The Din of Fate - Chapter III

CHAPTER III
Animus Passion1

2


The dark crept onward, bedding in its blanket the majestic city of the Azure Realm; the Ebony Whale Shore. Even its intimidating buildings of gothic architecture—with their defiant steeples and tall pinnacles of spires thrusting deep into the murky sky—were forced to submit under this grim shadow, squelching their glory till the rise of dawn. 3

Padded footsteps crossed the poorly lit streets of the city, so shutting the pitiful moans of whores and drunken frays—coming from the many taverns that inhabited these parts— from his hearing just as easily as his footsteps were silenced. 4

Vorgh Wicher was never heard.5

His wardrobe of staid and severe, with a completely gray and black color scheme, seized his short, slim build with a fervor that ever lived to further narrow his body; his life-long companion and sole witness to his deeds. The man smoothed along the cobbled paths at a cushy speed, leading the one that took him to Koalaabcess, University of Sorcery and Witchcraft. 6

The night guards need not feel my edge tonight, he brooded with a hint of longing; only one will fall this time.7

With feline graces the figure penetrated their watch, shadowing from statue to brush; then snaked through the defenses one by one, each of which detected nil save a breath of breeze. As the figure gripped his first of the building itself, the seven guards of the front courtyard abruptly dropped behind him, one by one.8

I’ve changed my mind. His reply was to the sole witness; he set about to scale.9

Footing along protruding ledges and fingering forth engraved replicas of legendary witches and mythical wizards. The climb was swift; it ended his landing on the galilee of choice, and the one that led to the victim.10

* * * * * *11

The pleasant scent of incensed cedar waft gently with the sweet sail of the sea. A fine comb of elaborate motif melted once again into her straight, luxurious, violet hair of medium-length, and Wyra wished death, not of herself, but of the Necromancer, Kyss the Bloodspell; the Master of her House, Gorgonhide. The same eve, she had been denied; she recounted the evil moment:12

“Miss Killan, in light of your thorough results from your tests and drills during your five years with us, we take great pleasure in announcing our approval. However, the House does not grant you the title of a Wizardess.”13

Her blood ceased to flow and she rose from her seat. “But why?!” she screamed at the old man across the heavy-set table.14

“Because although in academics you have passed, your reports show that the mannerism, pose, and charm you reek does not befit the title, and it is imperative that all graduating wizards succeed that point. Therefore we cannot allow your graduation,” She cursed aloud, and with her magical rings glowing her hands a deep violet, she slammed her hands fiercely into the table, webbing beneath them in cracks, “ and personally after this arrogant behavior that would rightly fit a troll, I feel no sympathy. You are a disgrace and an embarrassment to our House! ”15

She crushed the comb into her delicate palm, bringing the blood from it and roll in succession down to stain her gossamer, in the instant it took for a shimmering wisp in the form of a serpent to rise from the five rings on her fingers and lunge with a bite to enter her wound, and heal it. The crushed metal fell to the stony ground. 16

“That diploma should have been mine,” she argued to her reflection, “I will kill him myself!” 17

“That may not be necessary,” a voice stated flatly from her back. She steeled; her mirror reflected no one. “But it would signify an importance of whom we discuss.”18

Wyra calmly turned in her seat. There, leaning casually on her bedpost with its arms folded, was a slim shadow of grey and black, identified human only by his uncovered sneer. This sudden intrusion did little to frighten the woman.19

“Who are you?” she asked glumly.20

The man clucked his tongue. “I believe the question bleeds towards ‘What do I want?’” he sneered.21

Wyra did not attempt to cover her sheer gown or to remove her gaze. This sudden intrusion of privacy became the last straw to release her building rage.

