Mystic Thief

[Pig on the Wing]

This is a fic that I began writing a while back, and after making a few changes here and there I decided to post it. Also, this is my first non-Pokemon fic. Well, without further ado, here it is:

~~~MYSTIC THIEF~~~

~Chapter 1: Departure~

“Stop thief!” shouted a round man with a large moustache stepping from behind his bread stall, waving a loaf of bread in the air. The sky was clear and the sun burned brightly, but people always enjoyed watching thieves hang, and so as a shadow was seen darting down a street and a flock of pigeons erupted from the ground, many people ran through the crowded market place to try and catch the thief.

The thief ducked behind a barrel and crouched there, panting quietly. He raised the stolen loaf of bread to his mouth and took a bite out of it. The warm bread almost melted in his mouth, and he began salivate as he took another bite. He swallowed the chunk he’d just taken out of the loaf, and ducked low under the barrel before crouching stock still, making no noise. He could hear footsteps on the ground and it sounded like there were many of them. He stared at the brick wall in front of him – a dead end. So this is the end, he thought miserably and candlelight began to slowly illuminate the dark alley he was hiding in, getting closer all the time. The boy’s eyes widened and he stared frantically around, trying desperately to find a way out. His eyes fell upon an open pot hole, which he hadn’t seen in the dark, but now that candlelight bounced off of the walls of the alley he could see. He closed his eyes, counted to five and then dived for the pot hole. Freedom! he thought as got closer. Then he was grabbed at the back of his shirt and yanked off the ground.
“Got ‘im.” said a gruff voice. The ‘mob’ cheered loudly but it was soon cut short as a blast of fire whizzed down the alley, incinerating anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in the way. This included most of the ‘mob’ and the person holding the thief. The thief dropped to the ground and rolled frantically out of the way, feeling the heat behind him. When he dared to look up, there was a middle aged man with a long grey beard and big brown eyes staring at him. The man was wearing a long flowing purple robe and a purple pointed hat, with the ‘Wizzard’ sewn in red lettering on it. In one hand he was holding a pointed wooden stick that had sparks spitting from the end of it. The boy sighed.
“Thanks for saving me again dad.” he said, lowering his eyes.
“This is the third time son.” said the boy’s father, who paused for effect before continuing. “You know what happens to thieves around here when they get captured. You have wizard blood flowing through your veins and yet you choose to resort to a life of crime.”
“Sorry dad, it’s just -”
“One more time me boy. One more time I have to save your arse and you’ll be out of this town by sunrise the next day.” his father glared at him for a few seconds, letting it sink in before turning swiftly and striding out of the alley. The boy chuckled.
“You wouldn’t dare…” he muttered before leaving the alley and heading back home.

“Why don’t you just give it a try?” said a woman in a kind voice. The woman was wearing a red dress with blue flower patterns sewn on in random places.
“Because my dear mother, it’s just a lot of reading and writing. You know I’m not cut out for that kind of thing.” said the thief, who was now sitting a circular table eating his stolen loaf of bread.
“So what are you going to do?” his mother asked.
“I’m leaving town mother. Tomorrow at sunset I’m going. I’m going far away. What I’ll do is for me to decide on the way there.” his mother sighed.
“It’s dangerous on the open roads you know.” she said, “There are bandits and outlaws and wild animals and anything could happen to you out there.”
“I’ll be fine.” said the boy, finishing his loaf, and getting up noisily from the table he headed for the stairs, and the safe coven of his room.

At midday the next day, the boy was wide awake and was putting anything he was taking with him on his bed. So, far he had on there, a small golf ball sized crystal ball his father had given him a few months back, a small knife with a golden blade, a silver handle and a skull a pearl skull with ruby eyes where the blade met the handle which he had stolen from a merchant and a black outfit made of velvet that his mother had bought him earlier that same day. He turned to a large wooden box and flung the lid open so it crashed upon the wooden floor with a thud. He rummaged through until he found what he was looking for. It was a red cloak made of silk, that’d been given to him by his grandfather two years ago. It had a golden lion sewn in the middle of the cloak on the back. He put the cloak on his bed and stared at the pitiful amount of things he had. A sly grin spread across his face – he may be leaving that same night, but food was essential and if he was going to leave, he may as well leave in style with food in his pockets.

~~~

What do you thinK? All comments welcome.

[Tainted]

Thank god, fantasy. I don't mean fantasy with pokemon in it, or Yu-Gi-Oh, or whatever the hell ten year olds write about nowadays, I mean fantasy.

I currently am also writing a fantasy story called Zedrelthus, it's the one on the list that nobody has replied to-- seven entries are in it as of now.

But now that I'm done advertising, I'll work on critiquing your story, here. One major comment-- unless this kid has godlike powers right now, he'd get robbed to death with the equipment that he's leaving in. Silk is highly treasured, especially in cloak form, that's a royal sort of thing. I can understand the crystal ball-- but what I don't understand is the knife. If I were a thief and found a knife like that I would sell it, wouldn't you? You can buy an equally functioning-- actually, probably a better functioning knife because gold is a very weak metal.

There's really not much to critique as of now, the writing style is alright, I find really nothing wrong with it. The story doesn't seem too cliched, which is very hard to do nowadays in a world where fantasy has been done from here to next Tuesday.
Hell, nowadays putting elves in a story is considered cliche... Same with dwarves and all that...

I'll keep reading.

I strongly suggest you read Zedrelthus, and I'm saying this because no one has. Also, because you can gain a view on another writer's perspective of a thief, Zed, who infact is a thief nothing like the thief in your story.

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[mistysakura]

Not bad; I agree with Skullfire on the strange equipment; I guess he'll learn soon enough. It's not like he's experienced anyway, or else he wouldn't have been cuaght so many times. I like that closing sentence, lol.

I'll keep reading, so keep it up!

[Pig on the Wing]

Oh yay, replies!

mistysakura: The equipment he takes is strange yes, but it has it's uses further on in the story. Also, you're right about him not being experienced. Finally, thanks for reading.

Skullfire: First things first, thank you for reading. As I said above, the strange equipment he took will have their uses.
In response, to what you said, I cleared some time in my day and read Zedrelthus and I must say its very good. Poor Elexus...

Everyone: Thank you for reading and for Skullfire and mistysakura thanks for replying. Chapter 2 should be up within a day or two.

Farewell.

[Pig on the Wing]

Sorry it's a bit late, but it's here at last. So, without further ado, here's chapter 2:

~~~MYSTIC THIEF~~~

~Chapter 2: Slavery to Slavery~

The sun was just dropping behind a hill when the thief made his move. He had been hiding under a meat stall for almost two hours now, and his entire body was numb. He watched another pair of feet pass by, before gingerly reaching his arm out and lifting the cloth that covered the dirty wooden table. The market was getting dark, the only light being an orange glow which bathed the market place. The thief smiled, and rolled out from under the table, removing a rope from the pocket of his dark red jeans throwing it in a lasso around the butchers’ neck. He ducked low for a minute, and when he heard footsteps heading his way, he pulled the rope as hard as he could. There was a muffled cry, a nasty cracking sound and a crash as the butcher fell onto the table in a dead heap. The table then collapsed, and the thief quickly untied the rope, stuffed it back into his pocket, grabbed a cow’s leg and ran for it. As he ran recklessly through the market stall he managed to grab another loaf of bread, a lump of Crisonian cheese and a couple of fresh eggs. He round a corner and threw the two eggs blindly behind him in the hope that if anyone was chasing him they’d end up being slowed down a little. As he ran down yet another street, he dived into a back alley and ran down it.

The thief was now dressed in his velvet outfit, with his cloak streaming out behind him. He had his dagger, crystal ball and the rope he had used earlier that same day in his pockets while he had the stolen food wrapped in a cloth tied round his waist.
He was heading down the path out of town. It was dark, and if he wasn’t wearing his cloak he would have been invisible and therefore safe on his journey. There no moon that night, and even if there was it was too cloudy to see it or any stars. A wind was blowing in the opposite direction which didn’t help – it wasn’t a strong wind,, but just enough to sting the young thief’s eyes and force him to slow down and cover his face with one hand. A rustling in the bushes made him stop. He stood stock still and listened for any other sounds, but none came so he merely dismissed it until another rustling noise fairly close by was heard. The thief spun round in time to see two black shapes come leaping out of the bushes at him. The thief was knocked to the floor as the two people crashed into him. There was a scraping sound, like the one made by a sword being removed from its scabbard and then the thief panicked. He lashed out with his arms and legs but to no avail. He rolled over, but was quickly kicked in the ribs. His vision swum before him and his chest hurt when he breathed in but he wasn’t out yet. He lashed out with his right foot and this time it connected with something – something that gasped and took no time in retaliating with a swift kick to the head. The thief lay with his chest hurting, his head aching and his arms and legs refusing to do anything else. He felt a something cold and pointed press gently against his neck before the dark world swam blurrily in front of his eyes and everything went blacker than it already was.

“Tammo, he’s waking up.” said a male voice. The thief felt himself return to his body and the first thing he felt was an incredible pain in his head. His hands rushed to his head and clutched them in agony. His other three important senses slowly came back to him. First came smell and the smell that greeted his nose was something like mustard and cheese. Then came his sense of hearing, and he heard two people speaking fairly near him.
“Do you think he’s alright?” said a voice, the same one as before.
“He should be alright.” came the reply from Tammo, who very definitely sounded like a female.
Then, finally, came his sense of sight. His brain kicked into gear and ignoring the pain in his head he moved his arms out of the way and opened his eyes. The first thing he did, was close them again as they were greeted by lights that seemed very bright. After a couple of seconds, he shielded his eyes before opening them again. He groaned and sat up, taking in his surroundings. He was in a large square shaped room that had two or three oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. As his eyes slowly became adjusted to the light he saw not two but three people and a parrot. There was also a circular table in the middle of the room that had many bits of paper, ink and valuable jewels on it (including his dagger and his cloak), there was a large chest in one corner that was locked and he noticed that he was sitting on a bed of straw. Finally, he noticed that his hands were tied by his own rope, and, with his brain reaching nasty conclusions he started to inspect the three that were standing in front.
In the middle was a tall man, about 6ft 6 inces tall, with torn blue trousers, an unbuttoned black jacket and a black triangular but flat hat on his head. He had cutlass in one hand that looked like it was made from steel.
On his right was the woman Tammo. She was looked around 5ft 9΄΄ tall, and was wearing dirty blue trousers and wore a white shirt and a black buttoned jacket which had a massive white skull and crossbones symbol engraved in the middle. She had long blonde brown hair that was tied in a ponytail. She also had long daggers in each hand that looked as though they were made of bronze.
Finally, on the left was another man. He was around 6ft tall, and wore the same clothes as the man in the middle. However, this man wore a bandana, with skull and crossbones all over it while his long black hair was left loose. He also had a steel cutlass in one hand, but he had a crossbow in the other, and a sling of arrows over his shoulders. He took a step forward and there was a clunk on the ground as he put his right foot down. Looking at it, the thief saw, that it his right leg was made of wood. The thief’s sense of smell was very good, and he picked up the scent of ale on the man’s clothes.
“You list’n ‘ere laddie.” said the wooden legged man, taking another step forward. “I is Ghenthro, she be one we call Tammo, an’ he,” he pointed to the other man, “he be called Tamsin. Who the bloody hell are ya?” he finished. The thief thought frantically. This was his chance to start anew – well at least with a new identity in any case.
“My name’s Oriontho.” he lied, whilst trying to suppress a grin. Tamsin stepped forward.
“Well now Oriontho,” he growled, “You probably guessed that we be pirates and you’d be right. We be pirates and we is going far from here. There already be many rowers below, but we need a slave do other work. That slave be you.”
“Wait a minute.” said Oriontho getting up. “I risked my life in my hometown many times and yes, I want to get far away from there but NOT through slavery jackass.” In one swift moment Ghenthro had loaded his crossbow and was aiming it straight at his head.
“Now, now – I should watch that tongue of yours Oriontho, or you might find pretty soon that your tongue ain’t there no more.” said Tamsin.
“If I may,” said Tammo, stepping forward. “I know that you is thinking ‘bout escaping and swimming to safety, but you’d be wise not to try. There are sharks in the water round ‘ere, and Ghenthro here tends to patrol the ship shooting or slicing up anyone who tries to escape. Oh, and trust me. He doesn’t miss with his crossbow and seeing as you aren’t armed if he attacked you with his sword you’d probably end up dead anyway. So either, way you is gonna die if you try to escape.” she concluded. Oriontho shrugged. And arrow whizzed past his head landing with a clunk in the wall.
“Just give me a reason.” Ghenthro growled. Oriontho nodded in fear.
“Well,” said Tamsin, “Now that we all now who the other is, I will show you round the ship.” he walked out of the room, and Tammo prodded Oriontho in the back, indicating he was supposed to follow. He did so and swiftly exited the room.
He found himself by a small three or four stair staircase and he quickly descended it. He was at one end of the boat – the cabin he’d come from was behind him, there was a path on the left and a path on the right going round the back of the cabin and in front of him was the sea. The endless blue carpet rolled stretched away into the distance, but you could make out a thin strip of land in the distance.
“This way me boy.” said a voice. Oriontho jumped in surprise, and spun round to see Tamsin standing there with his cutlass blade in line with his neck. Tamsin turned and strode off down the left path and Oriontho followed. The path led to the main deck and when he reached it Oriontho whistled in awe. The deck was massive. On the right, was a path that led back the way he came (presumably the path he’d seen earlier) and a long plank sticking out of the side of ship. There were also three cannons placed along both sides of the ship – one at one end, one in the middle and one at the other end on both sides. In the middle of the deck there were three wooden poles – one in the middle and the other two supporting it on either side. Covering all three poles was a rope construction. The rope was blue and went up the poles in a grid like fashion. At the top of the poles was a large circular bowl type thing. In the bowl was a man looking out at the sea and another wooden pole, this one was fairly small and had a black flag with a white skull and crossbones symbol on it that was billowing in the wind. Tamsin waited for a few minutes for Oriontho to take it all in before continuing his ‘tour’ of the ship. He showed him the second deck, which contained a table stretching down the middle of the room and cannons lining the wall sticking out of firing holes. On the third deck were all the cabins, eight of them. They all had a bed, a small table and an oil lamp hung from the ceiling. Finally they got to the fourth deck – the rowing area. There benches against the wall stretching all the back of the ship on either side. On these benches sat three or four people, and in their hands they held an oar. There was one man at the back, who everyone two to five seconds would shout “Stroke!” and when he did this all the people pulled on their oars.

Darkness fell and the crescent moon shone brightly in the black sky. Oriontho flopped onto his bed exhausted – he’d had a long, hard day. He had to scrub the top three decks, take meals and whatnot to the crew, polish and sharpen all the swords, axes, knives and spears and on top of all that he’d had to make 100 arrows.
Now, as he lay there, Oriontho felt his muscles aching and sleep creeping up on him when the door was flung open. Tamsin walked in, picked him up by the scruff of his neck and carried him outside. He carried him along the deck and threw him over the side of the ship.
Oriontho closed his eyes, waiting for the freezing water to consume, emitting a loud splash as he broke the surface of the water. It never came – instead he was grabbed by a second pair of hands and was roughly pulled into a boat. There were two men sitting in the boat but it was too difficult to make out any features. The dark silhouette of the ship began to glide through the water and one of the men in the boat picked up a pair of oars and began rowing in the opposite direction.
“These ‘r’ yours.” said a gruff voice, throwing Oriontho onto the floor of the boat and thrusting his dagger and crystal ball into his hands. “You bes’ get som’ sleep. You got you’self a long day ‘head o’ ya.”
“What now?” grumbled Oriontho. The man chuckled.
“Well,” he said, “You gots you’self sol’ by em’ pirates inta slavery.” The man chuckled again. “From slav’ry ta slav’ry, eh?”

