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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 1:03:11 GMT
Author's Notes: Written in 2007 ______________________________________________________________________
Chapter 1
Saith Zerbaliev; his own name possessed legendary status, demanded the highest of respects. Honour is what he preached. Fighting was his glory. Seemingly the perfect warrior within the realm of Garn. Everyone knew his name.
"And yet no one has seen me." Saith smirked confidentially, stroking a hand through his jet-black locks. As the ex-prince of the kingdom of Sa'la, Saith found himself on the run; a fugitive of his own mischievous disappearance. Saith never wanted to uphold the imagery that his father had - he never wished to be a pre-destined king, a deity within the forested boundaries of Sa'la. Saith just wanted to be a Tigran.
Tigrans were rather paradoxical warriors. From the general (and seemingly stereotypical) viewpoint, Tigrans were assassins with honour. Now, one would normally chuckle at such malarkey; a blood lusting killer with ethics? Absurd and a myth. Yet Saith believed there was more to the Tigran way-of-life than slaughtering those unfortunate to cross their path. There was a blood bond that you shared with your fellow brothers in the tribe, there was a sense of family. Unlike the strangers in his palace on the Niiwar Mountain in the heart of Sa'la. 'Father. He hardly deserves the title.' Saith grimaced at the restrictions his old life bestowed him with. This is why Saith escaped from his role in the kingdom of Sa'la:
Saith wished to be free.
As he lounged into the knots of a grand oak, the midnight sky blanketed the earth in an indigo sheet, urging Saith to drift into slumber. He absent-mindedly watched the fireflies waltz on the breeze, hearing the faint calls of an owl lull him to sleep. There was a wintry nip to the air, frost crystallizing on the metal of his weapon. The ex-prince was not yet an expert in the chained scythe, sometimes ending wrapped in the coils of the chain tail after practice. Saith smiled warmly, tracing the edge of a scythe as the moonlight beamed onto the metal, giving it an eerie glow. For this foggy night, he decided to sleep with the chains coiled around his right arm, clutching the handle of the scythe with a moderate grip. His older brother Jet had scouted the tangled foliage ahead, scouting the area for any suspicious enemies.
Suddenly Saith caught the crisp sound of rustling leaves, the earth and twigs moaning and barking under seemingly clumsy footsteps. Saith's heart raced like the wind itself, knowing that Jet was much more stealthy and was as silent as the shadows of the men he pursued. Leaping onto his feet, the novice Tigran gripped his weapon fiercely, preparing himself for battle. His amber irises darted along the edge of the meadow, attempting to pinpoint his mysterious guest-in-hiding. Finally, Saith's patience wore thin.
"Show yourself! Perhaps if you react quickly I will spare your throat from my blade." The bushes to his left parted slowly, a silhouette emerging into the moonlit clearing.
Nonchalantly, the figure stepped forward without apprehension. A slightly malicious smirk graced his lips, baring an abnormally elongated fang. Saith became entranced by the eyetooth, the moon causing a tiny flicker to shine like the stars above. Saith clutched the leather bonds coiled around the shaft with a light grip, uncertain of how much trust to place in this newfound stranger. At first glance, he appeared nothing more than a traveller - a black hood cascaded deep ebony shadows over his face, carrying nothing more than a tiny cowhide pouch at his side. The stranger laid his eyes on the young Tigran-in-training, the moonlit irises possessing a brilliant ice blue. He gently forced Saith's weapon down.
"Is that any way to treat your guest, Young Prince?" Saith bit down his urge to strike this uncouth man, only managing a scowl.
"Call me that again, I dare you," Saith warned darkly, clinking the chain as intimidation. The stranger chuckled.
"My apologizes my lord," the stranger teased playfully, revealing his face in full-view, "I simply ask to speak with you."
"On what grounds?" Saith leered suspiciously, his ears willing to listen while his heart sank further into the safety of his ribcage. The stranger offered a rhetorical hand - neither to shake or to be held. It was just there as a parlay introduction.
"For your best interests of course, Young One," said the mysterious figure. Saith grimaced at the tone in the man's voice. 'How dare he speak to me like I'm some child!' he thought viciously, narrowing his jade eyes coldly. The stranger dismissed Saith's rude gaze. "You see, I have been watching you for some time now. Wandering aimlessly through the forests, over grassy hills and vales, under the sands of the catacombs - "
"It is not aimless!" Saith barked back, clinging to his scythe with an iron grasp. The man looked at Saith sidelong, glimpsing at him arrogantly.
"Oh? Then tell me: have you learned anything about the Tigran?"
Saith's heart stopped. Completely. 'How...how did he know...?' The man smirked at the stunned expression in the ex-prince's face; frozen in a confused, slightly awed portrait. Laughing a little louder, the stranger dipped his hand into his cloak, fumbling around inside. Saith instinctively drew himself into a battle pose, his heart colliding with his chest like powerful hooves. The little beating horse slowed however, as the man-in-black fished out a folded piece of parchment.
"These are directions to Libet," he explained carefully, "follow them closely. A wrong turn may ensure your demise. Once you reach the city, follow the main road into the cliff side houses. I shall be awaiting your arrival." Saith took this opportunity to unveil the content on the parchment, skimming them under the glow of the moon. Unable to decipher the tidy scrawl in the dark, he quickly raised his head.
Yet the man had vanished into the twilight, a wintry white gust swirling past Saith's surprised face. A few quiet moments passed, leaving Saith clueless to his newly bestowed adventure. A few seconds afterwards, Jet somersaulted onto the cool grass from the woods, dew clinging to his clothes desperately. Grinning sheepishly, Jet shook out the water drops from his platinum blond hair, delivering an optimistic smile. He patted down his cargo belt, containing several small shuriken, daggers and poison darts. A curved makhaira rested at his right hip - the 6 inch metal fang curving towards the earth. It's handle was unusually long for a dagger, carved with intricate designs. It was unusual to be used outside of cavalry purposes. Yet that's what made Jet quite resourceful and dangerous, thought Saith proudly.
"Saith! Good news," his boasted loudly, "nothing but an owl and a warren of 14 rabbits. Spotted them myself; in the --"
"...'veil of night, no less. My eyes are like a leopard's golden orbs, glaring down the shadow of adversity and mocking death in its place.' " Saith quoted from his older brother's routine speech, "Ha ha yes I know." Jet blinked quietly for once, having nothing to add to his already proclaimed speech.
"I suppose that one's getting a little worse for wear," Jet admitted glumly, "I dare say it's time to create a new phrase!" Saith punched Jet in the shoulder, leaving a nasty sting in its wake. Jet laughed, causing the owl he noticed to give an irritated hoot and flutter into the sky's glowing sphere. In the midst of their festivities, the mysterious stranger's offer slapped Saith in the cheek, yanking him back into his original decision. Gripping Jet's shoulders tightly and without warning, he hysterically stared into Jet's confused eyes.
"Jet, a man appeared to me in the clearing tonight..."
"What?" Jet leered darkly, his mismatched irises leering gold and coffee onto his face, "did he hurt you?"
"No! He didn't Jet, relax. He didn't do anything. He told me to meet him in the city of Libet. That's all."
"That's ALL?!" Jet roared furiously, his teeth bared, "Saith, you don't go travelling to some city just because some stranger told you to! It's very dangerous, even children know this. What if you decided to travel there by yourself?"
"I w-wouldn't..." Saith began defensively, but was shivering from Jet's harsh voice.
"It doesn't matter! The fact that you agreed is extremely foolish and selfish of you. Saith, this man isn't going to travel to a southern city hundreds of miles away just to talk to you; he wants to LURE you. He wants to HURT you." Saith grew angry tears in his face, glad the darkness hid them.
"I'm eighteen years old, I'm old enough to make my own decisions!" he remarked smartly.
"As your older brother, I WILL have a say in your decisions, as foolhardy as they are."
"You aren't my real brother, you can't -- "
"TAKE IT BACK!" The last remark struck Jet's heartstrings with a harsh snap, the vibration of the words lingering in his ear. Saith immediately felt guilt wash up his throat with an acidic bile.
"Jet, I'm really sorry...I didn't mean...please don't..." But it was too late; Jet had stormed off into the forest to cool his temper. With a weary sigh, Saith sunk low to the earth, trying to calm his nerves in the early morning dew. He really hated it when these idiotic outbursts brashly came about, but it was a natural process of their travels. This truth exposed itself like this occasionally. Saith would accidentally shout a crude remark about how "they had different blood", and immediately regret it. Yet they couldn't escape the truth: Saith and Jet weren't truly related.
Until the age of 10, Saith always believed he had an older brother; one to look up to, to encourage his ascent to the throne. What he didn't understand, by Jet's sorrowed gaze, was that he had no right to become king. He remembered (very painfully), when his mother sat him down in the garden, under the shade of an apple tree. Being the child that he was ('and probably still am,' he added), he was delighted to be spending time with his beloved mother. It was the grave expression on her slightly aged face that made him nervous.
~~
"Am I in trouble, mother?" Saith ventured warily, afraid to receive lashings. When none came, he peeked to his mother who was playing with blades of grass mindlessly. Her long chestnut curls flowed past her shoulders, a flower broach pinning it back. Exhaling a little too slowly, she tried to smile for her son.
"It's alright, it's nothing you've done. We need to talk about Jet." Saith grinned excitedly, barely able to restrain a joyful cry. Jet, being 5 years older than himself, was nearly old enough to be chosen as the rightful heir to their family. Saith would never miss Jet's coronation for the world.
"He only has one more year before he's old enough to ascend to the throne! Isn't that right mother?"
"No," his mother said bluntly, "Jet is not of royal blood; he cannot be an heir to this family." Saith blinked, seemingly not grasping the meaning of her words.
"Jet will be a magnificent king - "
"No," she stated again, "Jet is not related to us. He is not your real brother."
"...why do you say this, mother? Jet has always been..."
"NO! YOU FOOLISH CHILD HE IS NOT YOUR BROTHER! WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!" she shrieked, casting dozens of larks into the sunny day, feathers drifting to the earth silently along with Saith's hot tears. His tiny fists clenched at his sides, his insides being sliced and ripped apart, only to be sewn back together painfully as he lay awake. Jet...wasn't...
"Jet IS my brother!"
SLAP!
A sharp clapping sound rang through the palace grounds, silencing everything and everyone. Saith's mother’s breath was raspy, her tears collecting in her collarbone as they streaked down her neck. A rouge print painted itself on Saith's young flesh, his eyes void of emotion. His innocence was breaking. Trying to even her breathing, Queen Zerbaliev glared at her one and only son.
"Jet is an orphan, Saith. Our maid found him in our yard five years ago, just before you were born. He was FOUND, Saith. Not born. Our maid secretly kept Jet in her quarters for three weeks until your father discovered him on the balcony. You're lucky he's still alive and we didn't toss him into the alley."
Saith grit his teeth together, "I would never let you do that to him."
"You weren't even BORN yet you stupid brat," she hissed cruelly, "I was carrying you in my womb. God, the burden you were." No other words were exchanged as Saith ran off into the palace, the sounds of his steps echoing across the garden. Queen Zerbaliev buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. In a nearby juniper, Jet watched reluctantly, tears sprinkling the dirt below, fearing that Saith would drift apart as a stranger, and not as his brother.
~~
Saith leaned his head back onto the oak's bark, not caring if moss mingled with his hair.
"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" A soft voice reached him from the left. Saith nodded shakily. Every time this happened his thoughts would drag him back to where it all began. Jet sighed, seated himself beside Saith.
"I should have told you sooner. You would have been prepared and it would have been painless for you," Jet placed his hand on Saith's shoulder, "I'm very sorry I did that to you."
"It wasn't your fault, it was our nasty mother," Saith gave a mixture of a sob and a laugh, wiping the tears with his sleeve, "I never really liked our parents." Jet smiled at the use of "our" instead of "my". Jet grinned, trying to cheer up his younger brother.
"Well, we'd better hurry if we want to make it to Libet," he winked, dragging Saith to his feet. Saith's eyes brightened considerably, rivalling the rising sun peeking beyond the horizon.
"We're actually going?!"
"Yeah well, I suppose this unexpected travel will give you some good life experience. Come on then, we don't have all day!" Jet ruffled his younger brother's hair before dashing into the trees. Determined and bursting with joy, Saith raced after him.