“Take it!” she dared, her voice appealing and toned with death.22

The man’s voice was equally deadly and cold. “I will.” It advanced. She rose.23

Vorgh strode to the oaken door. “I thank thee!” he aired cheerfully before the door closed.24

The woman slumped back on her seat, then a smile brightened her face, “I kill him tonight!” She walked to her wardrobe and commenced to prepare her murder. Unbeknownst to even the maiden, a part of her had left with the shadow.25

* * * * * *26

Dancing shadows patterned the stone walls, but the assassin weaved the arched roof over late-night passers. Clawing furtively with his gloved tools, he sighted the spiral stairway; a boy walking down the same staircase neither saw nor felt the whine of the skull with diamonds for eyes as the pen resembling blade whipped its tip across the boy’s eyes. The lad swayed drowsily and his eyelids fluttered repeatedly, long enough for the assassin to scale over him. The lad walked away, sleepy, but unhurt. The skull shaped pommel stared after him before its master replaced it and ascended the steps. 27

At the top rested a large double-door entrance sheathed with thick crimson drapes parted on either side; he slipped between the doors to a study behind. Candlelight cast its glow on an old man slumped over the table. The assassin noiselessly approached his sleeping target.28

He froze.29

The victim did not sleep.30

A knife buried his back.31

For a brief the assassin was stunned. He thought of the boy that just exited, but soon deducted this work of one experienced, if not highly trained. 32

The pool of yellow blood was fresh. A lancet window marked its left.33

The assassin grabbed the deceased and bolted to it, shoving its head through the window. Instantly a thin swish sounded. 34

The dead no longer held a head.35

The assassin smirked.36

Kicking the body aside, he drew his saber and dove into a scrunched ball, shooting out into the opening sky and narrowly dodging a second swipe from the unseeing assailant, the same as he gripped a triple hook from his belt and buried its tips deep into the stony cracks of the spire. A shadow leapt from its perch above the window, descending in a jelly of twin steels; they struck air; the assassin maneuvered wildly alight, speeding his Shining Choke slash to run flesh while dodging a steel charted to his throat, cutting into his infamous Arrogant Killer Spin as he bid the released hook return and imbedded his second drawn saber within the crisscross of blades, pulling them into the Death Roll. 37

Ringing blades connect with the wind that ran tremendously frenzied about their falling persons, stinging their vision, but neither abating the flow of scourging stripes emerging from alarming degrees, their thrusts measured with lethal accuracy and great speeds. The shadow’s steel charted his northwest crown, a slim saber plunged the wind to meet it; its brother propelled for a chest, a crushing jam of the second steel locked their blades with their twin; the shadow swiftly drove a boot into the assassin’s side, and they parted from reach. The latter slipped below the shadow, and uncloaked a blowdart from his belt; it delivered an infinitesimal, yet deadly poisonous splinter that sailed with the current and missed its prey. He hissed. A ledge approached to break their fall and surely their bones. The assassin again uncoiled his knotted hook, and tossed it grappled on a marble gargoyle of the building. He smiled up at the hapless victim of an inevitable death before the cord taut and swung him toward the wall; he watched the shadow as it dove past him for the moment of contact.38

Entering five paces from the surface, a fleeting blur of violet crossed its path; the shadow was caught and plunged over the galilee’s edge—a familiar galilee.39

The girl! 40

Having barely eluded a near death, the shadowy figure did not object to the kidnap. Wyra lashed a long gooey tongue around a jutting precipice of the building; they swung, circled it twice, then shot far to the Temple Thicket. Wyra conjured a thick, scaly mass to grow over her skin, her arms and legs lengthened and coiled around her captive with a choking grip as they balled into branches, trees, and dense greenery; as a crater they hit the earth in a cloud of dust and rocks. A slight passed, and Wyra cautiously uncoiled her sore limbs from the shadow; they returned to their normal length.41

“Are you alright?’ she asked, lifting the dizzied man to his feet. The hands still held steel; they crossed over her neck.42

“What are you?” he rasped through his mask. Again, the woman was unfazed, but her temper flared. Reptilian eyes hazed over ones that were human, and a forked tongue slid from its cave to lick his cheek. He flinched in horror but decided not to cross blades. She laughed.43

“Obviously you are not familiar with wizarding powers.” Her eyes normalized and the scales faded from her skin, returning her to the attractive hourglass build, clothed in an clingy top that exposed her midriff; a low-cut that widely net, and sleeves that belled. A garment covered her legs separately; tightly embracing her shapely lower-half. Her deep-set alabaster eyes contrasted well with her straight, luxurious, violet hair that worn in an alluring style.44

The man was overwhelmed by her beauty. Slowly he backed and removed the steels from her neck. 45

“Thank you,” she caressed the slight wounds, “and now I must return; I have business to attend to.” and with bruised steps she turned to go.

