Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

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Raithial
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Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#1 Post by Raithial »

The Flight
For a second Syriscia had thought she'd eluded the dark riders but more followed, and they combed through the forests. They seemed like dark shadows, cramping up on the betrayed sorceress. She sped through the forest as best she could riding on the black steed. She was careful, but she soon ran into a river, trailing south. She figured that if she stayed near the river, she'd be safe at least from the unwanted eyes of the Druchii.
She overheard voices talking in the distance, declaring her a traitor and revealing her participation in the cult of pleasure. she felt both offended and disgusted by it, but she had no choice now; she hád to escape from the vicinity of the druchii warcamp; but it was exactly that camp that stood between her and the border to the Asur's land, where she would allow herself to be captured if need be... anything was better than the fate that awaited her amongst her kin. Her hands trembled as she heard the clanking of metal armours rummaging through the bushes with heavy swords. If the Executioners were after her, she figured her fate would be sealed already; those men left no cultist alive, and neither any traitor. Come to think of it, they pretty much left none alive aside from their commanders.
Syriscia sped along the river on the back of her horse. The hooves of the animal sank a mere little in the hard mud along the bank of the river. She then came to an opening, and she could see the overtaken fort from the opening in the forest, but she knew that they had not seen her yet. Groups of Dark Riders patrolled the open field and in the sky above the fort a flock of harpies circled, searching for prey.
Her heart pounded in her chest and she weighed the chances of her reaching the other side of the clearing; it was roughly four hundred meters or so, and it was a clear dash, but the Harpies would spot her before she would reach the other side... She had little choice though, if she'd stay, she'd be caught and executed in a public setting to set an example for her fellow cultists...
She spurred on the horse and the animal jumped forward. The horse made a mad dash as Syriscia lifted herself slightly out of the saddle and allowed the animal freedom in the reins to bolt as fast as it could.
She had overthought the situation eerily keen, as she wasn't even halfway over the clearing or the black cloud of Harpies flocked her way and a group of Dark Riders came bolting out of the fort her way.
Syriscia's horse grunted with each pace, and it's black manes were like dark fire. Syriscia went on forward, and one hand instinctively reached for her dagger as she saw the shadow of harpies on the ground. She rode further, and noticed she had already made it at least three quarters of the clearing when a harpie swooped down and lashed out at her, hitting her arm. Syriscia felt the talon tear her flesh and she let out a cry of anguish and pain, before lashing out with her dagger into the throat of the creature. Black blood sprayed from the gaping wound of the thing as it fell down. Several others now descended on her, lashing at her. Red blood seeped from the wounds over her back and arms but soon the harpies ducked away for the trees as Syriscia had made it through the clearing.
The Dark Riders still followed her trail and were gaining on her. Syriscia did the only thing she could do at that moment, She grabbed hold of a low hanging branch and let it slide through her hand. Small stubs in the branch tore open the palms of her hands but the branch whipped the horse of the Dark Rider in the face, and the beast pranced and roared in pain, stopping the riders from advancing.
Syriscia quickly rode on. The pursuit had gone on for some time, and Syriscia felt her body aching and she noticed the horse was about to give in to the agony, as an arrow had embedded itself in the flank of the animal, and harpies kept harassing her.
They came to an opening in the woods again, and there was a large grasland ahead. She rode on, and the harpies kept flocking her. One of the creatures lashed at the horse's head and it reared up, kicking the harpy with it's front legs, Syriscia cried out and lost her balance, falling on her back in the grass, and the black cloud of harpies surrounded her, lashing at her, squeeling in pleasure at the pain they inflicted, when suddenly, a large shadow flew over the harpies, and one of them cried out. A sharp sound was heard, and then the rending of flesh and the snapping of bones.
The harpies stopped and looked up. In her daze Syriscia could make out how the harpies flew up, and were plucked out of the sky with large talons, and fell dead around her.
She heaved in pain and her vision had become one blur. Red blood covered nearly her entire body and the agony was unbearable. Then all turned black, the pain stopped and all sound became muted.

Refuge
Syriscia opened her eyes painfully, and noticed she only saw through one. Her hair was clotted with hard blood and when she looked down at her body, she was nearly completely covered with white bandages with the occasional red blot through them. She felt a familiar soft bed under her and rested her head on the pillow. She looked around for a second, and noticed she was not in any tent of the Druchii, or the Asur. The walls were made of white stone, and on the floor was a clean white carpet. It was dark outside, and the room was illuminated by a number of torches.
She heard voices outside a pale wooden door, and she stepped out of bed to listen.
"no no no no no! Keldarior, keep your lips together about this. Your orders stand, you will not harm anyone while they are under the protection of my house." She remembered that voice... It sounded familiar, it had the same clear and sovern tone to it as the Cothician prince...!
"M'lord, I fully understand your feelings on this matter, but your father is very clear; you must either send her out, or kill her and dispose of the body." another voice said, presumably this Keldarior, Syriscia thought.
"If my father demands such action, have him say it in my face, and tell him to bring an army, because I have no intention of following that order, even under paying of arrest!" The regal voice said. His tone was stern, and uncompromising.
Syriscia went back and sat on the bed, trailing her fingers over the bandages over her arms. She sighed, wondering if she'd made the right choice to hide from the riders... wondering if death had not been more welcoming than the fear she felt now, and the rejection.
The door then swung open and with quick paces an elf wearing blue garb stepped in. He had dark blonde hair trailing his head with a slight curl in it. His eyes were dark and seemed to be full of sorrow still. He forced a smile on them when he saw the sorceress upright in her bed. "ahh, you are awake." the man said. with a kind look on his face.
Syriscia nodded, standing on the verge of tears, as all the stress and fear from the attack sped through her body... "how... how long..?" She barely managed to utter.
"nine days." Rethon said softly. "you were asleep for nine days. A patroll of eagles spotted you on the ground, being attacked by harpies and mistook your cloak for one of those of the White Lions of Chrace, so they brought you to the closest safe place they could think of. You were lucky they found you, and even more lucky that that safe place ended up being my home."
Syriscia felt a spike of nausia overcome her, and Rethon quickly handed her a wooden bucket. She bent forward, and spewed forth bitter disgusting gall into the bucket, before putting the bucket next to the bed and laying down again.
"Some would call what you had luck... I think there is something more at play here..." Rethon said hessitantly. "The eagles don't normally soar so far from the mountains on patrolls, and there were a number of them that I had never seen, and I think I can safely say that I know nearly every eagle that lives in the vicinity of my home."
Syriscia opened her mouth, but found herself grabbing for the bucked again and only releasing more gall.
"you don't need to speak; you're going through a phase of withdrawal." Rethon said. "Your body is coping with the lack of magic from the dark gods. That's why you're so ill." The man said. "I've had some servants prepare a meal for you, for when you feel like you can eat. It's not a big meal, but you should feel better afterwards."
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Raithial
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#2 Post by Raithial »

(( I will be restructuring the writing-style a bit into small segments with each a separate title, to keep track of it myself. :3 So don't be alarmed by a sudden shift. It also helps me spend more time with the characters as I felt the ending of part 1: the sorceress was a bit rushed, despite it being for 30% intentional))
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#3 Post by Aicanor »

This prince of yours must be a kind of saint. 8) I see you (or elven gods?) changed the course of the story.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#4 Post by Raithial »

yeah, sorda changed some parts around to fit my agenda better ~w~
And he's not exactly a saint, but his favoured deities are Lileath and Ishha, so that might have rubbed off a bit. It's hard to say too much without spoiling for the rest of the story, but let's just say that the truthsayer hasn't made his last appearance. :3
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#5 Post by Aicanor »

It is interesting turn of events. I am also quite curious about what the Dreadlord was trying to achieve with his actions (beside the obvious :))
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#6 Post by Raithial »