~~~

What do you thinK? All comments welcome.

[Tainted]

Good chapter, that's about all I can say really. I was a tad confused at the whole "6ft 6ƒVƒVƒVƒV" bit-- like-- he's six feet, six inches to the power of three thousand three hundred and thirty three?
Maybe it's something I'm a bit unsure of, or maybe I'm not all that coherant of things right now...

Otherwise, excellent chapter, already an improvement from the first one.

[Pig on the Wing]

Skullfire: Thank you for reading and also the complement. I just changed the 6ft thing, it was a transfer error so you're not incoherent of that in any case...

Chapter 3 should be up within 3 days or so.

[Pig on the Wing]

Chapter 3 is finally up. Enjoy.

~Chapter 3: Apprenticeship~

The sun rose in the sky, a golden disk on the horizon. Oriontho groaned, stretched his legs and rolled over. He immediately woke up completely and flailed his arms for a while before hurriedly swimming through the icy greenish blue water and hauling himself back onto the boat.
“Ya bes’ watch you’self.” said the gruff voice. Oriontho turned to see the speaker. He had long black hair that was billowing in the wind and streaming out behind him. He had black eyes which were unusual but seeing as Oriontho hadn’t been here ever before in his life he decided not to question what the people looked like. The man wore black leather boots with metal spikes screwed into the bottom of them. He wore a cream coloured shirt which was made of a material Oriontho had never seen before, and he also wore a brown cloak which also streamed out behind him.
“Who are you?” Oriontho asked.
“I be a guardsman from Castle ‘avonis o’er in Crisonia. I be the one who gets hisself sent out ta fin’ workers for that there castle.”
“Yes, but what’s your name?”
”Lissen ‘ere.” said the guardsman, lowering his voice to a growl, “I is the one who ask them there questions, go’ it?”
Oriontho nodded and turned to look at the rower. He was a different story completely. That was for the simple reason he was a monk. He wore a long purple robe the covered his entire body, as well as hands and feet. The robe had a blood red outline on it and in the centre it had a wand clashing against a sword sewn on it in blue. The monk also wore a large straw hat which covered his head and also cast his entire face in shadow. Protruding from the sleeves of the robe were oars which he was presumably holding with covered hands and he was rowing at a considerable speed through the sea.

The sun rose in the sky. When the sun looked as though it’d reached its summit and was preparing for its descent a large cliff face came into view. The cliff leaned dangerously over the edge of the sea, and in the sea directly underneath it were many jagged rocks.
The monk stopped rowing and the boat began to slow down. As they got nearer Oriontho saw a massive cannon facing out to sea, presumably to take out any invaders.
When they reached the rocks the monk grabbed a rock and held on to stop the boat. He crossed his legs and tucked his sleeves together. After a few seconds a faint humming was heard and a blue aura surrounded the monk. Then in a bright flash of white light, Oriontho found himself lying on top the cliff while the monk and the other man walked along a rocky path to the castle.
The castle was humongous. It stretched out incredibly high and lengthways it was very long. The entire structure was made entirely out of stone with a wooden door. There were arches cut into the stone at random intervals up the building, presumably windows of some sort. There were four corners of the castle, each with its own guard tower that contained at least three guardsmen with crossbows. To Oriontho’s surprise, there was no moat or drawbridge.
As the three got to the wooden door, a voice shouted from the other side.
“Who goes there!” it said.
“Johnson and Himoroth.” replied the man, “Oh, and one prisoner. He calls himself Oriontho.”
“Himoroth?” asked the voice.
“You know, the, er… monk.” replied the man, who was presumably Johnson.
“Then you may enter.” said the voice, and the wooden doors began to slowly creak open. Oriontho whistled when he saw the inside. Firstly, the man who’d questioned them and eventually let them in was standing to one side, in full armour with long spear in his hand. The sunlight gleamed off of his armour, and his helmet had red plumes stuck in it.
Then there was the courtyard. The entire thing was made of sand and the inner castle walls stretched up from the sides. There were doors cut here and there in the stone and in one corner were a few barrels of hay, a trough of water and four horses.
Oriontho, Johnson and Himoroth walked to the centre of the courtyard.
“Arm him!” shouted Johnson and immediately the gates slammed shut, the bolt was slid across and a man in shorts and shirt ran out and handed Oriontho a sword. The man then ran off again – disappearing through the wall.
“Wait a minute.” said Oriontho and Johnson turned to look at him. “You said I was to be a slave here, yet now you try and kill me. Why’s that?”
“Well,” said Johnson, “Not necessarily kill ya. We release all the other armed slaves an’ they attack you. If’n yous survive five minutes then ya is hired. If yousa is killed, then yousa is killed. Also, for the ‘mount o’ slaves ya kill yousa will be a higher rank slave.” Oriontho nodded, and gripped his sword tightly with both hands. It was a bronze broadsword, nothing special about it, just a plain, bronze broadsword. The gate guard walked over to a door next to the horse stables. He opened the door and stood back, before shouting,
“Slaves! Ya got a challenge!” there was a loud cry from inside the building and within seconds about fifteen people dressed in shorts, and only shorts, shorts that went from the waist to around the knees. They all wielded weapons of some description, knives, swords and even the odd axe. The slaves stopped about ten paces away from Oriontho and bell clanged very loudly from one of the four towers. At this all the slaves cheered loudly and three men who were all holding axes ran forward. The axes looked as though they were made out of steel and the men that held them had very muscular arms. They hardly looked like slaves actually. The axes were long poles, with a sharpened curved blade at the top and the front, there was a similarly shaped blade at the top on the opposite side and finally there was a small but extremely sharp looking spike on the top of the axe.
The three men split into a triangle formation and continued running. Oriontho took a few steps backwards, still gripping the sword tightly. The axe men quickly caught up with him and swung the axe forward in a curve but Oriontho leapt to the left. This was a bad move as the axe man on the left lowered his axe so the top spike was aimed Oriontho’s chest and continued his deadly charge. Oriontho had a few seconds to think, before he dropped to the floor and kicked out with his legs, catching the man on his shins. The man fell, and Oriontho rolled to the left so as not to be crushed. The man fell on the back blade of his axe and it sliced him right through chest. The blade was sticking out of his back, and there was a pool of blood slowly forming around his body.
Oriontho stood up, dusted himself down and turned to face the other two axe men, clutching the sword even tighter than he had been before. The axe man on the right of the ‘leader’ roared loudly and ran forward blindly swiping his axe at Oriontho, who kept on stepping back to avoid the blows. Soon the axe man grew tired and his attacks began to weaken, loosing power and speed. The man suddenly stumbled and Oriontho saw and opening, he thrust the sword forward and a caused a small opening on the man’s chest. A little blood began to drip but the axe man just grinned and swung his axe up. Oriontho quickly pulled the sword down to his waist and blocked the attack. The sword held the axe back for a couple of seconds, before it snapped completely. The top of the sword went flying past his ear missing it by an inch and the axe came swinging up. Oriontho gasped and quickly jumped backwards to avoid, but the spike caught him on the side of the chest and cut a small wound. Oriontho roared out of pure anger and threw the remains of the sword straight at the axe man who was caught completely unawares. The bottom of the sword jammed into his neck, and blood began to drip freely from the open wound. The man stared at Oriontho, and his eyes glazed over before he fell backwards, dead.
Oriontho nodded grimly and walked over to pick up the sword stump. The final axe man raised his right hand up and held his axe horizontally over his head before screaming loudly. All the slaves raised their weapons in the air and screamed loudly before charging at Oriontho, whose eyes widened in shock and horror.
Oriontho stood there, mouth open, nostrils flaring, eyes wide open staring at the oncoming tide of slaves. Surely there hadn’t been that many earlier, and surely he’d been in the arena for more than five minutes. As the slaves got closer, he could see the fire blazing in their eyes and the looks of pure hatred on their faces. Oriontho began to feel his right arm tingling and his head began to ache. His right hand felt as though it was on fire. Pain consumed him; he closed his eyes and screamed loudly. His scream stopped the slaves in their tracks and the looked curiously at him. Oriontho stopped screaming for a couple of seconds while he stuck his arm out, and thrust his hand upright with his fingers spread. He then screamed again, even louder then he had before and blue waves of energy began to pulse down his arm. There was a ripple in the air and all the slaves were thrown back and pressed against the wall. Then a massive wave of blue energy erupted from his hand and it moved rapidly though the arena, slowly consuming the slaves. When the blue energy faded all of the slaves were lying on the floor, unconscious. Oriontho stopped screaming, lowered his arm and opened his eyes.
“What the…” his voice trailed off as he saw the destruction in the arena.
“Bastard!” shouted a voice on his right. “No one never told us you was like, a magician.”
“I am?” asked Oriontho turning round. The third and final axe man stood there and he narrowed his eyes.
“Only one o’ them magicians could possibly do that.” he said, “but it ain’t gonna work on me. No sir-ee. None o’ that ‘hocus pocus’ stuff works on me.” He raised his axe and ran at Oriontho, whose head was hurting even more now, from the sheer force of his mental attack. His right hand clutched the side of his head, while his left hand tightened its grip on the half-sword. Oriontho screamed painfully and hefted the half-sword at the axe man. It missed, lodging itself in the ground behind him. Oriontho then raised his left hand and clutched his head with both hands. The axe man laughed evilly and lowered his axe so the spike was going straight into Oriontho’s chest. He laughed again and ran straight through Oriontho.
“What the!” he screamed. He ran straight through Oriontho and as he did so there was a loud ripping noise, a white flash and the man fell to floor, dead with blood all over him a few paces behind Oriontho.
The gate guard stood there staring, as did Johnson. Himoroth walked straight over to Oriontho and touched his forehead with his middle three fingers. Oriontho immediately collapsed and lay there, not moving.
“Stunned him sir.” said Himoroth to Johnson. Johnson nodded and turned to the gate guard.
“Pinoth, get someone to attend to his wounds. I’m going to talk to the King.”
“Yes sir.” said Pinoth standing to attention before he ran off into the castle. Johnson turned round slowly.
“Now Himoroth, I want you to…” his voice trailed off as he realised he was talking to nobody. Himoroth and Oriontho had disappeared, and there was a thin wisp of smoke. “Bugger…” he said before walking off into the castle.

“He has the ability. He is the one I’ve been waiting for.” said Himoroth without any trace of emotion in his voice. He was in a large room, which had a large banqueting table down the middle of it. Windows lined the wall, and at one end was Himoroth, talking to the King who was seated at a large chair with a red cushion on it. The king himself, wore a long red cloak, and had a short brown beard. He had brown eyes and his head was covered by long brown hair that hung loosely behind him. On a small table next to him was a large golden crown with red rubies and blue sapphires studded into it.
“Basically you wish to know whether or not we keep him and allow you to train him. Is that it?” said the King after a while.
“Yes sir. Spot on.” replied Himoroth instantly. The king stroked his beard thoughtfully, his brow creased as he thought deeply.
“Hmm,” he said after a while, “It would be an asset to the castle to have two of you here, but…” he stopped as there was a knock at the door. “It’s open, you may enter.” he said. The large oak door creaked open and in walked Johnson.
“Sir, this, this er, person, has pretty much destroyed that there entire force of them slaves. By ‘imself. He knocked all them there low level slaves unconscious an’ managed to kill all them three axe men.”
“I already know this.” said the King. “Now, if you would just, er, you know…” he gestured at the door with his hand.
“Yessir.” said Johnson, bowing before swiftly exiting the room, and closing the door.
“Now to business.” said Himoroth, “You will of course let me train him won’t you?”
“Patience,” said the King, “It’s so easy for you to make a decision. Now, it’s alright for you to do that, but remember, if you piss me off, you’ll be knockin’ on Heaven’s door.”
“Sire, I must tell you now, that he would be the greatest thing to happen to this castle.”
“Maybe so. However how do we know we can fully trust him?”
“You trust me don’t you/”
“Yes, but -”
“Exactly. And if you trust me, then you can trust him.”
“Hmm,” the King appeared to be thinking hard about this. He sighed and looked up at Himoroth. “Very well,” he said after a few seconds. “Train him. Train him well.”
“Thank you sire.” said Himoroth getting up.
“But,” said the King, and Himoroth stopped dead. “I want him sent to me everyday at some stage so I can to teach the boy to fight the manly way – with weapons.”
“Yes sire.”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t bow on your way out.”
“Yes sire.” Himoroth got up and walked over to the door, he opened it and stood there with his back to the King, He turned his head slightly. “I shall begin today. I’ll send him to you around about 5.” He then exited the room, closing the door behind him.
The King got up and crossed to a small door cut into the side of the room, which had been unnoticed by anyone. He opened the door and went in, shutting the door behind him. There was the sound of bolts being slid back and locks clicking. Then there was an ear piercing scream, and then – silence.

[Tainted]

Excellent chapter. You're improving a hell of a lot by every entry. Action-- nice, I like.
Just one thing, I think it might be going just a little too fast, unless that's what you're aiming at.

If you don't mind me advertising, Zedrelthus has a new entry up-- they enter Polaeus' tower, good stuff.

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Skullfire: Why thank you.
The next couple of chapters are going to be fairly action packed nd fast paced, so strap yourselves in (applies to any closet readers).

Just so you know, I did read the next entry, I just havn't replied yet.

~ Writing's been going very well recently, and Chapter 4 should be up tonight.

[Pig on the Wing]

Chapter 4, yay!