The man held out an arm and asked with a plea in his tone, “Your name?”46

She stopped to consider this latest move; a twirl, “Wyra, Wyra Killan. And you sir?”47

“Pyrez, the Cutlass.” 48

Wyra slit her eyes, “A barbarian?”49

“A Hunter.” He corrected, to which he removed his mask and pulled back his hood. She gasped. 50

He bore strikingly blue eyes that were like two windows on the afternoon sky. His slightly bent, cherry red hair cascaded to his neck, simply. He was a graceful build, exposed by his sexy wear, and marked fair features. But more revealingly, his skin shone china-white. He looked dead, but appealing, all at once.51

“A Hunter,” she casually repeated, a small smile dared her lips; all thoughts of leaving instantly vanished, “and what might you be hunting at a place like Koalaabcess?”52

He shook his head, “Not ‘what’, ‘whom’.” 53

The odd intrusion of earlier that night flashed into her memory.54

“Whom do you search?”

His teeth clenched and the steel he held shook, “The man who killed my father.”55

An odd feeling pricked her chest. “And you think he’s here, at Koalaabcess?”56

He nodded.57

“Well then, I wish you success, and I will be certain to inform you if I ever see someone suspicious,” a full smile emerged as she thought herself clever, “where can I find you if I do?”

Again he shook his head, “I will know when you do; I will come to you.” Their eyes locked, unveiled more than just emotions; they discovered their desires. She blinked; he was gone.58

A demand awaited her.59

Stepping out of the thicket, she gazed long at the magnificent, spiked structure, perched defiantly atop the massive cliff that overlooked the sea; the place she called home for five years, now hostile and accused her of being an embarrassment to its name for a reason not known. Again rage manipulated her. Then she thought of Pyrez. Her anger drooped; would that someone hunt her for murdering the Drillmaster? The thought chilled her. She returned to the University, calling on her reptilian powers to effortlessly scale the walls to her quarters. As she lay in her four-poster bed a good deal later that night, with her shimmering nightgown to fondle her asleep, she looked out the veiled draped opening to her galilee, and knew that somehow, somewhere, she had been smitten; and they were out there, watching her.60

* * * * * *61

The dim dusk, the streets moonless, the merriment vulgar, and the merchandise wane. The Swindler’s Tavern remained the same. A shrouded cast entered the stale atmosphere. It pinned a table at the far edge of the establishment where a similarly cloaked figure sat drinking, waiting. Meekly it wound its way to its destination; without waiting for an invitation, it sat at its table. 62

“A change of heart, Tugor? You tense greatly so.” The first spoke, swinging a mug of ale.63

“Yea know it won’t do for me to be recognized in these parts.” The second retorted in a fearful whisper, dismissing the offer of a drink, then, “Is the task done?”64

The first held out a palm, “My due.”65

The second cautiously placed three small but weighty pokes on the table. “Three thousand Riyal pieces in studded gems of crystal-blue diamonds.”66

After examining each poke’s contents, the first snatched them into his satchel, and replaced them with a small vial.67

“By the Stars of Anarpr!” the second gleamed, and snatched the glass, filled with a yellowish substance. “So, at last, Kyss is no more, and I, the pitiful assistant, become Tugor, the Master of Gorgonhide,” greed ate his every word, “His blood will be my strength, the final ingredient to the Monstrous Divination of Summon Control! With me, neither Strikedor, nor Howlan, nor Wyvernhead will again mock; I will raise Gorgonhide to its greatest…”68

“Tell me, Tugor,” the first interrupted, “is there another assassin in the Ebony Whale Shore?” 69

The fearful look returned to the druid and he avoided the assassin’s eyes, “Why would there be; if there was then I might be asking him and not yea.” He did a poor job of nonchalance; the assassin was canny. 70

“I may be the only assassin, but there are others who wield blades, are there not?” 71

Tugor swallowed hard on his saliva, “Well—there be the Slash Knights…”72

A waved dagger pounded hard into the table’s wooden surface, shivering the dragon shaped guard and rattling the silver dragon head pommel. He grabbed the druid’s neck and crushed their noses contact.73