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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 1:33:35 GMT
Chapter 2Late afternoon arrived on the two brothers, the scorching sun concentrating all its sunlight onto their heads. It seemed merciless as it continued to tag along in their adventure. Saith referred to the directions the mysterious man gave him the night before, the writing slowly directing them through mere description. Squinting through the blurriness of the heat, he read the first direction: "Follow your way out of the woods SOUTH. When you reach the edge, you will see a patch of dry trees in the middle of a field. Go there, and continue to travel SOUTH across the No Man's Land." Saith bleakly followed the next direction: "You have to make sure you're travelling straight. Travels in the No Man's Land are lethal because of the heat - it can leave you dehydrated and can cause madness. Occasionally check backwards and check how your footsteps appear; if they are fairly straight, keep going. Change direction more SOUTH if they are diagonal." Saith wiped his forehead, the sweat dripping off his forearm as new sweat replenished his face. Jet was farther ahead, seemingly not affected by the heat so much. Saith checked backwards - good thing Jet was leading, otherwise they'd probably be in the sky for all he knew. Saith urged himself to catch up to his older brother, but his legs refused to move any faster. He stopped, in which the sun took advantage and poured sunlight generously onto him as dry, warm wind brushed on his skin like pumice. Jet eventually checked on Saith and found him to have stopped a good distance behind. Once Jet retreated back, he gazed to Saith with a worried look. "Are you alright, Saith?" Saith shook his head, wanting to pass out right then and there. Jet frowned. "You need to rest." It wasn't a question but an order. Saith felt himself getting dragged to a patch of dry trees, parched from years without water. They barely provided shade, but they had to make due. Jet shoved the water canister into Saith's hands, having to hold it there before the stubborn ex-prince actually wanted to accept it. "You have to keep hydrated or else you'll get sick." "I don't want to waste water..." he muttered, but took a good gulp of the liquid anyway. Jet leered to the blurry horizon, sand for miles around. "It's about another 100 miles from here. We've made great pace since dawn - we've already reached about 42 miles." "Tired..." Saith whined, taking another sip of water. Suddenly something blew wind into his ear, causing him to lose control of the water and have the sand drink it up greedily. A large camel was sniffing Saith, trying to eat his shirt. Jet laughed a little, patting the animal on its muzzle. "Seems like we have a visitor!" The camel brayed noisily, trying to eat Jet's hair, mistaking it for flaxen wheat. Saith giggled. "And she's pretty hungry, I'd say." Jet then brainstormed a perfect idea. Whispering to the camel calmly, he coaxed it into letting the two brothers ride her. Once Saith managed to finally get onto the camel's back, they urged the beast to gallop across the blazing desert to the great city of... "LIBET!" Saith cheered, tumbling off the back of the camel and rushing through the sand dunes to complete the last half mile. Jet chuckled, but continued to ride the camel into the city. - Libet had descended into nightfall by the time the two arrived, the lanterns dimly lit as sand matted the windows of the shops and houses. The cobblestone streets were well paved, with smooth roads and equally beautiful mason work. Jet kept watch as his younger brother continually hugged various buildings with his shorter body, kissing the food shop's walls. "Saith, don't do that to the buildings. We don't want to get kicked out of the city when we just arrived." Saith sighed, scuffing his boot on the street, kicking up dusty sand. Jet spotted a stable and doubled his pace. Saith quickly followed, gazing curiously to the stables. And to the tall, dark-skinned man that was leaned back in his chair, reading a book. Jet cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir," the man raised an eyebrow at his presence, "I wish to make you a deal." Being the businessman that he was, the man couldn't help but smile. He leapt to his feet in a heartbeat. "Yeah? You selling me that camel, I assume?" He pointed to the female camel, who was happily trying to eat his vest. The man laughed, "Very tame! That's good, I'm getting too old to break them nowadays." Jet grinned, spotting a certain brand on the camel's hindquarters. "Yes sir, this is a worthy camel for travel. Why, she got us here safely from across the desert! Good girl!" He praised the camel, patting it on its snout. She grunted in thanks. The keeper fished into his pocket. "I'll pay you 20 gold coins for her." Jet and Saith exchanged glances; very smug glances. "Only 20? Perhaps for a wild camel," Jet further explained, "but this one is quite tame, and very reliable. Is saving one's life really worth 20 gold coins?" The keeper looked on suspiciously. "Where did you get this one? You must have bought her from our sister city, Opaltec. No other cities are located in the desert..." "We trained her of course," Saith interjected, also noticing the brand mark, "from the time our father captured her in the desert. She was younger, so it wasn't too hard to domesticate her to humans." The keeper crossed his arms, deep in thought. Finally, he labelled a price. "40 gold coins." "SOLD!" Jet exclaimed joyfully, handing the camel over to the man. Jet and Saith chuckled quietly as they hauled off their reward. The keeper smiled as he patted the camel on its gigantic hump, knowing how rare camels were these days. He himself once had 5, but one had gone missing and was eager to buy or find another. "Missing..." the keeper whispered, eyes wide. His hand traveled to a very familiar brand mark on the camel's hind leg. "That's my...!" It was his camel all along. - Saith and Jet raced along the streets, jingling their gold boastfully, laughing all the way. Now they at least had some money to sustain their stay here. Saith leapt onto an old barrel in glee, but nearly fell off when he saw a large poster on the wall. WANTED
SAITH ZERBALIEV
EX-PRINCE OF SA'LA
Reward: £500,000 Alive
Conditions: Unlawfully escaped rightful duties to the Kingdom. Is to be returned to the capital city of Salvador. - By Order of King Zerbaliev and the Council of Sa'la Elders. Saith froze, a hard lump of coagulated air forming in his throat. Cold sweat froze to the back of his spine, chilling him to the bone. Jet growled at the poster, knowing that the King would go to any measures to drag his son back into the palace. Being predictable as a tyrant, the King would no doubt torture Saith to the brink of death, but would not kill him outright. He would make his son suffer for running away. But he would fight equally as hard to keep his younger brother safe. Jet would have never imagined that his father would be sending out posters this far in the Kingdom. He looked down at pavement - Saith was already madly sprinting down the street. "Wait! S - " Jet stopped himself. Shouting his name here would be too risky. Everyone knows who he is, and what he's done. Fear chilled his body, sending him into uncontrollable shivers. If the people were truly angry about what Saith had committed, they would hurt him. Badly. 'I can't let that happen to him. Not my little brother...not him.' Swallowing his panic, he raced after his brother. He managed to catch up stride-for-stride, finally tackling him to the ground. Two nuns that were walking by gasped at the action, quickly walking away. Jet hauled his younger sibling to his feet, scolding him with a very stern look. "You can't run off like that! What if someone recognized you?" Saith cast his glance to a nearby inn in false interest, analyzing the eroded sign, "The Kalpie Inn". Brushing coolly from Jet's grasp, he lazily avoided the conversation. Feeling his temper flare, Jet tried - with great effort - to not yell at him. Instead, he unwillingly followed him up the shabby steps to the Inn. Saith was instantly hit with a cloud of tobacco smoke, causing him to go into a fit of coughs. Jet gazed to the many men crowded around the tables, either drinking, playing cards, or making total fools of themselves. One of them swooned a waitress into his lap, making rude catcalls, only for her to shriek and slap his face. Saith wandered up to the Innkeeper, Jet staying very close to him to make sure he wouldn't get hurt. Saith rung the bell, which was eaten away by rust. It made a pathetic dinging noise, sounding as though lard was stuffed under it. The Innkeeper grunted. "Whaddya want runt?" Jet stepped in front of Saith. " We wish to rent a room for the night." The Innkeeper snorted, cleaning out a glass. "That'll be 50 silver pieces each." "FIFTY EACH?! That's robbery!" Saith cut in, rather loudly, so that half the bar was gawking at the scene. Jet hushed him immediately. "One gold piece then." Jet concluded the tension by flipping a shiny gold coin onto the counter, then quickly adding, "For two nights." "Two," the Innkeeper let out a short guffaw, haughtily cleaning the glass, "you hafta be jokin'. I said ONE night, and that's final." "Is it?"It was said so icily, so venomously, that every single person in the bar area ceased all activity. They turned their heads to see the shocking scene of a single, small dagger being held to the quivering Adam’s apple of the Innkeeper. Jet's eyes had turned into a wild icy flame, brightening his mismatched eyes considerably. The man was nervously drawn to the golden-coloured eye. "Then that's a yes?" Jet already knew the answer; he just liked toying with people. The man nodded rather quickly, gasping as he was let go, lightly smacking into the liquor shelf behind him. "Let's go." Jet commanded monotonously to Saith, who anxiously got closer to his brother as the townsfolk stared him down. He swore some were fiddling with their knives as they watched him go up the stairs. The rooms weren't the best - but it was better than the woods. One skinny bed lay against the wall, right under the window, which had a small cobweb in the corner. There was one water basin, one towel, one bar of soap, and one night stand. Otherwise, the room was as barren as the desert they travelled in. Saith eagerly jumped on the bed, which squawked and groaned in protest. Jet sighed at he gazed out to the starry night sky. "Nice place." - Midnight dawned on the quiet city of Libet, casting an indigo blanket over the pristine white buildings, lightly illuminating the streets with a waning moon. Jet and Saith shared the small bed, poor Jet crammed against the wall. Due to the uncomfortable mattress and the hard wall, he fell into a very light sleep. He was muttering a little, sweat rolling off his brow. In a flash of metal, blood and screams, he jolted upright, panting hard. Saith stirred at his brother's sudden awakening, turning over. "Mwha?" Was all he could manage. Jet leaned his head against the wall, trying to calm himself. "It's all right, Saith," he lied, "go back to sleep." The younger brother couldn't help but obey, and felt his eyes once again being drawn shut with lead weights. Jet awkwardly ran a hand through his blond hair, trying to decipher his vision. 'It was a mass slaughter. Women, children, men...all screaming as they're being ripped through their stomachs, their mouths...' Jet squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hide his horrible vision, 'Blood. Too much...too much...' The moonlight poured into the room, beaming across the quilt. Then he noticed a light shadow flicker on the quilt. Someone was in the room. Whipping his head upwards, he saw a shadowed figure crouching in the loft, his primal eyes begging to kill. The assassin gave a cry of rage, descending swiftly to the bed. Jet mustered what little coordination he had left as he gathered his brother in his arms and rolled off the bed. Jet suddenly yanked the linen from under the killer, causing him to lose his balance unexpectedly and tumble to the floor, wrapped in sheets. Saith was panicking, suddenly being protected by Jet and watching an assassin shred the quilt with a pair of hand claws. "Jet!" "Run Saith! Get out of here!" Jet gave a light shove to the door. The assassin glared at Jet, who had by now put on his weapons belt. Yet Jet was not quick enough to snatch five shuriken from the pouch. He was kicked to the wall with a loud smack, the old wood cracking a little. Jet slumped to the floor. The assassin showed no victorious grin - just the urge to finish the kill. Hand claws poised, he rushed forward to gut Jet alive. Suddenly his claws were seized by a sneaky coil of chains; Saith was using his chained scythe, a gleam of determination in his face. Unfortunately the assassin was much stronger, and easily threw Saith to the opposite side, knocking him into the water basin. Jet gasped fearfully. "SAITH!" The assassin was inches from Saith's throat when a wolf's howl pierced through the night air. Pausing, the assassin listened to the coded message. Jet gave a cry of rage as he stuck his makhaira straight through the assassin's back, blood oozing onto Saith's frightened face. Jet yanked the blade from the torso, kicking the body away. He hugged Saith tightly for ages, thanking every deity in the heavens. Saith gasped wordlessly, gawking at the window. Jet followed his gaze, only to see a vast storm of fire, and the assassin staggering back on his feet. Flames licked the edges of the window hungrily, consuming the Kalpie Inn. "Let's go!" Jet practically drug his brother out the door and down the stairs. Half the bar area was engulfed in bright, orange flames, a wall of fire mocking them at the exit. Jet swallowed the last of his courage, charging his body to run. "On my count, run and jump!" "WHAT?!" "One...two....GO!" In a flash, the two were racing to the door, the jaws of the flame towering over them. In what seemed like slow motion, the two brothers leapt through the fire like circus tigers, bravely conquering the fiery trap. They both landed roughly on their shoulders, the cool night air kissing their flesh. Saith groggily staggered to his feet. Screams pierced the air, cries of children bothering Jet. The vision... It was happening. "Saith, we have to escape the city. I don't care what that man said..." "I know where to go!" Saith protested, tugging his brother's arm to the west, "he said to meet him somewhere in the cliff side houses! If we can get there we'll be safe!" Jet had no time to argue. Doubling their pace, they raced to the cliff side, adrenaline coursing through their veins. Jet witnessed several of these assassins slaughtering off families; even though he was running, it only took a second to witness a life get taken away. He turned his head when a baby was held by a hand of one assassin, kunai in the other. Suddenly Jet and Saith were kicked back, three assassins glaring them down. They all had a red emblem on their shoulder, in the shape of a Chinese dragon. Saith's body shut down momentarily as the fact struck him like a charging bull. These were Tigrans. 'No...Tigrans aren't this brutal...they...they have honour. They would never...' Suddenly one of the assassins was kicked away from him, slamming into a building. Jet shoved him in between two of the remaining Tigrans and shouted at him to run. Jet was soon met with the flash of a blade, the tip barely grazing his arm. Jet managed to embed a shuriken into his neck, killing him instantly. The other was fast, and made a quick move to stab Jet, but only to be blocked by Saith. It pierced straight through his side and pinned him to the wall. Saith screamed out in agony, an overwhelming burning coursing through his body. The assassin wrenched the sword in the flesh further, but was stopped when Jet furiously beheaded the killer in a lethal swing. The head rolled into the opposite building, staring back at Saith with lifeless, pearl-white eyes. Saith was yelling and screaming, crying with mixed tears, both from the pain and from what he just saw. He had never seen a man get killed in front of him before. Saith's body shut down instantly, knocking him unconscious. Jet completely lost it, crying and cursing as he pried his younger brother from the wall. Fire continued to rage through the city, the assassins infiltrating homes and slaughtering the innocent. It all seemed to white out as Jet frantically carried his brother to the cliff side homes, hoping that he would survive.