Teacher
Syriscia made her way to the courtyard, dressed in a deep blue nightgown. She stood in the doorway when she looked outward at the pasture. She felt a certain peace had come over her, since she passed out during the mages visit.
In the courtyard Rethon was training his horse. The animal moved with strong motions, and though a mare, she had the temperament of a stallion. She moved to the beck and call of Rethon's most minimal of movement. lifting a hand was enough to put the horse from a canter to standstill. A small motion with his head brought the mare closer to him, and with a small turn of his hand the animal bowed before him.
Syriscia moved slightly forward, and the animal came up with a jerk and came in between the prince and her, before the prince put his hand on the shoulder of the horse and the animal quickly backed off. Syriscia seemed surprised at the inate obedience of the animal.
A soft cold breeze flowed over the land, and Rethon's long hair flowed in the wind as he looked with piercing eyes like those of a bird of prey. "You seem to be doing better." Rethon commented, and Syriscia nodded, sighing slightly as she looked up. Several grand eagles circled the mansion. "Can I ask you something?" She asked. Rethon nodded with a soft look on his face.
"Why did you save me?"
Rethon grabbed the woman's hand and put in the chest of his horse. "Feel." He said. "that heartbeat, it is the drum of life." He then guided the hand to his own chest, and then to Syriscia's chest.She then looked at her hand, having felt the heartbeats. "so long as these hearts continue to beat, any efford is worth to keep them beating; for as long as a heart continues to beat, and breaths are drawn people will have a chance to fight and correct their mistakes."
She was unsure of what to make of it... "But.. once you've lied you'll always be a liar..."
Rethon smiled at her. "only to those who don't forgive others." The horse looked at the woman, and it moved it's large head against the arm of the man. "A beaten horse can forgive it's master if the master is kind. An eagle, once wronged is a fierce enemy, but if you work hard and earnest you will regain it's trust. If these creatures can do this, why cannot we be as forgiving as well?"
"You seek to be more like the beasts than to become great as the elves?" Syriscia asked with a quick tone of condescension.
"What makes you think animals are any less than us elves? We have the same hearts, our lungs breathe the same air, and we walk this same earth.." Rethon said.
"But the elves have mathematics, arts, and literature." Syriscia countered.
"None-the-less, arts, math and literature are mere constructs of the way we view the world, we seek to create an order that we impose... but that doesn't mean our way of working is neccesarily better then theirs.. Our mastery of the winds of magic is equal to some of the beasts. Dragons, and Unicorns are also capable of wielding the winds of magic, and my spear is less fearsome a weapon than the talon of an eagle." Rethon explained. "Once you've seen the wind of Ghur, and have felt it course through you, you will see things differently."
"The wind of Ghur is for savages and primitives..." Syriscia said with a distrusting look.
"Savages and primitives, you say?" Rethon chuckled. "Ghur is a delicate wind, and those blessed by Kurnous will be granted great power by that wind. My mother is a mage of Ghur, and she can teach you a lot about it.." His voice was amused by the stern look on Syriscia's face.
"what can I say to tell you what it's like to have a mage of Ghur as your mother, and a prince of Cothique as a father? My house was devided. On one hand you had the prince, who's spearmen and soldiers were the most excelent army, but he was stubborn and stoic. He was proud to have gotten a son, and he aranged for me to train amongst the finest nobles of Cothique. He used to say that I wielded a sword better than Aenarion himself... ofcourse those are the words of a proud father, and I am nowhere near as good as he. He taught me to never surrender on the battlefield, and to make my troops count; to make them hold the line and be brave.
It was my mother however, who brought me a horse. She had aranged for my horse from Ellyrion, from the finest breeder, it came. She told me that with this gift, I had also been given a blessing of Kurnous. She taught me to care for her, to ride her, and to fight on her, this horse. When we first met, I had already lost my heart to her. My mother said to always trust an animal on the field of battle, and never to fight alone.
My mother had seen my future already on the face of my father; she knew he would not allow me to learn the winds but to fight by the sword and the spear, and thus aranged my horse, telling me to be carefull. Her gift was also a binding to me, for if I lived and this horse would die, I would have disgraced my entire family in the eyes of Ellyrion, from whom we recieve most of our horses. She also taught me to bind the lions of Cothique to my will, to gather then to me in times of need. She taught me to master the greatest of predators, our great eagles. She taught me, by those lessons, to look at everything and everyone as intelligent beings, and that if you can, it is better to convince them to fight with you, than to just eliminate them."
Syriscia looked at him, anc chuckled for a second. "I suppose that does make sense, when you look at it from that perspective..."

((I know, it's been some time since my last post in the story, but I had to think up a lot of the backstory to why Rethon acts the way he does. Much of that backstory will be explained in the next segments of the story, now that I've got some breathing time between Rethon and Syriscia.
I also want to delve a bit into Cothician culture, of which a mere little is written in the armybook. I do intend to take a particularly greek influx into the culture, particularly in their social interactions and the reverence to their gods, but also their education))
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#7 Post by Aicanor »

I liked their discussion. More about culture of Cothique will be very welcome.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#8 Post by Raithial »

At the Table
Syriscia strode through Rethon's mansion, while sober and light to her eyes, she could easily sense the history in it's halls. Lines of helmets decorated with eagles feathers stood in rows, edged by a collection of weapons and shields, many of them were spears, but there were also swords, halberts and bows in the hall. On the other side of the hall, were tapestries, woven of thick warm fabrics of wool. they showed the history of the family.
Syriscia strode through the halls, but she knew that the watchfull guards at the door paid attention to her. A number of officials carrying scrolls and books, and talking to each other. Syriscia recognised one of the officials; it was the arrogant Eatainian prince Elralior! Luckily the Eatainian walked on without noticing her. Syriscia's heart had stopped for second; for she knew that if the prince could get away with it, he'd have slain her right there and then.
She stood silent for a while, Soaking up the air, and closing her eyes as a fit of nausia flowed over her... She could feel it tugging at her, and she had trouble to not throw up.
She grabbed one of the columns that protruded from the walls and leaned on it. She took deep breaths through her nose and waited a while before finally it subsided.
She felt sick to her stomach each time one of the waves hit her.
After some time it disappeared, and she stood upright again. A clear voice rang through the hall; "Dinner is served." followed by the gentle ringing of silver bells and a shout of a beautifull brass horn.
Several lords came from their studies and strode down the marble stairs, before heading towards the sound. From the stables came forth Rethon, and his Chracian companion Tarlas.
Rethon raised a hand at Tarlas as they passed the sorceress and Rethon held out his hand to her. "will you join us at dinner?" He asked gently. For a moment, Syriscia was awestruck. "Are you sure that is suitable for a refugee to join the lords of this house?"
Tarlas bellowed a deep chuckle. "A refugee in the house of Rethon? When you are in the house of Rethon anyone to whom he speaks is a guest." The Chracian voice was deep and dominant, despite his frivolous tone.
Rethon, Syriscia and Tarlas were guided into the dining hall.
The hall was long and dominated by two rows of grand tables. The tables were made of beautifull dark-red wood and inlaid with a beautifull mosaic, displaying many great heroes, and the tale of the sundering.
The hall had large marble statues in each of it's six corners, and in the alcove at the end stood a small shrine.
Rethon guided Syriscia to an empty chair and then Tarlas a few chairs away from her. Syriscia felt uncomfortable at the table, and she recognised many of the nobles from her imprisonment still. She noticed their disapproving glances.
Rethon walked up to the shrine, and placed in a bowl piece of stag-meat and filled a chalice with red wine before bowing. He clapped his hands three times and then kneeled once before walking back to the empty chair next to Syriscia.
The congragation then also clapped three times and bowed quickly before digging in.
Syriscia nudged Rethon for a second. "What was that about?" She asked.
"A small prayer to Kurnous to thank for the bountifull hunt the Chracians returned with to my home." Rethon said with a short smile to the Tarlas and to several of the other Chracian nobles. Then the dinner began, and the murmers of talk were heard over the table. Whispers of the situation were soon silenced by the joyfull voices talking of the hunt, and the pleasantries of the fishermen.
Dishes of baked and grilled fish and meat were prevalant on the table, and syriscia wondered how these dishes had become so many, even in times of war. She felt guilty, and kept quiet a lot of the time, when she wasn't spoken to, and when she was she answered with short carefully constructed sentences, carefull not to reveal her birth to these people, while she was already dining amongst the nobles of Chrace and Cothique, she still realised all of them viewed her kind as enemies. She kept her head low, and ate quietly while everyone spoke joyfully of their homes. Eventually an Yvressian noble looked at Syriscia with a curious look, and asked the inevitable question. "And you, what tales have you from your homeland?"
Syriscia looked a bit frightened by the question and was unsure of how to answer. A roiling fear went through her body untill her eyes glazed at the Cothician Prince Rethon and his Chracian ally, Tarlas. She swallowed nervously and then opened her mouth. "I'm not from a happy place. There is blood, and always the preparations for war there, cruel rulers with barbed whips and merciless eyes who drive servants and slaves ahead with evil pleasures." She admitted. "Truth be told I am not from here, not from Ulthuan." Syriscia said with slow delibirate movements in her voice. "I come from a place where living in luxury was achieved through the enslavement of lesser races, and where the strong crush the weak beneath heels barbed with iron. I left that place behind me, and I am still frightened that my former lords might send assasins after me, to stop me from revealing important information to their most hated enemy.
Nagaroth is a place where children become hard and take joy in the pains of others."
Princes, Nobles and mages looked up in disbelief. "So you're a spy?" One of them asked.
"Would a spy so honestly discard her mantle of deciet in the middle of a conversation at the table? Would a spy who could easily have poisoned all your foods dine with you from the same table? No, I am no spy; I am a traitor to my bloodline; but I am not a spy." Syriscia said.
Several nobles raised up, declaring their indignity of sitting at a table with a traitor, but then Rethon raised his hand calmly, looking at the nobles who stood up with stern eyes. "Calm yourselves, afore you make poor judgements based on someones heiritage. You did not just me by the pride and arrogance of my father, yet you still dine at my table, even after I branded him unfit to rule."