“I speak not of the Grand Magi’s personal guardians, you fool! I refer to the man whose blade dealt my own! I refer to the man who sat on the highest pinnacle! Oh yes, Tuger, I know you watched; how often you forget my eyesight; I know you watched from the Taverngirl’s Pleasure that you so frequent every night—funny how your favorite girl’s dorm just so happens to bar a window with a direct view of Koalaabcess!” Their noses crushed deeper, the assassin accented every syllable. “I know you know I fought another assassin!”74

He threw the quivering druid back in his seat with murder in his eyes as he withdrew the dagger and fingered it. The druid tenderly soothed his paining nose before subjecting. “Yes, I confess, there is another like yourself, but he is not an assassin. About three weeks ago, there entered a young man in Port Knave who claimed to have come from the Avaquar Isle.”75

The assassin was familiar with the place, “They say the warriors that leave its grounds mark death with their footprints.” He sulked in sarcasm, but the druid seemed to be rather affected by it.76

“They also say that he is a scout to prepare the way for an Avaquar settlement!” he shivered.77

“The Ebony Whale Shore has been a haven for students of magic, Sorcerers, Magicians, Priests, Druids, Magi’s, Enchanters, and Necromancers alike for over five hundred years; that theory is vomit.”78

“Yes, a very odd fellow who is always seen in a large cloak and never in daylight; not that he is commonly seen at all. His features are obscured by, what some say, a mask of sort. Personally, methinks he is on a deathly charge; and he goes by the name of,” he paused for effect, “Hunter.”79

The name brought a seed of wroth with it, planting itself deep within the fertile soil of pride, jealousy, and competition in a heart. No one dared to title themselves a ‘hunter’; not in his realm; not as he lived to haunt the world of mystery. A minute passed, time a slow flame twisted itself over and over in the assassin’s heart.80

“Where can I find him?” he slowly hissed.81

The druid was careful and tact in his answer, “Men of stealth are rarely sought. A hunter seeks its prey…”82

“…the hunter will come to me.” The assassin finished with a wicked smirk. He suddenly stood and dropped a smith Unit next to the unfinished drinks, patting Tugor’s shoulder as he passed. “We’ll meet again, druid.” Vorgh and the satchel left the tavern with a harsh bang of the front door. 83

The druid heaved a great sigh of relief; he lived, and the young man’s true identity was unknown to the assassin; if it were, he would not have lived to take that breath. 84

Task ended; “Now,” a wide grin wormed its way onto his face, “for the Taverngirl’s Pleasure, and mine!”85

* * * * * *86

The coming day brought a glorious sun to shine its warm rays on sailors, ships, and merfolks alike; bringing with it a woeful tale to the doors of a one Luann Moreno of the neighboring dorm and eccentric friend of Wyra Killan. Howbeit passing in age, and her odd ways targeting the spite and ridicule of other students; Wyra discovered beneath the hail of oddities a kind and insightful mind, and heart.87

A pair of eyes the color of the midnight sky greeted her along with the smell of mud and blueberries, “Wyra darling! What a liquefying surprise to have you visit,” her airy monotonous voice gushed as Wyra entered the fully cluttered room, “but I honestly did not foresee this sojourn, so I apologies for the mess! Allow me to make you some nontoxic xenon brew with a dash of sodium-iodine and barium rum for a bit of fun exothermic reaction!”

“That’s really quite alright Luann,” she replied with a trifle more than an unintentional cringe, “actually I shan’t stay long, but I have something to tell you.” Luann led her to the bed, the only sitting space not occupied with glass tubes, boiling cauldrons, tomes of chemist calculations and mathematical recipes, and flasks of sinister-looking juices.88

Wyra perched gently on the bed beside Luann—who was wildly conducting her experiments and tests with her wand—hesitated a pinch, as if gathering her courage, “I’ve been denied my diploma. I’m leaving tomorrow.” her words spat abruptly.89

Luann’s shock was evident by the shattering of several glass tubes and flasks, and the upturning of a few boiling cauldrons. Her silky hair the color of alabaster whirled about her like a veil as she grabbed Wyra’s arms.90

