The Crimson Claymore

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  “That’s the last one; now we can get back to heal him.”

  She disappeared through the trees ahead of him. Searon raised his eyebrows slightly before following her. He noticed his horse wasn’t where he had left him, and Starlyn was nowhere to be seen as well.

  Something didn’t feel right to him, and he edged forward, keeping a hand on his claymore. He knelt to the ground and brushed his gauntlets on the scattered branches. They seemed slightly out of place and crushed in the middle. He hadn’t heard anybody approach, but someone had stepped on the branches.

  “Starlyn?” he called out, unsheathing his claymore. Silence filled the air without even the gentle chirping of crickets or birds. Something or someone had been in a hurry to step on those branches hard enough to crack them. Cautiously, he looked around to search for more signs.

  A foul scent lingered in the air that reminded him of both death and cloves. It was odd that a pleasant smell could be surrounded with the smell of death. He clutched his claymore tighter as he stepped through thick shrubbery into a clearing.

  He nearly collided with something and was taken aback when he noticed it was Starlyn that was before him. She wasn’t alone; behind her was a kheshlar that held a curved dagger close to her throat. Her eyebrows were silver and matched Starlyn’s, but her skin wasn’t pale blue as other kheshlars. Instead, it was a light charcoal shade that he had never seen before. Her hair was pearl white and tangled atop her head, coming apart at two thick strands stopping just below her chest. He looked into her gunmetal eyes and had a hard time looking away.

  Chapter 8

  There seemed to be an aura of power surrounding the woman that Searon couldn’t explain. She resembled a kheshlar ranger with a bow attached to her back next to a quiver. Her black steel armor caught his attention with thick pointed shoulder pads and stripes of white to match her hair. Strangely, she only wore a steel gauntlet on her right hand while her left was bare, showing long fingernails. The armor on her bosom was half the depth of Starlyn’s. Silver scale mail covered her legs before they were met by parted boots just above her knees. Three sharp points like daggers rose to her knees from each boot, looking deadlier than the dagger she kept at Starlyn’s throat.

  Despite her exotic appearance, nothing kept Searon’s attention more than the woman’s face. It was very similar to Starlyn’s with high cheek bones, a small nose, and lips that nearly mirrored each other. The ears were also very similar with each other, but Starlyn’s weren’t quite as sharp on the tip.

  “Let her go.”

  He didn’t let his voice falter in the slightest, but inside he could feel chills run down his spine. For the woman to be able to capture Starlyn so easily he wondered how little of a chance he stood against her. Still, he clutched the handle of his claymore until he was sure his knuckles had turned completely white. He kept his eyes focused into the woman’s with as much courage as he could while trying not to be mesmerized by them.

  “Ah…you are attractive. I can see now how my sister lost control in your presence.” Her voice was cold and harsh like grinding nails.

  “Sister?” Searon breathed, shifting his eyes from the woman to Starlyn’s fearful expression.

  He knew Starlyn had told him about losing her sister to the draeyks. She had never told him of her change of appearance, though, and he had imagined the woman to be similar to Starlyn. Indeed she was similar to Starlyn, but the change of skin color took Searon aback. He was intrigued at how the woman could have changed so much. Now he knew that he hadn’t been given the full story of what had happened to her sister.

  The woman grinned, showing perfect white teeth. Searon half expected her teeth to be rotting like the charcoal skin on her body. Her skin didn’t appear rotten; in fact, it appeared smoother than Starlyn’s, and he had a craving to touch it. The same craving dwelled in him to feel her cold violet lips upon his.

  “Yes. I assume she’s told you about me.”

  She loosened the curved dagger, which held a blade similar to a flamberge sword, from Starlyn’s neck only slightly. Starlyn appeared to be partially relieved but still didn’t attempt to make a move. Her blazing silvery eyes watered and pleaded with Searon.

  “Some, still I have yet to learn your name.” His hand vibrated slightly from the pressure his grip sustained on his claymore’s hilt.

  “Arria.” She masked a smirk that was far from innocent. “And yours?”

