by M. L. Brooks
Voidwalker
M.L. Brooks
CHAPTER 1
Lying in bed, Adair looked up at the ceiling. She had spent the night in a backwoods inn that the locals called a resort. The room was plain and made from unfinished woods that had been slapped together to create a building. Her open window granted access to ample moonlight. She could see the room around her clearly. She could hear the sounds of drunken gambling and cheering in the pub below and in the street outside of her window.
Her ears perked up when she heard a loud thud down the hallway and the sounds of men grunting following by several loud screams. The cheering from the crowds below her room went silent. To her left Adair quickly picked up her sword. She clutched the hilt in her hand and stood up. A loose nightgown of cotton draped over her body. Footsteps grew closer.
“Adair! It’s me! Let me in!” shouted a feminine voice.
Adair sprung out of bed and opened the door and a smaller blonde woman dashed in. She was dressed in silver robes with her blonde hair tied up into a neat bun. Her hazel eyes looked up at Adair, wrinkled in fear, with sweat dripping from her temples. Together, they slammed the door shut and Adair slid a wooden bar over it to lock it. Men shouted at them from the other side and banged against the door.
“What’s going on Shea?” asked Adair.
“The Sword Theater came in and is killing our friends,” she replied while looking out the window. Adair’s bottom lip dropped, words not coming out. This was not her first run in with the Sword Theater mercenaries but she was surprised they were making such a bold move.
“We have to get to Prince Abel,” said Adair, worriedly.
From the sleeve of her shimmering robe, Shea pulled a small crystal pendant dangling from a silver chain. She held the crystal out into the moonlight and whispered an enchantment. With a hard kick, one of the men broke through the door. Three of them quickly moved in around Shea and Adair.
“Take my hand!” shouted Shea.
Without arguing, Adair grabbed her hand and in a bolt of blue light they had teleported out of the room. They were standing inside a larger bedroom suite where the prince had been staying. The body of Prince Abel was splayed out on the floor with a fatal wound slit across his throat. Adair covered her mouth, stifling her urge to cry out at the sight of his body. Shea snatched Adair’s hand back and then teleported them once more.
They landed softly on the cobbled stones in front of the inn. Adair looked around her, trying to get her bearings. The street was empty, a rare sight for the city that they were in. Shea clung nervously to Adair.
“We need to get help,” said Adair as she tried banging on the doors of the house across the street from the inn. From upstairs a woman leaned out of the window. The woman quickly slammed the shutters of the windows closed. The street had gone silent and the townsfolk had turned their backs on Adair and Shea.
“They won’t help Adair. We need to run!” shouted Shea
Hand in hand, the two took off down the street. Behind them they saw the bobbing flicker of lanterns and torches following them through the dark streets. Up ahead were two wooden towers where the night guards were keeping eye on the town gate. Adair ran to the base of the tower just as an arrow landed at her feet. From the other tower, another arrow shot towards her. Adair flinched in surprise at the incoming arrow.
Shea reacted instinctively by taking her crystal and spinning it around by the chain. It formed a translucent shield that reflected a faint rainbow light. She swung the shield up and blocked the next arrow from hitting Adair. The wood of the arrow splintered and the pieces fell harmlessly to the ground. Adair was impressed by her companion’s expedient reactions and casting. Shea’s magic skill had grown significantly since they had been adventuring together.
“Why are you trying to kill us?” Shea shouted to the guards.
They didn’t respond. Shea whispered another enchantment, her pendant radiating in her hand. Fog swirled in from the sky around them. In a matter of seconds, they were hidden in a mist that was thick enough to prevent even a trained eye from spotting them. The arrows wouldn’t be a problem any more.
The lanterns from behind Shea and Adair grew closer until another band of the thugs were upon them. They were closing in steadily. Adair brandished her sword, readying herself for a fight. Shea maintained her shield next to Adair. The two of them stood back to back as the men started circling out around them.
“We can’t take all of them, we are going to need a plan,” whispered Shea.
“My plan is to fight them!” shouted Adair as she clashed swords with the first of the men to reach her. At her back, another one of the men lunged at them. Shea quickly deflected the second attack with her shield, bouncing their attacker back. No one was going to be able to approach Adair from behind.
With a few lucky slashes Adair had managed to gut the man in front of her. He fell before her, bleeding profusely from his stomach. He wore the black and green colors of the Sword Theater, but his use of a sword was untrained.
Another one of the thugs ran up swinging wildly. Shea spun around and used her shield to knock his sword up into the air. As the two women shifted around, Adair finished their rotation by planting her blade into the mercenary’s chest and then kicking him off.
“Does even one of you know your ass from your blade?” laughed Adair as she unsheathed her sword from the body of the thug in front of her.
Holding the shield spell in her hands, Shea started etching out runes into the dirt using her foot. Two more of the mercenaries closed in on them but before they could reach the two, Shea intoned a single word and the ground turned to mud beneath the feet of their attackers. Everyone except Shea and Adair struggled to maintain their footing. A few of the mercenaries even slipped and fell, mud splattering up around them.
“I’ll handle this… Inconvenience,” said a man who just arrived to the fight.
