Arise a Hero by Wayne Schreiber - HTML preview

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CHAPTER 7 – MEMORIES

 

The small group cautiously moved off into the night, the two warriors at the front, wooden spears at the ready, the two women watched the rear.  Elements of the town were still smouldering and small embers of charred debris blew about the deserted streets and buildings.

‘Welcome to my home,’ whispered Corvus, trying to raise the group’s spirits.  ‘If we go to that building,’ he pointed to a sturdy building with a tower, ‘That is a guard house.  It is defendable and will have weapons, armour and provisions inside.  It’s one of the few buildings in Croweheim made entirely from stone.’

As the group approached the already open doorway of the structure, a handful of yellow crystals flew through the doorway to land near their feet.  A bright yellow light radiated out from the crystals illuminating the whole area.  From the shadows of the door way a dark figure stepped forward into the light, sweeping his black cloak backwards from his shoulders as he purposely advanced.  It floated to the ground revealing a shining silver breastplate engraved with two golden dragons facing each other.  His hands rested on two fearsome blades, his fingers caressing the hilts lovingly as he regarded the group.  Every member of their group froze in unison.

Muffled through his crested helm, the warrior confidently addressed them.

‘Greetings travellers I have been waiting for you, my name is Titus and I thank you for your efforts of bringing these women to me.  Hand over the two females now without any fuss and I will let you two nobodies continue to live your mundane existences.’  He drew one of his blades and slowly pointed at Corvus and Henrick.

Corvus’ shuffled his feet, his anger and rage clearly swelling up within him; Henrick sensed his tension and grabbed his arm.

‘Be careful.’ he hissed, ‘I have heard rumour of some killers and arena fighters who have fallen from the Su-Katii path, I think from the look of him that he may be one of them.’

‘You are almost right stranger.  I am no reject from their training; I was once the finest of their Order, so you should know that to face me will mean your death.  Make your choice quickly.  You still have a chance for your lives.’  He tapped his sword in his hand, studying their reaction.

‘That one,’ he said, pointing at Tress, ‘The price on her head is the same dead or alive and I care not which.  You will comply at once with my command, or die.  Athene and the Tyranny will surrender and return with me at once.’

Athene shivered as she heard her name used, how did this man know her name and what did he mean by the Tyranny?

‘You others are worthless to me and may leave.  I have no contract on your lives; walk away now whilst you still have legs to carry you.’  The sound of hooves filled the town as a group of horsemen rapidly approached, those involved in the stand-off turned to face the newcomers.

A sinister group of mercenaries dismounted before entering the narrow street, there must have been at least a dozen of them, their horses were bathed in sweat for they had been riding long and hard.

‘What have we here lads?’  The lead mercenary spat out his words full with contempt.  ‘Looks like the bitch has found some company.’

‘It just means a few more lambs for us to slaughter,’ said the bearded man behind him.  He raised his spiked mace threateningly, patting its large steel head.

‘Hand over that one,’ commanded the leader, he pointed at Tress, ‘Or die.’

‘You have quite an extensive fan club Tress.  This is getting repetitive,’ remarked Henrick.  At the same time Corvus stepped out in front of his comrades, his roughly cut spear levelled towards the group of newcomers, he shouted out at them.

‘You are trespassers here in my Kingdom.  If you want the lady – just try and take her you toothless bastard, I’ll show you what a lamb I am.’

The mercenary leader quickly replied in a mocking tone.

“With that twig the worst I should fear is a splinter.’  Tired of the standoff he raised his hand and indicated to his men to take them.

Laughter spread amongst his men as they begun to advance, until the sword flew through the air and punctured the toothless bastard’s chest.  The man’s blood splattered across the faces of the warriors behind as their leader fell.  Titus swiftly leapt over the dying man, his black cloak swirling about him, in a flash his secondary blade was embedded deep into the nearest mercenary’s groin, scattering rings of broken chainmail to the ground as the blow landed.  Retrieving his thrown sword from the body on the ground, the black cloaked Titus was already accessing his next target and the screams of the injured man filled the air behind Titus as the mercenary realised his manhood had been skewered.  A large axe was swung towards the head of the black cloaked warrior who moved with exceptional speed and precision, surprisingly into the blow, blocking the axe with crossed blades and sending a vicious riposte into the assailant’s face.