The fall
"Rethon, why have you been so foolish as to invite a druchii to our table?!" Elralior said with a tone of disgust.
Rethon looked at the Eatainian. "Because she interests me." Rethon said with a stern voice. "She was attacked by harpies, she fled their camp, and came to us even after we had imprisoned her in the warcamp. These are not the actions of a spy, but of a person who fears her masters more than her enemies, though I think those terms have by now became vague, have they not?" Upon finishing his sentence the prince looked at the sorceress who nodded with her head hanging in shame.
Rethon's gentle strong hand lifted her chin up, and he bore a slight smile on his face. "I will vouch for her." He then declared. "If she has the courage to stand her ground in a gathering such as us, then I must at the very least match that courage with my own, and say that I trust her in this matter. Call me foolish or naive if you will, but I have given her the benefit of the doubt."
With a deep rumbling sound, Tarlas said "Hear hear." His face was grim, but a glimmer of trust could be seen, sparkling in his eyes.
Elralior looked with disapproving eyes at Syriscia. "If Chrace is as naive as you Tarlas, I am not surprised that it fell so easily. And you, Rethon, I hope for your sake that she is what you think she is; because you are gambling all of Ulthuan on a person who is known to be a traitor. The only reason I am here is because if Cothique falls, the Druchii army will have a great portion to land it's troops. Nagarythe and Chrace are already a sizable landfall and rumors have reached my eyes that Caledor is also under seige. Can you really take this risk, Prince of Cothique, or do you share the same arrogance as your father? It is your lands, Rethon, along with Celthran and Fedras who guard the borders of Chrace. Three Links in a chain upon which is now put considerable strain."
Rethon nodded. "I realise the severity of my situation, Elralior. I have heard such rumors also, but I cannot let her just die at the hands of the Druchii who betrayed her. There is something more about her, that I can't put my finger on, but I have this creeping sensation that she might be more important in the long run to us.." His voice sounded sincere, and Syriscia listened carefully.
She then spoke softly, barely audible to the rest of the gathering of nobles and princes. "If you ask, I will give you the information I know still. I admit it will be unreliable and seeing as I haven't kept up with the devellopments, but I will lend my aid anywhere I can. I owe Prince Rethon at least that much; I have been given a second chance by him twice by now..."
Elralior sighed for a second, and looked disaprovingly at the two. "I will suspend my judgement of you for now... But I won't stick my neck our like my Cothician counterpart. I'd have left you out there to die, regardless of how many eagles there were."
Syriscia nodded. "Thank you."She said softly.
Two younger nobles dressed in clear whites and blues pleaded with Elralior to change his mind, and judge her now, but Elralior slammed his palm on the table and said "It is done." To the youths. With a painfull look the princes sat down, and the nobles soon followed their example. "Now, Let usnot bring up this subject again. At the very least untill the end of this meal. It would be a waste if such good food was spoiled by a sour mood."
Rethon raised his chalice up to the Eatainian. "True words, my ally, true words." He said, and a wave of agreeing nods went out from them.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#9 Post by Aicanor »

Dinner with the enemy. :) These elves are quite tolerant really. Rethon's influence?
Now the war will come back at them, won't it? Looking forward to the next chapter.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#10 Post by Raithial »

well, at that moment I think they have more to worry about than a single druchii fugitive.
And she's not really that much of an enemy, more than a neutral party.
And she's playing open card, and unarmed, so that kind of puts a strain the honour of the Asur at the table; still many of the more rash nobles and princes still demanded judgement.
I think most of all, it's not Rethon's influence, but more the people he's invited to his court. He clearly wouldn't allow people who are incapable of staying their blade in his own halls. Not to mention that Elralior's father is a prince in the Phoenix court, and while doesn't argee with Rethon's position, he had to accept the prince's decision since it still his Rethon's house.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#11 Post by Aicanor »

Makes sense. :)
It is a bit tricky with magic users, they are usually hard to control. It is not as easy to take away ability to use magic as with weapons.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#12 Post by Raithial »

well, let's not forget High-elf mages preference of dispelling magic, and that Helthestion, Rethon's Court Mage, is also present in the room, and she's surrounded by over a dozen nobles and lords of the Asur. They're now also aware of who Syriscia is, and what she is, so now they're also alert for it. It would be downright suicide to even try anything, and all of them know it.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#13 Post by Erion Starscream »

Aww man I was so psyked when I so you had posted something new or rather I saw Aicanor wasn't the latset guy to post on one of the stories I follow so I threw myself like a lion over the mouse clicked up the story and there was no update (sadface). Honestly though I am very intrigued and just wanted to say keep up the good work and get me stuff too read.

//Mr Man who likes to read Distrusted.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#14 Post by Raithial »

The dagger
After the meal was had, the princes and mages dispersed, but Syriscia kept close to Rethon, who joined several of the mages in a suprisingly extensive library.
Rows upon rows of books and scrolls were littered across shelves in three long hallways, interconnected with only sparce openings between the shelves.
Syriscia's eyes widened, as her eyes strolled over several of the books, and reading the titles of them.
"The tale of Dragons." "Mind of the beast" "The story of Kadon".. She suddenly realised who's Library this actually was; this library belongs to Rethon's mother...
"would you mind if I read a bit?" She asks the prince, who strolled through the elegant hallways filled with books. "go right ahead." Rethon said with a soft smile. "so long as you do not attempt to cast any spells you can read anything in here.."
"Why would I cast a spell?" Syriscia asked with a seemingly confused look. Rethon nodded for a second, and let the girl search through some books untill she found one that was relevant to her interests. He then looked at Tarlas, who stood beside him. "keep an eye on her, just in case." He said. Tarlas nodded and stayed close to Syriscia.