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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 1:39:02 GMT
Chapter 3
Morning bleakly shone over the burnt ashes of Libet. Houses were reduced to half, eaten away by the previous night's slaughter. Dead bodies lay motionless, those seriously injured wailing at the loss of their family. Blood stained the streets and walls, intestines mingling with the dirt. Ravens were pecking at the mess, feasting on the largest mass slaughter in the history of Sa'la.
Saith groggily awoke to a weak ray of sun kissing his face. Groaning, he instinctively sat up, feeling a horrible twinge of pain in his left side. It was amazingly bandaged, wrapped deftly around his wound.
"Oh good you're awake!" The voice startled him a little; after all, he had gone through a bizarre and extreme mental scarring. Saith gazed inquisitively at a young girl, who had her hands politely clasped in front of her white apron and plain summer dress. She wore a blue bandana, plus a nice smile, and her straight brown hair went down to her back. She only looked about 14 or 15. Saith then thought of his brother.
"Jet! Where is he? Is he alright?!"
"Not to worry, he's gone out to help chop firewood." The word 'fire' made Saith cringe internally. He eased back into bed, tears welling in his eyes. The young girl wore an empathetic expression.
"You must have seen terrible things last night," she sat on the edge of his bed, "I wasn't there, I was sleeping here. My father works the night shift in the mine," her brown eyes held alarm and concern, "he hasn't returned yet." Saith heard the door open, and heavy, tired footsteps. Jet emerged into the room, nearly dropping his glass of water when he saw his younger brother awake.
"Vaughn! Thank the heavens..." he cautiously used Saith's middle name as a safeguard, practically crushing him with a death grip, "I thought you wouldn't..." his words trailed away, dying in the ironically dead city. The girl stood by, still offering an optimistic smile. Jet pulled back from his younger brother and introduced the young girl.
"Vaughn, this is Lily. She noticed us running from the city and immediately housed us. To put it bluntly, she saved our lives." Lily blushed and offered a small wave.
"Oh...it's nothing, really..."
"There is nothing that we can do to repay you, Lily," Saith stated sadly, "if there is anything we can do..."
"Getting better is number one," she lectured, reflecting Jet's thoughts, "so that's you can do for now. I have to go milk the cows, so just rest and get some sleep, okay?" With that, she left the two brothers in the room. A lark warbled gaily outside the window, painting harmonious overtones on the strong horrific ones. For a moment, the two had no words to exchange, but then Saith began to cry, gazing to brother as though he had lost his sanity. No - his innocence.
"Brother," his voice cracked, choked on awful memories, "how can you stand to participate in slaughter and battle? How are you not affected like I am? Am I...?"
"You are NOT weak, Saith," Jet answered for the younger of the two, "you are actually quite brave for expressing your emotions this way. This is your first time comprehending the meaning of war." Saith angrily wrenched the sheets.
"There is no meaning," he snarled, "war is pointless."
"Exactly. The meaning of war is pointless. It doesn't have to happen, but the societal nature of humans changes everything," Jet lectured, kneeling to the wooden floor, "Humans and animals all possess conflict; whether in themselves or with other creatures on this earth. War is like a liquid, it is a mixture of anger, conflict, denial, lies, and instinct. Killing is a part of this world -- "
"But you said it doesn't have to be!" Saith was growing extremely confused, "so why do we start wars between one another? Do we not realize the damage it inflicts? The lives it takes?! As humans we should be intelligent enough to draw to this conclusion!" Jet exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
"The only thing that separates us from the animal kingdom is culture; otherwise we slaughter each other like every other leopard, wolf, and bear in this world. Peace never truly exists, Saith. Humans are unique, and that includes their opinions and views. You will never have a conflict-free society..."
"We could at least find an alternative! A negotiation or discussion..."
"It doesn't work that way, Saith. War is an excuse; humans like to walk the field rather than the mountain. We like to go to war because it's easy, not because it's the right choice. There are no rules or limits of what you can or cannot do. Yet just because one nation conquers another doesn't prove them right. It just adds to the vicious cycle of war that has occurred since humans evolved." Saith was frantically trying to digest this knowledge and interpret his own opinion, but none came. He was brand new in this new spectre of life.
"How is war easy? How can you kill someone and not feel remorseful? Do you feel that way, brother?" Anger laced his tone with a mild poison, eager to see where this heated discussion would lead. Jet's face remained unaffected.
"Unfortunately, I do. As does every veteran warrior. I have been a soldier ever since I was trained at the age of 14. And went to war until we both escaped two years ago. Nine years, Saith. Nine years of bloodshed, corpses and the buzzards have nullified my emotions, and made me apathetic." Saith nearly punched his brother for such talk, but bit his tongue for the better.
"Then why didn't father send me into battle?"
"Don't be stupid Saith, he prevented you from being killed right away. Do you really think he'd toss his son idly into the javelins of men and lose his one and only heir? He trained you to help you in case of hand-to-hand combat, but never dared let you set foot onto the battle field. That's why he drafted me; I meant nothing to the continuation of the monarchy."
"Don't say that," Saith said worriedly, "you aren't worthless. You're my brother..."
"But not your real one." Jet left the conversation hanging by the tips of its claws, deliberately ambling to the door and exiting the house. Saith gawked in astonishment; it was always he who burst out that crude fact, never Jet. Trying to calm his rapid heartbeat, he eased out of bed and limped outside, glad to feel the grass on his feet. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Lily milked a small dairy cow, who was mooing as it ate some tasty grass. Its iron-clad bell clanked loudly, sending a loud, yet merry chime over the farm. Smiling, Saith witnessed the last innocent thing he'd remember, and silently stalked away up a small incline. The base of the cliff face loomed over him, silently mocking his size compared to it. Suddenly his body was engulfed in an icy shadow, giving him skin bumps. Saith whirled on his heel to face the mysterious man from the clearing once again.
“Why are you so tense, Young One?” the stranger cooed softly, a twisted gleam shining through his eyes, “it looks like you saw a ghost…” At these words, Saith’s memories flooded over his vision and consumed his attention for a brief moment. The stranger relished at Saith’s jaded eyes, the way the light could not shine off of them. Licking his fangs with a long tongue, he patted the ex-prince on the shoulder in mock comfort.
“No need to dwell on past…incidents,” the stranger chose his last word carefully, “your life was always founded on moving forward and never looking back. Or are you eager to return home?” Black as pitch the mysterious man swept his long cloak as he brushed past Saith’s side and towered behind him, “I know you, Saith. I have watched you not only with my eyes, but with my intuition. We both realize, deep down, that you were never meant to be a king; why else would your father force you to leave…?” The words trailed away into a wisp of nothing, the stranger’s icy breath consuming itself as it vanished. Saith continued to stare blankly into a void of his emotions, barely grasping any meaning of these words. The stranger continued.
“I was there when your father backhanded you in your jaw and spat on your hand. He ridiculed your name and existence from alcohol-tinged breath. He screamed at you to leave the kingdom and to never return. He had killed your mother, hadn’t he? Out of drunken, pathetically useless rage. That moonless night when the misty pond greedily ate her pale flesh…”
“SHUT UP!” Saith quickly snapped to his conscious, “You don’t know ANYTHING!”
“Oh?” the stranger calmly leered to Saith’s angered expression, “I believe I possess far more knowledge than you, child. Only you, your brother, and I know the truth: you didn’t abandon your duties on purpose. Your father made you. He hated you, Saith. He never loved you. Do you know why?”
“To hell with you!” Saith growled, swearing he’d sever the man’s throat if he kept going. The man chuckled lightly, sighing as he leaned in close to whisper to Saith.
“You’re a bastard child.”
Saith’s breath hitched. He had never heard those words used against him before. His mind, like clockwork, clicked slowly as he tried to decipher the foreign words.
“You’re lying,” he stated simply. The mysterious man laughed ruthlessly, his fangs gleaming in the sun, his lifeless sapphire irises flickering with the sun’s rays.
“I am not lying; you are denying. Tell me, Saith. Have you ever loved your father?” The question struck Saith with the impact of a lightning shock, paralysing his thoughts in limbo. When no answer came, the stranger grinned wickedly, talking to Saith sidelong, “Do you even have a connection with your father? Or does it feel like a distant candle flickering in a powerful gale?” Again, Saith felt his mouth seize up, not able to work his lips.
“You two have nothing as father and son. Tell me this, Saith: Why do you look so much different from your father…?”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Saith’s outburst caused a flock of magpies to screech and flutter aimlessly into the cloudy sky. His ragged breathing was the only sound to escape into the day, the stranger wearing a monotonous and lazy appearance. Once Saith relaxed and calmed his mind, he managed to look into the stranger’s eerie eyes.
“Why are you here?” The question came not from Saith, but from Jet. His mismatched eyes glared at the man’s very existence, his teeth bared in an animalistic fashion. Saith begged with his eyes for Jet not to interfere, but Jet’s protective nature would not be altered. Jet scanned the stranger’s appearance, narrowing his eyes when he saw the tips of two pointed fangs curling over the man’s bottom lip. The mysterious man wrapped his cloak around himself, as though hiding his body. Jet grew extremely suspicious as he picked up minor details about the stranger.
“I will say this now: I do not trust you nor your intentions. My brother will never be alone, remember that.” The man held his breath for a moment, becoming lured into the golden pool of Jet’s left eye.
“Who is my father?” Both the man and Jet were quite surprised to hear Saith’s inquiry. The eye contact broke free as Jet gazed at Saith with an anxious glance. The mysterious stranger raised an eyebrow.
“I cannot tell you until you are ready to accept the truth.”
“Is he alive?!” Saith nearly lunged at the stranger for an answer, but Jet roughly held him at bay. The man left the interrogation at a stalemate, walking toward the brothers slowly. Jet stepped in front of Saith, glaring the stranger down to the earth like a wolf.
“I have reason to believe that Saith did not enjoy the spectacle last night,” Jet went to yell but bit his tongue when Saith glimpsed at him furiously, begging him not to say a word, “so let me make it up to you.” As he explained he fished out an old style leather-bound book, rawhide stretched over the spine and extending to the hardcover front. Saith became entranced by the eroded gold text engraved in the leather. He presented it to Saith.
“This is a rare, ancient text that guards the secrets, the lifestyles, and the honour codes that are special to the Tigran,” he noticed Saith’s eyes flash in chameleon emotions, “read everything. Do not take this offering lightly. By engraving these words in your soul, you are brandishing yourselves for danger. Should a Tigran cross paths with you and notice the book, you will die.” It was not a light-hearted tone of voice. Saith nodded firmly.
“Then once I have read the information?” Jet was eerily reminded of how Saith sounded too close to a special forces soldier. ‘War has changed him. For the worst or for the better…that is up to Saith.’ Jet perished the thought of seeing Saith in his first battle of war.
“You will follow these directions,” he handed over a slip of parchment, “and report to a man named Tian. Do not go searching for him,” the man warned, “he will find you.” Jet leered suspiciously to the stranger’s shadow, which was nowhere to be found.
“And who is this Tian?” The stranger grinned cruelly, half his face cast in the paranormal shadows of his mysterious aura. The azure eyes pierced through the darkness, blowing a cold mental air around him.
“A rogue Tigran.”
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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 1:48:43 GMT
Chapter 4
During the next two nights, Saith became engulfed in his Tigran studies, reading the paragraphs twice and absorbing every word. His eyes darted back and forth like a frantic insect, trying to learn as much as he could about the Tigran. Lily was stirring a pot of fermenting milk, churning the frothy liquid as she watched it closely. Smiling, she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Only a few more hours and this vat will turn to butter in no time!” Saith paid no attention, the book consuming his every morsel of interest. Jet perched in the opposite corner, staring blankly at a wall, running his eyes over the patterns, the lines and the occasional wood knot or hole. He offered a tiny smile to acknowledge Lily’s enthusiasm, who beamed in return and focused on churning the vat. There was no word from Lily’s father or his whereabouts; she put up a great fight to stay optimistic, Jet thought. Jet tiredly sighed, watching his brother with sorrowful eyes.
‘Saith is progressing incredibly quickly in his studies,’ he watched Saith turn a page excitedly, ‘I worry he may adopt the wrong methods…’ Suddenly Saith dropped the book, only to hastily snatch it up by the spine. Jet gave him a questioning look. He was returned with a concerned and panicked expression. Jet staggered from his spot along the wall, ambling to his brother slowly. Peeking over to the book, he cautiously brought it to his sights. It was an old article from a war report, handwritten in loopy letters. What he read next was nothing he had expected.