The rest of the mercenaries immediately fanned out to surround the black cloaked warrior.  They were now more cautious circling the man seeking a weak spot, but none wanting to be the first to make a move.  Titus proclaimed from under his helmet.

‘The women are mine to take – as are your heads now,’ his words were made all the more chilling by the utter calmness of his tone.  With that Titus propelled himself forward beneath the nearest assailant’s guard, sending his first blade through the man’s unprotected armpit while his second blade simultaneously deflected another warrior’s lunge.  Every move from the group had been read by Titus and his swords now rained a thunderous series of lethal blows on the last of his opponents, the man was an animal butchering all that stood in his path.

Titus evaded a blow that would have killed any ordinary man and turned on his last remaining attacker, who had overextended his reach with his vicious missed blow.  Titus’s blade lashed out striking aside his opponent’s sword while his second blade hammered home directly through the warrior’s breastplate. The dying man’s eyes rolled upwards in disbelief at the force of the blow and gasping his final breath fell to the ground.  The blood splattered Su-Katii was encircled by the dead and dying warriors, a familiar sight to Titus.  Coolly flicking the blood from his blades he cleaned and sheathed them, then turned to face his former prey.

The door to the guard-house slammed shut and the deadlock clunked solidly into place.  Inside, the group breathed a sigh of relief.  They had no intention of waiting around to see the inevitable outcome of the fight and had taken up refuge in the stone guard house.’

‘Did you see the speed of that man?

All of them dead within seconds.’  Athene was amazed.  Before this week the most violence that she had witnessed were just the alcohol fuelled brawls and the occasional stabbings in her mother’s inn, none of them fatal.  Now she trembled with shock and adrenaline, the reality of her situation began to dawn on her that a professional killer of fearsome ability was now hunting her.  Somehow sensing her distress Henrick gently patted Athene on her back.

‘Sometimes my dear, running is the most sensible choice, I’ve seen one of these Su-Katii fight before, it was along time ago when I was back in the Tanarian Lancers.  There were a large band of Uphrian raiders terrorising the villages up in the Hinter Mountains.  The fighting grew so ferocious that the raiders had routed the local garrison, so they sent for help.  Luckily a Su-Katii general was in the region conducting a training exercise and he managed to reorganize the demoralised troops.  I was part of the relief column that rode out with him, but instead of just sending the troops in to deal with the raiders again, he called them all together and told them that they would all be returning home to their families shortly, but before that was possible, he needed their help with the clean up.  He then rode out alone, as bold as brass directly into the raiders’ camp.  Their archers fired at his approach, but he cut the arrows from the sky before they could strike their mark.  Their strongest warriors then charged at him, but he swept them aside like children.  Anyone who stood before him was reaped like the summer hay.  As I recall it was almost like watching a dance – a dance of death.  True to his words he slew the raiders’ leader and any that stood in his way, only three of his men were wounded in the ensuing fight as they rushed to his side and all of his troops returned home that night as promised.  Unlike our friend outside he was a good man and it was extremely rare to find a man who keeps his word.  That black cloaked warrior outside, he moves with the same precision as that Su-Katii general who led us into battle that day.  We should be cautious, from what I remember of the Su-Katii I have no doubt that he has the ability to make good his words.’

‘Pah, I have not yet met a man that I could not best,’ growled Corvus, more to raise the group’s spirits than in a spirit of bravado.

‘Let’s not find out,’ replied Henrick.  Athene took her mind off things, busying herself by preparing the fireplace with logs stacked nearby; she craved warmth after her gallivanting about in this frozen wasteland.  All she needed to find now was some kindling and a flint and steel, Nordheim was still a backward nation in many ways.

Realising that they were now trapped Tress then suggested that they should first ensure that the place was locked down tight before finding out what was at their disposal in the way of food and weapons.  As she said this she picked up one of the glowing yellow crystals by the doorway and placed it high to fully illuminate the room.

‘You know,’ said Tress staring deeply into the light of the crystal, ‘These things are nothing more than a by-product, an accidental waste from a great spell cast thousands of years ago, or so I was told.’

‘By Krakan, I hate those things’ sneered Corvus, at the sight of the crystal, then he quickly moved off to double-check all the locks and doors.  He shouted over to Tress, ‘There is a trapdoor with access to the roof of the guard tower, make sure it is bolted.’

