“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Shawnrik said over his shoulder as they began to move towards the hall where the dance was being held.
“Why’s that?” Olivia asked with a twinkle of humor in her eye.
“Do you see that grin on his face? I don’t think there’s any place he’d rather be.”
“What about you?” Syranna asked from slightly behind Olivia’s left.
“Is there any place I’d rather be?” Shawnrik’s mind wandered for a moment as he wondered where his friend was now. He shook his head. “No.”
“Liar.” Olivia breathed and looked disappointed for a moment before her smile returned. “Remember, we are living in the now. Let’s make this a night we’ll never forget!”
The people of Verge seemed to take the bonfire in the middle of town as a reason to start the Midwinter Festivities early, and had been well into getting themselves good and drunk by the time the boy made it back to them. As luck would have it that had meant that there was a horse left unattended near a building he thought might be an Inn. He had hopped into the saddle of the massive beast and found that his body seemed to know what to do even if his mind didn’t.
That had been many hours ago, though, and the horse was now in a full lather as they trotted along the roadside. It was late afternoon by the time he saw two specks resolve in front of him on the road ahead. As he neared them, he let out a sigh of frustration. He didn’t know what Stewart Cantel looked like, since he had only caught a glimpse of the man from a distance in the dark, but he had a feeling that the man he had seen wouldn’t be casually strolling down the road heading north. Not only that, but the man had a girl who he thought might be around the same age as himself with him.
“Excuse me,” the boy said as he brought the horse to a walk.
“Yes, young man, how may I help you?” the man asked as he turned, annoyance flickering across his features.
The girl’s mouth dropped open for a moment before the man dropped his hand on her shoulder. She flinched and looked up at him before looking down.
“Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a man go by? He might have been followed by a dozen men.”
“No, we haven’t seen anything like that, have we Ana?” The man squeezed the girls shoulder.
“No, nothing like that,” the girl said keeping her eyes pointed towards the ground.
Something was off about these two, but whatever it was he didn’t have time for it right now. Cantel must have left the road somewhere along the way. If the boy was lucky, he might be ahead of the pursuit. Of course, if he wasn’t lucky the man would already be dead and the boy would be lost in the forest for hours.
“Here,” the boy said as he dismounted. “I have been riding at a trot fairly steadily for half a day now, so you might want to give her a lot of rest before you try to use her.” He handed the surprised man the reigns.
“Where are you going?” the girl asked, her tone slightly odd.
“Into the forest to see an old friend, I suppose.”
The two stood there looking at him like he was mad for a moment before he turned and started towards the trees at a jog. Once he neared the forest he spoke. “Hey Cypheria, if you are paying attention, mind giving me a signal on which way to go?” A moment passed and he sighed, but then a loud crack like a large branch breaking came from the southwest. That works.
Stewart Cantel had been fairly certain he was about to die. He had managed to take out two of the assassins in the last few hours, but three of the Dracairei were still alive. One of the Dracairei had managed to get ahead of him and sprung out of the bushes in a spot where there was a large tree blocking the path to either side. He had turned around to see another Dracairei standing on a tree branch ten feet behind him.
Taking a deep breath, he was about to engage the one on the ground and try to break through him when suddenly the branch that the one in the tree had been standing on snapped. The assassin tried to grab another nearby branch but missed. He tried to tuck into a roll as he hit, but one of the smaller branches from the fallen limb caught his shoulder and tossed him several feet into a heap. It wasn’t much of an opening, but it was enough for Stewart Cantel to break free from the trap and continue the running battle.
He tossed a dagger at the Dracairei that had managed to cut him off, and in the same instant he began moving again. Though he was loath to lose any more of his daggers—he was running low on them—it was a necessary loss. The assassin attempted to grab the dagger out of the air, but only managed to bump the end of the blade as it sailed past his hand. That bump managed to change what could have been a potentially fatal hit into an annoying distraction as the blade penetrated the Dracairei’s upper arm.
Knowing he didn’t have time to stop and finish either one of them off, especially because there was a third assassin somewhere nearby, Stewart Cantel ran off into the trees. His body was far beyond the point of exhaustion, but every time he thought it would give out on him he managed to pull just a little bit more from it. One way or another, this pursuit needed to end soon. Patting his body as he ran he realized he only had three daggers left out of the twelve he had begun the day with.
Cantel saw a flash of movement coming from the left, and that was the only warning he had as the third Dracairei leapt at him. Managing to grab the assassin's outstretched wrist, he used the Dracairei’s momentum against him and stepped to the side as the man flew through the air. A sickening crack sounded from the assassin's hand, and the dagger he had been holding fell to the ground. To the Dracairei’s credit he didn’t flinch as his wrist broke, instead bringing his other arm around to strike.
A sharp pain jolted through Cantel from just under his right armpit. Cantel's short sword erupted out of the assassin’s chest as he impaled the man from behind. The dagger in his side fell out to the ground, its tip crimson. He was suddenly having issues breathing. The bastard punctured a lung. Knowing his time was up, he looked around for a better place to meet the two assassins that were left.