“Ivor? You conniving toad. You want to fight me too?” growled Adair.
“Haha not with that little witch at your heel. When Nathaniel told me that you had a mage, I called in one of my own,” He laughed and then stepped to the side.
A black hooded man stepped forward with a gnarled long staff in his hand. The staff was nearly as tall as he was. The gnarled wood twisted up to the top of the staff where a human skull had been affixed. He directed the tip of the staff at them and muttered a single word. A ball of flame shot forth at Adair and Shea. Shea swung her shield around and blocked the fireball. Explosions of flame bounced out from her shield and the force of the blast still managed to knock Shea and Adair off balance.
“I can’t block another attack like ---,” began Shea but before she could finish her sentence another fireball launched at them. Shea reacted as fast as she could by using her shield to push Adair back. Shea bounced one way and Adair bounced the other. The fireball passed between the two of them and hit the town gate, lighting the wood up in flames.
As the two women fell apart from each other, one of the mercenaries crept around from behind and stabbed Shea in the back. His blade pierced right through her chest. Her eyes got big and she gasped for air. Then her whole body relaxed. She did not scream or fight any more. She looked directly at Adair and with a pleading look in her eyes said, “Please run. I need you to live.”
Adair took one last look into Shea’s speckled green eyes. Then she glanced at the thugs, at Ivor, and the black mage. Her skin prickled as she felt Shea’s last words penetrating deep into her spirit. She turned around and with all of the strength her legs could muster she ran.
“You’re staying with me until she’s dead,” said Ivor as he tossed a small drawstring purse into the mage’s hand. It clinked with the heavy weight of coins.
“Get the horses!” shouted Ivor to his s
ellswords.
The dirt felt thicker beneath her feet than it did when she was with Shea. Her sweat was trickling down her brow, matting in her hair. She had made it into the forest and was following an overrun path to the North of the town gate. Adair had heard rumors of a house on the hill. She thought it might work as a place where she could get more help or possibly just hide out for the night.
She heard the shouting of the men behind her. She had made it out of sight from them but knew they would be on her trail in minutes if she stopped. Adair was disciplined enough to keep breathing and to pace her strides. She had managed to run several miles north from the village and she could see a compound ahead.
To call it a house would be an understatement. This was a manor. The house was of modest construction on the outside, the wood painted shades of cream and brown. The entire compound was surrounded by a wrought iron fence that went several inches above Adair’s head. She ducked around the side of the house and, taking hold of the top of the fence, jumped over. She landed on the other side, in a patch of manicured green grass.
Adair stealthily slipped around the back of the house, dipping low under the windows as she went. She found herself in the middle a beautiful garden. Roses and flowers grew all over and surrounded an open pavilion of richly colored stone. The herbal scent of the roses and other soft florals was noticeable even at night. Looking around the edges of the pavilion, she dropped down and hid behind one of the many topiaries. Her body was tired from fighting and running and she had to force herself to stay alert as her excitement wore off.
At the front of the house, the mercenaries arrived on horseback. They looked at the wrought iron gate protecting the house. Ivor tried pushing it open but the lock in the center of the gate was not going to budge. As the mage walked cautiously towards the manor, he looked around the gate and scanned as much of the perimeter as he could see.
“Can you just blow it open?” asked Ivor.
“There was a powerful magic surrounding this house. It seems like it’s fading,” stated the mage.
“I’m paying you good money, blow the damn lock!” demanded Ivor.
The mage grunted a couple words and waved his staff towards the lock. A black ooze poured forth from the key-hole and the metal popped, unlocking the gate. Ivor’s accomplices pushed the gate open and the group walked through. They headed up the well-paved approach to the house. Ivor trotted along to the door. He balled up a fist and pounded it against the door. No one answered his heavy-handed knock.
“Go look around,” ordered Ivor, waving a couple of his companions around the manor.
“Open it,” shouted Ivor to the black mage.
The mage performed an identical spell on the door as he had on the gate. With more hissing and snapping, the locks and hinges of the door leaked out the same black sludge and then fell open. Inside was a simple foyer with stairs leading off on both sides and a hallway running straight to the back garden.
Sitting behind the topiary, Adair heard the thugs come around through the garden. Their footsteps hit heavily against the stones of the pavilion. Adair took in a quiet breath and peeked out from around the shrubbery. She thought about fighting, thinking her odds against just two of them would be good enough, but her body was just too tired. She laid back against the stone vase of the topiary, deciding it was best to wait and fight only if she was left with no other recourse.
One of them walked up past the plants she was hiding by. She sighed, realizing she was going to be spotted, and then swung her leg out. Her leg hit the man in the shins, sweeping his feet out from under him. He groaned loudly as he hit the hard stones of the pavilion. She scuffled around with him, climbing on top and punching his face. The other mercenary rushed over to grab her. She elbowed him in the face, his nose sinking inward and bloody from the pressure of her elbow. Adair grabbed a long dagger off his waist and swung it around her haphazardly. Both of the men she was fighting stepped back.