~Chapter 4: Prince Xholl~

“You see my boy,” said Himoroth, “You are different. You are a rare breed of person; you have the power of a Gift within you, a rare and elusive Gift. Therefore you are very valuable to anyone who you choose to live with.” Oriontho nodded.
They were sitting in a dimly lit room, the only light actually coming from candles that were attached to the wall all through the room. There were bookshelves all over the place and no visible entrance or exit. There were occult markings all over the floor and magic circles drawn in random places across the room. In one corner of the room, was a wooden stick with strange inscriptions scratched deep into its surface and there was a four green emeralds placed in it at the top: one at the front, one at the back, one on the left and one on the right. In the centre of the room was a small circular wooden table and this is where Himoroth and Oriontho were sat, talking.
“What do you mean by, Gift?” asked Oriontho. Himoroth chuckled emotionlessly.
“What do I mean by Gift you ask,” he said, “Well, a Gift is bestowed by The Greater Powers upon certain people. It could be wizardry, witchcraft, elemental power or telepathy. In my case, it is telepathy, however, you, you are a soul reaper.
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning that you can steal people’s souls from their mortal bodies and even travel to daemonic planes, which are as yet mostly unexplored. A soul reaper such as yourself comes along every, well; last estimation is was two per millennia. Seeing as you are living in the castle, it is my job to train you harnessing that power.”
“I understand, kind of. But if I’m only capable of soul stealing and spirit travelling what happened in the courtyard, with all the slaves?” inquired Oriontho. Himoroth chuckled again.
“Now then, that was some form of daemonic energy flowing through you.” Himoroth paused to see what kind of effect it had on Oriontho.
“How could that happen?”
“Well that’s the great thing about you.” said Himoroth, his voice showing some slight excitement. “What that means, is that you are mortally bonded with a daemon somehow.” Oriontho gasped.
“What? How could possibly have happened?” he asked angrily, rising from the table.
“Sit down now!” commanded Himoroth. He didn’t shout. He didn’t ask. He commanded. Oriontho sat down. Himoroth began to hum quietly and a blue aura outlined his body. Oriontho felt his right pocket lighten slightly and before he could say anything the blue aura around Himoroth faded and his knife was lying on the table.
“Tell me,” Himoroth said slowly, “Does anyone in your family have a Gift?”
“Yes.” Oriontho nodded. “My father is a wizard.”
“Hmm.” Himoroth nodded this time. “Did you by any chance steal this from a wizard?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Tell me, was it lying in the middle of one of,” he paused for a minute and looked round the room. He then pointed at a magic circle chalked onto the floor just a little to the right of the table, “One of those?” he finished. Oriontho nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then that’s why.”
“Please explain.” said Oriontho, a look of confusion crossing his face.
“That’s a daemon summoning circle. However, why a daemon bonded with you and also, how it did is two questions I do not know. Those two questions one of us may one day know the answer to.”
“May one day know, but that’s not a guarantee is it.” Himoroth shook his head.
“No.” he said, “No it isn’t.” silence descended upon the room. Himoroth clapped his hands loudly. “Well now. It’s almost 5, so you’d better be off to the courtyard. Have fun and I’ll come and get you again when I want you next. Bye.” And with that, Himoroth clicked his fingers. Oriontho saw a flash of white and then he was in the courtyard. His head was aching, but the pain soon faded. He looked round and saw the King approaching him from one end of the courtyard with two bronze broadswords.
The sun was quite low in the sky now, and there was an orange glow that bathed the courtyard in its light. The King handed Oriontho one of the swords and then turned round and walked across the courtyard.
“We’ll stay here ‘till moon tide.” the King called out to him.
“What’s moon tide?” replied Oriontho.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Now, come get me!” the King raised his sword in the air and cried loudly. Oriontho felt his hands grip the sword and his legs carry him towards the King. He raised the sword in the air and brought in down heavily in line with the head of the King who merely deflected the strike away and lashed out at Oriontho’s ankles with his right foot. The kick connected and Oriontho fell to one knee, one the proceeded to spin round and kick him in the chest with his left foot. Oriontho fell back onto his elbows. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. He tried to move his arms and legs, but he couldn’t. All he could do was lie there, propped up on his elbows and feet and watch the King approach with an evil smile on his face.
“You’re no asset to the castle,” he said menacingly, moving the sword so the tip of its blade was pressing Oriontho’s throat. “You’re no asset,” he repeated, “You’re a menace. And anyone who’s a menace – dies.” He spat the last word out. Then he laughed insanely. “Any last requests?” he said in between laughing.
“Just one,” said Oriontho slowly and carefully so as not to cut is throat on the sword blade. “Don’t suppose you’d consider letting me go, would you?” the King laughed even harder.
“Screw that.” said the King. He switch-handed the sword and swung it to the left. When the blade was level with the King’s shoulder, he swung it back down still laughing. The laughter was the one flaw in the King’s plan however – he closed his eyes. As soon as he did this, Oriontho felt life flooding back to him and so he rolled over and leapt up, swing the sword over his head in a wide arc. The blade connected with the King’s head, however what Oriontho hadn’t noticed until now, was that he was using the blade flat ended. The King’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and he fell to the ground unconscious. Oriontho felt that something was expected of him, so he made an attempt at it.
“So,” he said deepening his voice, “did I pass the audition?”

In the King’s throne room, behind the unnoticeable door, there a squelching sound, a low groan and a thud against the door followed a few seconds later by another one. THUD, THUD, THUD the thing banged on the door repeatedly. Cracks began to appear in the stone door and dust began to fall from in between the stones. A couple of minutes later the thudding ceased and there was a short spell of silence. Then without warning there was a massive wave of heat and the stone door was merely a puddle of grey liquid on the floor. A fireball crashed through the wall on the other side of the King’s chamber and soared across the courtyard, smashing through two more walls before it soared out into the night. A few seconds later there was a massive explosion and the fireball exploded in the air over the sea – a blinding yet spectacular sight for anyone who was watching…

Himoroth screamed and clutched his head in agony.
“What the hell!” he screamed. “That power, it’s, it’s – it’s incredible! Whoever’s doing this is damn powerful!” he screamed again, and he became enveloped in an azure light which when it faded, revealed that Himoroth was no longer there.

The courtyard was filled with azure light as Himoroth emerged there. Oriontho looked over at the light, but it soon faded and Himoroth was standing there, his hat off his head, revealing long loose brown hair. He had a small beard and moustache. His eyes were closed, his lips were moving silently, his legs were shoulder width apart and his hands were tucked into the sleeves of his robe. A few seconds later, the courtyard was filled with red light as the beast emerged. The light faded and Oriontho gasped, sickened at what the beast looked like.
It was human shaped with red skin and blue veins which pulsed vibrantly, sticking out its skin. It had bright yellow eyes and protruding from its head were two large black horns. The creature also had a long red tail which ended in a triangular green blade. It opened his mouth and hissed, revealing a purple tongue and two rows of razor sharp teeth. The beast also had six fingers on each hand, and all twelve fingers ended in long, sharp black claws. Finally, the beast had a brown strap across its chest, attached to a katana scabbard, its silver hilt protruding from the open end.
“And you are?” asked Himoroth straightening up, his eyes remaining firmly shut.
“I am Xholl, a daemon prince.” said the beast in a coarse dry voice. Himoroth opened his eyes to reveal two turquoise eyes. No iris, no pupil, just a turquoise oval in between his two eye lids.
“I’m Himoroth. Now I demand you return from whence you came.” Himoroth said, in a very commanding voice. Xholl laughed.
“Why?” he said, before pointing a long claw at the crumpled heap on the floor that was the king, “He summoned me, imprisoned me and always came to borrow daemonic energy from me before a battle.” Xholl paused, before continuing. “Now I’ve escaped.” Xholl pointed another claw at Himoroth. “Beware fool. For tonight is the night of the daemons!” and with that final comment, there was hiss, and a red light enveloped Xholl. The red light died down, Xholl wasn’t there anymore and a groan came from the King, who propped himself up on his elbows. Himoroth pointed an accusing finger at him.
“What were you thinking!” he yelled rhetorically. Then he lowered his arm. “What I want to know,” he continued calmly, “is how you managed to summon a daemon. So come on, out with it.”
“Well,” said the King, “Um, I think it’s – well, um…”
“Come on man, out with it!”
“Very well.” The King sighed. “Do remember a while back that a wizard came here and we had him executed? Well, we didn’t kill him as he requested that be given some space in the castle to perform extremely dangerous magic. So I put him in a secret chamber in the throne room. He’s not there anymore though, so what I’d imagine is he summoned that daemon, and it destroyed him.” He paused to take a breath, “However when I first saw the daemon, he offered me strength, he allowed me to borrow some of his power for the Yuleoz war and after that, after that I guess I just got hooked on the power.”
“Fool.” Himoroth smirked, “But still, I suppose it’s understandable. One of such a weak mind as yourself wouldn’t be able to fight the need for power.” Himoroth finished smugly.
“I don’t have a weak mind.” said the King, obviously with false calmness.
“However, on to more pressing issues.” said Himoroth seriously, “I don’t think that Xholl was messing around when he said tonight was going to be the night of the daemons. This castle will be completely destroyed and there is nothing we can do about.”
“What! My castle! I shall stay to protect it!” the King cried.
“No. No you won’t.” Oriontho burst our. Himoroth and the King looked at him. Himoroth smiled and turned to the King.
“You can’t fight them.” He said plainly. “The best course of action would be to leave immediately. There will be enough fighters in the castle to hold the daemons off for about a minute, allowing any women and children that want to leave enough time to make some sort of headway. The daemons will start off using their weapons, and when they’ve killed everyone they want to, they’ll probably burn the entire castle to the ground before following anyone who escaped.”
“I must be there to lead them valiantly into battle though!” said King. Himoroth shook his head.
“Fine. Your choice, come with us and live or stay here to lead your men ‘valiantly into battle’ or more precisely, to lead them to their death. You won’t help them last any longer against the daemons then they would on their own.”
“I can try and negotiate with them.” the King said flatly. This time Himoroth chuckled.
“Very good idea,” he said, “As soon as they realize you’re trying to negotiate they’ll instantly incinerate you.” He pointed to the holes in the castle walls, “If one daemon prince can do that do stone walls, imagine what, possibly five daemon princes can do to you.” The King appeared to consider this. He dropped his head and turned his back to Himoroth and Oriontho.
“Very well, I’ll come with you.” he said, his voice overflowing with sadness.
“Excellent. We leave in ten minutes. Round up any stuff you’re taking and meet me back here then.”

Ten minutes later they were all in the courtyard. Himoroth was dressed in his usual robe, was wearing his straw hat and had the stick from his room in his left hand. Oriontho was wearing his black velvet, only this time he had the broadsword he fought the King with in a scabbard, which was slung across his chest in a similar fashion to the way the daemon had his.
The King was wearing a light chain mail vest, with a silken white shirt. He was wearing black trousers which had a belt around the top. In both hands he carrying a large axe similar to the ones that the axe men slaves had used, only this axe had a blue dragon engraved on both sides of both blades. He nodded.
“Well then, are we off?” he asked. “I’m ready.”
“So am I.” said Himoroth. He then plunged a hand into the recess of his robe, and when it emerged it had Oriontho’s knife in it. He handed it to him. “I hope you’ve got your crystal ball as well.” Himoroth said as Oriontho took his knife and put away in one of his pockets, with look of puzzlement on his face.
“How did you -” he began.
“I know all.” Himoroth cut him off. “And right now, I know that if we don’t leave right away, there’ll be trouble, so I say we leave now.” The other two nodded and the three of them walked over to the unguarded gate, unbolted it and left the castle…

The three of them stopped at the edge of a forest. So far they’d come down a long stony path, which had relatively boring. Nothing much had happened at and now they were at a forest.
“I still can’t believe I left it all behind…” said the King miserably, looking over his shoulder at the massive fire in the distance that was easily noticeable in the dusk light. It was the castle, and it was burning like there was no tomorrow, probably because for the castle, there wasn’t.
“So where does this lead exactly?” asked Oriontho, not taking his gaze off the blazing ruin in the distance.
“I can answer that.” said the King, “on the other side of this forest is Yuleoz. And personally, I’m dreading it.”
“Why’s that?” Oriontho asked.
“They tried to storm the castle once, and we massacred them. I’m dreading what they’ll do to me if they recognize me, which if the few survivors are still alive, they will.”
“They won’t touch you.” said a voice.
“That’s nice to know, thanks for that Himoroth.”
“They won’t touch you,” the voice repeated, “‘cause if I have my way, you won’t be making it there.” At this, the three of spun round to see Xholl standing there, the grass around his feet severely charred.
“You two, run now! Go!” shouted Himoroth, “Get to Yuleoz and safety, I’ll take care of Xholl and meet you there!”
“No place is safe now.” said Xholl menacingly. “Now, which one of you wants to die first?”
“Worthless scum. You’re the only one dying here!” shouted Himoroth.

The two stared deep into each others eyes. They were both searching for deep down fear, whilst waiting for the other one to make the first move. They’d both been standing like this for a good five minutes, not moving. A little way away, sat Oriontho and the King.
Normally, both Xholl and Himoroth would have launched straight into an attack, but this battle was actually life threatening to both of them. The wind blew, and the tree leaves whispered amongst themselves. The sky was cloudless and black, with a full moon hanging in the sky, surrounded by stars, which turned the night sky a very deep navy blue, and illuminated the ground.
Sparks of electricity were crackling around Himoroth’s body and staff, whilst flames were running across Xholl’s body. The daemon prince ran his tongue his forever dry lips and took a few steps back. Himoroth swung his stick up and held diagonally in both hands. Xholl grinned wickedly and put both hands on his katana handle. In swift movement he whipped the blade from its scabbard and he stood, left leg forward and right leg back, sword held double handed and close to his chest. A few seconds after he drew the sword, flames erupted in an ascending spiral around him, lighting up the entire area. The flames died, but you could still see bright orange spots in your eyes.
“Very impressive.” said Himoroth, not in the least bit daunted. “But you’re going to have to actually fight, not just show off, you know.” Xholl roared, raising his sword, ran forward, leapt into the air and performed an aerial manoeuvre before he continued on his way back to the ground. Whilst in the air, Xholl turned round, so he falling vertically towards the earth with his sword once again behind his head. When he was in range, he swung the sword down in a death blow. Himoroth raised his stick above his head, holding it horizontally. The sword slammed into, not even scratching it, let alone penetrating its surface. So there they were, the first blow had been struck. Himoroth was standing, head tilting backwards, eyes staring at Xholl. His stick was held directly above his head, holding back a daemonic katana. Attached to the katana was Xholl, balancing vertically in the air, his head tilted back slightly, eyes staring at Himoroth. They two of just stayed in those positions, glaring at each other. Himoroth stared to groan, and Xholl chuckled menacingly.
“Enough!” shouted Himoroth suddenly.
“Wassa matter?” asked Xholl, “Wimping out?”
“Not on your life.” said Himoroth, and with that he thrust his arms forwards, knocking Xholl off balance. He fell to floor with a crash, lying on his side, but before Himoroth could do anything, Xholl shot his purple tongue out, wrapped it round Himoroth’s legs and pulled. Himoroth cried out and fell heavily on his chest, having the wind knocked out of him. Then, in the blink of an eye, Xholl was on his, using his tongue as a stretchy arm, swinging Himoroth from side to side, repeatedly slamming him into the ground. After about the sixth time, Xholl held Himoroth in the air, and placed both his hands in line with his head. He then began to concentrate and small streaks of flame whipped across his hands.
“Goodbye.” Xholl whispered, and in a red flash, flames were streaming from his hands and completely consuming Himoroth. After a few seconds the flame disappeared. To reveal Xholl and Himoroth standing with their weapons locked in combat.
“How in the hell!” exclaimed the King, jumping to his feet.
“Teleportation.” said Oriontho, “He’s done many times before.”
Xholl roared loudly leapt in the air, kicking Himoroth square in the chest with both feet. Using the momentum, he somersaulted backward and landed lightly on his feet, almost immediately throwing a fireball at Himoroth. Himoroth staggered back from the impact of the kick, but before the fireball hit him, a blue sphere surrounded him and the fireball exploded when it touched the shield, causing little or no damage to Himoroth at all.
“Little *****…” said Xholl, jumping into the air. Keeping the shield intact, Himoroth swung the stick around in circles, and a green light consumed Himoroth. Where Himoroth had been standing, there was just a massive green sphere, which promptly leapt from the ground and crashed straight into Xholl, sending him flying backwards. The green sphere floated for a little longer, before exploding, covering Xholl in green light. Himoroth appeared back on the ground, with his hands on his knees, panting heavily. Xholl on the other hand was screaming in agony, writhing and twisting in mid air, shouting curses upon Himoroth who wasn’t really taking any notice.
“I’ll get you some die!” he finally screamed and a pair of velvet wings unfurled from his back, and he hovered in the air, directly in front of the full moon for a couple of seconds before darting off into the night, still screaming painfully.