<< Year 212 - Bahk Calender; History Report for Recording Purposes.
> Year 200 statistics…Xiang was celebrating its newest advancement in military studies. Revisions to the unit created by General Azuma Johal. Xiang’s army battalion is claiming promise for the nation’s defence system.
> Year 200, June 5th…11 nations attended the Garn Council for a security briefing. Main topic: possible mobilization of Xiang flanks. 10 nations felt secure enough to allow the progress to continue. The Kingdom of Sa’la differed on the issue, claiming that Xiang would mobilize its army and attack its neighbouring countries to gain territory and potential profit to its expanding economy.
> Year 200, August 1st…Sa’la holds irrational fears of global takeover… prepared its forces to prevent Xiang’s military progression. King Heinrich of Sa’la gave the personal order for the first arrow to be shot at Xiang’s front line.
‘Eight Year War’ - Summaries
> Phase 1: Xiang’s new militant regime proved an advantage over the old methods of war. Sa’la had been forced to retreat on the 24th day into the Dimityr Jungle, 5 miles from the border of Sa’la [Southeast location, base 13].
> Phase 2 and 3: Rough transition and shifting of power…Territory was lost and gained simultaneously. No progress had been made during these years.
> Phase 4: Stalemate had occurred…prolonged standstill produced a 1 mile strip of land separating enemy territories. [Official no man’s land status, December 12th]
> Phase 5, 6, and 7: Consisted of frequent infiltration techniques in attempt to break the mile separation. No recorded successes were ever found.
> Phase 8: Commencement of the ‘Eighth Year Push’ [April 30th]…Over 40,000 men are confirmed dead…100 missing-in-action… 3,403 injuries…
Elite archer by codename ‘Black Fang’ manages to dig through the desert clay underground for a two month period…able to reach neighbouring cliff side northwest of the Sa’la front line. Successfully murders King Heinrich in the 4th trench. [Instant death]
Sa’la forces successfully advanced the mile strip barrier…Exact recorded events have been lost in the transition phase…12,000 Xiang citizens are slain, 200 are taken prisoner under successor General Dima. Black Fang is subjected to execution.
May 13th
> The Kingdom of Xiang officially collapses…was once reported to be a vast civilization of progressing technological advancements and military prowess. Trade partners were requested by the hundreds before its collapse.
*Sidenotes: Sa’la and Xiang often competed as the ‘two worlds’ - the world’s largest superpower nations.
May 29th
> Sa’la announces that Xiang will be annexed to Salvador. Records show 120 people missing…investigation is underway to recover the missing citizens.
July 2nd, Year 212
> Reports from Zenphyr indicate the re-emergence of the missing 120 Xiang citizens. Suspected anarchy and vagrancy…The northern section of the city was stripped of gold, silver and bronze…slashed bodies of women, children and men are strewn in the streets.
The word ‘TIGRAN’ was written on the Zenphyr Council Hall…exact meaning unknown…Investigations are underway to uncover the location of the TIGRAN.
End LOG >>
“We formed the Tigran,” Saith’s voice was unusually low and rough, startling Jet from his trance, “our ancestors provoked a massive slaughter of the Xiang people, and the survivors created the alias of the Tigran. Now I understand why they attacked Libet three days ago. It’s a never-ending battle for a statement, isn’t it?” Jet sadly cast his glance to the floor, tears forming in his eyes.
“Yes.”
-
Dark figures loomed over a hunched, cloaked figure, only his lower face revealing itself to the dim light of the jungle. A red stitch embroidered dragon shone ominously to the lurking creatures in the hollows of the trees. One of the warriors glared through a pair of piercing gold eyes, the shadows playing strange shapes in the colour.
“Have you given them the text?” A nod confirmed the answer.
“We will send Tian for the 6-hour excursion. You had better hope for your life that these are the right men.” The hunched figure grinned, his fangs gleaming in the fading sunlight.
“Trust me, they are the ones. I know one of them…personally.”
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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 1:59:30 GMT
Chapter 5
Dawn peeked its lazy eye over the grassy knoll, showering the cabin in a series of chequered light. Saith and Jet prepared for their journey, packing the last of their paraphernalia into the sacks. Lily continued to slumber in the safety of her bed, holding a picture of her father. Jet slipped a note on her dresser:
Dear Lily,
We apologize for leaving so abruptly, and without a proper goodbye. The excursion we are undertaking will take a few days, and during that time we will try to search for your father as well. It’s the least we can do for the kindness you have shown us.
Take care,
Jet and Saith.
Not sparing another moment, the brothers silently crept into the field, keeping the distant jungle edge in their sights.
The travelling proceeded at a fairly smooth pace, with little or no trouble. Jet’s heart raced continuously as he kept an eye on his younger brother, flinching at every tiny sound. His hand hovered over the handle of his makhaira precariously, feeling the rough texture of the suede. They soon breached the jungle wall, struggling to bypass the tangled foliage. A nearby ocelot blinked lazily at them, turning its head slowly as it watched the brothers amble through the jungle plants. Saith struggled past a stubborn vine to reach for the directions. Jet narrowly avoided an overhead branch as he turned to console his brother.
"What does it say?" Saith's eyes scanned the parchment, carefully going over each detail. The script was far messier than the last list, appearing quite rushed from either anxiety or excitement. Saith squinted at the paper as he deciphered the directions:
"Travel southeast until you reach the jungle wall. Continue walking until you reach a small clearing. Orientate northwest and travel 50 paces; you should notice a large tree with three wide gashes across the bark. Wait here. Tian will greet you (in his own way, I gather, so be prepared) and escort you to the Tigran training camp."
Jet chuckled lightly, contrary to how his heart was behaving; wild racing taps against his chest. "As expected of a rogue warrior. I advise to dive to the earth when you see a flash of metal," he glimpsed playfully at his younger brother, "having a shuriken embedded in your skull is not a nice feeling." Saith gawked at Jet's thingyy smile, wondering whether he should be nervous, or to laugh. He chose a combination, giggling nervously.
"Heh...yeah..." The conversation died quietly, the two young men stepping over protruding roots and the spiny teeth of a venus flytrap. Sap stuck to their clothes, gluing folds into bunches, much to the dislike of Saith, who actually liked to have clean clothes. As they breached an old barbwire fence with dull metal knotted stars, Saith concentrated on removing the annoying tree ooze from his shoulder. Suddenly,
"FLASH!" yelled Jet, who grinned idiotically as he watched Saith frantically throw himself to the jungle earth. For a couple seconds, the only sound to cut through the hair was harsh breathing. Angered, Saith leapt to his feet, tackling Jet with great force. The two tumbled to a nearby tree, wrestling in the dead trees and soil. Jet's head bumped into the bark harshly, causing him to see spots. The fight continued as a shadow descended over their forms.
"As much as I find it amusing to watch you two fight, you're heightening my headache." Jet whipped his head to the source of the voice, two sets of eyes - one moss green, the other mismatched - locking together. Growling, Jet stepped in front of Saith protectively, sizing up this new stranger. Despite being quite lean, he had a good amount of muscle on his frame. Stocky black hair careened over his face, falling two inches short from a dark mask he wore over the lower half of his face. A stitched red dragon glared at Jet with an air of authority.
"Tian." Jet simply stated, once the description and information clicked together. Tian smirked under his mask, crossing his arms haughtily as he raised an eyebrow to Saith.
"This is your younger brother?" Jet gave a curt nod, allowing Saith some viewing room. Tian compared the two brothers carefully, soaking in every minor detail. He cautiously stepped forward, gazing between the middles of their faces.
"It is dangerous to let me analyze you. I have been trained extensively as a profiler, and it is easy for me to find your weaknesses," Tian gently placed a hand on Saith's torso, "when I tracked you I noticed how you walked. You have an injury..." he ran his forefinger and thumb on both sides of the wound lightly, "a weapon pierced you here." Saith gawked in awe, astounded how a man could draw that conclusion by simply observing. Tian turned his attention to Jet.
"And by the way you lifted your shoulder to part the foliage, you got slashed on your arm recently." Jet gave a short, yet reluctant nod. Tian narrowed his vision as he stepped back to complete his analysis.
"It's safe to claim that you two are extremely close as brothers; a very strong bond. Yet I can tell you are not related through the same blood. The eldest has platinum blond hair, the youngest..." he paused, gazing to Saith longingly, "...has black hair. And your eyes are very different. Extremely different..." he leered in wonder as he stared directly into Jet's mismatched eyes, "yours are unique and quite rare. I only know one other person who has different coloured eyes. Perhaps I will introduce you to him when we get to the camp." Tian was suddenly lured to the weapon tied at Saith's hip. His eyes widened slightly as he observed it.
"Where did you get that chained scythe?" Saith became puzzled, actually having to dig deep into his memory. Finally after about a minute, he shyly gazed to the tree they had bumped into - it sported three long, white scars.
"I...I don't remember..." If it was one trait that could separate Saith from the rest of the world, it was that he was a very poor liar. It clearly showed in his wavered tone, his shy eyes. Tian easily saw through Saith's answer.
"That's a lie," Tian sneered, eyes flashing dangerously, "you must have stolen that weapon."
"What makes you say that?" Jet fiercely snarled, frustrated at the accusation. Tian lowered his gaze ominously, his eyes shining with a lethal gleam, his soul dripping with malice and mistrust.
"Because it used to be mine."
-
The group trekked further into the heart of the jungle, cicadas chirping in the swelter. Saith and Jet were blindfolded with thick black cloth, causing sweat to trickle down their napes and down their spine. Tian yanked on the rope that roughly bound the brothers' wrists, chafing the flesh raw.
"We are nearly at the gate," he did not specify a distance or time, much to Jet's dislike, "I need to lay down some rules as to how you may behave inside the camp: One, you cannot speak unless you are spoken to. When you are permitted to speak, make it brief and to the point. We do not appreciate wasting time around words. Two, you must not wander. Until they consider you as guests, you are currently of prisoner status. Three, do not argue with Raidon."
"Who?" Saith inquired, stumbling over a hidden root. Tian tugged him gently to his feet.
"General Raidon is to be respected out of fear and admiration. He is a powerful man, and if he says that the sky is meant to be red, you agree with him." Jet couldn't help but chuckle. Tian gave a tiny smile at the connection of humour amongst the oppression. Scouting ahead, Tian spotted a wooden gate boldly rooted in the soil, two guards keeping watch; one on ground, and the other perched on the gate. The high scout whistled sharply.
<Hey Tian! You're late.> Jet strained his ears to interpret the foreign language, but he figured it was an old language and didn't bother to waste energy to try. Tian combed back his unruly raven hair.
<The kid kept stumbling through the jungle, I didn't want to go too rough on him and set a fast pace.>
<Don't play favours with the kid, you might get too attached,> The guard scolded as Tian glared, <and you didn't have to blindfold them. They'll be dead by the time - >
<Shut up,> Tian barked sharply, <I'm not letting the kid die. He doesn't look experienced enough to fight in battle; it would be like slaughtering a caged animal.>
<We'll see what General Raidon says about it,> the lower guard lazily said, pushing the gate open, <hurry up and get inside.> Slightly defeated, Tian gave a gentle tug and guided the two oblivious brothers to their verdict. Once the gate slammed shut, the blindfolds were removed. Saith groggily blinked at the blinding sun, leering against it to no avail. Tian shielded the sun to Jet and Saith, glaring at them with piercing and bold green eyes. Saith gazed at the colour, mesmerized. 'I swear...' but before he could complete his thoughts, a roar bellowed across the camp, the earth trembling in its wake.
"TIAN!" Said warrior sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose painfully. Saith inquisitively gazed to a lumbering man storming across the camp grounds. He had thick white hair that flowed down to his back, his square jaw gritting large molars together. He had the lightest gray eyes Saith had ever seen in his life, chilling him to the bone. He wore an impressive uniform, pins and medallions littering the left side of his coat. Saith cast his glance downwards to get a better glimpse of the medals, but his chin was roughly slapped underneath with a wooden staff, forcing him to lock eyes with the man.
"Are you Saith Zerbaliev, ex-prince of Sa'la?" Saith bit down his heart as it leapt into his throat.
"Yes." His voice wavered a little, but went generally unnoticed. The man grunted as he motioned for them to follow. They were soon brought to a small pagoda, its exterior decorated with intricate gold foil and red clay shingles. Jet noticed two statue guardians perched on stone podiums. One was a mighty tiger, roaring defiantly at the brothers, eyes wild with instinct. The second was a coiling dragon, its crests running along its back like a great mountain range. It too possessed untamed eyes, demanding respect. General Raidon roughly shoved the two inside, the beaded curtain cutting Saith's face a little.
The inside was quite gloomy, and only candle light dimly lit the area. Four Elders were seated behind a low table, various texts and quills scattered over the surface. Saith tried to glance at the text, but General Raidon roughly kicked him in the back of his knee. With a whimper, Saith dropped to his knees. Tian glared venomously at the General, not at all pleased with the way he treated Saith.