Ivor and the rest of his gang rushed through the house and out the back to the pavilion. Within moments Adair was surrounded again. Suspended in a scabbard at his waist was a longsword that Ivor drew as he stepped closer to Adair. He put both hands on the hilt, readying himself to strike her down.
“A lot of trouble you put us through. Put the knife down and I promise I’ll put you out of your misery before my boys have their fun,” said Ivor.
“I’m not going to give up! I’ll kill every one of you for what you did to my friends,” Adair cried back.
“Now, now. No one else needs to die here,” said an unfamiliar voice.
Everyone turned around to see a woman. She slowly walked forward, her steps graceful, silent, measured. Long chocolate brown hair flowed freely in waves down her shoulders. Her skin was pale and draped with exotic purple and black robes of silk. The woman was clearly tall in her own stature but the extravagance of her robes created an even more imposing silhouette.
“Those robes… The magic here… Are you a sorceress?” asked the black mage.
“I don’t care who she is. You stay out of the way,” grunted Ivor to the woman.
“I’m the lady of this manor and my dear gentleman I believe it’s time for you to head home,” said the mysterious woman.
“Listen bitch, say one more thing and we’ll kill you too. Just mind your business,” replied Ivor.
“I’m not worried about your quarrel with the girl. I’m worried about the damage you’ve done to my house. Now walk away and I’m willing to forgive this misunderstanding,” offered the woman.
“Boss, I think we should walk away. Something isn’t right here,” said the mage, his face wrinkled with concern.
“I’m not paying you to think. I’m paying you to blow stuff up, just get rid of her,” ordered Ivor.
The mage sighed and lifted his staff.
With startling speed, the woman darted forward to the mage, grabbing his staff with both hands and smashing one end of it into the mage’s throat. He let go of the staff and fell to the ground, choking and gasping for air. Staff in hand she parried the blades of the mercenaries around her, striking each of them down one by one. Each blow was calculated and dealt pain without killing any of them. In the uproar, Adair backed off and watched the robed woman fight.
“Get up, you’re all pathetic,” shouted Ivor as he was last man standing against her.
A couple of his thugs got up and tried to surround the woman. Ivor lunged at her. She slapped the edge of her staff against his hand. Adair heard a loud crack as the bones in his hand shattered and the sword dropped. The woman followed up by swinging the staff low. She struck him in the back of the knees, knocking him off his feet. Ivor laid on the ground, clutching his hand. She continued spinning around and knocked Ivor’s gang down again.
“This is your last chance to walk away from here alive,” she stated as she slowly walked backwards in the direction of her house.
The men scrambled away around the side of the house, not wanting to take any more chances. Still clutching his hand, Ivor shouted at her “I’ll be back to burn this place down!” He grumbled obscenities as he staggered away. The only one left there was the black mage, who was unconscious on the ground.
“You, Girl. Carry him inside,” ordered the woman.
“He was with them when they killed my friends,” said Adair, pointing her stolen dagger at the mage.
“My name is Rose and, as you heard, I’m the one in charge here. You’re my guests for now. Carry him inside and we’ll talk,” repeated the mysterious woman.
Adair was shocked at everything that had happened but knew she did not want to get on this woman’s bad side. She laid down the dagger in hand and with some effort she slumped the man over her shoulders and carried him inside. His weight was lighter than she had expected. The robed lady followed Adair inside and shut the door behind them. They were in a dining room with glass walls facing the garden.
“Just lay him on the table for now,” waved Rose.
“Are
you sure he’s not dead?” asked Adair as she dropped his body onto the dining room table. His black hood slid back, revealing a middle-aged man with a bald head and several scars on his face.
“I doubt it,” replied Rose casually.
“How do you know?” asked Adair.
“Just leave that to me. I’m interested in you. Put the kettle on and tell me how you got up here.”
Adair began to recount her story leading up to arriving at the manor.
CHAPTER 2
Sitting on the edge of the dock, Adair dangled her feet down and let her boots touch the edge of the water. The fresh air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, wisps of honey blonde hair swaying in the breeze. She looked out on the water. There were a few ships occupying the bay, lit up by the radiant gold and amber hues of the sun just preparing to set. Adair had finished her patrol shift and was relaxing, thinking about her life.
It was a pretty good one. She had two parents who loved her. Her father was a lord of the eastern mountain range. Her mother was a peasant girl who he had fallen in love with. The customs of the land forbade him from taking care of her so he gave her a satchel filled with gold and sent her to Guardia. Adair’s mom used the money to open up a tavern and they prospered. Her father even visited occasionally when duty brought him back to the capital.
In Guardia, she was allowed to keep the family name. It was her station as well as dedication to justice that helped her become knight of the realm. She had just been elected to the office of deputy captain and had the job of guarding the West Civilian Quarter of Guardia. Some days she was chasing down criminals but most days she was just making her rounds and enjoying the beautiful views of the ocean.
She jumped up to her feet and walked off the dock and back to street. Looking up, she was surrounded by stone pathways and tall buildings. In the distance, she could see the crystal tower of the castle overlooking the city. Its structure dominated the skyline of the whole city and after rainy days would often reflect rainbows across the streets. It made the city seem brighter. On the right day, it felt like living in a fairy tale.