“Are you certain? But why?” Her tone gasped in all earnest. Wyra shrugged.91

“I did not receive an explanation, only a cutting remark.” she glowered. 92

Luann shrieked, answering her own question, “Why dear, do you not know? They dismiss you because they fear you!”93

“Fear me?” she gave a snort of distain, “what reasons have they to fear a worthless wench like me?”94

Luann gripped her all the more and those eyes dilated. “You must not speak that way! Tis no mystery they pound you as they do. Do not ever grant the poison of others to blacken the soul of your dream, my girl! They do not fear the woman you think you are; they fear the woman who holds the inheritance of the spirit of a true wizzardess that you are destined to become!”95

Even Wyra’s tough image could not withstand this. Tears leapt from the surface, and she collapsed in Luann’s gentle arms, weeping, “It was my life! My all, my world! It was MINE, damn it, MINE!”96

Soft hands soothed her violet mane. “There child, it is not simple being rejected and avoided by others, trust me, I know; but where would the heroes be if they allowed the cruelty of others to water the flame of passion within them? Where would their fighting spirit arise from, if not their outcast by others?”97

The sobs lessened. Wyra understood well and her anger lessened. Her voice cracked as she spoke, “Thank you.”98

Luann smiled.99

“I wonder if there is a fool out there willing to hire a degreeless, twenty aged, homeless outcast with uncertified magic?” 100

“I certainly would!” a voice boomed from behind. A bright streak of blinding light and five coils of reptilian fangs shot from the two women as they spun on the voice.101

“Ouch! Calm ladies, please! Wyra, those hurt.” 102

“Pyrez!” Wyra shouted at the mock-limping hunter, “What are you doing here?!”

He looked offended, “Why, I came to adopt you, of course.” He skillfully dodged another set of lashing fangs and hopped toward the galilee. “Are you coming?”103

She sighed in frustration, “Thank you again, Luann!” She fondly embraced her friend once more, then ran and leapt off the edge with Pyrez. 104

“Anytime, darling!” she called after her.105

They scaled rapidly for the bell tower; a bell that never rang; a place where deeds were free and no eyes to see. 106

“Not fitted for the climb this time.” He remarked as they sat on the tower ledge lined with stone gargoyles. It was true. Her attractive full dress was mostly of thin slits down her legs, back, arms, and front, held by strings; the color of deep crimson, and it was vaguely transparent, bending water like a fluid; obviously, worn to show her curvaceous body. 107

“Have you found the man?” she asked.108

“No, but when I do it shall be over swiftly.” 109

A space ensued where they gazed at the jagged city surrounded by ports and vessels of the wide ocean. The last sentence lingered uncomfortably between them.110

He turned to her, “I heard your conversation.” She looked away, flushed. A hand softly returned her chin to him. “Will you have me, like you a homeless outcast of no reputation? Will you take a soul who cannot find its true strength—like yourself? Will you share your life with me? I promise none but my love that burns for you.”111

Her eyes searched his in all earnest. She found it; he was sincere. It was love at first sight after all.112

Gradually their lips melted with a passion that was already bared to each; a long kiss where their innermost desires were shared, and met. 113

She had agreed.114

* * * * * *115

That night as she sat combing her hair at her mirror, the thoughts of the future clouded with anxiety. Companion to a hunter, seeking an invisible prey, footing unknown lands; days filled with a search, chase, and battle; thrill, danger, and adventure; the hunter and the huntress! Excitement lifted her.116

“What a life I would lead!”117

“What a life that would bleed!” a whisper cooed. She dared not move; the presence of a cold blade tip nipped her back, and yet again she could see nil of a reflection; she could only imagine what damage was being done to her gown.118

“A pleasant surprise,” She ejected polytonal sarcasm. The cold trailed the hollowed depression of her back, slipping over her shoulder, feathering across her neck; a slender palm softly gripped the back of her head, and thin lips brushed her exposed neck and shoulder. 119