The Second Elder bowed to them. Raidon, Tian, and Jet all complied, but Saith remained oblivious, not accustomed to the traditional greeting. Tian lightly pushed on the nape of his neck, forcing him down a little. Saith quickly learned and bowed. The Fourth and First Elder also gestured a greeting. The Third leered at the group from within the abyss.
"I have reason to believe we have prisoners in our possession," the Third's voice was low and cracked from age, but wisdom was laced within his tone, "Tian, you were sent by Barracuda to retrieve them?" Tian gave a graceful bow and added, "Yes, your Honour." Saith became confused at the word 'prisoner'. He thought Tian meant they would be prisoners until they entered the camp. Jet too, did not like the wording. The General rose, nearly smacking his broad head on the beam.
"Honourable Third, the other guest will arrive shortly. I suggest we plan our strategy before he arrives."
"We have rehearsed it plenty of times, Raidon," The Fourth Elder cut in, "there is no need to worry."
"Excuse my interruption," a man barged into the dim pagoda, kneeling to the aged wood, "but our guest has arrived."
"Already?" General Raidon snarled, his temper flaring, "Fine, let him inside; leave the army at the gate."
"ARMY?!" Saith yelled suddenly, earning a mixture of emotions from everyone in the room. Saith ignored them, "What kind of guest would have an army?!"
On cue, a tall man emerged into the shadow, his cruel and lifeless eyes breaking Saith's very soul to pieces. Saith was NOT expecting to see this man at all.
"Y-YOU!"
For the first time in two years, Saith saw his father standing before him.
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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 2:06:55 GMT
Chapter 6
King Zerbaliev smirked cruelly at his fallen son, watching him squirm under his gaze. With hands out defensively, he earned scowls and sneers from Tian, the General, his 'sons' and the Elders. The First Elder stood up brashly, his one eye alit with fire, the other hidden under a black eye patch, a thin scar running underneath.
"How did you get in the gate? We haven't sent for you yet." King Zerbaliev chuckled softly and icily, his malicious eyes toying with Saith's soul. He precariously fiddled at his scabbard.
"I let myself in." Suddenly a piercing cry cut through the late afternoon atmosphere, causing Saith to flinch. A chorus of screams rang in a deadly song throughout the campground, the clang of metal creating a ghostly chime. Jet staggered to his feet, being held back by General Raidon.
"You BASTARD!"
"I could say the same for you, Jet." King Zerbaliev spat at the name, clearly not pleased at the sound rolling off his serpent tongue. Not able to contain himself, Saith slowly stood. He poised so deliberately no one even noticed he existed. The First ground his teeth together, fingers curling around the table with an iron grip.
"We had a deal, Zerbaliev! 500,000 gold coins for the return of your son!" The King laughed with such force, it even caused Tian to shiver. Saith watched the King's gaze travel his way, a wolfish smirk painted on his lips.
"He is no son of mine."
Suddenly King Zerbaliev was met with a harsh kick to his nose, causing him to scream in anguish and drop to the floor, his dagger tumbling away under an armoire. Saith loomed over the unrighteous King, no emotion present in his eyes. They were the eyes of war - they were jaded eyes that had seen death.
"Who is my real father?" King Zerbaliev stumbled onto his shoulder, trying to prop himself. Saith roughly kicked him in the nose again, hearing a harsh crack and watching the blood pour generously onto the wood. The King cried out, constricting his tears as he angrily sifted the air to snatch his dagger. Saith stomped on the wrist, pinning him there. The battle outside the pagoda carried into the afternoon, gurgles and slick, bloody sounds filling the air with slaughter.
"Who is my real father?!" Saith raised his voice unintentionally, trying to relax but found his insides being torn apart in tragedy. King Zerbaliev did not respond for a few seconds, but lifted his gaze. His broken nose was plastered with crusted blood, his eyes wild and unfocused. His mind had snapped.
"How should I know? Your whore of a mother slept with another man behind my back!"
"Then why did you keep me, father?" Saith said icily, "so you could pretend that I was yours? Thank God I'm not. I would never want to be related to you."
"Why you pathetic little - " he snatched Saith's ankle and roughly tripped him onto his back. Jet ripped from Raidon's grasp and dove for the lone dagger resting at the base of the armoire. King Zerbaliev and Jet fought over the weapon, the gold handle flashing dangerously in the candlelight. Meanwhile, the First Elder rushed to his feet, concentrating with unsurpassed focus as he performed a series of movements, all of them graceful and flowing. An orb of light was born, circling clockwise on the floor. The centre of the smoke started emitting a brilliant white light, a mixture of light smoke sculpting itself. It soon took the form of a winding serpent, a smoky tongue darting out before it leered at everyone in the room. It gave a chilling hiss, curved fangs emitting the most concentrated light. Everyone froze, watching the spell. The First opened his eye, brilliant neon red shining from the centre.
<FORWARD! GREAT BLACK RIVER SERPENT!>
The smoky serpent obeyed, rushing towards the exit as it slithered past the group, its jaws agape. The gust was extremely powerful as it swept the floor, causing everyone to be blown 30 feet from the pagoda. Saith and Jet tumbled away from each other, General Raidon hit a pile of dead soldiers, Tian tumbled gracefully back onto his haunches, and the King went tumbling into a ruck of battling warriors. Everyone else in the camp was battling with great effort, trying to force the hand of Zerbaliev's army. General Raidon could not ignore the call of duty and rushed to aid his comrades. King Zerbaliev staggered to his feet, wobbly fishing out an extra weapon. He limped across the earth towards Saith, who lay on the ground in a daze.
"Time to cleanse the world of those unworthy..." he quoted an ancient, satanic script, "to slit the throats of those impure..." he raised the short blade, "to rid of the unholy blood they carry..." His eyes remained unfocused and wild, his insane babbling barely audible. Groaning, Saith supporting his weak body with his elbows, his vision blurring in and out of focus. King Zerbaliev eyed the bastard child hungrily, knife poised to strike.
"In the name of our Lord, I banish you to the Hell from whence you came!" he yelled out, letting the blade succumb to gravity. Saith managed to react by the skin of teeth, rolling away in a frenzy. The blade pierced his shoulder, just below his collarbone, but idly fell out as Saith rolled across the earth. The ex-prince clutched the wound, hating the feel of warm blood touching his fingers. King Zerbaliev lay on the earth, laughing manically as he toyed with the edge of his blade, rubbing the blood on his fingers.
"Cursed are you, demon...cursed is your hollow soul....cursed is your dark mind..." his muttering frightened Saith, who wept silently in horror as he watched the King of a nation spiral into a chasm of his own demented thoughts. King Zerbaliev dragged himself to his feet, eyeing Saith with vigour.
"I will slaughter you yet, demon child..." Those were the last words he heard before King Zerbaliev limped into the distance, passing the gate in a trance. Saith scanned the field, watching Sa'la soldiers dashing away into the jungle, droplets of blood trailing their heels. Feeling a surreal peace amongst the clatter of swords, the blood, and the death, Saith couldn't help but shut his senses off from the war, and let himself succumb to the darkness.
-
Nightfall descended over the jungle canopy like a soft, gentle blanket, painting shadows within the tangled plants. The wooden gate was stained and splotched with crimson blood, some areas still trickling within the bark. Arrows littered the southern wall, blades were mounted in soldiers' chests, parts of their ribs protruding white tips from their shirts. One man lay with three broken limbs, all of them contorted in an unnatural way. His fourth limb lay scattered and separated 10 yards away.
Many low-ranked Tigran assisted in burying the dead, dragging the bodies unceremoniously onto a large cart, a large Cassowary scraping the dirt with a clawed foot, eager to haul the cart away. Medic Tigran were attending to the injured, groaning escaping from pained lips. In a special house in the centre of the Western wall, The Four Elders were gathered around a lit brass instrument, its inside similar to a glass lantern's. The top of the instrument had a series of small holes, ranging in different shapes and sizes. The Second mumbled an incantation as fire swirled along the inside of the glass cage. They waited, watching the fire travel in racing circles.
"Those two are not ordinary," The Third spoke quietly, a smoke trail seeping through a star-shaped hole, "and the Oasis Lantern will show us why." The magical fire morphed into a brilliant white-blue, choking itself as it made a small explosion and turned into a ball of smoke. A wisp of the aura hovered below the holes, as if deciding which to exit through. After a moment, it snaked within a sun-shaped hole. The Elders witnessed the smoke transform into the shape of a lion, roaring silently to the Elders. It ran in place, going onward until it skidded to a halt. It stood on its hind legs and reached for something high above it. The smoke shape it touched was vague, although it looked somewhat like an arrow. Then the lion mutely roared once again, and vanished into the air. The Fourth Elder bowed his head, drawing a deep breath from his tobacco pipe.
"One of the young men is destined to become a great warrior. A war hero. He will triumph over all obstacles, face adversity with courage, and run headfirst into danger no matter the cost. However," he exhaled, watching the tobacco smoke mingle with the magic smoke, "the muted roar signifies that his powers are suppressed and hidden; he has yet to discover them." The Second had a confused expression on his slightly aged face.
"This is a very vague vision," he stated disappointedly, "it tells us nothing of what the man is going to accomplish or when. It doesn't even tell us what type of powers he has!"
"Relax, Darius," The First gently ordered, "The Oasis Lantern only shows one part of a vision. And it only shows us a new part to the prophecy until it has shown all it knows." The Second glared at the brass instrument sourly.
"Let us conduct the second vision, then." He repeated his process with the incantation, and tiredly watched the magical fire chase itself inside its glass container. All Four Elders patiently waited for the second vision to commence. And waited. And waited...
"Something is wrong," the Third grimaced as he watched the fire continue to travel in aimless circles, "the fire does not know what it's trying to see."
"Give it more time," the First calmly explained, "some visions are more difficult than others." Under the First's advice, they impatiently sat around the mystic lantern, watching it carefully for any signs of change. Suddenly the fire turned into a bright red, slithering out of a fang-shaped slit as the flame formed itself into a serpent dragon, giving a thunderous roar as it shook the lantern's glass, causing it to rattle. It continued to rise until it started to coil around itself in a complicated pattern, glaring at the Elders defiantly. Smoke billowed from its mouth and nostrils, long whiskers slowly flapping in a non-existent breeze. A flaming gate formed behind the dragon, shadows trying to emerge from the inside. The dragon growled lowly as the entire vision burst into an explosion of scarlet flame, the lantern knocking itself over from the force. A glass face shattered.
"..." Three of the Elders warily gazed to the fallen lantern, not believing what they had just witnessed. They all gazed expectedly to the First, who was staring back with a focused yet relaxed look. He offered a smile, which made everyone confused.
"What does it mean, Armand?" The First bowed his head a little, thinking. He then slowly lifted his gaze, his one eye back to its normal copper. He linked his hands together, staring at the lantern with deep interest and concern.
"A dragon always symbolizes great magical power," the First narrowed his eye, "the magnitude of how it behaves indicates the strength, skill and raw power of the magic the man possesses. Unfortunately, we do not know which of the brothers it refers to."
"What of the gate?" asked the Second.
"Whenever a gate appears in a vision, it usually indicates a restricted aspect of ourselves that we cannot obtain. In this case, the gate is sealing off powerful knowledge, perhaps a hidden secret it does not wish to release. The dragon appears to be guarding the gate, preventing access to this concealed knowledge or power. I am not certain if the magic within this man is saving his life from this hidden truth, or preventing his true power from developing. The shadows confirm that the power or truth is trying to escape."
"Escape?" The Third became intrigued, pondering on any and all possibilities.
"It's a phenomenon called 'Memory Seepage', and it only occurs in magical beings. Fragments of precognition seep into the person's dreams, and progressively get more clear and detailed as they age. When it first appears, the person is only able to predict a couple minutes into the future. It gets longer and more violent as the condition worsens. After they have their first precognition half an hour before it happens, they start to unconsciously explore themselves. I begin to worry when this starts to happen. Exploring your inner soul is dangerous, and can leave a man in a coma for weeks."
"Why do they go into a coma?" The Second spoke on everyone's behalf. The First gazed to them with an overtone of concern.
"They cannot handle the truth they see within themselves."
-
Dawn gently kissed the rooftop of a small hospital house, heating the building with slow heat. Floor mats lay side by side, only leaving an inch or two apart from another. Each mat had an injured Tigran, sleeping soundly as the morning arrived. Jet had already awoken, perched beside his younger brother, watching over him. A Medic Tigran checked on the wounded every so often, making sure they were healing fine. He traveled over to Jet, kneeling before him and gazing to Saith, who was mumbling incoherently.
"You fought very well yesterday." He removed Saith's bandages, replacing the warm cloth on his forehead with a cold one. Jet cast his glance to the Tigran, who looked back with tired eyes. The type of eyes that saw too much carnage and dead bodies.