[Tainted]

Wow, absolutely amazing chapter, you update extroadinarily fast... I have a few concerns though.

I let it slide when you introduced a gladitorial chapter, as there was one in my story also-- but I figured it a mere coincidence. However, Xholl from your story is spelt quite similar to Xhell from my story, the leader of the "dark side" or whatever you make of it.
I also let the whole daemons issue slide, as I know a lot choose to spell demons that way, but in my story there are creatures called Daemonals.

I would be flattered if it was your intent to try and mimic my story-- but you have talent, and you shouldn't feel the need to.

I'm starting to get hooked though-- the story is becoming quite the project in my eyes, don't abandon it anytime soon.

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Skullfire: Ah...
The gladitorial chapter is the first of many, so it was kind of coincedence, but there will be quite a few of those throughout the story.
The whole Xholl issue, I'm not actually sure about that. It kind of just came to me, could've been because I've been reading Zedrelthus and the Xhell idea was floating around or something, but... ah well. My Xholl is very different from your Xhell, so don't worry too much about it.
I chose to say daemons instead of demons because I've just finished HIs Dark Materials by Philip Pullman, and I think daemons just looks, well better than demons, so...
Finally, I'm not trying to mimic your story, so don't worry about that.

I'm also glad that you're 'starting to get hooked', that's a good thing, and I'm not planning to abandon anytime soon either, so joy to the world...

~

Righto, I'm getting worried that SKullfire is the only person actually reading this, so if anyone is reading please reply, thanks.
Chapter 5 probably won't be up for a while, as it's fairly big compared to the others.

[Tainted]

Ah, I figured it was a matter of coincidence. I know many, many times that I, after reading a lot of someone elses work, pick up names that are similar to that of theirs-- so I'm sorry for being so accusing.

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Well, it turns out Chapter 5 wasn't as long as I thought, so enjoy:

~Chapter 5: Battle of Yuleoz~

The dense forest was making the three of them edgy. The tall trees were blocking out the morning sun bushes were crowding them in, making them all feel claustrophobic whilst many nettles and thorns stung and scratched them.
The King was in the front of the group hacking through the thick shrubbery blocking their way with his axe, with Himoroth and Oriontho bringing up the rear. Himoroth was telling Oriontho about the plant life, and pointing out certain plants that could be used for herbal healing.
“That,” said Himoroth pointing to a small bush with small purple spherical fruits growing on it, “that’s a Nujog bush. The fruit growing is Nujog and if you cut it open and mix the juice with salt water, it gives the drinker a mass overload of energy. It has a sour yet spicy taste and is dangerous due to the fact that if you put either too much juice in the water or too much water with the juice, it’s very poisonous and usually kills instantly.” Oriontho nodded and Himoroth went on to tell him about another bush and its fruit that they were passing.

For two days and a night they’d been trekking through the forest, without any sleep at all, living off berries and their juices. The King hacked through a particularly difficult bush and daylight streamed in.
“Here we are,” he said, “Yuleoz.” The three of them exited the forest and began to breathe the new, clean air deeply, and basking in the sunshine.
“Yuleoz and civilization, here we come!” rejoiced Oriontho happily.
“Not quite.” said Himoroth who was standing a little way in front of the other two.
“What do you mean?” demanding the King.
“Take a look for yourself.” Oriontho and the King walked forward to where Himoroth was standing, and they stopped abruptly when they drew level with him.
“Whoa…” breathed Oriontho, looking ahead of him. They were standing exactly one step away from their deaths. They were standing on the edge of a humongous canyon, with a sheer vertical drop. There was a barely visible cliff face on the other side, but in between the two sides, was blackness. The sun was pouring its light upon the world, yet the drop stretched on forever in darkness.
“On the other side, that is where Yuleoz lies.” said Himoroth. “That’s how we cross.” he finished, pointing to the right of where they were standing.
“Let’s go then!” said the King and the three strode purposefully along the cliff face.

“No way.” said the King, holding his hands in front of him, backing away slightly. They had reached a bridge, it stretched all the way across the gorge, but it was made out of wood, many planks were missing and the whole bridge was held up by ropes attached by wooden poles driven into the ground on the both sides. It clearly hadn’t been used in months.
“It’s the only way across.” said Himoroth.
“I’m not crossing that death trap.” said the King, crossing his arms defiantly.
“I’ll go first then.” said Himoroth, striding confidently out onto the bridge.
“Wait!” said the King suddenly, “Why don’t you teleport us across?” Himoroth sighed.
“Because,” he said, “In case you’ve forgotten, I just fought head on with a daemon prince and then trekked through a thick dense forest for two days and a night without any sleep. I’m far too low on energy to transport the three of us across. In fact, if you want my view on it, I’d say it’s probably safer to take the bridge across then have me teleport us there. Anyway, it’ll build character and make you a stronger person.” He turned back to the bridge, “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” and with that he began to stride confidently across the bridge, his arms swinging by his side as he went.
After a couple of minutes he was lost from view, but could be just about heard.
“Okay!” he shouted across, “It’s safe to cross!”
“I’ll go now.” said the King, stepping out onto the bridge. It creaked even loudly this time, and the King grabbed the ropes, and walked slowly across the bridge, which was swinging left and right slowly.

After about ten minutes, the King shouted across.
“I’m here and alive! Now cross!” he shouted, his voice quavering. Oriontho swallowed and stepped out onto the bridge. He held the left rope tightly in his left hand and the right rope tightly in his right hand. The bridge creaked very loudly this time, loudly protesting about people crossing it. Oriontho gulped, and gripping the ropes even more tightly took slow, careful steps across the wildly swinging bridge. When he was about halfway across the bridge, he moved his foot forward and when it was above the next plank, the entire bridge in front of him exploded. Planks of wood went flying, and a huge cloud of dust billowed up. Oriontho took a few steps back and let go of the ropes to shield himself from the wood and dust that was flying everywhere. He immediately regretted letting go of the surprisingly intact ropes, as the bridge swung wildly to the left and he toppled over the right. His left hand grabbed the plank of he’d been standing on, and with some difficulty he managed to haul himself back onto the bridge. He steadied himself on the bridge, which was somehow still standing. The bridge began to stop rocking altogether, and the atmosphere thinned greatly, making it harder for Oriontho to breathe. Oriontho then became very cold and began to shiver violently. Before he knew what was happening, the entire bridge was falling down into the ravine, and his feet were no longer touching the ground. He looked around and saw that he was trapped in a circle of red flame.
“Xholl!” a voice screamed from far below. Xholl grinned and with a flap of his wings he spun round and hovered in the air. Oriontho looked down and saw a figure surrounded by blue energy rising slowly through the clouds.
“You’re far too weak to stop me.” said Xholl, hurling a fireball at Himoroth who moved to the side.
“Maybe so,” said Himoroth weakly, but I can try.”
“No.” said Xholl flatly. “He’s my hostage.” And with that, a hole appeared in the sky, and Xholl darted into it, dragging Oriontho behind him. The hole closed immediately after the two of them had entered, leaving Himoroth, floating outside powerless to do anything else.

Xholl flew on through the Underworld. The entire place consisted of many large blue cliffs, held steadily in place while lava flowed around their bases and mid sections. There were other daemons flying around, but neither Xholl nor Oriontho paid much attention to them; Xholl knew were he was going, and that was what Oriontho was worried about. Xholl reached a cave mouth and slowed down, entering it cautiously, his head flicking left and right as he did so. Once they were in the cave, darkness consumed them, but the speed picked up again and in no time they’d exited the cave. Oriontho swore when they emerged and he saw where they were.
Everywhere he looked were daemons torturing humans. In one area of the room daemons were taking it in turns to torture one person; one daemon held him still through telepathy while the other daemon beat him viciously.
In another area, a man was strapped into a rack. A rack that was not only stretching him, but at the same time being lowered slowly into the bubbling lava below, while a bird pecked at him, ripping large chunks of skin out of his body at a time.
Another daemon was standing at the top of a high blue cliff, watching as his batch of humans struggled to climb the cliff, with their hands and feet tied, whilst dragging a large boulder behind them. Xholl flew on through another cave, not slowing down this time. As the got to the end of the cave, Xholl stopped completely. He created a fireball which illuminated the area in front of them – a fork in the cave. There was path on the left, a path on the right and a hole above and below. Xholl peered closely at a sort of inscription above the left cave, before grunting and flying off through the cave on the right, dragging Oriontho behind.

~

“Please state your name and reason for coming to Yuleoz!” declared the guard at the gate. There was small wall going all the way around the town of Yuleoz.
“Move.” said the King, stepping forward and swinging his axe. The guard however stuck his hand out and grabbed the top part of the handle on the axe, just below the blade.
“Please state your name and reason for coming here!” repeated the guard.
“Himoroth.” said Himoroth stepping forward.
“Can’t you just blast him out the way?” whispered the King. Himoroth shook his head.
“Please state your business!” said the guard, turning to Himoroth, without loosening his grip on the axe.
“We are travellers from the windy north continent.” Himoroth lied. “We are armed as our country is plagued by war, and we feared that if we left unarmed we wouldn’t have made it here alive.”
“You’re carrying a stick.” said the guard. “How is that going to help you?”
“I’m a mage.” said Himoroth, the only true part of his story. The guard pointed at the King.
“My name is Nazzol.” said the King, revealing his name at last. “I’m a knight from the patrol unit.”
“Then you may enter.” said the guard stepping aside and letting go of Nazzol’s axe.

Himoroth and Nazzol strolled through the town of Yuleoz. It was a large town, with many houses and other buildings, the one problem being that they were all made of wood. In the centre of the town was a well, which was in the middle of a sandy square. There was a large building on the other side of the town, and this is were Himoroth and King Nazzol headed to.
Rising above the other buildings was the church, the one building made of stone instead of wood. One part of the church – the church tower - stretched high into the sky, ending with long pointed spike topped with a weather vane. Halfway up the church tower was a large bronze bell.
Attached to the church tower, was a long building with stained glass windows on it. The two of them went in through the large unbolted wooden door and saw at least fifty rows of benches stretching the length of the building. At the end of the church was a large stone altar, with a red a white robe lying across it.
A few paces to the left of the large wooden door used for entrance and exit, was a smaller wooden door. Himoroth opened it and peered into the gloom.
“Stairs.” he said, shutting the door, “Probably leads to the bell.” Himoroth then stopped, and a look of, well something crossed his face. “Who’s in charge of this place?” he asked Nazzol.
“The High Priest.” said Nazzol, glancing round. “Goes by the name of Jold, I believe. They don’t have a King you see. The High Priest is the one who commands everything. He is basically the same as a King, but he’s a High Priest.”
“Is that him?” said Himoroth, pointing in the direction of the altar.

~

”Don’t point!” screamed Xholl, punching Oriontho’s left shoulder, making him lower his arm. “If you point they’ll think you’re doing something and they’ll have you killed!”
“Isn’t that what you want though?” asked Oriontho, rubbing his shoulder.
“You will be quiet in the presence of King Zez!” boomed, well, boomed King Zez. The daemon King stood there in all his glory, flames streaming all over his body, massive wings folded up behind his back, his horns curling majestically into the air, far taller than Xholl’s horns. The only difference being that the King was different.
King Zez was undoubtedly a daemon, but he didn’t look anything like Xholl. He was centaur, with long curly horns protruding from the top of his, and long velvet wings sprouting from his back. He was same colour as Xholl though.
“My son, why’ve you brought this human before me?” King Zez asked.
“He is a Soul Reaper!” said Xholl excitedly.
“Then send him to Him.” King Zez said. Xholl nodded.
“Come with me.” he said, spreading his wings and flying off through the Underworld back to the forked cave. Oriontho sighed before he felt himself being jerked off the floor and dragged through the air behind Xholl. When they reached the fork, Xholl flew upwards this time and Oriontho was reluctantly dragged along.

~

”You know, after Castle Havonis fell, I thought you might come here, seeking refuge.” said Jold quietly, pacing back and forth in front of the altar. He was dressed in the red and white robe that had been lying on the altar a few minutes before.
“How do you know about Havonis’ defeat?” asked King Nazzol defensively.
“Well, it’s quite simple. I mean, it’s really difficult to see a mass blaze of fire in the distance at night when it’s almost pitch black isn’t it?”
“How could he see through the forest though?”
“I didn’t. I went up to the bell tower.”
“I take it you’re kicking us out then.” said Himoroth. Jold turned to him.
“Yes,” he said, “and no.”
“Meaning what?” King Nazzol asked.
“Well, after the war, I don’t see why you should be allowed to stay here. However, the bulk of army was destroyed and we were forced to retreat before I had the chance to fight you. So this is my challenge – me and you, a fight to the death. If I win, he leaves,” at this he pointed at Himoroth, “but if you win, the town is yours.”
“Sounds fair.” said Nazzol.
“Excellent.” Jold said, “See you in the sand square in the centre of town at 3.”
“Done.” said Nazzol, exiting the church with Himoroth in the lead.

“My advice would be that you cram in a few hours sleep.” Himoroth glanced at the sun. “It looks like it’s about eleven, so you could four hours sleep before hand. You can rest in my room.”
“Where the hell is your room right now then?” demanded Nazzol angrily.
“Here.” said Himoroth, swinging his staff. There was a bright flash and the two of them materialized in Himoroth’s room.
“How the hell?” said Nazzol.
“The room is never in one place. So it can never be destroyed. It shifted from its place in the castle before it was burned down you see.” A bed materialized in the corner. “You sleep there.”
“Right…” said Nazzol, drifting over to the bed, flopping down on it and dozing off to sleep.