  “Searon,” he avoided her eyes that now seemed to be boring deeper into his, almost luring him to her. However, looking at her body now didn’t help matters much.

  “If you don’t mind, I would like some alone time with my lovely sister.” Her eyes seemed to glow slightly at the end of her sentence.

  Searon looked away from her eyes again and fought the urge to do exactly as she asked. There seemed to be a power lingering from her to him, and he wished for nothing but to please her. He felt the urge to bow to her there and ask her for guidance on her bidding. Shaking such thoughts from his head, he held firm.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that; forfeit her now, or prepare to fight.”

  “Mmmm…you would make a good pet. I now understand why my sister likes you so.”

  She tossed Starlyn into a tree, knocking the kheshlar out before unsheathing a large flamberge from her scabbard. The blade glistened purplish black in the light, and she held it steady, flaunting the black diamonds encrusted in its hilt. Searon held his claymore high, now noticing the crimson glow that surrounded his blade.

  Arria rushed at him, delivering strong offensive blows that took Searon aback as he hurriedly maneuvered to defend. Each strike of her wavy flamberge against his thick claymore was deadly, as she was able to slide her weapon farther down his blade toward his hilt. He jumped back and spun, thrusting his claymore at an upward angle toward her face, only to be deflected. The curves on her flamberge were able to catch his claymore between grooves, slowing his assault. Vibrations ran through his claymore that disconcerted him and began to make his hands feel numb.

  It was clear to him that her skill outweighed his, and adding her unusual weapon choice, he fell back. Ideas tried to push through his head, but he came up blank. There was nothing in his mind that he could do to outsmart the corrupted kheshlar.

  In a blind haze, she rushed at him with a tackle that caught him off guard, and they both tumbled to the ground. He fought to push his blade up, but her body kept it lowered. She let go of her flamberge for a moment to thrust her right fist into his face—a blow that held enough bite to make his head spin. Biting his lip, his eyes blazed in fury as he continued to fight to free his weapon. When the two finally stopped sliding across the cold dirt, Searon rolled out of her grasp quickly to grab his claymore. In an instant, she was up in front of him with a dagger in her left hand that sliced through the top of his right gauntlet, causing him to drop his weapon.

  He took a step back, rattling his mind for a way to get his weapon back safely when she lurched forward with a slice across his left cheek with her curved dagger. Blood dripped down his face, and he held his hand to it for an instant, feeling the flows running down his cheeks. His teeth bared, and he clenched his fists, preparing to not go down without a fight.

  Her eyes met his, and all his thoughts suddenly vanished. He stared into her gunmetal eyes that lit with such intensity and power that he nearly forgot his own name. His claymore that lay not a pace in front of him vanished from his mind, as did Starlyn, and it was only her. Arria. She is so beautiful, I am not worthy. Thoughts of ecstasy traveled in flows through his mind with hundreds of different outcomes if the two of them touched. None involved death; well, at least not at first. He imagined a black widow circling a web and waiting patiently for her prey. A male widow came into view, and the two locked in a moment of passion. The two arachnids were lost through the spinning of silk and dance until at last the deed was complete. In a sudden burst, the male leaped to escape, but the female was faster to snatch him in her long legs before biting h
er mate. Great hunger consumed her now, and she couldn’t let him escape. His dying thoughts were shunned through his dying breath. It was worth it.

  That was how she seemed to Searon as he stared at her with lust in his eyes. She was a black widow to him, an exotic beauty with a poisonous bite. It would be worth the fatal bite at the end, though, and he knew it. There would be no better way to die to than spend a moment in her naked charcoal silk arms.

  “I thought someone as courageous as you would put up a greater fight. Perhaps the next time we meet you’ll be more prepared,” her fiery voice whispered.

  He didn’t say a word but kept still with anticipation as she moved mere inches from him. The exotic smell of death, cloves, and a pinch of ginger lingered at his nose. No longer was it a strange smell that was both foul and intriguing, but now it was lustful. She leaned in closer, and her luscious violet lips sprang onto his.