Syriscia stayed within sight as she trailed her slender finger past the dark leather backs of books, reading the gold and silver letters pressed into the leather, then she found one that she was interested in. "The Sundering." She took it out of the shelf and saw the other two books fall over towards each other with a soft thud. She noticed the large blonde Chracian standing close to her against a wall. "Did he send you to watch over me?" She asks with a glance.
The Chracian nodded."I think he knows Elralior had a point when he said not to trust you to the full extend yet."
Syriscia opened the book and started reading it. Occasionally she'd glance over to Tarlas and then continue reading, for some reason it made her really uncomfortable, it felt as before; asif he was preparing to thrust a dagger into her back, but each time she looked, he stood as before, with a small book in one of his hands, reading, wihle only on occasion throwing a glance her way.
The Library was quiet, but in the back Syriscia could hear the prince speaking with several of the mages. On occasion she heard words she could make out like "Dhar" and "Cleansing." .. She sighed as she closed the book, feeling her attention having been drawn elsewhere.
She told Tarlas that she was going to go over to the window, and look outside. Tarlas kept close by her as she did so. A threatening feeling suddenly overtook her as she saw the curtain billow in the wind. A sneaking suspicion befel her as her eyes flitted across the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of something to confirm her suspicion.
When she walked through one of the archways between rows of bookcases she saw a flash of black... it moved towards the prince!
"Rethon!" Syriscia called out, "Assasin!"

Tarlas moved around, his eyes keen as his hands gripped his axe, and in the back, She could hear Rethon draw his sword.
"How Many?" Rethon shouted back.
"I cannot tell, at least one!" She replied.
Suddenly Tarlas fell to his knees, and behind him, a black-hooded man stood, with a dagger, gleaming and wet with red. He had a wicked grin on his face as he lunged forward towards the sorceress. The nasty curves on his dagger screamed in the air as his arm thrust forward, only by some means being blocked as she desperately dodges the metal.
She could feel a clear wind blow around her, and she was overcome with nausia at the feeling of it. The Assasin lunged toward her again when he noticed she leaned dazed against one of the shelves before barely catching himself. He noticed something holding back his ancle and when he looked down the assasin saw a big elvish hand gripping his ancle.
Syriscia quickly picked up one of the scrolls that had falled on the floor. She felt her magic twisting and turning at the touch of scroll and managed to gather a few strands of the wind to cast a spell, to buy her some time. With carefull movements of her mouth, she spun together the spell, and sent half a dozen gleaming crystals at the assasin, each glimmering like obsidian as it flew through the air, and sliced the assasin's skin. The attacker screamed in agony as blood spew forth from the wounds.
The Assasin kicked loose his ancle, and lunged forward again, before a long white-silver blade flew right over Syriscia's head, and cut right though the assasin's chest-armour and came out through his back. He fell forward and the clear ringing of the silver and gold handle on the marble floor filled the place.
Syriscia stood up, dizzy and nausious, A heavy migraine claiming all her thoughts. She noticed a dark blue figure running through the hall, and he caught her, putting her against one of the shelves before moving onto the Chracian.
Rethon looked at the wounds of the large man, but the Chracian gave a quick chuckle. His voice was still weak, but at least he was alive.
Syriscia looked astonished at the man. "Those daggers are coated in poison... how did you..?"
The Chracian let out a wry smile. "I am tougher than I look..." Tarlas said. "and my cloak protected me greatly..." He looked at the assasin's corpse, who still had the sharp white-silver spike sticking out of his back. "I don't think he anticipated the resistance a lion's pelt gave.. He hit me right along my back, but I think I was just out because of the shock..."
Rethon let out a chuckle, and embraced the larger elf. "I'm all the same glad you survived... for a second I thought I had lost my greatest ally."

((thanks for the compliment~ for a second there I thought only a few people were reading it, but I think there are more now than I thought~ ^_^;;))
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#15 Post by Larose »

Ooo assassin! 8) good stuff
Shadowy member of The Mage Knight Guild

Attack when they are unprepared, make your move when they least expect it.

Only in your darkest hour, will you triumph over true evil.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#16 Post by Aicanor »

There are always two... :mrgreen: Or not. I enjoyed reading it, anyway.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#17 Post by Raithial »

Khaine's Calling

Syriscia's mind was numbed by the dizzy feeling swirling inside her head, and her vision became faded; she barely clung onto the edges of her awareness. Her hands trembled and her face contorted into an expression of pain when a sickening headache ran through her, causing her to barf.
Rethon returned to the sorceress, and caught her as she was slipping to one side. Her skin was cold and her skin paler than it had been before; her life was fading fast. Rethon lifted up the sorceress and took her with him to her bed-chambers. There she lay, shivering and trembling as the sickness was tearing into her, clawing at her soul and body.
Rethon took a few seconds to think, and then sat down at the desk, quickly taking up a quill as he started to write a letter.
Helthestion walked into the room, and looked at the prince. "I came as soon as I heard something was wrong... can I lend my aid here?" He asked.
"yes, you can try, at the very least." Rethon said, motioning at the Sorceress. "she took a pretty heavy hit just now, can you ease her?"
Helthestion looked at the girl, squirming and contorting in agony in the bed, and his face turned grim when he noticed the vicious black tendrils of magic around her, etherial winds of magic flowing around her, clawing at her. He was hessitant to act so swiftly, and started an incantation to protect himself first; this wasn't the first time he had seen the dark arts go awry like this, and he knew the consequenses if he had to try his incantation unprepared.
He then proceded to chant his spell; streamers of white magic, like hairs of a devine being he strung together to wrestle controll of the black magic surrounding the girl. The black wind was strong and very vicious, rounding on the mage and attempting to make him writhe in agony as well; he was smart to have conjured up his protection before he began his magical counter-offensive.
After two hours, the mage finally managed to dispell enough that Syriscia could at the very least rest a bit without twisting in pain...
The mage let himself sink into a chair, breathing heavily, and véry tired.
"Did you dispell it?" Rethon asked with a concerned face.
"not completely, but she should be fit to walk within two days..." Helthestion said with a weary look on her face. "this time it was far more vicious than the last time... It almost feels asif that black magic was being controlled or enforced by something. Rethon, my spell of restraint won't last forever, she needs a stronger wizard to aid her. If you please, I will write to my teacher at Hoeth to aid us, he is a great mage and he might be able to dispell it."
Rethon nodded. "I figured as much, but Hoeth is far away, and the swordmasters will not take kindly to us bringing a sick sorceress to them." His face was grim, and filled with concern. "Can you ask him to come here? to aid her?" He asked with a serious look.
"I will." Helthestion said softly. His voice was still sore because of the long incantation he had performed. He coughed. "but I am interested, what were you writing just now?" He asked.
"I wrote to an archmage as well, though I doubt she'll come here." Rethon said with a grim look.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#18 Post by Raithial »

Letters
My dear son.