~

There was grass everywhere, not green grass, but black grass. There were black trees and black bushes everywhere too. There was even a large black pond in the middle of the garden. One end of the garden simply repeated itself over and over again, seemingly going on forever, whilst at the other end was a large black house, with red curtains and a dim red light in each of the rooms.
Xholl and Oriontho stood in front of the door to the house. There was a button next to it, with sign underneath it that read, ‘Push for assistance.’
Xholl did just that, and a chilling laugh of pure evil and malice echoed round the house and the garden. The door was thrown open and there He stood.
He was an old man. Xholl gulped and disappeared in an explosion of smoke.
“Well, well, well.” said the old man. “I never thought I’d see the day another Soul Reaper was born.”
“How’d do you know I’m a Soul Reaper?” asked Oriontho.
“Because Zez wouldn’t send any other Gifted person here to have their abilities honed by me. Now come in. I’m Jotek by the way.” Jotek stood aside and Oriontho entered the building. Jotek slammed the door behind him…

~

”Where is he?” Nazzol asked himself quietly. He was standing there quite refreshed holding his axe, focusing slightly on Jold who was armed with a strange blade. However, he was scanning the area for Himoroth.

Himoroth, was asleep in his room, channelling the battle into his dreams. He would’ve loved to have been there to help, but he had no energy left to perform any form of telepathic attack. So instead, he slept, focusing on the battle through his dreams.

“Face it, your friend isn’t coming.” said Jold swinging his weapon above his. Nazzol sighed and turned to face Jold.
“What kind of weapon is that?” he asked.
“It’s called a Cutlass.” said Jold, holding the weapon out for Nazzol to see. Nazzol looked at the weapon carefully. It was a steel sword, that’s blade curved round. The handle had the normal rectangular bit underneath the bit that separated the blade from the handle, but it had a semi-circle on one side. Jold was holding it like a normal sword however, and the curve was pointing upwards.
The bell tolled and its sound rang across all of Yuleoz.
Jold screamed loudly and ran at Nazzol, with his blade held up so it curved over his right shoulder. Jold leapt into the air when he was about ten paces away from Nazzol, and as he came down he swung the sword wildly across to his left. Nazzol held up the axe and the cutlass blade slammed into it. The impact vibration caused Jold to scream and drop the cutlass, and Nazzol stepped back and dropped his axe. Not wasting any time however, he spun his round and drove his foot hard into Jold’s stomach. Jold cried out in pain, but quickly responded with an uppercut. His fist connected with Nazzol’s chin and Nazzol fell back, only to be tripped over, and land face down in the dirt.
Jold chuckled menacingly, picked up his cutlass and slowly advanced upon the floored Nazzol. He stopped in front of him, and raised the cutlass high. He brought it down swiftly.
“Up yours, bastard.” cried Nazzol. He quickly rolled slightly to the side, leapt up and punched Jold in the face. Jold stumbled back and dropped the cutlass. In one swift movement Nazzol had grabbed the blade and thrust straight through Jold’s stomach. Blood dripped through the small opening between the flesh and the blade and Jold’s eyes glazed over. Nazzol walked over to where his axe lay and picked it up.

[Tainted]

Nazzol's quite a character, loved the chapter. I'm becoming quite immersed into your world, and reading your story somehow makes me want to write mine.
Progressing very well, without flaw-- I'm interested to see what Jotek has in mind for Oriontho...

On the whole, excellent chapter. Zedrelthus should be up by tomorrow.

EDIT: Just noticed something-- the whole Nazzol fighting a man for control of the town is very similar to what happens in the upcoming Entry of Zedrelthus, I won't spoil it for you though. Maybe great minds think alike? Or perhaps dumb minds just think the same...

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Oh joy! 1st fic I've ever posted here that's reached page 2! Yay!

Skullfire: Glad you liked the chapter and Nazzol.
Again, I'm glad your becoming immersed into my world. You'll find out what Jotek has in mind for Oriontho in the next chapter.

~ Its definately brilliant minds that work alike. Or is it... *eerie music begins to play*

~Looking forward to the next entry of Zedrelthus.~

[Pig on the Wing]

Well, writing seems to be going very well lately, so here's Chapter 6.

~Chapter 6: Clash of the Reapers~

“Focus!” screamed Jotek. “Find its soul, and kind of, well, you know. Take it.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a Soul Reaper.” Oriontho sighed. “I just -”
“You can’t be ‘cut out’ to be a Soul Reaper,” chuckled Jotek, “You either are, or you aren’t. Now kill the cow.” Oriontho nodded and turned to cow. It was sitting on the black lawn, chewing the black grass, yet the cow itself was a light brown colour. Oriontho was sitting cross legged, concentrating on the cow with Jotek pacing back and forth behind him. The cow continued chewing the grass, apparently oblivious to the deadly work focused on it.
Then Oriontho felt it. It was a slight tingling in the back of his head, nothing much, but it was there. The tingling increased to a dull thud, and became a searing burning. The burning spread across his head and in a painful scream from Oriontho, the cow was jerked of the ground. It writhed in the air, before a ripping noise was heard and the cow dropped lifelessly to the floor.
Oriontho however wasn’t done. The grass near him and the cow melted away, as well as the grass in a few other places and a few of the trees lost all of their black flowers.
“Very good.” said Jotek raising his eyebrows. “But in a crowded place, you only want to kill the one you want to kill, not a bunch of others.” Oriontho nodded. He looked around at the ground where the grass had been burned away. There was a sort of hazy purple glow, yet deeper, below the glow were lights. Faint lights they were, but they were lights none the less.
“You burned a small fraction of time, space and reality all at once.” said Jotek calmly. “Now do you see the power of a weak Soul Reaper?” Jotek snapped his fingers. “If I’d wanted to,” he said, “I could have easily just killed twenty seven people, destroyed fifteen years and mutated seven things, all that just by clicking my fingers. So we can’t have untrained people like you on the loose, can we?”
“No sir.”
“Now then, I must tell you this. I’m not just a Soul Reaper; I’m an elemental sorcerer as well. I can summon wind, fire, water and earth to do my bidding. As you’re here, I’ll show you how to do that as well. Remember this if nothing else: power is everything!”

~

A week had passed since Nazzol had killed Jold and taken complete control of Yuleoz.
“There will be spies.” Himoroth said. “They won’t like a king. From what I hear, Jold was pretty popular among the people. They’ll be people who’ll challenge you.”
“Let them.” Nazzol replied. They were both sitting at a circular table, with plates of steamed vegetables and cooked meat on them. Nazzol was heartily tucking, whereas Himoroth had eaten nothing but an apple all morning.
“They could poison the food you know.” Himoroth pointed out. Nazzol promptly spat out the food he was chewing, and pushed his plate away from him.
“I’ve known you for a few years now Himoroth,” he said, “I know you want something so please tell me.”
“I want nothing.” said Himoroth quietly. “I just fear for Oriontho’s safety with those daemon beasts.”
“Ah. Yes, the boy. Well, what do you propose we do about it?”
“Well, I’m rested and restored so I say we head to daemon Underworld and get him back.”
“I thought you’d say that.” said Nazzol sighing.

The two of them were by the bridge. It looked as though nothing had happened but Himoroth claimed that he could feel a powerful disturbance in the air. Holding his stick forward, he began to make intricate patterns in the air, whilst muttering under his breath. Slowly a faint red circle appeared in the air.
“Let’s go!” said Himoroth, “Now! It won’t hold for long.”
“Right.” said Nazzol, nodding his head. Himoroth prodded Nazzol in the chest with his stick.
“It’ll enable you to fly for two hours.” he explained, before the two of them flew in through the red hole.

~

”You’ve mastered it.” said Jotek admirably. “You can fully control your power, and as you get older your power will increase.”
“Thank you master.” said Oriontho.
“That’s all right. However, now you shall have to complete the last phase of your training.”
“Being what?”
“Wait and see…” Jotek said, “Follow me.” Jotek and Oriontho walked along a corridor through a door into a room with no decoration at all. There were scratch marks all around the room.
There was another door at the end, and from behind the door came a muffled scream…

~

Daemons threw fireballs rapidly at the two speeding circles of blue. Nazzol and Himoroth raced through the Underworld, with a team of about five daemons chasing behind them. Himoroth had been following a small trace of Oriontho’s energy since they got into the Underworld and Himoroth and said that in the cave at the fork they must go up. The cave was ahead, the daemons were behind and both Nazzol and Himoroth were flying for their lives. A fireball flew past Nazzol, missing him by a couple of centimetres.
“Nazzol, once we reach the cave, they can only get in one at a time. If I hold them off while you get to the cave, and then I lead the daemons toward the cave, you can slice them open as they come.” said Himoroth.
“Sounds good!” shouted Nazzol over the roar of flames.
“Good luck!” called Himoroth as he slowed down and spun round.
“Same to ya!” replied Nazzol as he sped off towards the cave.

Himoroth began to concentrate, and sparks of electricity crackled down his stick.

~

“A staff is in the Underworld!” screamed Xholl from the King’s chamber.
“It is the one who was travelling with the boy.” said King Zez calmly.
“I’ll eliminate him immediately.” said Xholl spreading his wings and preparing to fly.
“No, my son.” said King Zez, and Xholl turned slowly. King Zez spread his wings, and stamped his hooves. “I’ve been itching for a fight for quite a while now.” And with that, he was gone.
“Father…” said Xholl quietly.

~

The daemons stopped and stared at the staff, as if hypnotized. Then one by one, they folded in their wings and dropped into the flowing lava below. When they were only two daemons left, Himoroth turned and raced towards the cave. The daemons hovered in mid air for a few seconds, before shaking themselves as if waking from a trance, and speeding off after him.
Himoroth landed in the cave behind Nazzol, and as the daemons approached the cave Nazzol swung the axe, left to right killing one daemon, before swinging the axe from right to left killing the second daemon.
“Get out of the cave!” screamed Himoroth pushing Nazzol out of the way. Nazzol instantly fell, before remembering he had short term power of flight and speeding up to land on a ledge jutting out of one of the cliffs.
“Leave him!” King Zez commanded, emerging from the cave, and the few daemons approaching Nazzol screamed in fear and slunk back. The many daemons stopped what they were doing and stared up. Zez shot a stream of flame at Himoroth, who darted out of the way and threw a small globe of green light at Zez. It crashed into his body, and was absorbed, leaving Zez floating laughing like a hyena. Zez then held out both hands and lava erupted from them. Himoroth gasped and crossed hi arms across his chest, with his stick held tightly in place against his chest by his arms. The lava made contact and spread out so it was a large square. Himoroth began to groan against the strain.
“Nazzol, go now! Go get Oriontho!” Himoroth grunted. Out of the corner of his eye, Himoroth saw Nazzol float into the air and slowly and stealthily glide into the cave.

~

Jotek crossed to the door and opened it. A figure fell out, a human figure. Jotek picked the person up and pressed them against the wall. It was a girl, her hands and feet were tied and she had a piece of cloth tied around her mouth. She had blue eyes that looked as though they were once full of life, although they were now lifeless. She had brown hair streaked with red and green that reached just past her shoulders and she was wearing a dirtied red dress that reached her feet, yet left her arms bare. Her skin was pale, and her arms had red burn marks on them.
“Your final test is to destroy this person.” said Jotek stepping away.
“What! No!” cried Oriontho, “What’s she ever done?”
“Nothing, but killing her will be your final test. You can’t be a Soul Reaper and not kill people now, can you?”
“I will not kill her.” said Oriontho flatly. “I will only ever use my ability for the good of others.”
“The good of others?” laughed Jotek. “How old are you my boy?” he then asked.
“Seventeen.” he replied instantly. Jotek sighed.
“Reduced to killing a mere child.”
“What do you mean by that? Surely you don’t mean to…” his voice trailed off as realisation struck.
“That’s right,” said Jotek folding his arms. “You refuse to kill her, so I’m going to have to kill you.” Oriontho swore and pulled his sword out of its scabbard. Jotek held his arms out.
“Surely you can’t expect to beat me with that?” he said, before a tornado ripped out of his outstretched hands. Oriontho swiftly moved his sword so it was in front of his chest, hoping it would do something. It didn’t…

Nazzol landed on the grass. He looked around, and made his way to the house. He saw the door, he saw the bell and he heard something going in inside. He stood to the side of the door and reached up to press the bell.
There was a laugh of pure evil and malice and the door was thrown open – but Nazzol hadn’t pressed the bell.

~

Himoroth hadn’t moved. The attack had eventually bested him, and he was thrown back into a wall of the Underworld creating a huge crater upon impact. He was in the centre of the crater, with his arms still crossed over his chest. He hadn’t moved as he was channelling his energy, preparing a major attack. He was using every last bit of energy inside him to create this attack, and it wasn’t easy suppressing it. Slowly he felt himself get weaker and weaker, as the attack got stronger. Himoroth sighed as he felt his last morsels of energy drain away. The attack was at its peak of power.
“It’s now or never.” he mumbled. He took aim at King Zez, looked at the lava below, the daemons around him, the staff clutched tightly to his chest. “It’s a sacrifice worth making he.” he said to himself. He once again looked at the daemon king and took aim. He began to feel light headed, and with a final scream he threw his arms wide, the staff exploded and a humungous surge of greenish coloured energy hurtled towards King Zez. The daemon king had no time to do anything, the attack crashed into him and he exploded in a mass ball of fire.
Himoroth himself fell into the lava, and felt himself being burned alive. The ball of fire spread across the room incinerating everything and anything. Nothing survived…

~

Xholl felt himself become a lot stronger.
“So I was right,” he said to himself. He raised a fist triumphantly into the air. “All hail King Xholl! Ruler of the Underworld!” he screamed loudly.

~

Nazzol watched as the door was thrown open and Oriontho went flying out, crashing onto the lawn.
Jotek appeared a few seconds later sparks crackling up and down his body. He walked out of the house ignoring Nazzol completely. He began to focus on Oriontho. Both Jotek and Oriontho went hazy and Oriontho was thrown the ground, being suspended in mid air.
“Bastard!” said Nazzol, swinging his axe at Jotek. Jotek stumbled forward, and Oriontho fell to the floor.
“You stay out of this if you value your life!” screamed Jotek. Nazzol nodded fearfully. The attack would’ve killed anyone, but this person had just shrugged it off as if it were nothing.
“Good job you taught me that I could use the power of ice isn’t it?” said Oriontho conjuring an icicle out of the air and hurling it at Jotek’s unprotected back. The icicle spiked right through Jotek’s chest. Jotek just turned round, and the icicle just melted, revealing a hole the size of the icicle that’d thrown going through Jotek’s body.
“I’m invincible fool!” he screamed, before throwing a huge fireball at Oriontho, dived out of the way. The fireball burned away a large portion of the grass, leaving a large hole that contained the haze purple glow. No sooner had the fireball disappeared, Jotek held out both hands and the ground Oriontho was lying on was ripped out, and thrown into the air. Jotek made complicated movements with his hands and the floating ground split apart, forming mud spikes which relentlessly pummelled Oriontho, who was being held in the air. Hurricane winds to blow, and cut Oriontho’s skin and clothing. The lake began to gurgle, and ripples spread across its surface before a huge tidal wave pulled itself out of the water, crashing into the severely injured Oriontho. The mud spikes repeatedly attacked him, the winds cut him, the water suffocated him and Nazzol could take it no more. He ran forward and plunged the top spike of his axe through Jotek’s head, digging it in deep before pulling it back out again. He took a few steps back, and watched as Oriontho dropped to the ground, landing in the lake, the mud spikes disintegrated and the winds died down. Oriontho pulled himself out of the lake and sat cross legged, staring at Jotek.
Jotek turned round and glared Nazzol. He opened his hand and a fireball appeared in it.
“You were warned old man…” Jotek growled, ignoring the fact that Nazzol was younger than he was. Nazzol made no attempt to correct him, but walked slowly backwards, a look of terror on his face. Jotek pulled his hand back preparing to throw the fireball…

Oriontho felt the surge power in his body…

Jotek threw his hand forward. The fireball flew towards Nazzol, but faded into nothingness a few centimetres away from him. There was a loud ripping noise, and Jotek fell to the floor, dead with blood dripping freely from him. Nazzol looked over at Oriontho, who nodded at him, and he sighed in relief before chucking his weapon to the floor and lying down.

