The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings

by Justin Wayne

  ***

  The cloaked figure emerged from behind the tent, jade ring glowing faintly, and quietly stepped around the sentry who was facing the other way. The night had just fallen but already was it dark enough to shield him in such a season. Pulling his hood down low, the man steadily paced through the center of the encampment, noting every person he saw sitting around the fire, and marking them as inconsequential to his mission.

  A great yawn came from beside him and he threw himself back as a tentflap not a foot away was thrown open. A large man with graying blond hair emerged and scratched at the rough patches of beard upon his weathered face. Even in the darkness his eyes were bright with wisdom and inquiry.

  “Tis night time already? I really am getting old then, if battle takes such a weight upon me.” He laughed and sat down by the blazing logs. He clapped a man on the shoulder and shook him slightly. “Eh, you’d best get some shuteye, Norsd; you’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet. I’ll take the next watch.”

  The man nodded and disappeared into his tent with a curt wave, leaving the intruder alone with his target. Slowly, he slipped into the tent, and peered around for the axe, but found only rudimentary weapons and fur clothing. Stepping back into the dim light of the fire, he quickly eyed the majestic axe beside the aged Warrior.

  He slid his knife free and dipped it into the dirt so it would not shine and reflect, then with a deep inhale, crept up behind the sitting man.

  The Warrior remained stationary and stoked the coals, causing the flames to rise slightly, then dropped another log onto them. He rubbed his hands together by the heat and gingerly laid the axe against his leg. “Nothing like a warm fire on a cold night.” he remarked. “Isn’t that right, stranger?”

  The cloaked man froze in place, breath held.

  “Well come on then. I know you’re not here to mince words and sit quietly in the dark. I’d wager you’re here for this.” He held up the black axe in one hand. “And I can see why. It’s a magnificent piece, and endowed with great power. However it’s tainted with a darkness I cannot possibly comprehend.”

  The cloaked man found his voice then. “I can. And I can control it to ensure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands; the hands of those who can only question it and succumb.”

  The man nodded. “I thought you’d say something along those lines. But in my time, I’ve met several others who said similar things. And all sought only to usurp such darkness. To control it for their own wills greedily and evilly.”

  “Perhaps.” the cloaked man replied with a shrug. “Or perhaps I am truly capable of protecting the land from its maliciousness.” He strode forward until he was close enough to reach out and touch him. “I know you’ve felt its hunger by now. Surely you have sensed the emanations of anger and hate that have been welled up within it. You may believe you can defeat them and wield it righteously.

  “But you cannot.”

  His knife came in quickly with a single step forward, but Durgen was ready and anticipated the movement. He leaned to his left as the blade came forward to miss, then grabbed the cloaked man by the collar and hurled him forward with his right arm, launching him headfirst into the fire.

  The figure wanted to scream in pain and panic, but instead clenched his jaw shut so hard his ears rang. He rolled from the coals and logs then with a twist, removed his flaming cloak. He stared hard at the old man who had so easily turned the tables on him.

  “I underestimated you, Durgen.” he said curtly and examined a particularly painful burn on his left leg. “I see now I should have predicted no less from the rightful leader of the Heavywinter Clan.”

  Durgen nodded in acknowledgement of the statement. “And I you, Captain Robaine.”

  The Captain dipped his head in a mock salute and stared coldly into his eyes.

  “But I must know,” Durgen began. “What aims would drive a man of protecting the innocent to such a devious path? I remember your father and the morals he surely passed on to you. What could entice a man so irrevocably as to twist his heart and mind?”

  Robaine smiled widely and held his arms out to each side as if to embrace him. “The same thing man has sought since the dawning of our time. The very thing we strive for all our lives and generation after generation dies to earn. The very thing wars are waged over and kingdoms felled.” His arms fell to his sides. “Power.”

  He launched forward in a quickstep and loosed a series of quick cuts, most of which found nothing but air or blade, but the last slipped past the axe and struck Durgen upon the forearm, drawing a thin line of blood. A jug dropped from Robaine's hand and shattered; sending a dark liquid splashing through the grass. The old Warrior scarcely noticed the cut and sent the captain head over heels with a boot to the chest.

  He landed winded and rolled to his feet.

  “I hope this deceit is worth the power you crave then, Robaine Betrayer of All.” Durgen spat on the ground before his feet and hefted the black axe at the ready. “For it will come at a high price.”