They moved about their checks quickly.  Corvus went off to the armoury as Athene rummaged through the cupboards eventually finding the means to start the fire and she was delighted when she discovered a large stockpile of provisions.

‘Perfect,’ she thought, they were brimming with food, smoked meats, cheese, oat cakes, all ideal for trail rations.  There was even some fresh food that was still edible.  She decided to get the fire started rather than use any of the numerous crystals that still littered the floor, some were shattered from the magic that had rocked the town, but there were enough blue ones still usable to substitute the fires heat.  She surmised that if their magic did not affect them the first time it was unlikely to now.  Besides she was not about to go outside to get away from them, instead she kicked the crystals away from her, it would still be a long time before she could trust their use again.  Corvus returned from the armoury clearly impressed with the huge twin-headed axe he had discovered judging by the dreadful smile on his face.

‘Has anyone checked to see what our stalker has been up to?’ asked Tress.

‘I would have expected an axe beating at the door by now, or perhaps a fire or…’ Corvus cut Tress short speaking as if addressing a crowd.

‘This building was constructed with one thing in mind, defence.  The thick oak door was cut and reinforced with steel and the stone foundations were dug deep.  It would take considerable time and effort to try and force us out.’

‘What hope do we have then?  Should we just try and sit this out, I don’t think that he will leave …or what do you suggest?’ Athene asked.  As they spoke Tress’s inquisitiveness took over and she opened one of the archers’ arrow slits that lined the wall, letting in the cold night air.  She strained her eyes against the darkness trying to make out any movement in the deserted streets beyond.  Suddenly her head jerked backwards as a throwing knife whistled past her nose through the three inch opening, clattering harmlessly against the wall behind.  Henrick bounded over and quickly closed the hatch.

‘Don’t get nosy or you’ll lose it – make sure you keep them locked shut.’ he cried out.

‘That was close,’ exclaimed Tress with relief, her heart was still pounding and now she just felt a little ashamed at her curiosity getting the better of her brain.

‘I think it is safe to say that our friend is still out there and has a modicum of skill with daggers as well as swords,’ Henrick said, extending his arm to comfort her.

Athene glanced across the room and noticed Henrick’s arm around Tress and her head nuzzled close to his chest, she could feel the jealousy rise in herself.  She knew that there was no true emotion in the action, she was just weary and cooled her mood by distributing some watered-down wine and cured ham hoping that a meal would warm their spirits and her own.

‘What should be our next step then gentlemen?’ asked Tress finishing off a large chunk of ham.  Corvus replied with his public speech tone of voice.

‘With no immediate escape plans between us, I believe that the most important thing at times like this is a good night’s sleep.  Henrick you take first watch, good night,’ and with that he rolled over towards the large fireplace and embers that had now settled to a warm glow, he drew his cloak over his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

‘Where on earth did you find him?’ questioned Tress sarcastically.

Henrick stalked round the various rooms often freezing completely still and straining to listen to the side of the door or window shutter, Athene could not help but watch him, every time he stopped Athene’s heart would miss a beat.  She soon decided that it would be a long and stressful night if she continued to watch him so she turned her attention to Tress who sat sharpening her boot knife.

‘You mentioned the origins of the crystals earlier; please tell me more about them.  I know that they are valuable, but I had hardly heard of them before my time on the Merchants’ trail.’

‘Very well, I’m no expert on the matter, but I used to have a master who …I mean, an associate of mine who used to practice in the ways of magic and would tell me of events from the past.  He once told me a tale that explained the origins of the crystals and their magical properties.  He explained that the beings that we currently perceive as our Gods were the offspring of a mighty magician from a foreign world, his powers were beyond belief and the tales suggested that he was the founder of our civilization and that with his arrival he brought magic to our world.  His wife was from his own world and also a powerful enchantress.  In later years when their children had grown to maturity, becoming young adults, there was a treachery uncovered within the family.  I guess it’s in a person’s nature to crave power.  As I understand it, not all of the children were guilty but through a deception each of his three children were implicated in some way and with great sadness in his heart he prepared to deal with his children in his own way.