Oriontho stood after a few minutes and walked into the house. He went down the long corridors, through various doors and entered the room where he was supposed to finish his training. He picked up his sword which was lying on the floor near the entrance and cut the girl loose. He untied the cloth and threw it on the floor.
“He’s dead.” he said bluntly. The girl nodded. “I’m Oriontho.” he said.
“Fiona.” said the girl. “Thanks.” She then walked out of the room. Oriontho stared at the wall for a few seconds before exiting the house.

“Ready to go?” he asked Nazzol. Nazzol sat up and looked at him.
“What? Oh, yeah.” he said.
“Where’s Himoroth?”
“Fighting some big daemon king. He gave me the power of flight for a couple of hours. He told me he’d hold off the King and that I had to come and get you. Hold onto the axe and I’ll fly us back.” The two of them walked over to the hole that led to the Underworld and Nazzol turned his axe sideways. Oriontho held onto it, and they prepared to jump down the hole.
“Wait you two!” called a voice from behind them. They looked over their shoulders and saw Fiona running down the lawn towards them. She was now dressed in a red shirt and long red trousers. The sleeves on the shirt and the trousers had gold patterns sewn into the sides of them.
“Who’s she?” Nazzol hissed to Oriontho.
“Some girl called Fiona. I think she was a prisoner of his or something. It’d probably be best to take her with us.”
Nazzol gave him an odd look, grabbing Fiona roughly and jumping down the hole. He flew them through the cave and out into the Underworld. The heat was unbearable, but Nazzol insisted they looked for Himoroth. Then a voice loudly declared from deep in the Underworld,
“The one you are looking for is dead. No one that was in that chamber is still alive, and unless you two wish to go the same way, you’d best be gone.” Nazzol didn’t argue or wait to see who’d spoken but just flew straight on through the Underworld.
The three of them quickly left the Underworld behind and nipped through the slowly closing portal.

It was evening and the three of them were sitting round a table in a small fish diner. Oriontho told Nazzol everything that had happened to him over the past week, and then Nazzol told Oriontho about what had happened to him over the past week. The then paused for a few moments to remember Himoroth.
“He was a good man.” said Oriontho.
“Loyal and just.” added Nazzol, “And now there’s only two of us.”
“Three.” said Fiona. The other two looked at her. “I can help you. You may have wondered why Jotek had me. My parents crossed him once and he killed them both, but wanted to make me - their only child - suffer. He took me to that awful place of his and tortured me in ways I’m not even going to talk about,” she paused for a few seconds to calm herself, “But what he didn’t know was that I was shifting through his stuff.”
“Your point is…” said Nazzol, gesturing with his hand for her to continue.
“I’m a fire elemental.”

[Tainted]

A firestarter, nice. A romance for Oriontho? Only time will tell.

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Just letting you all know, writing is going very slowly at the moment, thus the next chapter won't be up for a while. I've done about half of it, but I just don't feel like writing, so although I'm carrying on with the fic, next chapter and possibly some future ones won't be up for a while... :(

[Pig on the Wing]

Next chapter is here. Enjoy.

~Chapter 7: To Hajorl Valley~

The wind blew icily and the trees and bushes in the otherwise empty field rustled. At the end of the field, bathed in moonlight a large grey stone building stood. There were many small thin windows and only one large wooden door as an entrance and exit. The building had about 20 metres of open space between it and a large eight foot wall. The patch around the wall was sandy and standing on the path was a small lantern, glowing dimly in the dark night. Next to the lantern was a silhouetted human shaped figure that was frantically digging away at the sand with its hands. The figure cursed many times as its hands were cut on a rock or a deep part of the stone wall, but despite the occasional time this happened the figure continued digging. The figure kept glancing behind him, but nobody came and nothing happened so each time the person returned to their digging.
The dim dawn sunlight slowly began to pierce the dark night sky the figure extinguished the lantern and dropped through the hole. The figure was lost from view but dirt was thrown out of the hole rapidly.

~

Nazzol was the first to wake. He quickly checked that all the weapons were still there and the other two were all right. When he was satisfied that everything was all right he picked up his axe and swung it around a couple of times.
The three of them had trekked along a very long and boring mud path that had led into a forest. Trees stretched up into the air around them, and once night had fallen, they stumbled across an empty clearing. Exhausted the three of them had just collapsed and almost instantly were fast asleep.
Now it was morning though, and Nazzol thought it’d be a good idea to check out the surrounding area. Every direction he looked in, he could see trees stretching into the distance, which wasn’t a surprise but wasn’t much help either.
“Whatcha doin’?� asked a voice from behind him. Nazzol jumped and turned round, holding his axe tightly. Oriontho was standing up, with his sword in his hand, looking tired but alert. Fiona was still sleeping on the damp dew dripping grass.
“Did you say that?� asked Nazzol, relaxing his grip on his axe a little.
“No.� was the straight reply and Nazzol tightened his grip again.
“More daemons?� whispered Nazzol.
“Possibly.� came the next abrupt reply.
“I can see you’re very talkative this morning.�
“Hmm.�
“Oh screw this.� said Nazzol, “Who’s there!� he shouted. There was a soft snigger from the trees and a figure clad in black emerged from the shadows.
“You are trespassing in my forest!� he said, pulling a long wooden stick from a piece of cloth tied around his waist. He swung it in a circle in front of him and then struck out at Nazzol. Nazzol stood calmly and the stick stopped a few centimetres away from his chest. Oriontho on the other hand had jumped backwards and was holding his sword in a fighting stance.
“Who are you?� Nazzol asked the man who hadn’t moved since his missed attack.
“I am Claymore! Master of the forest! Ruler of swords!� replied the man.
“Why are you armed with a stick then?� Oriontho piped up.
“Never you mind.� said Claymore, tucking his stick into the cloth around his waist. He turned to Nazzol. “My beef is with you, so watch out. The clan is ready strike, and I doubt you, even with your little friends, could stand up to them.� And with that, Claymore backed into the trees, lost in the dark green overgrowth.
“What was that all about?� Oriontho demanded after a short, few seconds of awkward silence. Nazzol continued to stare into the shrubbery. He sighed and turned to Oriontho.
“I have no idea.� he said quietly. Oriontho thought he was lying, but decided to keep quiet. “When she wakes up,� said Nazzol, indicating Fiona, “then we leave.�
“Right. But where do we go to?�
“I have no idea. It might be an idea if we head over to Hajorl Valley. Their technology is pretty advanced compared to ours; it’d be a worthwhile trip.�
“You know, its strange.� said Oriontho, “But none of us seem to know where we’re going – it’s as if we’re being driven by some unknown force.� Nazzol stared blankly at Oriontho for a couple of seconds before sighing with relief.
“That’s exactly how I feel,� he said, “Only I didn’t say it, ‘cause, you know… it sounds stupid.� Oriontho nodded.
“What do you say then?� said Oriontho out of the blue. “A little practise fight, to test ourselves against each other.�
“You’re on.� Nazzol replied, swinging his axe heavily at Oriontho, who dodged to one side, and swung his sword in a low arc, aiming for Nazzol’s knee caps. Nazzol leapt up, and lashed out with his left foot, kicking Oriontho in the face. He stumbled back a bit, and blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth.
“Ready to give in?� asked Nazzol. Oriontho grinned, wincing slightly, and plunged his hand into his pocket. He pulled it out and hefted his knife at Nazzol. It bounced off his shoulder; being gold it wasn’t strong enough to pierce the skin, but it was still fairly heavy and could break a bone. Nazzol winced, and swung his axe round painfully. The axe thudded into a tree next to Oriontho’s neck, and taking advantage of the situation Oriontho kicked Nazzol in the stomach. Nazzol released the axe and stumbled backwards, coughing violently. Oriontho then jumped up, swinging his left leg, and catching Nazzol on the cheek. Nazzol fell to the floor.
“I give! I give!� said Nazzol, and Oriontho grinned and wiped the blood from his mouth and chin.
“You did well young one.� said a figure in the trees.
“Not you again!� said Nazzol in exasperation.
“I am not Claymore, but one of his companions. Young boy, you could do well with us… consider it.� And with that there was a rustle in the bushes, followed by silence.
There was a sigh from behind them, and Fiona sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked up, and saw Nazzol lying on the floor on the edge of the clearing, with Oriontho standing over him, with one foot on his chest and his sword pressed against his neck. Without thinking, she immediately hurled a small fireball at Oriontho, who held his hands out and froze the ball in mid air, before leaping up and slicing it half, leaving both halves to shatter on the floor as they fell. There was a low murmur from the bushes.
“We’re surrounded!� screamed Nazzol, leaping up and brushing dirt, grass and leaves off his clothing. Oriontho nodded, and stood up from his crouching position, holding his sword loosely with one hand. Fiona stared wildly around the clearing.
“By who, or what?� she asked frantically.
“I’ll explain later.� said Nazzol. “Right now, our best bet would be to leave immediately.�
“Why? Surely we can take ‘em!� said Oriontho enthusiastically, swinging his sword in circles above his head.
“Well, you would say that. You’re on a suicide mission.� said Nazzol, glaring daggers at him. Oriontho, glared right back, and the air began to thicken.
“Stop it you fool.� said Nazzol quietly. “Are you so weak that you can’t fight like a man?� The air returned to its normal ‘lightness’ and Oriontho looked away sheepishly.
“It’s too late for you to run now!� screamed a loud voice and dark clad figures emerged from the shrubbery, entering the clearing and surrounding the trio. In the corner of his eyes, Oriontho could see people crouched on high branches of trees, holding crossbows.
“I am Claymore.� said Claymore, stepping forward. He no longer carried the stick, but in his hand he held a claymore sword. Light gleamed off its polished silver blade, and the tope of the handles curved at forty-five degree angles and were brown, with vines hanging off them. “Young one,� he pointed at Oriontho, “One of my associates feels that you are a highly skilled swordsman. Is that comment justified?�
“Yes. Yes it is.� said Oriontho, grinning as he said it.
“Prove it!� shouted one of the people.
“Yes! Fight one of us!� shouted another.
“He will fight no one.� said Nazzol, stepping in between Claymore and Oriontho.
“He will fight me, yes?� said Claymore and Nazzol glared at him.
“No he won’t.� said Nazzol.
“I will fight Claymore.� said Oriontho and Nazzol turned to glare at him.
“The challenge is set!� cried out one of the figures.
“The fight must commence!� shouted another.
“Get out of the way axe man!� yelled another voice. Nazzol sighed, and moved away. All of the black figures stepped back to the edge of the clearing. Within a couple of seconds, Claymore was falling from the sky, with his sword held above his head. He swung it down, with great force behind it, and Oriontho held his sword up, holding it horizontally, to block the attack. It worked, but his feet were forced a few centimetres into the ground. When Oriontho looked up, Claymore was gone. Oriontho looked round and saw him charging towards him with his sword down, so the tip of the blade was pointing at Oriontho’s chest. Oriontho spend a couple of seconds trying to free his feet, but realising he was in too deep, he merely swung his sword round and blocked the blow, but within seconds, he felt the tip of a sword pressed against his neck. Oriontho smiled slightly, and a carpet of darkness rolled out inside his mind. He began to think evil thoughts, and it was only a short while before the ground around him exploded and he rose up into the air. He screamed painfully as a pair of wings forced themselves out of his back, and a strong gust of wind threw the archers screaming from the treetops, only to land with loud cracks on the ground, where they lay without moving. Claymore glared up at him and one second he was on the floor, the next he was crouched – hidden from view – on a branch, with a knife held in his hand.
“Easy does it…� he muttered to himself.
Oriontho, floating in the air, was surveying the people on the ground with mild interest. His eyes were bright red and he was not himself, he was a being of pure malice and evil. There was a low whistle and the knife lodged itself into Oriontho’s back, with a dull thud. Oriontho, merely pulled the knife out of his back, and bent the metal easily, before it crumbled in his iron grip. He spun round in mid air, but Claymore was no longer there. The black clad figures were muttering quietly among themselves, and filled with rage, the daemon Oriontho spun round, and in a matter of seconds, small bugs covered the bodies of the people and began to eat through the skin, and any vital organs. The bugs were swift and there were many of them, so after a couple of minutes the screaming stopped, and all that remained of the people were their skeletons. The bugs had disappeared back to wherever they’d come from, and Oriontho turned his head slightly to stare at Fiona and Nazzol.
“Hajorl Valley…� he said in a dry coarse voice, before spreading his wings and speeding off over the treetops.
“We need to follow him and make sure he doesn’t kill anyone innocent!� screamed Fiona, who was obviously completely freaked out.
“I agree, but there is no need to panic or rush. No let’s go.� Nazzol said, walking off through the trees in the direction that the daemon Oriontho had flown in.

[Pig on the Wing]

No replies... :(

This is another short chapter, and not that good, but the next two/three will probably the best so far, so...
And I've got my last SAT paper tomorrow, yay! :D

~Chapter 8: Hajorl Valley~

A figure raced through the fields, stopping instantly at any noise, whether made by him or something. There was a loud scream of pain from somewhere in the distance and the figure turned stopped and turned round. A speck on the horizon was becoming increasingly bigger and thus closer. The figure panicked and crossed his arms across his chest. As the thing got closer he saw that it was human shaped, with long dark hair and dark eyes and carried a sword in one hand. It had long sharp claws, jagged teeth and two velvety wings spread out from his back. The figure rubbed his eyes in disbelief, and when he looked again the thing was no longer there. He turned round and saw it hurtling through the sky in the opposite direction. The figure swore and cursed loudly, before sighing and following it.

~

The sun was a speck on the horizon, slowly sinking beyond view and into the darkness when Nazzol and Fiona reached it. The building was in the middle of a field, it was tall, dark and foreboding, not to mention the fact that there was a high wall around the entire building, and in an a recent attempt to escape, someone had dug a hole.
“We’ll rest here for tonight.� said Nazzol, leaning against the wall.
“No!� cried Fiona, “That place looks evil!�
“It’s a building.�
“Yes, but just look at it! You can see it is evil!�
“How can a building be evil?�
“I don’t know… it just can, alright? Trust me.�
“Fine, if you‘re so we’ll keep going.�
“Okay then.� Fiona snapped back and stormed off through the field past the building. Nazzol shook his head, “Women…� he muttered under his breath, before following slowly.

~
The sun rose slowly, casting its golden light over the landscape, illuminating the small amount of houses, market stalls and the many hills and small mountains that littered Hajorl Valley.

