with a thought and growled with frustration. “Issavan?” he roared. “Where are you?”
“Father? Who’s there?”

29-Aug-2008 17:43:00

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Maston froze, now noticing the open door leading to another room. The voice from beyond was high and childish – one of Issavan’s spawn, perhaps? Corynn’s orders were to leave the middle child alive, for he alone was different from his father, out of all the blood relatives, or so the goddess had said.
The warrior inched toward the door, peering into the room beyond. There was a small, dark hall, then another well lit room. From his awkward angle, Maston could see only another violet bed. It had to be one of the children’s rooms. Which one? he wondered. Suddenly, a shape appeared in the other doorway – not a young child, but a taller figure. Puffy cheeks, tousled black hair, an undertunic loosely belted over black leggings – from what Corynn had told them of Issavan’s three children, this one looked to be the oldest. He couldn’t have been older than eleven.
“Who are you?” the boy exclaimed. Maston had to give him credit; he seemed completely unafraid. “What are you doing in our castle?”
Maston had absolutely no idea what to say. They had discussed the killing of Issavan, but somehow never broached the subject of the children. None of them wanted to talk about it, and now they – he – would face the consequences of that.
“Are you one of the invaders?”
Maston took a step forward, brandishing his mace. The boy stepped back, but held up something in his tightly fisted left hand – a knife. “Stop right there!” the boy snapped with a voice that demanded authority. Yes, this must be the oldest, trained to inherit, trained to be like his father in cunning and arrogance. The boy must have been taught that all would be subject to his will – even those who invaded his castle.
“You’re his spawn, aren’t you?” Maston growled harshly.

29-Aug-2008 17:43:32

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
“You’re from the boat!” the boy exclaimed. He laughed slightly. “Yes, you are. I listened at the door while that captain brought in his prisoner! Father was right, of course you all survived. And that sniveling liar of a scholar – Father will have him killed, I’m sure.” He sounded gleeful. “You think you can take our palace and kill Father? You’re foolish, all of you.”
Maston took another step forward, anger rising at the boy’s impudence. To think he was being mocked by a child. He was losing control, now, furious at losing Issavan, more furious still that he had come upon the boy and had no idea what to do. Fire engulfed both his hands, and the boy stumbled backwards into the bedroom, fear showing for the first time in his dark eyes. Maston was startled too, but regained his composure faster than the boy.
“You think to mock me, boy?” he rumbled. “Your father will pay for his crimes – and so will you.” Another menacing step forward, raising the mace that now had flames twisting around the haft.
“You wouldn’t dare!” the boy managed, and the haughty tone returned. “I’m the son of the Emperor! I’m the heir!”
“Yes, I know.” Maston smiled wickedly. In the heat of the moment, he did*’t hear footsteps approaching down the corridor. He began to move the mace in an arcing circle and stepped again toward the boy. Issavan’s son retreated, floundered, and fell in a heap over a stack of books. The knife tumbled from his hand. Within seconds Maston was upon him, straddling the boy and pinning him down, the flaming mace held over the boy’s face. One strike was all it would take, one swing, and one threat could be crossed off the list.

29-Aug-2008 17:44:06

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Maston found his limbs unwilling to move. He stared into the young face, seeing the wide eyes and pale cheeks, understanding the terrible fear. Was the boy innocent and brainwashed, or did he comprehend and support all that his Father stood for? How could Maston ever know? What if Corynn was wrong, and he took an innocent life? How could he, in good conscience, kill a child?
He did*’t hear Arwing’s approach, nor did he notice her as she stood in the doorway, silently watching the standoff. She opened her mouth to cry out as she saw him kneeling over the outstretched body of the child, saw the terrified face over his bent shoulders, but when he did*’t move, she remained silent, waiting to see what he would do. While the others in the group feared the change that had come over their unofficial leader, his brutal ruthlessness and practicality as they set about their task, she knew the struggles he faced in his heart. She did*’t believe he could do it – she wouldn’t have wanted him to.
When she stepped into view, the boy’s face changed. “Hey! You!” he shouted. “Guard!” In that instant Maston whirled, then recognition dawned as he saw Arwing and realized he had been tricked. Too late. The boy had risen slightly, fumbling for his knife, and even as Maston turned back, swinging the mace, the blade sliced across his stomach. Then the mace collided with the boy’s face, sending blood spraying across Maston’s body. He jumped back, dropping the weapon, and staggered away. Arwing gasped at the terrible sight; the boy twitched once, then lay still. Where his young, handsome features had been a second ago was now a gaping, bloody hole. Maston met her gaze, a look of pure anguish on his face. It broke her heart to see it.

29-Aug-2008 17:44:39

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