Chapter 3
Twenty-four hours had passed since the masked-man’s soldiers had set out in pursuit of the boy, they had not returned with any information regarding the whereabouts of the artifact. It was a bad omen that he had not heard from his men. He clenched his fists in anger, how could a mere boy escape my men? He thought to himself.
He gazed out of the flaps of canvas that formed windows in his quaint quarters. Beyond his quarters were rows of prisoners from the small village who were held captive under the watchful eyes of his remaining mercenaries. The prisoners were a pathetic lot of whimpering children, whose mother’s sought to give them comforting words of hope, yet the mother’s knew that their words were lies, born from desperation. Even more pathetic than the women and children, were the elderly men. They begged like dogs for food and water. It was little wonder he did not care for the mortals that inhabited this world. He brought his muscled arms across his chest, feeling the surge of darkness and hatred rise inside of him.
“Pathetic mortals.” He said. “Mulling over their unfortunate lives. In time, I will show them that they have yet to experience true misery.”
Desperation grew inside of him for the artifact that the boy had escaped with. Of course he could search out the boy himself, by extending his powers into the world. But the risk was too great. He knew there were others that shared the same powers as he, borne from the ancient bloodlines of the Awakened. Those others, who were born of similar bloodlines, and who possessed the power of the Awakening, would seek him out and thwart his plans. It was a risk he could not afford, especially in his current weakened state.
In the darkness of his quarters, he felt the power of the Awakening churn and swell inside of him, it was as if it were a living cancer that was symbiotic to his actual life force, preserving his body for a thousand years until he was finally able to return to the world of the living. He felt the coolness of its presence guide his thoughts and actions. The Awakening began to form images in his mind. The images flashed, showing portions of both the past, present and future mixed together to reveal secrets that were never meant to be known among the world of man.
The churning inside of him continued. It conjured shadowy images inside his mind of men who had just emerged from the edge of the forest on the outskirts of the town. There were a handful of them, each broke off and went their separate ways save for one lone man. The mists of shadow inside the masked man’s mind formed an image of the lone man’s face. It was his captain, Captain Tankard. Within the shadowy mists that formed inside of his mind, the masked man watched Tankard slowly make his way through the village. Then Tankard stopped just a handful of yards away from the canvas quarters. The masked man could sense the fear that emitted from the Captain’s soul.
“I know you are there Captain Tankard. What news have you?”
Captain Tankard timidly entered the quarters. He was a round man with rosy cheeks and long hair that partially hid a fearsome scar across his left eye. He was dressed in furs about his neck with leather straps that covered his grey traveling cloak. He stepped into the darkness of the canvas quarters.
“Lord Elixir...the boy escaped.” He said with his head bowed. His hands shook at his side.
Elixir could sense the Captain’s fear growing, it was a sensation he relished and longed for. It was exhilarating watching mortals cower before his presence. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light of a nearby candle. His mask was made of rustic black metal that formed tightly around his skull, a type of breathing apparatus was strapped across his mouth and nose. Black slits for eyes glistened in the waning light of the candle.
“Unacceptable Captain!” Elixir berated the captain, his words sounded mechanical due to his breathing apparatus.
“We tried...we lost the boy in the forest...” The Captain’s words were cut-short by a sudden constricting of his lungs. He gasped as air was wrenched out of his body. His vision began to blur.
In the wake of his blurring vision, the Captain watched black energy radiate from Elixir’s outstretched hand. The radiating energy entered into Captain Tankard’s body. The captain felt his lungs collapsing inward. His consciousness began to slip. Desperately he fought against the effects of the dark energy that pulsated in his body, which was crushing his lungs. Then the Captain coughed blood and collapsed in a lifeless heap at the feet of Elixir.
Elixir stepped over the dead Captain and made his way through the canvas door of his quarters. The captive villagers cowered in fear as they saw his dark form pass among them. Elixir signaled to a nearby soldier.
“You there, take charge of this camp, no prisoners shall escape. If one leaves, they all die. Got it?” The guard nodded. “I must leave to seek out the artifact.”
Elixir knelt upon the ground and bowed his head. Again images flashed in his mind as the Awakening stirred inside of him. A black and purple aura irradiated around his being as he reached out into the world through the Awakening.
In his vision, Elixir could see the boy with what appeared to be an elf and a girl. They were sleeping deep within the forest. He let the images of his vision subside and then addressed the guard once more. “The boy is at the edge of the forest. I will reach him before dawn. No one leaves until I return, understand?”
“Yes my Lord.” The guard saluted.
Elixir swiftly moved across the camp and jumped aboard a speeder. He cranked on the throttle and tore through the village and into the night. His cape whipped violently about him as he disappeared into the dark.
Artifact of Creation: The Awakening Page 4