It seems an age since you last wrote your mother a letter, but each letter is cherished. I've watched you grow from a mere runt into a man. It makes me proud like no mother before me.
Your letter seemed dire, and so my response is swift I hope. The matters with the stray you picked up seem to cloud your judgement; Your stray may have her problems but there is a war on your doorstep. The Druchii have sent reinforcements for a push through Cothique, and into Yvresse. I fear even mighty Eltharion, the Warden, is not in such power to hold back this storm without help of the nations of Cothique and Eataine.
Ulthuan teeters on the edge of a knife, and yet you are occupied with one girl who has fallen ill, who is not even of your own kin.
However, as any mother, I cannot deny my son's plea for help.
I have looked into the matters, and I have found an answer to your trouble. It is not a permanent answer, but it will buy you the time to strengthen you untill the Druchii are driven back, or untill a better sollution is found.
On the ages past Caledor created many powerfull items to aid his people in their wars and in their struggles. He named one the Pendant of the Indraugnir, and it was an experiment from before the Vortex was erected. The Pendant of Indraugnir siphons the magic form it's bearer, and it should keep your guest alive for the time being; though any use on the battlefield for her will have deminished to that of a mere housewife. She will be weak and véry vulnerable, but alive.
There is however, a problem; this pendant was lost in the cataclysm that wrecked large portions of Tyranoc and Nagarythe. It was found by a dragon, who has taken it as a crown jewel in his golden mount. The dragon is Grymnir; he is one of the most ancient dragons in the world, and lives under the Annulii in Caledor. Be Warned though, he has the strength of a thousand men, and while deprived of flight, his breath is so hot you will need a special armour to keep you safe. Ordinary dragonarmour will not be strong enough to withhold the breath of Grymnir, he has melted mountains and vaporised entire lakes when he was active in the past.
He is also smart beyond comparisson, save for with his ego. He still thinks that being as ancient as he is, gives him wisdom likened to Indraugnir himself. He envies Indraugnir.

I have included a map to the entrance to his lair. I am sorry I cannot be of any use to you; no mage is, so long as he holds the pendant of Indraugnir. In your absence, however, I will look over your lands from a distance, while Helthestion can lead your armies. Your father's curse yet prevents me from entering your lands, but I will send messages and spy on your enemies movements to aid Helthestion when you leave for the pendant.

With Love
Myrlinde of the wind of Ghur, your mother.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#19 Post by Aicanor »

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. :D
But it seems he'll have to do just that. Interesting twist.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#20 Post by Raithial »

Farewell

When Syriscia arose from her slumber, she felt ill. Her throat was dry and her eyes felt painful. With a carefull step she stepped out of the bed. Her bare foot feeling the warm wood under it, caused her to smile. She looked around and found that the room was only populated by her.
She looked at her figure, and noticed that she was still dressed in a light blue gown, though her hair felt thick and greasy. She could feel the clumps of filth in the corners of her eyes as she rubbed them, and she shivered lightly as the air seemed bitterly cold.

Once made herself presentable, she opened the door slightly, and upon seeing the guards she acknowledged them with quick nod. "Could you tell the master of the house that I have awoken?" She asked the guard.
The guard nodded and walked on further. The silver scales of his weaponskirt rang almost like bells, and the deep turquoise colour waved like the sea with each footstep.

She backed off into the room, closing the door softly behind her. She sighed. For a moment she remembered how she would've treated regular guards on the Black Arc... She would have sneered, and looked down on them. In fact she still does. Though no longer because she was of higher standing, but because she saw now that they had deluded themselves with their views.
For second she remembered her conversation with Rethon, when he talked about the likeness between the elves and the beasts. From the windows she could see the horses grazing and eagles soaring along the Annulii. It all looked so peacefull, even in this war time, she noticed. The beasts don't care who rules this land; Rethon, Carnyle, The Phoenix or the Witch king, to them all that mattered was their own lives, to eat and to breed. Their lives were simple. She envied them for it.
After a few minutes, the guard returned, knocking calmly on the door and entering the room. "The Prince will be here in a moment." The guard said.
"Thank you." Syriscia noted, seemingly coldly.
Upon closer inspection, she was the guard was still young. His features were fine, and the way he carried his spear showed no experience in battle yet, just as his armour was still finely detailed, having no dents or scratches save for those from wearing.
"Can I ask you something?" The guard said carefully, before getting nudged by the second guard, at the other side of the door.
"Feel free to ask." Syriscia said.
The young guard looked at the second one, who's face was grim, but he nodded for a second.
"Rumor has it that you are a druchii. Is that true?" The guard seemed to mean his question honestly, and no sign of mockery or sneer was in his voice.
Syriscia nodded. "yes. Or at least, I was." Her voice was hessitant. "but now I'm not so sure."
The older guard nudged the guard back into place as Rethon could be seen walking up the stairs.
Rethon walked into the room with a quick stride, as his face seemed to light up when his eyes spotted the sorceress.
"It is great to see you well enough to walk." Rethon said. Syriscia spotted a moment of joy in the prince's words.
"I feel ill still." She noted. "Like I have been asleep with a fever for weeks."
Rethon took off one of the gauntlets and placed his hand on hers. She could feel his flesh warm and soft. "It has only been two days, and you were under the great care of Helthestion. If you're hungry, you can ask the cook to make you something easy to eat. After all, you have not eaten for days."
She nodded. "are you leaving?" She asked, only now noticing that the prince was dressed in his armour. Rethon nodded quickly. "To battle?" Syriscia followed up swiftly.
Rethon nodded again. "But this battle is not with the Druchii." He added. "I am leaving only for a short time, though my quest is dangerous."
"where are you going then?"
"To the lands of Caledor. There may be an item there that is capable of holding off Khaines tendrils untill This ordeal with the Druchii is settled." Rethon's voice was brave, cheerful even.
"Are you leaving alone your lands in a time of war just for me?" Syriscia asked in disbelief.
Rethon nodded. "My guards and captains are just as much a leader to the army as me. If I leave it will be a mere single man leaving, and not the centrepiece of an army." Rethon explained. "Helthestion will take command of the domestic affairs in my absence, and my mother will lead the army untill I return."
"no, forget about me, I can manage untill the war is over." Syriscia protested quickly before a silence befell her. A moment of realisation hit her; Not a month ago she would have sent men out if she were in this risk. She would have selfishly hoarded the benefits of being among such men as Rethon, without any regrets...
She was awoken from her realisation by Rethons soft hand, and gentle smile. "I will return swiftly." He said. "I will not endanger you, ór my lands in my absence. I cannot defend my lands well knowing you are still ill in bed. Helthestion's spell is not powerfull enough for a long time, and without the Pendant of Indraugnir you have no chance of surviving this war."
Syriscia had fallen silent by the prince's words; they struck something inside of her, and she was confused for a moment untill the words sank in.
"Rest, and try to take thing easy while I'm gone. Drink my wine and eat my bread to your leasure as my guest." Rethon's voice held a soft almost parenting tone. "And while I'm gone, don't try to use any magic. At this point that will only backfire.
Maybe Elralior will be inclined to teach you some basic swordsmanship to defend yourself if he has some free time."
He smiled as he stood up to his full height, grabbing his eagle-winged helmet and putting the gauntlet back on his hand.
Syriscia nodded. "I will try." Syriscia said. She embraced his silver-chest with her arms, and put her head on his cold shoulderguard. "And please return on your horse, or beside it."
Rethon kissed the woman on her cheek, and nodded. "I will." He said as he gently turned around and started to walk down the hall again, strapping on his helmet.
In the windows Syriscia saw the man swing his leg over the horse, and with a few other riders ride off to the west.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#21 Post by Raithial »

The mountainpass

The horses rode gently up the riders-path carved into the annulii mountain. just below them they could see the mansion, and Rethon looked at the windows as he saw the sorceress standing with a more familiar looking shape behind her, the Eatainian envoy in Rethon's court.

The sharp clicking sounds of the hoofs on the harsh rock echoed, as they climbed into the mountain. Eagles were flying above and around them. Tarlas rode beside Rethon on a heavy horse, the horse's fur was thick and it's legs heavy. On it's flank the beast bore a characteristic scar of 4 paralel stripes.
"Rethon, are you certain this is a wise decision? To leave your home when you know the Druchii are on your doorstep?" Tarlas asked with a hessitant look.
Rethon nodded. "yes. I won't be able to lead of I am worried about her." His voice was sincere, and his eyes troubled. "Elralior can guard the fort well with Helthestion who knows these lands, and so long as my mother's spies keep an eye on the druchii, those two can hold out for long enough untill I return."
"I wasn't talking about who leads them, I was talking about Elralior; you know what the Druchii did to his mother." Tarlas said. "If Elralior loses it he'll take your lands with him into Morai-heg's domain."
"Elralior is a smart man, and he'll keep his cool so long as Helthestion is around him to remind him that these are not his own lands." Rethon said. "And if I were to die, it is already written that my mother inherits the lands." The prince's voice was sturdy and strong, though not at all dominating.
The strode on for several hours through the mountains, and the higher they came up the colder and sharper the wind became. Soon everybody wore their cloaks in front of their mouths, and white puffs of breath erupted from their cloaked mouths with each exhalation.
The horse's breaths steamed as well, but they loyally continued on with their riders.
After turning straight west, they strode in between two large peaks towering high above them. Several of the riders kept their eyes up to the mountain and others kept their eyes on the sky. All of them knew full well how dangerous these mountains can be and in this kind of chill weather, who knows when a feral gryphon will swoop down and assault them, or worse.