  The breath caught in his throat when their lips touched, and he nearly gagged with the lack of oxygen. He could taste blueberry clove on his lips that replaced his need for oxygen, and he molded his lips into hers. His right hand unconsciously rose to graze her cheek gently before tangling in her hair. Her lips were softer than any he had ever set his lips upon, and her skin was softer than the finest silk. He had thought Starlyn’s skin was soft, but it had only been as soft as silk, not softer. The pearl-white hair that his hand tugged at felt as soft as snow. A slight moan escaped her lips before she dove farther into the kiss to play with his tongue and bite his lip. He was lost in complete ecstasy.

  Suddenly, energy seemed to drain from him, and he began to feel weak. It was slow and seemed to have been happening the entire time. He had not noticed before, lost inside her eyes and lips. Even though he noticed now, he didn’t care. She seemed to gain strength as he grew weak, and it pleased him that she became stronger. He was weak compared to her, only an insect to a spider.

  The sound of hooves echoed in the wind along with a roar that shunned all silence. Arria broke away from him and took a step back, glancing to the west. Her hand still interlocked with his, and his heart kept racing. Reluctantly, he turned away from her beauty to observe a jaguar prancing through some thick bushes with a black-and-white striped horse balking close behind. The cold touch of her hand in his vanished, and eagerly he looked back for her. There was nothing; she was gone.

  He dropped to his knees, at a loss for words as his heart quivered in pain. His hand shook in his memory of her hand in his. He needed to find her and snatch her back in his arms. Across from him, Starlyn rose to her feet, clutching a hand to her head. She tried to walk forward but waivered from side to side. The jaguar, her friend, leaped to her and knelt to the ground so she could climb atop.

  “Arria,” Searon whispered.

  Starlyn looked at him now, her electric silvery eyes blazing with concern. He paid her no heed and searched through the empty forest. There was no sign of her, and he felt heartbroken, longing for the taste of her lips again.

  “Come back,” he whimpered.

  The jaguar crept forward at the instruction of Starlyn until she was directly in front of him. She stared cold into his eyes for a moment, and he quickly turned his gaze. A hand smacked across his face so fast it was almost unseen. The pain welled up on his cheek and inside his mind. His face didn’t flinch, but his eyes blinked before he placed his hand on his now-red cheek. It stung beyond any sting he had ever felt in his life. Reality crashed back to him, and he seemed to be falling out of a haze.

  Blinking one more time, he tried to stand, but his body crumbled back to the ground, lacking the strength he needed to rise. He searched for his claymore and saw it not a pace in front of him. Crawling, he grasped it in his hand only to find Starlyn’s hammer directly in front of his face.

  “I’m back. Her control over me has vanished.”

  The hammer withdrew, but he noticed she still clutched it tight in her hand as she watched him. He clutched his hilt and used the blade to steady him to his feet. Stripes ran by his side, and he was able to lean on the horse so he could sheath his sword. Clutching the reins tightly, he climbed on the horse’s back. There was little strength left as he followed Starlyn and her jaguar east. He could only wonder what it was that her sister, Arria, had done to him.

  Chapter 9

  Pacing from north to south in long strides, Karceoles held his hands behind his back and stared solemnly at the ground. Beetles scurried about, and he was careful to avoid them. Some were small, clicking beetles and others tri-horn beetles. Sighing, he lifted up a small clicking beetle by its backside and held it close to his ear. He heard the continuous clicking it created by snapping its head in an attempt to jump. Letting go, he watched as it snapped once more, diving into the air.

  Something felt wrong to him, very wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It had been a great while since both Searon and Starlyn had left to search for herbs. They shouldn’t have been gone so long, since they’d traveled by horseback, and already the sun was setting. Cursing under his breath, he tore his long-stem pipe from the pouch on his robe. After lighting it with magic channeled through his zylek, he puffed heavily, feeling the calming tobacco and herbs settle his mind. His head spun only slightly, but at least he wasn’t as worried anymore.

  A whisper in the distance startled the wizard, and he turned, only seeing a dark shadow scurry by. He focused his mind on fire, and from within he felt his power bind at his zylek, ready to be released. The energy streamed through him, bringing him more alive. Whatever had passed through him was now gone, and he let his power dissipate regretfully. He loved the burn of fire he felt within him whenever he channeled it. It was probably the reason he only chose to bind with the element of fire. Many wizards preferred water or earth, but not Karceoles. He was the first wizard in thousands of years that preferred fire above all and wasn’t corrupted by it.