“The pleasure is mutual.” The assassin breathed, drawing in her every scent. His warm breath crept over her skin, raising the hairs of her body as it went deeper, lower, and farther. A sensation she knew well danced with her shiver; a sense she knew she should not be feeling, but still gathered, against her will. The lips slithered to her cervix, and her face lifted in bliss, her eyes shut of their own will; feeling, just feeling. His hand slid from her head down to the full length of her bare back, encircled her waist, and ran lower to her thigh, where it met her hand, and withdrew the knife that it clenched strapped there; flicking it sharply as it thudded into a wall; the hand followed the same path—to her inner thigh. 120

Intoxication welled, sensations whirled, and she could scarcely restrain her hands from returning his caresses; finding them fondle her own body. “What do you want from me?” she gasped.121

“Your life,” toned the reply, “you’ve been—a naughty girl.”122

Long fingers brushed the forbidden; her breaths came in rapid spurs, her heart pounded; a moan, “Tell me!”123

“The man you saved…”124

“A man who fell!”125

“His death was mine…”126

“I did not see anyone else! I did not know he fought you!”127

The hand tugged her torn gown; it shimmered cleanly down her body, devoured by his slitted violet eyes that gleamed like two amethysts. The scent of her musk filled the air; fingers slid on wet lips, and a mound.128

“You’ve interfered with my affairs; inferences must be reaped.”129

“Forgive me!” she cried, thrashing her head, lost in her ecstasy.130

“Tell me why?”131

Her thoughts raced as his fingers; she felt on the brink of release; then, it dawned.132

“I love you!” she screamed, bursting in an explosion of her juices that cascaded his hand. The statement did not sit well with the assassin; neither could he comprehend its meaning.133

“Why?” he whispered behind her; the question aimed as much as at him as it did to her.134

Her body shook as she replied, “I know not! How can one reveal the chemistry of emotions that filled me that night of our first meeting? How can one describe what I felt when you appeared as a savior of sort within my troubled moments of anguish? How can I explain the softness of your touch that proclaims this more than just a rape?”135

A hard blow was dealt; it fell on the assassin. He did care for the woman, though he did not know how or why. Indignation, wonder, rage, and confusion swept his blackened heart all at once; bringing with it a spark of exposure to his true feelings. He steeled. He would not think this way. Twenty-two years of denial will not crumble under this moment of seeming reality. 136

He removed his fingers and tilted her neck back. Her eyes still closed as if to accept her death.137

“I forgive you.” She whispered.138

The words sent chills trickling down his spine. 139

I forgive you!140

The final words of his childhood love before the cruel blade of a knife drained her precious life on the dirty streets; delivered by a jealous peer; witnessed by him alone. That day he battered the lad’s head on the stone walls was the day all light faded from his heart; the nightmare that refused to die.141

Now it was reawakened by the vivacity of those three words.142

Would he become as the lad he killed? 143

His arm throbbed from its deadly place at her neck.144

It would end, now!145

He hesitated; the first in years.146

He steeled. His hand clenched the hilt in firm resolution.147

Again he hesitated.148

He was sweating.149

The blade ran.150

Slowly his arm returned to his side. The saber clattered loudly on the stone floor. His hands trembled. In a stupor as he carried his feet to the galilee ledge. His breathing hard, the sweat ran, his heart pounded. A dainty hand touched his back.151

The blade had not touched flesh.152

“What spell have you cast on me to render me this way, woman? Why is it that I cannot kill you?” he croaked hoarsely.153

“You feel the same—don’t you?” tears rolled down her cheeks.154

His teeth clenched, his hand fisted; emotions long cast fought even deadlier to overcome the malicious hatred and bitterness he carried for so long. A gentle breeze carried his whisper far, to the wide world and beyond.155

“Yes.”156

Her warm body melted into his back, unchaining his acrimony with her binding arms around him. The dam of malevolence, venom, and sharp hostility burst in a swarming rage.157

Vorgh wept, in her arms.158

* * * * * *159

Lucent reds and lustrous orange and yellows fused together in the circuitous chamber of wide apertures surrounding it. An imposing figure parked on the high-backed throne of claws and skeletons. It wore a flattering uniform of deep blue and black which seemed to be composed of impossibly sharp edges, and its oily coffee-black mane slicked behind, smoothly; a large crest of the Gorgonhide House rested on its finger. 160