Wild winds howled between the mountains and the prince noticed that the sun was beginning to set over the inner sea, clearly visible from this side. "Find a place to set up camp!" The Prince commanded, his voice only carried a few meters and was then lost in the winds. The men dismounted and quickly fastened their horses to a boulder, providing them with feed and water, as they set up camp. Several men set up deep grey and blue tents, inconspicuous against the dull rocks. They rested that evening, using what little firewood they had taken with them to create a fire and keep them warm. Sitting around the fire, the knights had dressed themselves in animalhides over their armour to keep them warm.
They slept along their horses, sharing bodyheat and cover, and after having had a mere six hours sleep, one of the guards noted that the sun was already rising over Cothique.
Rethon had looked up curious, before realising that evenings in his mansion were early, as the sun would set over the mountains early in the day to the eyes of the other nations.
Come sunrise the winds were less cold and seemed to be more welcoming as a warm breeze flew in from the west, beckoning them to enter into the inner kingdoms.
Streams of magic could be seen in the sky, rays of many colours dancing in the morning light. Even for one as poorly adept as magic as Rethon, this was a beautiful sight. They had a meagre breakfast of bread, and cold and dried meat and fish before cleaning up the camp. They packed the tents back into their saddlebags, threw away the ashes of the fire and scattered any remains of their stay so they would become nigh untracable before moving on, and starting their descent.

They zigzagged down the mountainside, and on occasion dismounted and walked, as the path here was treacherous and the horses were becoming restless. Rethon's horse, Nymthane, kept a weary eye at the sky, and trusted her rider to lead her safely down the mountain. With careful paces the steed rode on. The warmth of the inner kingdom was a welcome feeling for the elves and horses, but it threw them off quite a bit against the cold harsh climate of Cothique. Even Rethon found it unsettling to have such perpetual summer.
Tarlas looked back occasionally, keeping track of the few riders that had accompanied the prince with him.
By the late afternoon the riders had reached the easy descent into the forest, and trees were surrounding them on all sides. Whispers could be heard between the trees, but the Cothician riders were not welcomed. With spear and shield ready but not in hand, their path led them into a deep green wood, where ferns were strewn in many shapes across the forest floor, high trees rose up as high as the cliffs from Cothique, and the forest breathed a mystical energy.
The riders kept their eyes open as they followed the path on through the forest. Soon evening fell, and as they were about to dismount and set up camp, a stern looking woman came form from the undergrowth. She wore a gleaming green-golden armour and a deep veridian cloak graced her back. Her blonde hair waved in the warm summer breeze. She looked at the prince and his riders with an almost contemptuous look. "welcome to Avelorn, Prince Rethon." The woman said with a deep voice. "what do you seek here?"
Rethon looked at the woman with friendly eyes. "merely a place to rest for the night, and to restock."
The woman moved her head, motioning for them to follow her, as she retreated back into the undergrowth.
Rethon and the riders followed her.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#22 Post by Raithial »

Voice of Descent
A few days had passed, and Syriscia was growing weary. She sat in the dining hall, looking pale and sickly; dark rings surrounded her eyes, and though her shape had always been slender, she was looking meagre and tired eventhough she ate just like before.
Elralior sat a few chairs away from her, himself also eating from several dishes of fish and bread. "I hope Rethon returns soon." Elralior said with a grim face.
Syriscia looked at him with painfull eyes. "as do I..." Her lips were dry and crusted.
"I wonder what kind of spell you put upon him to make him leave so hastily and leave two people who are not even of his own family in charge." Elralior said softly, his voice slightly showing his spite.
Syriscia sighed. "I cast no spell on him, lest it be a spell not of my making but his own. but I am worried none-the-less, What troubles me most is not that Rethon has left, but that my former kinsmen have yet to attack. It's been four days but they have yet to show any sign of movement."
Elralior looked at him, judging her character as he squinted his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. "My scouts told me that the camp is brimming with movement, but that the dreadlord's swordarm is still injured. He is probably waiting with the final assault untill he is healed, so he can deal the killing blow himself. Rethon's spear must've hit him in not just his arm, but his pride as well."
Syriscia smiled for a second. "good." Syriscia took another bite of the bread, and then took a sip from a golden cup, filled with a deep red wine. Her heart was soothed at the idea that Carnyle was still injured, but at the same time, her heart was burdened now. She wondered if she could trust Elralior enough to tell him what bothered her, but when the Eatainian prince stood up, and walked out, she let out a slight sigh of relief. She looked at the altar for a second, and wondered when Rethon would return.

Another few days passed, and Syriscia was now bedridden. Her eyes were glazing and her lips bled from cracks in them. She was feverish and trembled a lot. Next to her sat Helthestion, who was occupied in his thoughts. "do you trust Rethon?" He asked all of a sudden.
"yes..." Syriscia said with a faint voice.
"why?"
"because he saved me."
"Saved you? Would it not have been better to die quickly than to go through this agony? Would that not have been more mercifull?"
"maybe."
"Rethon only got to the throne here because of his ruthlessness." Helthestion said. "His father ruled here before him. When Rethon was just a child, a mere babe who was just learning to ride a horse, his mother had gotten curious. She delved deep into magic that was frowned upon by other mages. His father realised it, and he had tried to warn her to stay away from it, but she would not listen. She was becoming more and more addicted to the power it granted her, and eventually, the time came when she would no longer obey the lords commands, and would do as she pleased with his son. She taught him that we are not the grand elves, but mere beasts, little more than the horses we ride, and the lions in the forests. His father cast her out, and he told me to cast a spell on this place, that as long as anyone of rethon's fathers court was still within these walls, she would never be able to return.
One can only imagine what kind of madness now stirs within that woman. I've heard it said that there is no greater fury than that of a woman scorned." His voice was raspy, and his face was grim. But Syriscia noticed a glint in his eyes, subtle beyond the views of the asur, but she had grown familiar with the glint... She had seen it before in the eyes of Carnyle, when he told her that her own mother had betrayed him and that he had slain her.
Her face turned grim. "My falcons told me that that woman has once again been talking to him on the other side of the mountain."
"why did she stop obeying the castle's lord?" Syriscia asked with a keen eye.
"The lord governed as he had always done, keeping the lions away from the people and ensuring the people had food to eat in the form of meat, fish and vegitables." Helthestion said. "She objected to him providing the meat."
"you can go." She said to him. "the guards will keep me safe and you probably have more important things to do."
Helthestion rose from the chair, and smiled. "ofcourse." He said, as he walked out.
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#23 Post by Aicanor »

Plots upon plots. :) Or is it a test?
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#24 Post by Raithial »

it's not really a plot upon plot, I won't reveal too much, but it's pretty much interconnected. yes, pretty much all of it :3
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#25 Post by Aicanor »

I'll wait how it unfolds. ;)
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#26 Post by Raithial »