A piercing scream broke through the dawn silence, soon followed by many other screams from people as fire burst from Oriontho’s mouth, setting buildings, people and material goods on alight.
One man was walking slowly towards the spot of land directly underneath Oriontho. He was panting as though he had run a long distance in a short space of time. He pressed flatly against the side of a long row of huts and was slowly sidestepping along to the left, stopping every few seconds so as not to be detected. He was wearing a black shirt, with red streaks woven into it and it was the same on his trousers. He had long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and in one hand he carried a long wooden spear with a very sharp steel point at the end, and in the other hand he was holding a small black object.
The object had a curved handle which the man’s hand was around, a small hammer above the handle, a curved thing which could be pulled back which was underneath the main body of the item, which had a circular object in it. The item finished with a pointed bit, with an opening at one end.
The man reached the part of the row of houses which was directly underneath the part where Oriontho was hovering. The man took aim, and hefted his spear directly upwards. It went up just in front of Oriontho’s face, and the wooden handle was immediately incinerated, but the flames were reflected off the metal point, and straight back at Oriontho who screeched loudly and wheeled round to face whoever was behind him. Seeing nobody, he looked down and saw the man, who was bending down to pick up his spear shaft. Feeling Oriontho’s eyes boring into him, he looked up and dived to one side. There was a stream of fire and the area the man had been lying in was reduced to black ash. The man held the black object up, so the open-end of the barrel was pointed at Oriontho and he pulled the trigger. The small black bullet rocketed out of the gun and pierced one of his wings. Screeching, Oriontho fell to the ground, with one wing flapping wildly…
“Enough! The beast is down!� cried Nazzol, walking purposefully up to the man. The man turned round and lowered his weapon.
“He is dangerous to society…� he said. Without thinking, Nazzol stepped forward and swung the axe, slicing the object in half.
“And with that thing, so are you.� replied Nazzol hastily. Nazzol walked up to the fallen Oriontho, and for some reason he didn’t get incinerated by fire. He bent down slowly and reached into Oriontho’s pocket, removing the strange knife. Instantly, the two wings disappeared and the claws and fangs shrunk back into normal teeth and nails. He groaned and propped himself up on his elbows.
“Hajorl Valley…� he whispered, before he fell back to the ground, unconscious and spent of all energy.
“Destroy that knife.� said the man quietly. It wasn’t a request, it wasn’t even a command. It was something that went straight to your brain and forced you to do what the voice said.
“No,� said Nazzol calmly, “The knife isn’t ours to dispose of.� he pointed at Oriontho, “He knows the dangers I’m sure, so it will have to be his choice as to what happens to the knife.� The man glared at Nazzol, who glared right back.
“What’s going on?� said a softer voice, coming up the hill. Fiona came into view and the man spun round to face the new person. She looked at the man, then at Nazzol, then at the surrounding area and the damage done to it, before looking at Oriontho.
“Hello,� she said, turning to the man and extending her hand. The man dismissed the handshake, and merely walked straight past her, heading down the hill. Just before he stopped, he turned and looked directly at Nazzol.
“Your time is come.� he said menacingly, before continuing down the hill, and out of sight. Nazzol continued to look at the hill, where the man had been standing when he issued the threat.
“We’ll see…� he muttered. He turned his head slightly, but Fiona was no longer there. He sighed, and turned round, swearing under his breath when he did so.
Fiona was sitting cross legged on floor, with Oriontho’s head resting on her chest. She was staring absent mindedly into space.
“I see I’m on my own,� muttered Nazzol, walking down the hill.

Nazzol was wandering through the town, the morning slowly becoming afternoon. He had wandered past numerous houses, and had glanced briefly at the market stalls in the centre of the small community, and was now wandering absent mindedly through the town, looking for some form of excitement, or at least something interesting to quell the boredom that was building up inside him…
As he reached the end of the town, he began to slowly ascend a hill. The hill was green, yellow and white with the amount of daisies and grass growing on it. Quite a change from the dull brown dirt of the actually village, he thought bitterly as he crested the top of the hill.
That’s another thing, he thought, why am I so angry all of a sudden? It’s not because of the man, and I severely doubt it’s because of Claymore and his friends, so why am I angry?
Then another thought struck him. He’d thought it a couple of days before, but he’d ignored it completely.
“I like her…� he said out loud. “I can’t hide the truth from myself any more.�
“It’s not gonna happen,� said a voice, from below. He walk to the end of the top part of the hill and looked down. The man leapt upwards vertically, defying basic human manoeuvres, “because you’ll be dead.�
“Who are you and what’ve you got against me?� Nazzol demanded, turning to face the man, who’d landed behind him.
“MY name is Klutch,� he said, “And I’m with Claymore. Your problem with him, is your problem with me.�
“I’ve got nothing against Claymore though.�
“King Nazzol, I presume?�
“Ex-king Nazzol, yes.�
“Good. You may remember a while back…�

~

The large wooden gates were flung open, and a tall person dressed completely in black, carrying an odd shaped sword strolled in. The guard on gate duty was unconscious, lying unmoving a little to the left of the gates.
“Where’s the King?� the man demanded. The man’s eyes suddenly glazed over, and he fell forward. King Nazzol grinned, with his sword going through the dead man’s body. Peering round the gates, a young boy observed what’d happened, and when King Nazzol had withdrawn his sword and gone inside, the child crept in. He picked up his dead father’s sword which lay on the floor next to his dead body. The child prodded the man with one finger.
“Daddy?� he whispered, before clutching the sword tightly, he ran from the castle, his eyes filled with tears.

~

“So the boy was Claymore, yes?�
“Exactly. You killed his father for no rhyme or reason.� At this, Nazzol grinned.
“No. I killed his father before his father could commit a terrible crime.�
“How do you know he was going to anyway?� This time, Nazzol was at a loss for words
“Um… well, I…�
“Precisely my point,� said Klutch, removing a small steel sword from its scabbard that was attached to the back of his shirt. “And seeing as I owe my life to Claymore, I feel I must kill you for – if not for mine, then for his sake.� Klutch lunged forward, and Nazzol stepped to one side, sticking out his leg, and tripping Klutch, who lay on the ground and laughed. Nazzol raised the axe and brought it down heftily into Klutch’s back. Klutch continued laughing pulled the axe out of his back and disappeared.
“Next time…� he said, as he faded into oblivion.
“What a pointless waste of time…� Nazzol muttered. “Oh well, I got something interesting at least.� He turned round and decided to head back into the village.

The afternoon drifted on lazily by, and as the sun began to set, Nazzol decided to get the other two and find somewhere to stay.
As he mounted the hill which led to the cliff face where he’d left him panic crossed his mind – neither of them were there.
“Bugger.� He said, and noticing a set of steps hewn into the cliff face, he ascended them, and after what seemed a decade, Nazzol and his aching legs reached the top of the cliff. The top was bare, just grey rock all the way, but it leaned over right over the sea, on the west side.
On the edge of the cliff, with their legs hanging over the side, sat Oriontho and Fiona. They were both looking out to sea at the sunset. Fiona had her hand on Oriontho’s shoulder and their hands were joined. Nazzol sighed.
“I couldn’t spoil it for them…� he said under his breath, so he sat down where he was, and facing the other way, looked over Hajorl Valley.
You have to admit, he thought as the last few waves of sunlight reached the land, turning the sky a pinkish colour and bathing the village in thick, dark golden light, this is a beautiful place to be.

[Tainted]

These last two seemed not near as serious as the previous chapters, and I sort of lost the whole mood of the story. I was somewhat dissapointed with these chapters, oh well, I'm not writing well anyway. Dialogue was lacking. That's pretty much all I have to say, as I normally pick out the bad things, don't be discouraged, this stuff is still gold.

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Skullfire: Well as I said, those last two weren't the best, but I've been drained of all inspiration due to SATs tests (damn government) and thus those haven't been so good, although all future chapters should be a lot better.

~

Next chapter won't be up for a while, but when it's up enjoy reading it :D

[Pig on the Wing]

Rawr, next chapter... enjoy.

~Chapter 9: Narrow Escape~

The afternoon sun blazed above the three of them, and Oriontho and Fiona were acting as though nothing had happened between them.
In the morning when the three of them had awoken Nazzol had told the other two about Claymore and Klutch, how they are working together and what exactly they had in mind. He had then handed the strange knife back to Oriontho and told him what had happened and the dangers of carrying it with him. Oriontho had merely nodded grimly and pocketed the ‘weapon’. The three of them had then walked into the village where they’d spent most of the morning.
Nazzol had bought a sword as his axe had been taken with Klutch when he disappeared. The sword was a longsword; it had an incredibly sharp point on the end, and the sides of the blade were sharpened to perfection. The part that separated the blade from the handle was made of compressed grey stone, as had the handle which had rings around it, spiralling from the top of the handle to the bottom. The blade itself was made out of steel.
Oriontho had bought a new sheath and scabbard for his sword, and Fiona had bought nothing, just walked along quietly behind the other two, lost in her own mind.
“What now?� asked Oriontho, as the three of them reached the end of the village.
“We need to find a wizard or something, maybe even a daemon of sorts.�
“Why?�
“The knife must be seen to.�
“Oh. Yes. Well, we haven’t seen a wizard in this tiny village and no daemons either.�
“Maybe not, but if we head east to the Kalkoman Desert, we’re sure to find a wizard there.�
“Why would there be a wizard in the middle of a desert?�
“Because the Kalkoman Desert is rumoured to hold the entire source of magic at its heart, although nobody as ever found it, or if they have, they certainly haven’t come back alive. The whole desert is swarming with wizards usually, so that’s where we’ll find help.�
“How far away is this desert?� asked Fiona, speaking for the first time that day.
“Not far,� replied Nazzol, “Just on the other side of Hajorl Valley… across the sea and then just past the Ulog Mountains.�
“How are we going to cross the sea?� queried Oriontho.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.�

The three of them crested a very steep hill and sat down on the grass almost immediately. The landscape stretched out before; lots and lots of hills, thus lots and lots of green.
“It’s not a good idea to still be in this part of Hajorl at night, so we can’t rest for to long after we reach the top of each hill.� Nazzol said to the other, clambering wearily to his feet. Oriontho and Fiona also got up, and the three of them continued their journey across Hajorl, on their way to the Kalkoman Desert.
Fiona was slightly in front of Nazzol and Oriontho, who were talking.
“So, this Klutch fellow is in some sort of alliance with Claymore then?� Oriontho said.
“Yes.� came the abrupt reply.
“Why would they work together? What possible reason could there be? It was Claymore’s father you killed, so why would Klutch help him?�
“I’ve no idea, although when I slammed the axe into Klutch’s his back, he just laughed, took it out and disappeared. Does that help in any way, shape or form?�
“Maybe… do you think that because Claymore is against you… and… I think I’ve got it!�
“Really? Well please explain it to me, because I don’t have a clue what’s all about.�
“Well, the daemons are against us, right? And daemons can only get through to this realm if they’re summoned, and because Claymore is against us, and they’re against us only they can’t get us without being summoned, maybe they hired this Klutch fellow, and teamed him up with Claymore.� Oriontho took a deep breath.
“Interesting theory, I never thought of that.� said Nazzol, stroking his beard in thought. “Well,� he said after a while, “For a start, it’s the only theory we’ve got, and secondly it kind of makes sense, so it’s what we’ll base it on.�
“If they killed Himoroth,� Oriontho paused, “Why would the daemons still be after us though?�
“Again, I’ve got no idea, unless… do you think it’s something to do with the knife?�
“Could be…� Oriontho took the knife out of his pocket, and looked at it.
“It’s certainly an odd kind of knife… and after what you said it did to me… maybe. But why would they want it?�
“It turned you into an incredibly powerful daemon, in this realm, without the need for summoning. Need I say more?� said Fiona from in front of them, although she didn’t stop, slow down or turn around.
“ Ah,� said Nazzol and Oriontho in unison.
“So if what she says is true, surely the best thing to do is to destroy the knife completely.� said Nazzol.
“But, I stole this from a wizard… you can’t destroy something made by a wizard without destroying the actually wizard himself.�
“Then we go back to wherever you came from and kill the wizard.�
“But there are too many wizards there, I wouldn’t remember exactly which one I stole it from.�
“Kill all the wizards.�
“No! My father is a wizard you know.�
“Oh well, he’s just an unlucky person then, isn’t he?�
“That’s kind of you… How about we just wait until we reach the desert and see if any wizards there can do anything about it.�
“Yeah, that’s probably the best thing to do.�
“I just had a thought, what you said a few minutes ago, why isn’t safe to be in Hajorl at this time of night?�
“It’s just not… trust me. I had spies in every part of this continent.�
“Where exactly does this continent end then?�
“At the sea really… Havonis is at one end, Istope is at one end and Jokil is at the other. All three are castles, and I’ll be recognized at all of them, so that’s why we’re going this way, as there’s only a lighthouse marking the end of the continent this way.�
“We’ve reached the lighthouse then.� said Fiona, as they got to the bottom of another hill. The three of them looked round, and were shocked at the sudden change in landscape.
For a start, it was no longer grass and flowers and hills, it was all rocks. At the end of the bay of rocks, the sea rolled out in front of them, like a turquoise carpet. Slightly inland, was a large red and white ringed structure, with pile of burning logs at the top. There was a dull grey ladder attached to the bottom of the side of the structure, and presumably people climbed up it to relight the fire when it was doused and to add more wood, twigs and logs. The sea itself was roaring and the waves crashed down on each other further into the sea, with small waves hitting and then hurriedly draining away from the ‘beach’. In the distance, many large things poked their way out of the land, that would be beyond vision if it wasn’t for there tremendous height.
“Those are the Ulog mountains.� Nazzol pointed out, “Very big. Very steep, and very cold.�
“Right,� said Fiona turning round. “What now?�
“We cross the sea.� replied Nazzol.
“How?� asked Oriontho.
“Well,� started Nazzol looking very smug, “Being a king, I always made sure that there was an easy way to and from the continent, so in an emergency or something like that, I’d be able to flee easily. Thus, at each castle – and this lighthouse – I always made sure there was a five person boat.�
“Clever.� Oriontho nodded. “But where is the boat?�
“It should be tied up behind on the other side of the lighthouse,� Nazzol was momentarily lost from view as he went round to the part of the lighthouse that couldn’t be seen. He came back a few minutes later.
“Well?� said Fiona.
“Some friggin’ bastard’s nicked the bloody boat!� Nazzol cried out loudly when he returned.
“Um, Nazzol?� said Oriontho, “You know you said earlier we’re wanted by daemons?�
“They have to be summoned you know.� Nazzol said instantly.
“I know.�
“We’ve got nobody to summon them so we’re safe, don’t worry about it.�
“It’s not that.� Oriontho tried to control himself and overcome his mounting panic, “Well, um, wasn’t Castle Havonis destroyed by daemons?�
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with… oh ****.� Nazzol realised what was happening.
“Exactly, nobody ever sent them back – they’re still out there and probably after us.�
“Daemons can assume any shape you know.� said Fiona. “Anyone we meet could actually be a daemon.� Nazzol and Oriontho looked at each other as realisation struck.
“Claymore…� Oriontho stuttered.
“Klutch…� added Nazzol.
“They were daemons!� wailed Fiona, “But Claymore looked and Klutch sounds like a real person!�
“Yes.� Nazzol nodded.
“The memory you had though. You told me about that. What was it all about?� Oriontho asked.
“Well, it’s time I told you two something. Something fairly important. This place is completely devoid of all wizards and other Gifted people for a simple reason. Many years ago an empire of wizards lived here and the mass of magic energy given off was devastating to the atmosphere. It manipulates people’s minds to think and do things they wouldn’t normally dream of doing. Because of this the wizards ended up fighting for power, and eventually only a handful of wizards left and they were the strong-minded ones that weren’t affected by the manipulative thing. You with me so far?� Oriontho and Fiona nodded, so Nazzol continued, “Well, fearing that they would also become infected one day, they decided to leave, but before they left, they used most of their power to create some form of barrier around this place, that stopped Gifted people from living here.� Nazzol took a deep breath, “Hence the reason there are no Gifted ones here.�
“Where did these wizards go?� Fiona asked.
“Nobody knows. My grandfather passed the story to my father, who in turn passed it to me, with severe warnings never to come here. The wizards played an essential part in the story, but where they went afterwards is unimportant.�
“Ah.� Fiona said when Nazzol was finished.
By now darkness was almost consuming them, and Nazzol began to panic.
“We can’t stay here for another night, as you two will get destroyed due to the barrier and the daemons will probably catch up to us. We need to get away from here soon.�
“Any suggestions?� Fiona snapped, who was gradually returning to her normal self.
“You said there were other castles with other boats?� said Oriontho, unaware that he’d actually spoken.
“Yes, but they’re on the south and west sides, and going back is completely out of the question. Besides, we’d never make it there before… I’ve got it!� Nazzol walked along the beaches looking at the pebbles.
“What’re you doing?� Fiona asked.
“Help me you two. I’m looking for a white pebble with a red crab engraved on it.�
“Why?�
“It doesn’t matter, just help me look.�
“How do you know it’s here?�
“It just is. I know.�
“Hmm… Fine, but if it is here how are you going to find it in this light?�
“It’s a white pebble.�
“Yes, but… Oh.� Fiona fell silent. Oriontho joined Nazzol, hunting for this mysterious pebble.
“It’s a little something I got Himoroth to do for me.� Nazzol explained to Oriontho, “In case one of the boats actually did get stolen. You’ll find out what I mean when we find it.�
“If you find it.� said Fiona, “I’m not helping.�
“Be a ***** then.� muttered Nazzol under his breath.