Unfortunately the magician’s considerable might did not match his wisdom as he spoke of the events and his final decision to his wife.  In some versions of the story it was his wife who was deceived into twisting his spell in order to save her children, tricked into believing that he would bring harm to her offspring she sabotaged his magic.  Instead of ending their lives, his spell was reversed and ended up preserving them, in another version that I read he was merely casting a spell to reveal the truth in their words, but in either version the magic ended up entombing their children and burying them deep within several rock faces for an eternity and at the cost of her own life.  The magic gasses created from such a spell were enormous and hung like clouds in the sky for days, eventually they sunk downwards into the ground and settled, penetrating the porous rocks solidifying and eventually, in time, crystallizing.

‘It’s amazing how these tales manage to survive over so many hundreds of years, I wonder how much truth is actually in them?’ added Athene.

‘It was thousands of years ago – and we know because the children still exist to tell of such things.  That one who waits outside for us, he serves one fraction of them – he is ‘Su-Katii’ and a warrior of the God-King Hadrak, child of Myridin the Great.  All that are bound to him, follow the path of the warrior and a life of battle.  The others that have brought destruction to this land and who I suspect are behind the war that threatens our nation, are the followers of Queen Soredamor, the second child entombed.  The members of the ‘Brotherhood of Keth’ are her followers; they are bound to her will - with each one of her followers also becoming her lover on achieving rank in their sect.  She is said to have beauty beyond compare and her Brotherhood will stop at nothing to meet her requests. They all love to meddle in our affairs as they have none of their own.’ She sighed.

‘I never knew such events had gripped the world or that such people existed,’ gasped Athene.  ‘But you mentioned that there were three children imprisoned for eternity – what happened to the third?’

‘King Hadrak documented him as dying with his mother but to be honest nobody knows – the imprisoned ones have little knowledge of their peers, perhaps we just have not found his resting place yet?  Anyway I digress - back to the crystals.  I once read in an ancient text that surmised that many elements were combined in the great spell that shook the world.  After the magic was dealt, excess gasses escaped the orbs that imprisoned his children in a new dimension.  Each magical gas contained an element that was designed to sustain their requirements for comfort and immortality.  Their mother had reversed the effects that were designed to strip them of these properties.  Warmth, light, strength and regeneration from injury were the primary elements, although the page of the scroll that I read these details from was badly damaged and there appeared to be more effects listed.  But I would not read too much into these ancient legends and inscriptions – I once read another that told that we were all descended from frogs.

Athene at last relaxed and showed the fainted curl of a smile at the suggestion.  ‘You know Tress I wish I had met you before all of this.’  She reached over and gave her a hug, inwardly chastising herself for her earlier feelings of jealousy and then retired to one of the deserted guards bunk beds that lined the wall.

‘Good night,’ she loudly whispered and rolled her face into the darker side and fell asleep.

Tress’s dreams that night were troubled – not an uncommon experience, her talk of the past had jolted the re-occurring memories of her dark years of slavery that returned to haunt her occasionally.  She could remember so little yet in her dreams a sudden and shocking image of herself would often appear.  Sometimes she would cry out loud in her sleep but fail to remember the details when she awoke.  Those dreams now took her back to her first mission for her new master, Zerch, who after nearly six years of patient training had decided that it was at last, time for a test run.  Tress’s first test had been to steal the Heart of Ellacker, a great cut diamond the size of a fist, it was said to contain the soul of an ancient princess.  From her library studies she could recognize most items of relevance and power at a single glance and recalled that the diamond had the power to restore youth to its owner, it appeared to her that there were many ways to restore lost years, if you know how.  Zerch had tracked its ownership to a wealthy merchant who had no idea of the relic’s purpose or powers, but the fool of a merchant knew how to protect his wealth.  His strong room had burly guards and protective magic seals to hold them tight, (a fellow magician had tipped Zerch off after completing the assigned work for an extra sum).  It had been a late night when she had enticed the doorman to break the cardinal rule of not allowing strangers in, but with her scantily-dressed clothing half-ripped from her imaginary assailant he could not turn down the damsel in distress routine.  Her cover story had been that of a dancer returning home, she was trying to escape several brutes in the dark streets and had happened to bang on the merchants’ quarters for help.  The encounter had not been left to chance.  Zerch’s agents had followed each of the four men that worked in shifts in the kitchen, it was the obvious choice as its door backed onto the alley way.  Each man had been assessed regarding his attitude, and the single and compassionate Anton, who regularly visited his elderly mother had been marked as the soft touch, Zerch reckoned him the most likely to let her in.  As he unlocked the door and put his arm around the tattered girl to reassure her, she blew the magic compound into the man’s wrinkled face.  He instantly fell to the ground incapacitated.  She then had the run of the household.  In her early days as the magician’s thief she did not have the luxury of her magical cloak to help her complete her missions.  Instead she had to do things the old fashion way, sneaking about through the shadows and avoiding the creaking floor boards, she followed the layout imprinted in her mind that had been supplied by Zerch, how he obtained the plans, she never knew.  On tip toe she was ever mindful that six guardsmen and two other servants also shared these large quarters tonight.  Her recurring dream would often miss out the smaller details as it replayed, such as how she had passed the guards, disarmed the magic seal and picked the strong rooms lock on that dark night.  However her dreams never failed to replay the first time she had been forced to kill someone.  Like most killings it had been an act of necessity, yet even now she was still overcome with remorse.  The boy had been sent by a hungry guard to fetch a night-time snack and had himself been bare footed and silent in his approach.  As he padded around the corner he came face to face with Tress, his jaw dropped and almost instinctively from her relentless training her dagger shot forwards deep into his throat.  He instantly collapsed like a ragdoll slumped into her arms, covering her body with dark spurts of blood.  She had gently put the body to the ground, deliberately avoiding looking down at the lad’s face, yet in her dreams the head would always turn and look up at her one last time with a horrified expression.