"We all did." Jet offered a friendly smile. The Medic Tigran smiled to the best of his ability, which ended up being a goofy, lopsided grin. He patted Jet's shoulder in acceptance. The tarp curtain was parted as a man ambled inside, smiling warmly and with much kindness. His long blond hair was tied back loosely, some flaxen strands coming loose over his face. His eyes were crinkled with slight age, his eyes too far away to distinguish. Once he let his face go lax, Jet gasped softly at the man's eyes.
"Would you care to take a walk with me, Jet?" Jet nodded as though hypnotized, not quite sure that he had agreed. He followed the man anyway, fixed on his eyes. They emerged into the early morning light, the dew from the trees above sprinkling to the stained dirt. Jet took this opportunity to look into the man's eyes. They were mismatched, just like his. Except they were of different colours: his left was a light sky blue, his right a strange silvery grey. Jet thought the combination was very interesting, never even thinking it was possible. The man patted Jet on the back proudly.
"I watched you battle yesterday. I can tell you have been trained in a royal squadron by the way you fight. You have passion and talent, but you do not possess the correct skill," the man smiled once more, "yet do not be discouraged. We have a surprise awaiting for you and your brother."
"May I ask...er...?" Jet paused for a name.
"Hoenel." The man offered his hand in greeting. Jet took it and tried to match Hoenel's strong grip.
"Hoenel," Jet repeated, "It is very nice to meet you. I never thought..." his words trailed, but Hoenel wisely picked them up again.
"...You never thought you'd meet another man with heterochromia?" Jet nodded hastily, eager to hear more information. Hoenel chuckled behind his pursed lips.
"Not many beings possess mismatched eyes," he explained, "it's a rare phenomenon. No one knows why it happens, but many philosophers have noted that many heterochromatic men have become legendary heroes." Jet smirked coyly.
"Name an example."
"Aleksandr Magnus," Hoenel named off with ease, "he was one of the greatest warriors of the 50th year in our history. He conquered nine nations around his own, leading an army of 1,000. Of course, that's likely an exaggeration," he scoffed, "it was more like 20,000. People like to exaggerate heroes and their conquests." He ended his tale as they approached what appeared to be a large field.
"This is our training area," he gestured to the barren landscape, no one in sight, "we teach different skills and classes of weaponry, as well as magic. We like to provide a test run on all methods to see which weapon of choice you would be most suited for." Footsteps interrupted his explanation as Saith tiredly walked over to them. Jet grinned widely, drawing his brother into a hug. Hoenel smiled.
"Ah...your brother has joined us! Excellent, we can begin right away." Jet and Saith's jaws hung loose, swaying in the wind.
"Are...are you serious?" Saith choked out, "we barely escaped with our lives yesterday!" Hoenel gave a friendly smile as he walked up to the younger man and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"And that, young Saith, is your first lesson in moving on."
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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 2:18:48 GMT
Chapter 7
Brilliant sun rays peeked through gaps in the leafy trees, the mysterious shadows of the clouds above playing with the light. A vast, prairie field carpeted the earth with flaxen grass and bone-dry dust; Jet and Saith’s training ground. The two brothers stood in the blazing heat, watching the land and air melt together in a bizarre mixture. Saith wiped his glistening forehead with his arm, trying to squint past the strong daylight. Tian was rooted firmly on the soil, not affected by the humidity nor the light. He remained steadfast, glaring to the two brothers with a sense of impatience. Saith did not know why Tian seemed so anxious, but there had to be a reason.
“You only have 12 hours to complete the objectives in this test,” Tian rose his voice above the warbling birds, “it is divided into thirds - weapons assessment, hand-to-hand combat, and magical incantation.” Jet and Saith exchanged confused glances.
“Tian,” Saith interjected quickly, “neither of us are magical.” Off to the side, Hoenel got on his feet and paced towards the brothers, gathering attention.
“A man never knows he possesses magical abilities until they are tested,” he then gave a warm smile, contradictory to Tian’s grave face, “just do your best.”
Meanwhile, the Four Elders were seated under the shade of an open tent, witnessing the training session. By Tigran law they had the right to override any decisions associated with the judgment of passing or failing. The Second crossed his arms, a curious albeit nervous expression lined in his aged face.
“Hoenel was the last Tigran to have passed the magical portion of the exam perfectly,” he scratched his chin in thought, “although, we did come to realize the circumstances of that incident.” The First smirked, biting on the end of a sleek, onyx pipe.
“True, Hoenel’s case was unfairly biased in his favour,” he inhaled the sweet smoke then slowly got rid of it, “nonetheless, he gladly agreed to become an official Judge for the magic session. For that, he possesses great knowledge of the magic realm and its secrets.” The Fourth waved a palm leaf fan in front of his face, attempting to fan in cool air.
“Yes, but that was over 20 years ago," the Fourth croaked, "we have yet to see a single speck of magical ability in this decade." The First delivered a huge smile.
“There’s a first for everything, Wolfric.”
On the field, Tian commenced the first portion of the test - weapons assessment. He paced the brittle wheat stalks, kicking up coppery dust as he walked. In his arms he carried a medium-sized sable-coloured box. No text was present on the wood to explain its contents. Tian glanced to the brothers in a bored fashion, repeating the phrase like he had done for the past 6 years.
“This portion of the exam assesses your strengths and weaknesses in a variety of weapons. The weapons exam is divided into four sections: daggers, swords, bow staffs, and archery. I will be testing you in how you perform in each task I assign you,” he then placed the box under his arm as he gestured to the brothers demandingly, “there are no outside weapons allowed in this exam. Strip yourselves of any and all weapons you are carrying.”
Jet reluctantly tossed his sheathed makhaira to the earth, watching the weapon tumble into a tuft of grass. He also unclipped his shuriken and dagger belt, letting the connected pouches coil into a fabricated snake. Saith removed the only weapon he has ever handled - Tian’s chained scythe. Hesitating, he gingerly tapped the string tied to his side.
“I suppose you’ll want this returned?” Saith backed up his statement as he unveiled the chained scythe, watching the light gleam off the curved blade. Tian narrowed his eyes then turned his head away, refusing.
“That hasn’t belonged to me in over 10 years; it would be pointless to start using it again,” he then gestured to the discarded pile of weapons, “place it there.” Surprised, Saith nearly forgot about the exam until Jet nudged him in the ribs. Embarrassed, the ex-prince discarded his weapon. Tian immediately kneeled to the box, hurriedly unclasping the golden clasps. Without a word he handed each brother a set of daggers from the black box. Saith gazed to the variety of daggers, each as unique as the other. Tian motioned Hoenel to aid in setting up a series of targets. He then gazed to the brothers with an even more serious expression then he had before.
“The experienced dagger warrior can use up to five different types of daggers at a time,” he fished out a small metal object, only 2 inches in length, “these are called fangs. They are the smallest of the dagger group. They are mainly used to pin an opponent to a wall or a tree.” He switched to a slightly larger dagger, reminded Saith of an elongated diamond shape with a small hoop at the end of the handle.
“This is a kunai. It is an effective weapon for throwing, piercing and, to an extent, slashing. The hoop on the end prevents the weapon from being knocked from the warrior’s hand.” He continued his demonstration, revealing a stout, triangular dagger. It had a slightly serrated edge, but the notches were barely visible.
“A simple straight-edge dagger is an old world weapon, most likely one of the first types of daggers ever created. It’s excellent for slashing, but is too heavy to throw effectively.” Again, he switched to the last dagger of the set. Saith became entranced by the decorated handle, intricately carved with dragons, wolves, and what appeared to be a phoenix.
“The last type of dagger you will tested on is the Merlin Dagger. It’s a rare weapon of choice, but the user can master its advantages in battle,” he ran a finger over the fang-like blade, resting at the tip, “the fanged structure of the blade proves useful as an ’instant kill’ dagger. It was designed originally to hunt down magical creatures, which explains the slender shape and the strong metal.” Tian ended his speech as he stashed his set of daggers into the box. Jet glared at the box, failing to see another type of dagger.
“What about makhaira?”
“Makhairas are extremely long daggers that are to be used for mounted steed battle only,” Tian whirled on his heel as he stood, “and due to our lack of horses, the makhaira has been excluded from the exam.”
“I’ve been using my makhaira for two years without a steed,” Jet argued stupidly, causing Saith to hide his face in frustration, “and I can use it fine - ”
“Silence!”
Jet shut his mouth, his mismatched eyes flashing in embarrassment and hurt. Tian stepped closer to the arrogant fighter.
“Does it ever feel awkward using the makhaira downwards?” he asked solemnly. Jet hid a sneer as he cast his gaze to the earth. Tian snorted.
“A makhaira is meant to be used upwards, not the other way around. If you had ever practiced on a horse, you would know the difference,” without looking back he added, “I never want you using a makhaira in ground battle ever again.”
Jet gasped, clenching his teeth in pure rage. How dare he order him to idly cease using his beloved makhaira! That weapon was practically connected to his soul; he would never simply ‘stop using it’. Saith tugged at his arm anxiously, silently begging him not to start another argument. They were, after all, in the middle of an exam. Jet exhaled sharply, ironically glaring daggers at Tian’s back. Said man turned around, a good distance apart from the target area.
“To pass this exam, you must successfully target at least 10 out of 16 tries. Each dagger type is given 4 tries each. Jet,” the two exchanged heated glances, each set of eyes aflame with hatred, “You may begin.”
Jet smirked arrogantly, brushing past Tian’s shoulder in a brisk wind; he’d show Tian that he could exceed all expectations of this exam. He wouldn’t strive for just 10 targets - he’d get all 16! Haughtily taking his station, Jet gave a playful smirk towards Saith, who gave a proud smile in return. Tian watched on unaffected, judging the test while clenching his teeth. This young man was really trying his patience, and pushing his luck for the exam. Muscles flexed and eyes focused, Jet grabbed both the fang and the kunai in one hand, the straight-edge in the other. Tian flinched, stepping in the line of fire.
"You are not allowed to use more than one at a time!" he roared, "I will not let your arrogance and foolishness to -"
"Permit him, Tian."
Saith, Jet, Tian, and Hoenel all faced the First, who wore a crinkled smile on his face, fiddling with his pipe absent-mindedly. The other three Elders concurred with the First's decision. Tian resorted to a low, barely audible growl, bowing his head and backing off the field, allowing Jet to perform the exam as he wished. Jet's face was graced with a wolfish grin, barely able to constrict himself from bragging. Instead, he channelled all his excitement to the task at hand. Drawing his wrist back, Jet tensed as he leered at the targets, sweat trickling down his neck from the sweltering heat. Only a cricket in the distance spoke during the quiet.
Jet abruptly drew his arms into an 'X', wrists titled backwards. Then swiftly released his daggers. They traveled in a harsh line, cutting the waves from the heated earth. In three piercing cries, the targets met their fate. Three for three.
Saith silently congratulated his brother. Tian was less than pleased. Jet knew Tian was growing jealous from watching someone a couple years younger than he to do so well. He fished out the Merlin Dagger. Balancing the tip of the blade between his fingers, Jet gave a harsh yell as he hurled the weapon to the target. Bulls-eye.
He continued this successful pattern in a similar manner, completing the dagger task with a perfect score of 16. Saith cheered as he ran up and hugged his brother. Jet laughed, messing up his little brother's hair playfully. Tian gave a smug snort as he bestowed the next set of daggers to Saith. The ex-prince gawked at the daggers as though they were going to talk suddenly, eyes wide with surprise. He had never handled daggers before, let alone hold one. He recalled an incident with touching the wrong end of a dagger from General Zenith's weapons shed when he was 6. It ended with 8 stitches to his hand, and bandages for 3 weeks.
'I haven't even used a dagger in my life! I'm going to fail...' Saith swallowed what was left of his fear, stepping into position. The targets appeared to mock him, teasing his inexperience with painted circles. Tian looked on hopefully - he knew Saith was just an 18-year-old kid and he hardly knew the concept of battle, but deep down he knew Saith had potential.
Saith decided to use one dagger at a time; God forbid he would use three. Everyone would be in the medical tent by the end of his test if he did. He wound his arm back, trying to mimic his older brother's method. He inhaled a reassuring breath and threw the dagger.
It landed in the earth 2 meters away from the target.
Saith blinked, somewhat happy that the dagger didn't fly astray and land in someone's chest. He was, however, soon disappointed with his first try. He glanced to Jet, who urged him to keep going despite his mistake. Saith sighed, picking up a tiny fang dagger and aimlessly throwing it without first focusing. Saith peeked from his closed eyes. The fang managed to clip a chunk of wood from the target's post, but it could hardly classify as a hit. Saith grew frustrated with each try, desperately trying to get at least one.
...
"I...I didn't get a single one..." Saith groaned, sitting down on a nearby rock. Tian chuckled, patting Saith's shoulder in light comfort.
"I'm sorry to say you failed the dagger test," Saith grumbled, growing somewhat moody, "but it just means that this weapon choice would not be suited for you." Tian swore he heard a teasing, 'that's for damn sure' from Jet, but ignored it. Instead, he proceeded to the next stage.