A long time had passed. Grey clouds raced across the sky, covering the stars and partially covering the crescent moon, although in little gaps between the clouds it sometimes showed.
Fiona was sitting with her back to the lighthouse, her legs pulled up and her head on her knees. She had wrapped herself in her arms and was frantically trying to keep warm. Nazzol and Oriontho were still continuing their seemingly fruitless search. A low roar was heard across the sky and almost immediately afterwards lightning arced across the sky illuminating the landscape.
“Any luck?� Nazzol called over to Oriontho.
“No! You?� came the reply.
“Nope.�
Lightning flashed across the sky again, and a slight breeze began to pick up.
“Not long till the rain comes down.� said Fiona miserably. The other two ignored the comment completely and just continued with their search.
Then a third flash of lightning illuminated the land and the sky, and Fiona squealed in delight.
“I’ve found it you two! It was right under my shoe!� she said and Nazzol and Oriontho came running over. Nazzol took the oval shaped pebble from her, and when a bolt of lightning flashed, he nodded.
“Well, it’s an oval shape, and nice and smooth. It’s also white with a red turtle in the centre, so I suppose it must be it. Good job.� With that, Nazzol began to carefully climb the ladder. “You two! I’ll need your help so you may as well come too.� Fiona and Oriontho began to climb the ladder also, and then the rain came down. It was sudden, but hard and fast. It pelted against their skin and their clothes as well as absolutely soaking the rungs of the ladder, making it not just a steep but also a perilous ascent to the top of the lighthouse.
“Almost there!� Nazzol shouted from above the other two, who just nodded grimly and continued upwards in silence.
After a couple of minutes with no noise but the splashing rain and the crashing waves accompanied by the roar of thunder and flashes of lightning the three of them reached the top of the lighthouse and congregated around the large pile of wood in the centre.
“It’s essential that this works.� Nazzol whispered to the others, “This will need our full concentration and,� he looked at Fiona, “This will probably be the most exhausting night of your life. Remember you two; we’ve got about three hours to do this.�
“And your plan is?� Oriontho gestured with his hands.
“Well, seeing as Himoroth is no longer with us,� a short pause ensued, “We need a daemon or a telepath to do this for us. Thus,� he looked at Fiona, “You need to light the lighthouse and keep it light the entire time, come rain or not. This will undoubtedly drain you completely and there is a chance of you possibly dying, but then our task is almost as dangerous, and if anything goes wrong, we’ll all probably end up dead. Besides, if we don’t try, you two will be eliminated by the storm. Fiona, light the tower.�
“So we’re risking our lives for some pebble?� she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Exactly, although not necessarily for just a pebble.�
“Back away then,� Fiona sighed as she held her hands out with her fingers spread. Nazzol and Oriontho stepped back and a few seconds later the pile of logs and wood ignited, and there was a loud hissing noise and the fire wavered as the storm struck.
“As long as they see the fire they’ll know we’re here, and chances are that they’ve been following us so they’ll race incredibly quickly here. Now your job is very important. You must, and I mean must locate the guard captain of the daemon army and bring him to me without any others accompanying him. If any daemons follow the two of you up here, kill them.�
“So Fiona and I risk our lives, and you do what exactly?�
“Well, I am going to try to reach a compromise with this guard captain.�
“They don’t negotiate you know.�
“Maybe not, but there’ll be three of us and one of him. All I’m going to do is ask him to raise the ship, and in return – we will give him the dagger.�
“Is that wise?�
“No, but as soon as they raise the boat, we throw the dagger into the fire and make and run for it.�
“Ah, well in that case I can’t see a problem with it. However, how will I know which one is the captain?�
“The one with golden horns.�
“Ah.�

~

“Have they found them yet?� Xholl paced back and forth in his chamber in front of a lowly messenger on who was on his knees.
“Well, um, the, er, the lighthouse where they think they, er, they think they headed is, um, well lit, and so, um, that’s where they’re, um, er, well, that’s where they’re, um, headed at the moment.� the messenger managed to eventually get out. Xholl coughed loudly.
“Oh, er, they’re headed at the moment, Sir.� the messenger corrected himself. Xholl stopped pacing and turned to glare at the messenger.
“What news of the two human recruits?�
“Well, Sir, um, they, er, Klutch was overpowered by the, er, one with the, er axe, and um, he has returned here, with the, um, with, er, with the axe. We, er, haven’t heard from the, er, other one. Sir.�
“Very well.� Xholl nodded and turned to the two large guards by the door. “He’s done his job. Now execute him.�
The messenger opened his mouth to say something, but Xholl merely held up his hand.
“Don’t say anything. All of my spies get executed after doing their job. You’re the fourth one.� The guards walked calmly over to the messenger, and with a hand on each shoulder they ‘escorted’ the messenger who was screaming and struggling no end out, of the room.
Xholl sighed. It wasn’t easy being the daemon king. The whole Underworld looked up to you for help, and worshipped you as a God, as well as relying solely on you for their survival, not to mention the well being of the Underworld itself.

Meanwhile, in the ever flowing stream of lava in the main chamber, there was a dull green glow. It was a tiny green dot amongst the sea of red hot waves, barely visible, but there nonetheless. It slowly began to expand and grow, and several daemons, stopped flying overhead, and hovered in the air, staring at the green glow. A large purple tentacle pushed its way out of seething sea of lava, and it began pulsating. In a matter of seconds the air around the tentacle began to waver and the green glow slowly consumed the entire room, engulfing the lava, the mysterious tentacle and all the daemons…

A loud explosion made Xholl snap his head around in a panic and glide over to the edge of the throne room.
“The old bastard just won’t die!� he exclaimed loudly, before spreading his wings and hurtling off through the Underworld.

~

“Get ready Oriontho!� Nazzol shouted as rank upon rank of red bodies with thick blue pulsating veins, large fangs and claws and long tails marched slowly over the final hill. As the daemon army reached the foot of the lighthouse, as one they turned their large yellow eyes upwards and tilted their ugly heads back. The rain merely sizzled and evaporated to steam around them, without even touching them. A daemon almost twice the size of the others with bright golden horns spread his wings and glided easily up the lighthouse, with two more daemons following him. The other two were slightly different in the fact they had clothes on and no fangs or claws.
“We know what you want, and we know what you’re offering in return and we are willing to help you.� the Captain said as the three of them landed. He took the pebble from Nazzol and tossed it into the fire.
“Maschos zulokot toihkz.� he muttered and as soon as he’d said these three words and the pebble came into contact with the fire the sea began to roar. The daemons backed away from the large waves of water in fear. The sea began to glow an odd yellow colour, momentarily turning the night into day as the entire sea lit up, lighting up the land as it did so. Almost immediately the earth began to shake gently, and the sea began to bubble viciously. Slowly, a small fishing boat rose out from under the sea, the inside somehow perfectly dry. As soon as the boat surfaced, a rope shot from it, tying it to a large rock and holding it in place. The ground then stopped shaking, and the sea returning to its normal ‘calm’ state. The boat was made of wood, had a large white sail and two oars on either side of the boat.
“Now give us the knife.� the captain said blankly holding one hand out.
“Move now!� screamed Nazzol, who made a wild run to towards the edge of the lighthouse in the direction of the boat. The captain clicked his fingers and shook his head, sighing in despair. As soon as he clicked his fingers a score of daemons flew up and surrounded the lighthouse at the top, whilst two more hovered halfway up the ladder guarding that. The other daemons stood in a circle around the base of the lighthouse, and any others formed a line across the hill, making escape and entry completely impossible.
“The knife.� the captain prompted.
“What’s your name?� Oriontho asked.
“My name is not important, just give me the knife.� Oriontho glanced at Nazzol, and his expression was one of easy definition – worry. Oriontho cast a quick glance around the lighthouse, and saw that they were completely surrounded, escape would be impossible unless they gave them the knife. Assuming that Nazzol and Fiona would think of something, Oriontho decided to stall for time instead of making a break for freedom.
“Well, um… you see,� he began but was cut off.
“The knife! I tire of waiting.� the captain roared.
“I’m sorry.� said Oriontho flatly, feeling an unknown power surge through him. “I cannot give you the knife. I must hold onto it, so as to help us become victorious over you evil beasts.�
“Pitiful human,� the daemon laughed, “you should know, there is no good and evil… the ones you call evil fight for a cause they believe to be good, whilst the ones that call themselves good are the ones that fight for a cause they believe is good. Each side believes what they are doing is right and what the other is doing is wrong. Henceforth, you cannot call us evil or yourselves good. So now that you understand that you were foolish and wrong, you can hand over the knife.�
“But the world will be overrun by daemons if I do, I can change that by not giving you the knife.� The daemon sighed and shook his head.
“One person can change nothing. Now, seeing as you’re so adamant to keep the knife, we will have to remove it ourselves. Forcibly.� At this the airborne daemons all created large fireballs, two each, one in each hand. Oriontho gulped, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Nazzol pull his sword free of his scabbard and glare menacingly at the daemons that surrounded him.
“Take the knife then.� said Oriontho, finally admitting defeat, and removing the knife from his pocket. The many fireballs flickered out as the knife was shown to them, and many daemons recoiled in shock of seeing the great artefact that would bring them to achieve their goal of total world domination.
“Thank you for your slight cooperation.� said the captain, reaching out to take the knife. Before he could take the knife however, a loud sizzling was heard and everything was thrown into darkness.
“Now!� screamed Nazzol, and Oriontho felt his arm being grabbed and he was violently thrown from the top of the lighthouse. A loud splash ensued, and before knew it, he was being pulled out from underneath the dark cold waters and thrown roughly onto a wooden surface, most likely the boat. His eyes began to adjust to the current darkness, and he grabbed a pair of oars, and began rowing. Although it was very difficult, he could see two dark figures just in front of him, also rowing, and a little way off, large winged creatures that were casting fireballs in random directions. One roared narrowly past the boat, and hurtled through the water, going a good way before sizzling out.
The boat then began to pick up speed, and was racing away from the shore at a high speed for a fishing boat. The daemons were still firing fireballs, but none were coming near the boat, although a few daemons skimmed across the water a couple of times, but didn’t see the boat.
“Why’ve we sped up all of a sudden?� asked a voice from the front of the boat, most likely Fiona.
“We’ve hit the current.� replied Nazzol from in front of Oriontho. As the current pulled them along, they stopped rowing, and although they lost a bit of speed, they all dozed off into a well needed sleep, whilst the boat drifted along, carried by the current in the direction of the Ulog Mountains, and the start of a new, unknown continent.

[Tainted]

Starting to get interesting, still not as good as it was originally, but hell, what're you going to do? Zedrelthus is going very harshly at the moment, I'm probably going to make a new topic because I can't be bothered to fix all the quotations turning into question marks...

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Meh, writing on this fic is going slowly, lacking inspiration...

Skullfire: I know it isn't that too good at the moment, but I'll damn well tell you what I'm gonna do... I'm gonna post the next chapter soon, and I think it's back to its old standard after that... If not, kill me... :rolleyes:

Yeah, as I said earlier, writing's going slowly, so next chapter'll be up in about a week or thereabouts.

[Pig on the Wing]

Well, people, I'm sure you all have probably by now gathered, or at least assumed that it was coming to this...

This fic is being discontinued. There are quite a few reasons:

a) I only ever had one reader that ever replied

b) total lack of inspiration here

c) I'm completely editing the last few four chapters, as in deleting them and re-writing them again from scratch

d) all the punctuation marks are screwed up :rolleyes:

Maybe one day I'll continue it, but until now, Skullfire and any other readers that didn't reply, this fic will be left to 'bite the dust'. Goodbye.

[Tainted]

Ahh, that's too bad, man. This fic had some promise.

Adieu,
Zak Hunter

[Pig on the Wing]

Heh, may've had promise, but to me it certainly wasn't showing it...
Writing's really just going far too badly for me to carry on... but I will finish someday, but until then... meh.

:wave:

Pink Floyd ~ Goodbye Cruel World

Goodbye cruel world, I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye...
Goodbye, all you people,
There's nothing you can say,
To make me change, my mind,
Goodbye.

Appropriate, ya?

[Pig on the Wing]

Oh screw this. I dunno what's come over me but hey, this fic's back on schedule, next chappie hopefully up soon.
I'll tell you now for nothing that it's not too good, but as you probably guessed, I haven't been focusing on this fic too much of late... possibly sometihng to do with discontinuation? I don't know, it's up to you to guess. :P

Meh, c'ya soon with another chapter.