  He stalked back to where the unconscious man lay and looked at him. Is this single man worth all the risk? I do feel something in him, something great. He is still not as important as Searon…but he is important. Yes…the risk is worth it. Where are you, Searon? His mind rattled, and he knelt down to check the man’s pulse. It still beat strong, although it was slow at pace. He heard a crow in the distance, and fire pulsed through him again into his zylek, and a small but effective fireball emerged from its tip that chased the crow away. Crows were scavengers that often brought death even when it didn’t seem near. He did not know if they were evil creatures or not, but he wasn’t willing to take the risk.

  Hearing hoof beats in the distance, he turned abruptly, holding his zylek high and awaiting anything that scurried through the bushy trees. He saw a jaguar emerge carrying Starlyn, who clutched tightly at the animal’s fur. Directly behind her was the white-and-black striped horse of Searon. The human seemed to clutch tightly to the reins of the horse, as if for dear life, and slumped ever so slightly in his saddle. He was injured, or at least weak, and Karceoles clutched his zylek in a frenzy, feeling the pinprick of a thousand needles travel through his hand.

  The horse and jaguar stopped abruptly, and Starlyn slid off the animal and got to her feet. She proceeded by helping Searon off of his saddle carefully. Karceoles watched in horror as Searon limped forward to meet the wizard. There was something else too, something that both seemed to be hiding. Karceoles was no fool though and could see the radiance in Starlyn’s eyes and hair that showed affection toward Searon. It was affection past that of a travel companion, and the wizard knew they had shared a moment. However brief it might have been, the two were connected now, and it tied their plan in knots. He only hoped the two of them had enough sense to keep their minds clear.

  “What took you so long?” Karceoles’s eyes squinted to look from one to the other.

  “It took longer than expected to find all the herbs and flowers,” Starlyn spat.

  Karceoles watched as Starlyn blushed ever so slightly before regaining her composure. It was long enough for him to see her rosy cheeks and
all the confirmation he needed. She glared at Searon with a warning glance, and he shifted uneasily. Looking at Karceoles now, Searon nodded.

  “We ran into Starlyn’s sister.” Searon shivered.

  Starlyn immediately took out the herbs and flowers to mash into a wooden bowl that she had carved during the journey. She mixed them with a wooden spoon that she had also carved. Snatching a canteen from her sash, she poured water in the bowl. Karceoles dismissively created a smokeless fire in front of the two of them through his zylek. He felt more alive than he had all day as he directed the power.

  “You saw Arria?”

  Starlyn jumped at the mention of her sister’s name. She stared blankly at the wizard with an open mouth. No words left it before she closed it but then opened it again.

  “How do you know about Arria?” Starlyn asked in a stern voice.

  “I know who and what she is. An undead kheshlar. The only one of her kind. She died that night, but now she lives.” Karceoles looked back at Starlyn, who held a terrified look on her face.

  Shaking her head, she removed the bowl from the fire. “Open his mouth.”

  Searon stumbled over to the warrior’s head and held his mouth open for Starlyn to shove a spoonful of slimly burgundy paste into. She tickled the man’s throat, causing him to swallow. Pulling the water skin back out, she mashed the rest of the substance and mixed more water into it, creating a liquid. Removing the wool blankets from the man’s body, she felt at his scars, adding the water to each one.

  “Okay wizard, you are welcome to heal his wounds now.”

  Karceoles held his zylek steady, feeling pulses of energy flow into it from his body. It took more energy than fire, a lot more, but that was because he spent the majority of his knowledge studying the use of fire. He had spent little time learning anything to do with healing. If he had studied more of it, he could have healed the human completely without breaking a sweat. The wounds closed slowly but surely, and he could feel them healing slightly. Even the inside of the wounds healed a fraction from his power, and that surprised him. It would still be Starlyn’s herbs that would make the difference.