Knowing there were up to seven highly trained killers running around in the forest somewhere ahead made him take each movement from tree to tree very seriously. After running around on the ground for some time, the boy realized that he would never be able to see anything moving through the forest unless it was right on top of him, so he climbed a tree and began to move along the intersecting branches as best he could.
He caught sight of movement ahead and managed to catch the tail end of a short human—who he thought must be Stewart Cantel—fighting a Dracairei. This Dracairei and the one he had seen earlier this morning in Verge looked different from the ones he had seen in his vision from the Mage Tyrdra. They were much less reptilian looking and would be more difficult to tell what they were if you just caught a glimpse of them.
The Dracairei had managed to stick his dagger in the human’s side, but he opened himself up to attack as he did so. Cantel managed to pull one of his short swords with his left hand and rammed it into the assassin's back. After a few moments, he looked around quickly and headed towards a stand of closely grouped trees and put his back to them, pulling out his other sword.
The man didn’t look like he was doing too well. There were a dozen places all across his body where the clothing was cut and stained crimson. Although the boy knew that some of that blood wasn’t the man’s, enough of it was that it had taken its toll on his body. Not only that, but the man seemed to be having trouble breathing, because he winced slightly every time he took in a breath.
Moving with more caution than he ever had before, the boy crept along the uppermost tree branches to try to get a view of the fight that Cantel seemed to know was coming. After a dozen long heartbeats, two forms slid out of the bushes and began to stalk towards the lone human.
“Come on then, which of you wants to join me in death first?” Stewart Cantel asked, his face a mask of determination.
“Be honored, High Commander—I have never heard of a man killing so man
y of our kind by himself. Your efforts will be remembered,” one of the Dracairei said with a note of respect in his voice.
“Yeah, well that implies one of you is going to live to tell the tale,” Cantel replied with a grin.
The two Dracairei snarled, each holding a pair of daggers as they rushed forward to meet the High Commander of the Protectorate. As they moved forward, each step they took seemed to make them move slower until the point where they were still several steps away from the man and they seemed to be crawling through the air. Looking down, he noticed that the man’s movements were also barely perceptible.
Suddenly, the action rushed back into full speed and the Dracairei leapt at Stewart Cantel in a flurry of strikes. Cantel held them off well for several seconds, but it was clear who was going to win. The High Commander struck at one, taking him in the thigh, but the other moved in and slit his throat. With a look of surprise, Stewart Cantel slid to the ground in defeat.
Remove one of the manacles and we can save him.
An intense vertigo struck the boy as what he had just seen dissolved in front of him to be replaced by the Dracairei rushing in once again to attack the High Commander. This time the fight lasted a while longer as Stewart Cantel took a more defensive position and used the space to his advantage. He managed to divert one of the assassin's strikes wide and took a shot in the arm from the other Dracairei before impaling the one who had struck him with his short sword. A moment later, the other Dracairei hopped on his back and slit his throat. Once again, the High Commander slid to the ground in defeat.
You know what needs to be done.
Different scenarios played out before his eyes again and again, and in each one the High Commander died; no matter what Stewart Cantel tried, he ended up cold on the ground. In one of the images, he was able to get a killing blow on both of the Dracairei, but in doing so he had taken two daggers and died with them. In only one of the flashes did the High Commander manage to escape the fight alive, and it was the one that scared the boy the most.
After witnessing the fight a dozen times, the boy blinked and saw the assassins once again moving slowly towards the High Commander. Reaching down he pulled with all of his might and the manacle on his left wrist broke into two parts. Do it!
He felt the creature’s excitement as it began to pull in the energy it needed. His perception shifted as his mind connected with the tree he was standing on, and then with the tree next to it, and finally to the third tree in the stand. The first blows of the fight were about to begin when suddenly several tree branches shot forth and impaled the assassins, dragging their bodies towards the trunks of the two outer trees. The trunks of the trees opened wide like a horrible wooden maw and then closed on the bodies of the assassins as the branches placed them inside.
“What in the nine hells?” Stewart Cantel said as he watched the trees eat his opponents. The High Commander looked all around himself for a moment before finally looking up. Recognition dawned on his face, followed by several other emotions that finally settled back onto determination.
“Well, shit,” Cantel said as he stared up at the boy. “I should have known you’d show up at the strangest time.” He pointed to the trees that were now oozing with the blood of the Dracairei. “What the hell was that?”
The boy was surprised to find that the creature released its hold on his mind with a contented sigh after the two assassins were dealt with, and it took him a few moments to form his thoughts into words.
“That…” the boy said, “…was me saving your life.”
“Yeah, well thanks, but sorry to disappoint you, but unless you know how to repair a punctured lung and stop that crap they have on their weapons that is making my feet and side all tingly, I think you’ve only prolonged my death for a short while.” The High Commander put his back against the trunk of the tree that hadn’t eaten an assassin and slid down to have a seat.
Dropping to the ground, the boy picked up the two halves of his manacle and wrapped it back around his arm. A thin light appeared for a moment, and when it died out a line of silver ran from one end of the manacle to the other. He sighed in relief.