Zerch had been a man of considerable means and power.  She knew that he was part of the Brotherhood yet he never seemed to have any contact with them.  His past was unknown, but without doubt he was not a man to be taken lightly and unusually, if necessary, he was not afraid to get his hands dirty.  He had coached Tress over several years – perhaps teaching her too much, honing her skills in assisting his pursuit of attaining relics of power.  He was hard on her but on the whole not unkind; he had even mentioned the possibility of freedom on one occasion.  Five more years of service and the promise could be fulfilled, although Tress was realistic about these promises and he had spent as long training her, yet he seemed to be searching for several items in particular, perhaps he would make good his word and free her if she managed to steal everything that he desired?  As time in his service went by, the jobs that she had to undertake became progressively harder and a lot worse.  The long term seductions and betrayal of confidence jobs were the worst, when she had to spend months turning her mark into her lover and the inevitable betrayal that followed often petrified Tress.  On one such job in distant Menchata she had even genuinely started to cultivated feelings for the man.  He had been a prince, which had helped fuel the romantic influence that filled her mind, having never known such feelings could even creep inside a young girl’s head before.  After three months of a different life the betrayal had devastated her as much as the prospect of no longer feeling his caring touch.  Zerch’s hold over her had been alarmingly strong but after she had discovered how life could be on the other side she began to crave it more and more.  She used every technique that she had been taught to hide these new feelings but ultimately Zerch learned of them and adjusted his magic to erase them.

With every job the stakes got higher and when, on one occasion her misleading intentions were discovered by her mark as she rummaged through his strong box, she was required to fight for her life and Zerch ever near had needed to rescue her.  With each successful job her master’s trust in Tress and her abilities grew so that she was eventually entrusted with, and trained in, the use of many spells of great practical uses, but of course none to equal her master.  Tress was later trained in the use of more powerful relics and items, including her current enchanted cloak.  She knew better than to let Zerch know quite how advanced she had become in some areas of her training and of the growing fear of failure and capture, but he was a smart man and would be close to realising it.   She accepted that it was just a matter of time before she may not return from one of her missions and she decided to act whilst she had the best tools for escape and several years of her master’s trust.  One night seizing an opportunity to escape she stole the relics that she knew would keep her alive and ran.

She was still running now.

She rolled over disturbed by her last thought and her dreams were filled with nicer memories, her romantic encounter in the bar.  She had been so drunk that even the dream replayed a hazy image, had it even been real or was it just another one of her wild and vivid dreams?  She had been so unusually full of joy that night, the feeling was so overpowering that even dreaming about the night flooded her with warmth.  Perhaps after all this stupidity she would attempt to track down her lover and relive her experiences again.  She struggled to guide her dream into remembering his features.  A face loomed back at her, his face bore many similar feature of Zerch.

She sat bolt upright suddenly awake in a cold sweat, looking about at the stillness of the room, she reassured herself that it had only been a dream.  She did not fall back to sleep but unknown to her; she would never remember the encounter again.