The twin door-portcullis burst wide; in walked a shadow. The Druid was neither startled nor amazed; at this point of his haughty state, nothing surprised him. 161

“We’ll settle the score like men, Druid!” he furiously vibed, vacating his steels and leaping onto the figure with them storming like a windmill. Tugor’s hands rose. A brilliant globe of flashing energy vines scattered over him, slugging the stunned shadow back into the stony wall. Evil cackles reverberated and echoed. 162

“Ten years and you haven’t changed a bit, Hunter; or should I say, Pyrez!” the druid offensively remarked.163

The shadow drew from the ground, his full height with it. Decayed with revenge, in a moment of unbridled fury, his blazing spirit channeled with his twin companions; tinting them in an icy, cold-blue flame of its trailing color. 164

“By the Claws of Ystusst; did not your father teach you the consequences of melding magic with weapons?” Tugor sneered.165

The shadow set for the Two Demons Slam, “I am prepared.”166

“Well done, boy,” The druid cheered as he gripped tight the staff beside him, “as am I!”167

Within two flicks the combatants sprang; Pyrez using his steels like a pirouette auto-canon with fanning leaves as his feet locked for a swift maneuver; the druid flaunted his cloak fully in range and view, while levitating a few feet higher and accurately delivered the Spin of the Nine Fires with his bladed staff butt and triad pronged head. The cloak wilted in thin slashes, but it served its purpose; the shadow merely caught a shred of leather from the druid’s uniform, when he sported a gash through the side of his face and few well-placed thrusts in his abdomen. He abruptly dropped to the ground, and the druid passed over; he quickly Three Step ‘Saulted in double flips on the walls and launched at the landed figure. 168

Tugor batted wildly with his staff, blasting the steels from his chest-path and hooking its head over Pyrez’s bicep and under his armpit; then with a mighty roar he flung the airborne hunter into a wall. A resultant shatter of a vertebra would have succeeded if the shadow had not used the Reverse Toe Gutbuster Curve to break his impact and instead leap from its surface with his steels returning in the Wing Slit; the druid back rolled, evading the glowing streak; crumpling both to the floor.169

“Avaquar has taught you well, my little red-headed friend!” the druid gnawed his tongue in anger, spearing forth his hand in the rising shadow’s direction. Five beautiful streams of ultra-flared pale bolts of squiggling energy pulsed from his claw-like fingers.170

Immediately Pyrez dove out an aperture. The stream of energy ate air and stone, hissed and fizzed till gone. A cold blast of northern wind bit him deeply. Managing to drive his steels into the stone cracks of the tower to break his fall, he flung his way around the precipice to a different aperture, and with a heave he leapt back in. 171

He petrified.172

A mutilated corpse lay at the feet of a smirking shade.173

The assassin.174

* * * * * *175

Tugor straggled to his feet. He knew a certain connection the hunter had with windows. He had witnessed it before.176

“Settle the score like men, eh? I invoke the Eyes of Ai'sitarte! CRAVEN!” he screeched alone. He backed to the door, whirling his eyes on all sides; ever anticipating an attack from a window.177

He backed into a saber.178

“Darling, I’m home!”179

Twin sabers loped a pair of arms. The druid’s scream magnified three-fold as his legs too were cropped. A boot kicked the stump onto his back, and a thin blade was swiftly lower into the gaping mouth. 180

A member was clipped.181

The druid would have burst in horror as a fine flow of his own blood poured down his throat; gagging on his own tongue. 182

“Now,” began the assassin fondly, “I wouldn’t want to take chances, being a druid that you are—” he paused with a roguish smirk on his thin lips, “—were.”183

He calmly walked around the gurgling, “I should have informed you, I don’t like traitors very much. Your tavern girl has been very cooperative to my—sucking; imagine, Tugor, your very own wench being the cause of your death!” he cackled as if amused, then bent low to whisper in the druid’s ear, “What could have made you even think of trying to use the Hunter to end my means so as to eliminate future dangers to your glorious reign as Master of Gorgonhide—no—Master of Koalaabcess? How could you ever think of provoking the assassin—the one you feared, and should have kept feared?”184