Voice of Descent II
In the room, next to Syriscia sat Elralior, as one of his servants aided the sorceress with eating. All strength seemed to have been sapped from her body and even mere breathing was tough and painfull. The food seemed without taste, and the wine was dry and it's flavour was all but gone.
"... how is the outside?"Syriscia asked in between bites of food.
Elralior looked at her with an almost scared look. "Rumors abound. Soldiers are spreading rumors of you usurping the power of the prince. That you forced him away never to return." Elralior's voice was sharp, but his eyes were still upon her. "I'll have you walk outside in three days if Rethon does not return in time."
"why..?" Syriscia asked faintly.
"Someone who's this ill cannot possibly have usurped Rethon's throne, nor cast a spell on him. There will be those voices amongst the populous noting the obvious, that you were stronger back when he left. But even so, you are pretty much as harmless as a human peasant." Elralior said.
A wave of insulted pride washed over the incapacitated sorceress and she took a deep sigh of frustration. "can I ask you something?"
"go ahead."
"Why was Rethon's mother banished?"
"who told you that?"
"Helthestion."
Elralior nodded for a second. "then it's no use lying about that... His father was a mighty swordsman and an excelent strategist. He did have his shortcomings though, he was a drukn and a glutton. One night, he had drank too much and he mocked Kurnous. She protested and hid away with the prince in her chambers. The young prince, a mere child at the time, hid under the bed when his father stormed into the room, and ravaged his wife. She protested and tried to throw him off of her, but his physical strength was far greater. The prince tried to help his mother, he came out of hiding and tried to hit his father.
The lord brushed the boy aside, and reared up. The lady was crying tears of rage; for a follower of Kurnous to be humiliated and ravaged like that. The prince's father now saw mother and son together, with the same rage in their eyes, and for the first time in his life, fear gripped the lord's heart. He opened his mouth to speak, but turned around and left.
The dame's roar was long and great. "I curse you! Never shall any beast bear or aid you! You hear me!?"
In the following days, all the chickens refused to lay, and the oxen gored the farmers who would slaughter them as food for the lord. The horses reared and screamed if the lord came within twenty meters of them and the eagles and fish had all gone from the land.
The lord called upon Avelorn for aid, but they refused, as did Chrace. The people lived pleasantly, but the lord could not find his favoured food, no fish or eggs, no meat or roasted quail. All meat had disappeared from the court as a result of the curse she had laid upon him.
In his desperation, feeling the strength of his arms fading the lord threated to kill the lady if she did not reverse the curse, but she refused. After a long time, when hostilities between husband and wife failed to die down, one of the Archmages was called to dissipate the curse, and after having succesfully done so the lord ordered to magically banish the woman from his lands. The prince grew up without his mother, never learning the strong magics that his mother had commanded, but having yet inherrited his mothers affinity with the wildlife.
When the prince became of age, his claimed his right to succession and sent his father off to the court of the Phoenix King where he would grow fat and content, while Rethon ruled. And he has ruled ever since. His mother is still banished, because the spell cast by the archmage was too powerfull for all but the strongest mages to break."
Syriscia listened to the story, and assessed it. "who was the Archmage?" She eventually sighed, before she recieved another spoon of soup from the servant.
"That would be the lord's closest childhood friend. Helthestion." Elralior said with a grim face. Somehow, this was little surprise to the sorceress.
"and how did you get mixed up in all of this?"
"Me? .. I was sent here to make sure the prince didn't make any stupid mistakes like his father did." Elralior said. "I might not always agree with Rethon, but he has gained my loyalty. Before I came here, I hid in the back ranks of my regiment, shouting orders and commands at the troops, but then I saw how Rethon fights, in the front rank and the thickest of battle. He walks among the people and they respect him, and are kind. Since then, I've come to the front of my troops." Elralior explained.
"Keep your eyes open." Syriscia said with a grim face. "I'd like to speak with the commander in private." She said as she turned to the servant, who put down the bowl of soup and left the room.
"I'll be completely honest with you, I don't trust Helthestion. He speaks of honesty but always speaks in half sentences and cloaked words." She said.
"Are you saying that the only wizard we have here is untrustworthy?" Elralior asked with a clear eye.
"I ask you to keep your eyes on him. I don't trust him. He reminds me of a dreadlord in the way he looks and the way he acts..."
Elralior stood up, his brow creased in thought. "I'll have someone near him." Elralior said. "just know that if you lie, I will hold you accountable for this tearing at loyalty."
Syriscia let out a short laugh, followed by a long raspy caugh. "All I have to lose is my life.. I have already lost everything anyway.."
Elralior positioned the guards at the door again, and the servant quickly resumed feeding the sorceress.
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Aicanor
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#27 Post by Aicanor »

Well, this is quite a story. Now I understand what you meant.
Larose
Chronicler
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#28 Post by Larose »

Oo yes it is, good stuff :mrgreen:
Shadowy member of The Mage Knight Guild

Attack when they are unprepared, make your move when they least expect it.

Only in your darkest hour, will you triumph over true evil.
Raithial
Posts: 145
Joined: Thu Jun 30, 2011 9:52 pm

Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#29 Post by Raithial »

The Pendant and an ill omen

In the days following, Syriscia came all too close to death.
In the latest hour, during a starless night, the soft cutting of air was heard in the courtyard. With a flap of wings a dark figure landed in the courtyard. The shape of a young mage, barely of age emerged from the winged figure. Several guards pointed their spears, standing ready to defend, but the mage soon showed the sigil of the phoenix king, along with a letter.
Quickly Elralior and Helthestion were summoned by the mage, and he handed over the letter and it's contents to Prince Elralior.


Sunday, 26th of Januari
Dear Elralior and Helthestion

It has been six days since we bested the wits of the dragon. I am, as I am writing this, in the Phoenix King's Court. I have sent the pendant ahead amongst this letter, supposing our young companion hasn't dropped it in his flight. Give it to our guest with due haste, but do not let Helthestion lay his hands on it; I have gotten reason to place him suspect since I arrived at the Phoenix Court. I will be arriving at first light on the fourth day of the third week from the date this letter was written.

With all regards
Prince Rethon of Cothique

P.S. I hope you haven't drank all of my wine by now, we will need some of it for the celebration when I return.


Elralior folded up the letter and slid it under his belt with a quick movement. "What was in the letter?" Helthestion asked with a sharp look in his eyes.
"Courtmage Helthestion, by order of Prince Rethon of Cothique, I place you under arrest for treason against a prince of Cothique, The Phoenix King and the domains of Ulthuan. If you resist, I will not hessitate to incapacitate you." The Eatainian Prince said, as he pulled his sword, placing it's tip under the chin of the mage.
For a second the mage's eyes flickered with a fierce glare, before he settled down and looked in disbelief at the eatainian. "Are you commiting treason against a mage appointed by the phoenix king?"
"I am loyal to Prince Rethon first, and I would follow him against either Malekith or Finubar." growled Elralior, as he pressed his sword closer against the mage's throat. Two guards stepped forward and grasped Helthestion's staff and disamed the mage of his sword as well. Any potions and talismans and other enchanted items were taken as well, before he was dragged, protesting and shouting magicless curses at the prince-regent of Rethon's castle.
No sooner was the wizard locked away in a magically warded cell, when Syriscia was given the pendant. When it hung around the sorceress' neck, the young mage cast his incantation binding the item to the girl's body and soul.
Before their eyes, the sorceress, or rather, girl became more healthy than she had been in days, though she was still far away from full recovery, she had already regained the strength to sit upright by the morning, and by the second evening, she was walking through the courtyards.