"The next portion of the exam is the Sword Test. There is only one rule: you are not allowed to assist the other. This includes blocking. The objective is fairly straight-forward," Tian motioned for Hoenel to gather the weapons, "Hoenel will hand each of us an identical katana blade. The objective of this test is to either successfully knock the blade from my hands, or make me submit." Hoenel quietly ambled to the group, presenting three objects wrapped in cloth. Saith hurriedly picked his, unwrapping the cloth slowly, watching the silky fabric slide off the polished blade. Jet chose his randomly, not all that excited. Tian chose the last of the pack, unsheathing it as he positioned it at the ready. The brothers copied.
"Begin."
The battle started when Tian rushed the two brothers, gliding in between the gap like a ghostly phantom. Saith remained stunned, frozen in his tracks. Tian, though reluctant, charged Saith with his poised katana, the metal gleaming lethally. Jet's instincts ignited as he kicked Saith away, blocking the attack. Tian snarled furiously, his green eyes darkening ominously.
"Did you forget the rule? You are not permitted to aid him!" Jet roughly shoved Tian away, breathing harshly as he shakily raised his sword.
"No one harms my brother."
"Tian will not harm Saith," The Third interjected from the sidelines, "the objective is not to injure the opponent; it is simply to disarm him. We will let your action unrecorded this one time. Do not repeat it or you are disqualified." Saith staggered to his feet, grabbing his katana from the dusty earth.
"I don't need your help!" Saith cried out angrily, "I can pass this exam on my own!" Jet whirled around angrily to argue, but Tian prevented the quarrel as he sprinted towards Jet. Jet barely managed to blocked the attack and break the stalemate quickly, risking a swipe. Tian easily dodged it. Saith dashed ahead to Tian's left, attempting to jab in between his arms and break Tian's grip. Yet Tian was very experienced and expected this move, hooking Saith's katana with his boot and kicking it to a tree, which impressively pierced through. Shortly after he whirled around to position his blade to Jet's throat, but found his opponent performing the exact same manoeuvre.
Both felt the cool metal edging along their jaw lines, inching into the skin slowly. Tian and Jet shared the same icy glare, caught in a paradox victory and defeat. Silence engulfed the field. The First rose to his feet.
"The rules state in case of a stalemate, there would be a 'Blood Draw' rematch," he inhaled a light breath of tobacco, "however...this rule is quite outdated. By about 97 years. Therefore," he gave a smile to Jet, "under my judgement Jet is permitted a pass." Tian tensed considerably; it took all his strength not to disrespect his Elder.
"Excuse me, Honourable First," there was a slight waver in his tone, "may I inquire as to the conditions of Jet's passing?" The First gnawed on the tip of his pipe, his eye looking up to the pure blue sky. He smirked wisely.
"It's as plain as day, Tian. The objective was to either successfully knock the blade from your hand, or make you submit. You did not mention anything about making the students submit. Jet completed the second objective, despite the stalemate. Therefore, Jet passes." Tian calmed his mind from exploding with rage, calmly bowing and snatching two bow staffs. He threw one to Saith, who fumbled with it before catching it to his chest.
"The Staff Test is similar to the Sword Test. It also has a straight-forward objective," he gave a crude glare to the First, who smiled and waved, "to pass this test, you must simply hit any part of my body with the staff. The time limit is 10 minutes. If you do not manage to make the contact within this limit, you fail." He turned to Saith, who nervously gripped the shaft of the wooden weapon. Fear crawled up his throat like a raid of cockroaches, his stomach churning nauseously. Tian steadied his stance, holding the staff outwards.
"Begin."
Saith froze. He urged his legs to move, but his muscles tensed and held him at bay. Tian tightened his grip, making the leather of the shaft squeal in protest.
"Attack me, Saith!" Still, Saith did not move. Panic spread through his veins like wildfire, his adrenaline leaking through his blood yet not taking effect. Tian began to grow frustrated, not knowing why Saith was wasting time hesitating.
"I gave you an order! ATTACK ME!" Heated pins struck his lungs with a constricting vice, making Saith hysteric at what to do. Unable to handle the stressful situation, he tossed his staff to the ground, dashing away in the opposite direction. Luckily Hoenel was there to prevent him from exiting, holding Saith back and dragging him back to the training ground. Tian angrily snatched Saith by his shirt collar, fixing his gaze straight into Saith's green eyes that matched his so well.
"What is wrong with you?! You can't just treat this like some game," Tian snarled viciously, "you just can't quit in the middle of a fight. You have to take this seriously! If this was a real battle, you'd be in serious trouble." Saith held in his shameful tears, not wanting Jet or Tian to see him utterly defeated. He wanted to attack, he really wanted to try, but something held him back.
The Third quietly consoled the others. "It appears that Jet has a natural talent for battle. Perhaps he is the one to become a legendary warrior." The First raised his hand to silence the discussion. He gazed curiously to Saith as Tian and Jet prepared to fight.
"It is not wise to jump to conclusions, Faolan," the First narrowed his eyes in wonder, "it could be Saith also." The Fourth lazily smoked his pipe, puffing expert smoke circles.
"Saith does not appear to fancy battle. It is unlikely that he will make any progress in his training." The First closed his eyes.
"We shall see in time."
-
The afternoon trudged through the sizzling heat wave, causing complications and difficulties for the Exam. The brothers had just completed the Archery Test, breathing harshly as the sun generously beamed on their bodies. As expected, Jet passed the Staff Test, and just passed the Archery Test with another perfect score of 10 for 10. Saith did slightly better in his endeavour, and managed to score 4. Unfortunately 6 targets were necessary to pass the test. Saith wallowed in his low self-esteem, wondering if he would at least perform decently in hand-to-hand combat. He was about to find out. Tian swayed as he explained the next portion of the Exam, trying his best not to swagger as the heat prickled his skin.
"We now move on to the Hand-to-Hand Combat Assessment," he continued, "There are only two halves: tracking and stealth, and close combat. In Tracking and Stealth, each participant is assigned to track, or to camouflage. We will then switch the order after the tracker either finds the stealth, or runs out of time." Saith grinned; even though Tian ordered for him to NOT treat this like a game, he couldn't help himself. This reminded him of hide-and-seek with his brother when they were young. And boy, he was the champion of hide-and-seek. Tian made Jet turn around and face the Elders. He then acknowledged Saith, who looked incredibly happy.
"Saith, you will venture into the jungle as far as you feel safe. You have a 10 minute head start," he then quietly added, "and please be careful."
Saith nodded quickly, turning tail and dashing into the jungle as fast as his legs would allow. He ran along an eroded trail, trying to calculate his strategy.
'The first thing to go are these footprints' he thought, snatching a dead branch from the ground. He then scraped the earth back and forth behind him, messing up his trail as he blended the soil. He continued to do this until he noticed a small creek about hundred meters behind him. Excited, he finished off losing his tracks as he climbed into the creek. 'I'm going to pass this test for sure!' He grinned widely as he waded through the stream, approaching a low riding tree. He skilfully climbed onto the branch, leaping from tree to tree. Once in a while he would pause, straining to hear Jet or Tian tracking him. Confident that he successfully lost them, he traveled through the jungle canopy until he reached a small oasis. It had a small, yet concealing waterfall, with a pool of water at its base. 'Perfect! I'll hide behind the waterfall. My image will be distorted as a shadow, and they'll have a challenging time tracking me!' Pleased with his strategy, he silently leapt from the tree and landed on the grass.
"Saith Zerbaliev."
Startled at the voice, Saith raced around to locate this mysterious person. Yet he saw nothing. He instinctively reached for his chained scythe, but remembered he had discarded it earlier. Frightened, he frantically turned on his heel to escape into the foliage.
"I will not let you escape," said the voice, proving his statement as a whip coiled around his ankle tightly. Saith collapsed to the ground, a rock hitting him square in the ribs. A dull ache radiated through his ribs, making Saith hiss at his newly bruised side. A silhouette towered over him, casting a shadow colder than winter itself. Saith glanced up to the person slowly. When he rested his gaze on the man's face, his eyes flew wide open as he recognized the man from a photograph. Elek Yoland.
"You're...you're Lily's father!" The man blinked slowly, his pale flesh contrasting Saith's tanned skin.
"Li...ly?" Elek spoke the words quite slowly and sharply, seemingly trying to break through a mental barrier. He then shook his head at a deliberate pace. Saith gasped - Elek didn't remember his one and only daughter. Yet...'Yet he remembers mine...and we've never even met.'
"What are you doing here?" Saith barked harshly, "do you know how worried Lily has been about you? You have to go back and let her know you're alive!" Elek grinned manically.
"I can't leave. Not yet." Saith heard a low growl from within the jungle, with a gargantuan shadow to accompany it. One giant paw stepped into the light, amber eyes glaring Saith down. Saith couldn't believe it - he was staring face to face with a real live lion. He could smell its blood-tinged breath, and see its sallow coloured fangs gleaming in the dimming sun. Elek chuckled darkly, stroking the lion's thick coffee mane with dirty hands.
"Do you like my new pet? He's quite a sight, isn't he?" Elek's eyes were unfocused, similar to how King Zerbaliev's looked the night before. Saith began to back away, fighting the pain in his whipped ankle and his aching ribs. Elek noticed this.
"You can't leave. I need to test my experiment, to see if it works. You see, lions don't generally obey you. I had to...alter him a little." Saith suddenly leered at the twisted psychopath.
"Alter him? You mean you experimented with an animal?!"
"I wouldn't say experiment," Elek sounded hurt, "I just rearranged some DNA. No harm done." Saith knew Elek was lying; he could see how the lion breathed harshly, as though it pained it to breathe in. He noticed how its eyes were covered in a grey film. It was blind. Saith felt pity for the creature, wanting to kill it to end its suffering. Elek nudged the lion, glimpsing at Saith with an unfocused eye.
"I have been a genetics scientist for over 15 years. Being a coal miner was a cover story so I wouldn't be discovered or interrogated by the government," he continued to comb through the flyaway mane, "my first idea was genetically-altered soldiers. It was genius: create a killing machine without risking a moral loss."
"They're human beings!" Saith cried out, "how could you take away their emotions like that? Their soul?!" Elek chuckled hollowly, shaking his head.
"Don't be stupid. Why do you think the government trained men to be soldiers?"
"To fight for their country - "
"TO BE AN EXPENDABLE RESOURCE!" Elek screamed hysterically, causing the lion to whimper, "soldiers are nothing more than tools; weapons of war! That's why I made it less painful to create the ultimate soldier. One that feels nothing. One that can kill anything."
"You bastard." Saith choked out, not believing this man's ethics.
"Oh? Then tell me: how did the mass slaughter in Libet turn out?" Saith's breath hitched, puzzled at the question.
"How would you know? You weren't there!" he snarled defiantly. Elek's eyes went void of all sanity, his face grew pale as he couldn't hold back his laughter.
"Of course I was, you stupid boy! I created the soldiers that attacked Libet!"
Silence consumed Saith's mind, his brain trying to connect the information. Slowly, but surely, it made sense: Why Tian never mentioned the attack, why the Tigrans attacked Libet so cruelly. Why they seemed like they had no honour, no soul. They were Elek's experiments.
"I incorporated animal qualities into their blood, merging their traits together. I used lions, tigers, bears, leopards, wolves...every dangerous animal I could think of." Saith gasped as a puzzle clicked together in completion. 'That's why that assassin from the Inn paused at the wolf's howl. He had wolf DNA integrated into his body.' Elek sighed desperately, combing back his dishevelled hair.
"Now look what you made me do," Elek responded with a whisper, stroking the lion gently, "you made me reveal my secret. Now I have to kill you. Such a shame." He nudged the lion in its flank, earning a tiny grunt of pain.
"Kill him."
The lion grunted in pain, staggering on its paws. Panicking, Saith scrambled from the ground and raced towards the pool of water, his thoughts racing for a solution. 'Lions don't like to swim...I have to get to that pool!' the lion roared as it swiped at Saith's leg, barely missing it. Saith stumbled from the close proximity, rolling into the water. Resurfacing, he smirked. Yet his smirk disappeared when the lion started to submerge itself. Elek flung his hands into the air hysterically, clasping his fists tight.
"You fool! My genetically-altered lion can perform and understand any command. You have no chance of survival!" Saith watched in fear as the lion closed in on him, it's grey eyes staring blankly into his soul, tainting his memories. Saith decided to dive into the water, which was a huge mistake. The lion proved too swift, leaping on Saith, pinning him under the water. Saith struggled against the hefty weight but to no avail. The lion was too heavy.
'Oh my God...I...I'm going to drown...' Saith could feel himself blacking out, the edges of his vision being gnawed with static. Out of the water, he swore he could hear screams and cursing, the noises of running and weapons. Suddenly he felt the lion jolt in its place, giving a violent albeit muted roar, bubbles escaping from its maw. Saith felt a strong pair of arms dragging him from the watery grave, giving him the glorious gift of oxygen. Tian hauled Saith from the water, an extremely worried expression on his face. In the distance, standing on a boulder, Jet stood poised with a bow, arm still drawn back, the arrow now engraved in the lion's neck vertebrate.