“You mean I went to all that trouble to find you and you are just going to die on me anyway?” the boy asked. “What’s the point of that? Why did Cypheria even tell me to go after you then?”
Stewart Cantel’s eyes went wide when the boy mentioned Cypheria, but a moment later realization dawned on him. “That clever bitch.”
“What?”
“Well, there is a way I might be able to continue helping you even after I’m dead…” Stewart Cantel said as he reached for his pack.
Serenity Valley
A steady flow of well-dressed students made their way towards one of the larger buildings on campus. He knew that it was usually used as one of the cafeterias on campus. It was close to the girl’s dorms, so that was who used it most, but it could also be used by any of the students who had classes on the eastern end of the campus. This term he hadn’t had any classes near enough to the building to take any of his meals there, and therefore he had yet to be inside.
“Do they use this building for any classes?” Shawnrik asked as they turned onto the walkway that led to the large double doors at the front of the building.
“There are some dance classes,” Olivia said. “Ballet, ballroom dancing, that sort of thing.”
“It is also used for gymnastics,” Syranna said from behind.
Shawnrik had tried to get the quiet Elf to move up beside Olivia, but she had quietly fallen back behind shortly thereafter.
“Gymnastics are physical conditioning courses; they require a great amount of strength and agility to be able to perform,” Verrian supplied. He was getting pretty good at knowing when Shawnrik was about to ask what something was.
“Really?” Shawnrik said. “That sounds interesting.”
“You should see Syranna do some of her routines, it is pretty impressive,” Rebecca said.
Syranna made a sound that almost made him think she was strangling for a second, and when he turned around she was bright red.
“I’d like to see that,” Shawnrik said.
“There’s an exhibition at the end of each term you could go to,” Vivianne said. Shawnrik couldn’t see her face, but her tone was the same one she used when she found something funny.
“Stop it, all of you,” Olivia said, gripping Shawnrik’s arm a little tighter. “Didn’t you guys decide that Verrian, Rebecca, and Vivianne should enter first?”
“Oh, right,” Shawnrik said as he followed Olivia to the side of the trail as they neared the doors.
“Thanks,” Verrian said, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. Shawnrik knew that his roommate was in good enough condition to not be sweating from the walk across campus, so he knew Verrian was nervous.
“Don’t worry about it,” Shawnrik said. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Verrian nodded.
“Do you want to go in with them Syr?” Olivia asked Syranna.
“No, I’ll just slip in behind you guys, if that’s ok.”
“That’s fine,” Olivia said, giving her friend a small smile that seemed almost sad to Shawnrik.
They entered the building several steps behind Verrian and the girls. Shawnrik had never seen a building like this one. It was kind of like the building that they ate their meals in everyday, but several times larger. Not only that, but instead of a stone floor the flooring looked to be wood that had been waxed to a sheen. There were thousands of students in the massive hall, but it didn’t feel crowded and there was plenty of room to move about still. The stone walls on the inside of the building had been painted with various murals of sprawling vistas that he thought he would like to look at without all of the people in the room.
When Verrian entered, heads began to turn in his direction as people began to nudge their neighbors. Normal conversation died out, replaced by a dull roar of whispered conversations. Shawnrik was proud of his roomma
te, who kept his head up and walked into the room like he owned the place. Rebecca and Vivianne moved a little closer to Verrian and smiled brightly as the heads began to turn in their direction.
Olivia had stopped Shawnrik before the doorway, allowing Verrian and his dates to draw the attention of the room fully before she gave his arm a squeeze and started walking. Her bearing was regal as she began to move forward, and Shawnrik straightened his back and tried be a match to her as much as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that he failed to look anywhere near as magnificent as she did, but he felt he owed her the attempt.
The whispers that had followed Verrian into the room died out as Shawnrik and Olivia entered. The hateful looks that the men in the room had been throwing the Half-Elf were replaced by wide eyed stares. From the looks on many of their faces Shawnrik, wished he could see their entrance from the perspective of the rest of the students.
As they moved deeper into the room, a voice broke the silence.
“Oh look, Aerick’s son has graced us with his presence.”
Shawnrik knew the voice immediately and turned his head to face the Stroml’dier.
“I’ve given you a dozen opportunities to talk to me over the last month, and this is where you decide you want to do this?” Shawnrik sighed and moved his body so that he was in between Rigael and Olivia.
“You come into this school and act all high and mighty,” Rigael said. “Even the Headmistress makes a big deal about it on the first day…”
“I had no idea she was going to do that.” Shawnrik tried to maintain a calm composure.
“You aren’t special.” Rigael poked his finger into Shawnrik’s chest as he stepped forward. “Your father wasn’t special either, even if he and the rest of the world thought so.”
Shawnrik noticed several bulky forms making their way through the crowd behind Rigael as he replied. “I don’t expect anyone to treat me any differently from anyone else. However, I do expect a certain amount of respect.” His fists clenched. “If you want to talk about the differences our fathers had you know where to find me, but we're not talking about it here and now.”
Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) Page 36