"how are you feeling?" Asked Elralior when he sat down next to her. Her blonde hair shone and reflected the moonlight again, and though the evening was cold and starless, her eyes absorbed the many hues and colours of the winds swirling above them. "Better than I have been." She said with a faint smile. Her lips were dry and still crusted with blood. "it has been many sleepless, sweating nights since I last looked on the winds like this..."
"Our newest courtmage seems to have a nag of sighting omens." Said Syriscia. "Though he lacks any means to read them." She looked at the prince sitting beside her and gave him a disturbing look. "He told me had seen an eagle fighting a small sea-serpent. The eagle barely made it out alive and serpent slunk back into the sea. I fear to tell you the meaning of this omen."
Elralior's grim expression became nigh to black.
"your enemy masses in great numbers. Ulthuan might be nearing a crisis lest we hold the enemy at our borders untill the prince who rules this crossection returns. The enemy will have seen the path Rethon used to get to Avelorn, and all of Cothique is at our back. If either of them falls it will mean the end of the Asur." She ruminised.
"you call them -your- enemies." Elralior noted.
"I am no Asur, but neither am I Druchii; I am in between, so they are your enemies as well as mine, yet it is yet different. The one leading them, Carnyle, is a warlord of great power. He wields a sword of many enchantments, but the most deadly of those weapons is the skill with which he wields them. Worst of it is, he is a natural born leader, he wields his army like an assasin wields his dagger." She denoted. "I may not be much of a magic-wielder now that the pendant is syphoning all the magic from me, but I am yet usefull as an advisor to the asur."
"Then what do you suggest?" Elralior asked.
"Keep a vigilant watch, but never with more men than neccesary, we may yet have long fight ahead, and we will need all strength your men can muster. I suggest you prepare for war, for a siege." Syriscia said. "gather food and supplies, make weapons, call for aid from the south and west, and warn every land to the east of here to do likewise. The enemy must nót cross these borders."
"and so they won't." Elralior said. "I will have word sent before the night is over to all who need communication. Hawks will fly, and I will quickly send word to my own home. My father commands a fleet strong enough to repel a minor black arc."
"he will not aid us." Syriscia said. "that is not a premonition, it is merely a feeling I have. Look to the west for aid."
"do you think we can hold out untill Rethon returns?"
"I held out for his aid to reach us. The time has now come for you to carry that same burden."
Elralior sighed. "Rethon told me to keep you alive; so that's what I'll do. Tomorrow morning, you will start training with a blade of the Asur. You might yet need one to survive."
Syriscia smiled. "or you can just return the blade your people took when you took me in."
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Raithial
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Re: Distrusted, Part 2: The Wanderer

#30 Post by Raithial »

Candles in the night, The wave

The next day, when the sun started to come above the horizon, the world seemed to have turned to grey. A deep dark mist hung over the buildings, and there was a clear tension in the air. Syriscia's breath stalled for a second, fruitlessly trying to deminish her headache. She shivered, and only after did she realise the wet cold that had penetrated the building. Syriscia opened the door of the room, and looked around. One of the guards walked by, and she grabbed his wrist to get his attention. "Where is the steward?" She asked, almost in a whisper.
"The steward is in the town. He's gathering up the militia." The guard said with a slight tone of confusion in his voice. Syriscia let go of the man's wrist and sighed for a moment. "is there something the matter, miss?"
Syriscia nodded slightly. "I think it is wise for the moment to have some extra guards arounds. I just don't feel safe with so few guards around."
The guards smiled. "I understand, but fear not." The guard held a smile on his face, though despite that Syriscia noticed a nervous twitch in his eye. "Each of us are hand-picked by prince Elralior for duty today. We'll keep you safe."
Syriscia nodded. She forced a smile on her face and then left the hallways downstairs to the main hall, and then she took a left turn towards the stables. She wasn't reassured at all at this point. Her mind raced all over the place. she knew the mist all too well; it's the same as the mists of a black arc; A terrible magic permiated the mist.
For a moment She walked to one of the horses, and she looked at it; her mind doubting wether or not she should take it and ride out towards Elralior, but her mind was changed the moment she saw a number of stablehands working, and stealing a horse would probably end her life here quite quickly..
She sighed and waited, After a number of hours Elralior returned. She had sat in the stables all the while, it's elegant arches having been carved with sea-serpents, and kelpie, and other sea-creatures.
When Elralior had returned, he slid off his saddle close to her. "I hadn't figured you as someone who appreciates horses." Elralior noted with a slight smile.
"I am not." Syriscia said with a serious and troubled face. "I was waiting for you. We need to prepare for battle."
Elralior's slightly amused face suddenly turned grim. "What reason do you have for this?" Elralior asked.
"the mist. It's not a natural mist." Syriscia said.
Elralior smirked somewhat. "We already knew. The town is being evacuated deeper into Cothique for the time being. We've recieved word that Avelorn is sending us aid to defend our little fort, and even Elisia and Tor Dynal are on high alert. Battle has already started in Tor Dynal. By now Rethon should have reached Avelorn again, and we expect him to return within a mere days time." He explained with a slightly confident tone. "When the bells ring we should be more than ready f-"
He fell silent as the clear ringing of silver bells suddenly echoed through the fort. all was silent for a time while the bells rang. With each ring Elralior's face became more tense, more serious. And then, when the ringing stopped, the entire fort sprung into action. "What should I do?" Syriscia asked as Elralior fastened his winged helmet under his chin.
"Stay in your room." Elralior said, as he unsheethed his sword, and grabbed it by the blade, offering the handle to Syriscia. "Take this, you might need it at one point or another."
She grasped the handle and held it to herself as she nodded. She then ran to her room. From her room she could see the people's militia and the Seaguards occupying the walls while the young mage, Haparios stuck close to Elralior, as he positioned himself on the wall. For a moment she looked at the wall, she couldn't help but to smile, and a warm feeling penetrated her chest.

"Haparios, what of the winds?" Elralior asked the mage as he looked at him with almost a glaring serious face.
"The winds are strong, I should be able to use quite a few spells, granting that the Druchii do not wrestle controll completely. I am not certain I am the best choice for your battle, m'lord, I am but a student, and I am no where near experienced in actual battle.." Haparios said with a slightly intimidated voice.
"You're the best we have; I refuse Helthestion on the battlefield; he is more inclined to attack us then them I think." Elralior commented. "Stick close to me, young Haparios, I'll do my best to keep you safe."
Haparios nodded carefully. "Could you do something for me?" Elralior asked.
Haparios didn't quite know what the commander wanted and looked at him tentatively. "Please remove this mist. I want to know what I'm dealing with." Elralior sighed.
Haparios' mind travelled off, his eyes halfclosed, as he tapped into the winds of magic, shaping them to the best of his abilities and with a gush of wind the mists started to depart; revealing corsairs and spearmen, crossbowmen, Hydra's, witch-elves and even Cold One's and hundreds of harpies. All of them clad in black steel armours, and wielding wicked looking weapons and talons. Hydra's snarled and snapped while Cold Ones hissed at the now revealed fort.
The army that stood before the walls was enormous, and Elralior's confidence sank into his shoes... He had not expected the full might of a black arc to bear down on this fort... Each of the defenders was outmanned at least ten to one, and many of his defenders were young, inexperienced and fearfull.

At the head of the army, stood a single dreadlord, brandishing a long heavy sword, and from under his helmet he stared right at Elralior. He pointed a finger at the prince, and he seemed almost disappointed. Elralior's heart skipped a beat when he saw the long armoured finger point at him.
Archers and Seaguards nocked their arrows, and pulled back the bowstrings to their cheeks; the silver shafts of their arrows dulled by the grey mist, pointing viciously at the Druchii.
The Dreadlord raised his hand; Silence fell over the field, even the beasts of the Druchii were quiet as the dreadlord held his hand up.
With a single movement the black-clad dreadlord lowered his hand, and numerous black bolts shot forth from the crossbowmen. Elralior's shout was long, and following his voice hundreds of arrows flew down from the walls towards the black mass awaiting them.
The Battle had begun, and Syriscia sat up in the tower, observing the terrible host of Druchii that stood before them. She worried that Rethon might not be in time to help, that he would return to a fort in ruins. She knew full well that this was no incidental attack, the host that stood before them was too large, and disciplined to be there for anything but spite and revenge. Cothique was at war now, and she feared for her life. Her pale hands clasped the handle of the sword tightly and held it to her chest.
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