Tugor’s life was ebbing; his face ashened blue. The assassin quipped as if an afterthought, “And by the way, I did not kill Kyss, but I’m sure you already know that!” He rose, and the druid choked his last breath. 185

* * * * * * 186

“You!” Pyrez whispered as the memories of that night returned in a rebellious streak.187

Vorgh bowed cordially, “Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am your death, your ending, your final chapter of existence.”188

The killers circled. 189

“He was mine to dispose!” the shadow deepened in wroth.190

“I’ve learned the skill of interference by a—very good friend of mine.” The assassin brightened.191

“Surprise surprise; of such a prize you can boast!”192

The assassin grinned, “I am blessed!”193

Savage cuts and vital wards swept the duo in a hypnotic dance of skill. The shadow’s weapons dizzied below and pressed. Impressive counters brought by sabers met double blows, and screening a dozen pokes in-between. 194

“Dwarven blades I assume,” Pyrez spat during a particularly harsh shower of sparks, “lamentable.”195

“We all have our secrets.” 196

“I promised my woman I would end it swiftly.” He crossed blades into a single saber and viciously snapped an under-slash. 197

The assassin raised his other saber, designing a cross at his waist, “The widow will have her wish.” 198

Sabers worked blindly as the assassin instigated the quickest route to a swordsman’s downfall: an open passage. Pyrez cut a cruel path toward the lower ribcage, cursing vilely with each failed thrust. Methodic counters lazily responded serving to deepen the shadow’s already fanned fury.199

“FIGHT ME!” he shouted in frustration, ringing his steels into yet another unsuccessful damage. The assassin merely laughed and played his sabers into every attack, caring not for the ringing in his arms from the force of the heavy blows. Prancing from a defensive to an offensive spin he brought both blades around him in a full circle slash. Pyrez caught each swing easily and ducked under Vorgh’s attack, driving both tips inward for his belly. Sweeping both blades aside was a saber from the left and another came for the shadow’s exposed head. Pyrez squashed to the ground in the moment it took him to furiously lash at his opponents’ feet. Vorgh deftly leapt out of reach and out of a window. Pyrez quickly followed.200

The sun was now setting and they bathed in its warm glow. Swords wove into and out of terrified statues that adorned the rooftops. Nimbly the assassin backed onto a particularly thin and long aqueduct that connected two towers, the waters of which sprouted forth from the mouths of gaping long-horned demons alongside it and fell for eternity the length of the university and further, the length of the cliff, and into the dark sea of the Ebony Whale Shore. The battle resumed with renewed drive and clashed loudly. Vorgh returned a well placed cut with three of his own. The wounds he bore drove his intensity into a frightful frenzy. 201

Pyrez flew his edge from a sharp corner, instantly followed by a sudden reverse and with a light jump hammered both steels one after the other again and again into the assassin from all sides. Nimbly the sabers took each blow with precise expertise, but fumbled his footing and he swayed dangerously. In an instant Pyrez was on him with lightning quick nicks and flicks, hoping to break the assassin’s concentration. Desperately Vorgh followed each move amid blurring reflexes and stinging sparks. 202

Just then Pyrez delivered a bold move: arcing both steels he swiped about widely, hopping to place some distance between them. The assassin pressed hard and didn’t budge, instead advancing straight into Pyrez with a smoothly sent stab. Pyrez managed to deflect the blow but it was followed by a second saber lowering glide to his left knee. Angling his twin steels to twist the incoming blade, he failed to notice the precautious balance he was put in. Evidently the assassin did, and with a smirk and a heavy shove, a boot smacking into his right foot, toppled him over the edge and beyond with a second punt. 203

“THIS ISN’T THE END, ASSASSIN!” Pyrez screamed. Vorgh merely stared as the hunter faded into the thick haze of mist in tow with his cry. 204

“You were not my assignment,” he whispered to the dusk surrounding him, “perhaps you could have saved your miserable life, you foolish lad.” With a final sweep of his sheathed sabers he departed into the waning sun. 205

* * * * * *206

A pair of eyes followed his every move. From the lancet window it flourished its pleasure. The body gone, the mess sanitized; and yet the sweet smell of the dead still lingered here. The blade of cause still lingered here.207

“Catch me if you can!” It cackled in delight.
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