  But Robaine wasn’t worried. He laughed and dusted off his trousers, taking care to avoid striking the large burn on his thigh. “I’m afraid this fight is over, Durgen.”

  The proud Warrior raised his chin high in defiance. “I think not, coward. You could not strike me down in a single blow if you wielded Griphon's greatsword of pure flame.”

  “That may be true.” he agreed and conceded the point. “So I took precautions.”

  Durgen faltered then and eyed him, realizing the depth of Robaine’s treachery. “What have you done, Robaine?” Their eyes locked onto one another, grimace to grin.

  “I killed you.” he whispered.

  Durgen stared hard at the man before him and tried to discern something in his gaze. Then he looked to the cut upon his arm and saw the flesh there peeling away and bruised. He scowled at the man he had once known in outrage.

  “A poison most virulent Durgen; that of the Lichrot.” he stated with a wave of his hand. “Your bones will turn brittle and crumble under the slightest of pressure.” He looked to the stars then his blade. “In fact, you should start feeling it very soon.”

  As predicted, the weight of the axe began to grow until he could not lift it singlehandedly.

  “Coward.” Durgen cursed and came forward with a gradually slowing series of heavy swings. He doubled over to retain his grip on the axe as it sat in the dirt.

  “Just relax, Durgen, it’s not so bad to die. You’ve lived a full life and you shou—“Robaine leaped back as another chop came suddenly and was batted away by the flat of the axe, then Durgen turned about in a spin and brought it down hard where Robaine would have been.

  Where Robaine should have been.

  “Oh, how surprising you Warriors can be with your exponential strength; especially at your age. True barbarians the lot of you. But magic beats might, my friend.” His ring still glowed faintly from recent use.

  Expended of energy, Durgen dropped the axe and slumped to the side with it; fingers crunching under the handle. He cried out in pain but only succeeding in his jaw shattering upon opening. He stumbled back as the agony shot through him and he tripped over the log he had sat upon, falling on his back and shattering multiple vertebrae and his femurs.

  But he was a Warrior and forced himself back to his feet, breaking his other hand and wrist in the process, and soon both legs were too far gone to hold him. He sank to his knees and tried to form the words welling up inside of him as his rage grew.

  “I know, Durgen, I know. It hurts.” Robaine cooed and ruffled the old man’s long hair. “But don’t worry. It won’t be long now. Eventually the poison breaks down your bones until your organs are unsupported and split under their own weight, but you won’t have to worry about that.”

  He spun about on his heel and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending both racks of ribs asunder within him; a loud crack dulled from beneath flesh still loud enough to hear. Blood stains grew quickly across his shirt as bone pierced
skin and organ alike. Durgen’s face contorted into such a grimace as Robaine had never seen. His eyes seemed to sag in their sockets and every facial feature drooped like melted wax until the lines of wrinkle appeared as folds of some cloth. But those pale eyes still watched him accusingly and let him know he was to pay for this someday.

  Those eyes stared past him and through him, Robaine thought; seeing him for what he truly was. Knowing what he had done and what he was to become. This was why he preferred to remain the faceless figure in the shadows who worked from behind unnoticed. But now he had been seen and accused.

  By those pale eyes.

  With a snarl he twisted his hips in such a kick that bent Durgen’s head backward until his neck was bowed and the back of his head touched between his shoulder blades. The body fell forward, the decimated face of the old Warrior staring up, and with the immense constitution only one as hardy as a wild man could attain, still focused his blurring gaze upon Robaine.

  The captain screamed in fury and kicked a log from the fire onto the ground beside the crumpled form. “The jug beside you, Durgen, is mine as well. Emptied now of course, during our little squabble. You’ll find its contents quite—“

  The flaming log ignited the fumes and in a loud rush of wind sprouted into tall flames that consumed the old man.

  “Combustible.” he finished.

  Durgen moaned quietly through his rubble of a mouth full of blood and teeth as his flesh was seared off until nothing but charred and bubbling meat remained stuck to his blackened bones. The light from the flames steadily lowered then, only fueled by the old man’s corpse, until Robaine was able to reach the axe.

  “At last, the prize for all my efforts!” Hefting the axe high, he allowed the white hot handle to sear his hands until smoke wafted away from his palms. Inspecting them through watery eyes, he found the insignia upon the blade imbedded in his skin. “Together, you and I shall dominate the will of man, and reign high above them as something more.”

  With Cleave Rend in hand, Robaine’s ring flared with life and he vanished from sight with a clap of thunder; his silencing charm ending not a second later.