Elek was nowhere to be seen.
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Post by Azriel on Oct 24, 2008 2:27:33 GMT
Chapter 8
A dim light sparked within the Oasis Lantern, the blazing fire racing in circles like it had the night before. The Four Elders were situated around the magical artefact, gazing to the magical fire solemnly. The Third crossed his arms in a mix of wonder, astonishment, and absolute anger.
"The vision didn't apply metaphorically to the brothers," he explained, gazing to the racing fire, "it foretold a literal, future event." Seated beside him, the Fourth nodded in agreement, disappointment laced in his face.
"Unfortunately, yes. The lion's roar was muted because it was already destined to die," his tone held sorrow yet wisdom, "when it reached for the arrow in the vision, that was how it was to be killed." The Second wore the most furious expression, his teeth clenched tight and his fists furled white.
"If that vision was interpreted falsely, then I suspect the vision of the dragon is also literal? Which it isn't," he quickly added, "we all know dragons do not exist in frequent numbers." He strained the last word, nearly sneered it because of his frustration. The First wore a weak smile, his eye crinkled in a forced optimism.
"Do not be discouraged, Darius," the First sighed, turning his attention to the fiery lantern, "let us begin."
The fire inside the lantern gradually increased in size an intensity, its centre a brilliant white. Suddenly it exploded into a fiery smoke, seeping through the fang-shaped hole in the brass top. It coiled around itself, forming a serpentine shape. To no one's surprise, it formed into the same dragon they had seen the night before. The Second narrowed his eyes, wanting to kick the lantern away for its stubbornness.
"It's the same vision!" he growled, matching the dragon's fierce gaze. The dragon responded with a quiet snarl, smoke curling into the air. The First held up his hand to the impatient Elder, silently asking him to remain quiet. With his visible eye, the First looked upon the miniature dragon with respect and consideration. The dragon visibly relaxed somewhat, perceiving the First's intentions.
"What are you guarding?" the First asked the dragon quietly. The dragon leered, backing into the flamed gated behind it.
"The prophecy." The other Elders gasped at the sound of the dragon's voice, not expecting it to speak. The First wore a strengthened smile.
"Which prophecy?" The dragon glimpsed beyond the First, resting his white eyes on the others.
"Only the First is allowed to access the prophecy," it growled lowly, coiling slowly around its gate protectively. The Third rested a weary hand on the First's shoulder.
"Summon us when you are finished. We will continue judging the Exam." The First gave a curt nod, sighing as he turned his attention to the lantern. The tiny dragon peeked from behind the gate, wrapping around the bars as he regarded his only trusted companion.
"I guard the prophecy of a man named Vincent," the First raised an eyebrow, the scar underneath his eye patch flattening.
"Vincent? I do not believe I know who that is." The dragon rose its head not in anger, but in respect, gazing directly into the First's eye. It's fiery body reflected in the copper of his eye.
"That is his true name. You may regard Hoenel for an answer; he knows of Vincent." The First smiled, partially amazed and partially expecting the answer. The dragon bowed its great maw towards the brass dome of the lantern, biting the lock of its gate. Delivering a crushing bite, it broke the chains wrapped around the gateway. They vanished into a wisp of smoke, lingering under the First's jaw. A single shadow seeped from the depths of the gate, imploding itself as it started to morph into the shape of a young man. Light from within the lantern's chamber leaked out of a sun shaped hole, forming a single tree, leaves intact. The First watched carefully as the tree to the man's left lost its leaves, soon stripping the plant bare. Little snowflakes of light descended to the tree. It was winter.
The timeline changed as the snow ceased, the leaves on the tree beginning to bud. The buds quickly opened into blossoms, leaves peeking from within the flowers. Spring and summer barely had a chance to live as the tree lost its foliage once again, leaving it bare. It continued the pattern of the seasons, the tree reaching to the sky as it grew taller. Soon the process stopped, the tree now old and decrepit, its trunk bent in age. The First frowned as he noticed the man.
He hadn't aged at all.
-
In the training area, Tian had finished off the test, permitting a pass to both Saith and Jet for the Tracking and Stealth portion, due to the extreme circumstances. Next, came the final and last test for the first half of the Exam.
"This is the final portion of the Exam: Combat Assessment," Tian explained, "I will be testing you one at a time, assessing your strengths and weaknesses. Be advised that you are not required to defeat me." Saith brightened considerably, hoping he'd now have a chance to pass something on his own. Tian beckoned Jet to take his stance. Jet messed up his flaxen hair, trying to act arrogant. Tian leered, positioning himself.
"Begin."
Jet immediately darted behind Tian to bring his knee up, but Tian whirled around and performed a back flip, simultaneously kicking as he flipped. Jet was struck in the jaw, tumbling some distance away. Tian grinned; when it came to hand-to-hand combat, he could not be surpassed. Angered, Jet wiped the blood from his mouth and charged Tian head on. 'Amateur mistake,' thought Tian, dodging out of the way at the last minute. This threw off Jet's perception, leaving him exposed. Tian delivered a nasty punch to Jet's ribs, then snatching his arm and hauling him over his shoulder. Jet hit the ground with a painful thud. But the young fighter was not giving up so easily. Rolling over, Jet tripped Tian and kipped up onto his haunches. He took too much time though, as both Tian and Jet punched each other in the sternum.
"It's over." Tian's voice grew dead serious as he hooked Jet's punching arm and brought it around his back, stretching the shoulder joint painfully backwards. Jet growled, struggling but not making a slight inch of escape. Jet exhaled sharply, submitting. Tian let him go, standing.
"You do have the general idea in hand-to-hand combat," Tian lectured, "but you are blinded by emotion and your judgement is lacking in planning your next moves. You need to plan ahead, Jet." Jet inched in dangerously close to Tian's face.
"Do not lecture me like I am such child. I'm only two years younger than you!" he hissed.
"I am still a Judge," Tian gravely reminded him, "and I possess something you don't. Experience." Jet went to argue but Tian held up his hand. "Regardless of your brash attitude, your strategies are slightly above average. Therefore you pass." Jet froze, stunned in place. Tian chuckled at his surprised expression.
"Congratulations, Jet. You have successfully completed the first and second sections of the Exam. With a perfect grade," Tian gazed to the Third, who gave a small smile.
"When was the last time someone passed the Exam with a perfect grade in Weapons and Hand-to-Hand Combat?" The Fourth brought the brim of his hat down over his eyes, trying to hide a wide grin. The Second rolled his eyes, displeased at Tian's inquiry. The Third smirked and shook his head in disbelief, but in a friendly manner.
"Why, if I properly recall," he couldn't help but laugh, "it was 6 years ago. Completed by one Tian Leung." Jet laughed, punching Tian in the shoulder playfully. Tian hid a smirk, motioning Saith to step forward.
"This is the final stage," Tian warned, "are you ready?" Saith nodded, swallowing the last of his courage. Tian didn't give a warning as he dashed ahead, rearing his fist back. But Saith was incredibly fast and easily dodged the punch. He then lunged forward, legs together, as he disrupted Tian's stance and knocked him off balance. Saith then quickly did a heel kick downward, right into Tian's stomach. Tian smashed into the earth, groaning from pain. Saith leapt back, glaring at his opponent with wild eyes. Tian leapt onto his feet, surprised and angered. He gazed to the young man, who looked eager to continue.
'Damn it...I'm holding back on him. Yet I don't want to risk hurting him.' To match Saith's level of speed, Tian would have to increase his strength by 2. Yet if he did that, he would cause Saith serious damage. Then again, if he played favourites, it would only be hurting Saith in the long run. No real opponent would hold back in a fight. Suddenly Tian was caught in the line of fire of Saith's punch. Tian barely made a split-second decision as he used his leg to block it. Saith hissed as he punched Tian's knee, clutching his fist in pain. Tian easily kicked Saith away, who remained on the earth in a daze.
"...Saith..." Said man gazed up to his instructor.
"How...how did you obtain such speed? You are the fastest warrior I have ever fought against." Saith caught his breath, staggering to his feet. He couldn't explain it - he always had speed naturally. Tian gazed to Saith thoughtfully, as though trying to discover a past secret about him. Tian looked directly at his green eyes, the reflection of colour lost. Saith's previous thought broke through again. 'His eyes...I swear I've seen them before...'
"From your sheer talent in speed and executing technique, you have obtained a perfect grade in Combat Assessment." Saith's eyes lit up to rival the sun, his lips perking into a huge grin.
"You mean I actually passed something?!" Tian nodded, smiling with relief.
"I will decide your fighting styles tonight. You will be notified tomorrow morning. Until then," he waved them off, "you are dismissed." Saith happily twirled around and tackled into Jet, who shared a hearty laugh. Suddenly Saith ripped apart from his brother, his eyes panicked and wide.
"We have to tell Lily about what happened..."
"No," Tian cut in, stepping next to Saith, "you are not permitted to leave the Tigran camp until I have trained you extensively in the jungle area. Otherwise you could be lost, or kidnapped." Saith clenched his teeth.
"You don't understand! Lily's father was - "
"I KNOW WHAT HE HAS DONE!" Tian screamed, his eyes alit with rage, "you don't need to remind me." Saith withdrew timidly, gazing apologetically towards Tian. It was understandable. Tian drew in a shaky breath underneath his mask.
"...you will not leave. Do you understand?" Tian asked gravely. Saith sighed dejectedly and gave a nod.
-
Evening cast its lifeless shadow over the land, darkness consuming every speck of light dwelling in the trees. The First remained in the West House, contemplating the meaning of the vision he witnessed earlier. The seasons accumulated for years, time altering the tree to its will. A man that looked no older than 25, yet was possibly over one thousand. 'I'm very close to deciphering this vision,' the First rubbed his temples sourly, 'all I need is to find the last piece of the puzzle...' A knock alerted him to the doorway. Hoenel greeted the First with a graceful bow, strands of his gold hair coming loose from his ponytail. A pair of unique eyes looked to him expectedly.
"Any answers, Armand?" Expecting the question, the First gave a slightly defeated sigh. Hoenel placed himself on the floor mat, across the pine table from the Elder. He took a sip of green tea as he watched the Elder fiddle with the brass handle of the Lantern.
"It showed me a young man standing in a meadow. To his left was a sapling, barely one foot from the earth. The man was surrounded by the four seasons, each changing swiftly to the next. The tree gradually aged, reaching the sky with outstretched limbs. Soon the tree was as old and decrepit as a fossil," he gazed seriously to Hoenel, "the man did not age a second." Hoenel combed back his stray locks, tucking them behind his ear. Meanwhile he pondered the description of the vision, traveling in all possible directions. Finally, he broke the uneasy silence.
"Immortality," Hoenel stated simply, "this prophecy belongs to an immortal being." The First narrowed his one eye, the copper colour darkening in the moonlit room.
"Is that so?" Hoenel affirmed his companion's question, setting the cup down. He regarded his old friend with a genuine smile, his silvery eye morphing with the moon's light.
"Did the spirit guardian reveal the prophecy's owner?" The First cast his glance to the broken glass of the lantern, remembering the name as clear as a bell.
"Vincent."
Hoenel's heart skipped a timeframe.
"The last time I heard that name was eighteen years ago. I have known this man for 520 years..." Hoenel gazed silently to the full moon, watching transparent clouds drift under its brilliant shadow. The First remained stunned.
"I do not jest, Armand," Hoenel wore a tired expression, "I may not look it, but I am 828 years old. Vincent is a dangerous man who should be treated with the deadliest of respect. He is, after all, immortal and possesses dark powers."
"My first residence was in the heart of the Trastov nation, in a small city called Draago. I would travel down the cobblestone streets and let myself wander wherever I pleased. One night I found myself facing a dark alley, with only a broken lantern dimly lighting the first two feet. I caught a glimpse of a shadow hiding in the passage, and patiently waited until the creature revealed itself. Judging by the movement, I predicted the man was drunk, stumbling to the brick wall. I was quite surprised to find myself wrong, gawking at the jaded eyes of a young man. They were like sheets of ice, cold as the air that surrounded him. His hair was pure black, coated in a bloody slime from a scratch on his forehead. His shirt was torn to shreds, blood trickling down his pant leg. Yet it wasn't the state of the poor soul that paralysed me with fear.
It was the bite mark on his neck.
Right away, I knew this poor man had been attacked by a vampire. The fang marks went deep into his flesh, penetrating the muscle easily, leaving a bright red ring around the wound. I could have turned away and let him to succumb to the misery of his immortal life. To go through his eternity alone and mislead. Yet deep in my soul, I didn't feel pity so much as empathy. I myself, am immortal and realize the boredom and lacklustre life I lead. Outliving time itself is a frightening concept. The least I could do for him was share my experiences of immortality, to ease the pain of having his soul and mortality taken away unlawfully.
His name was Vincent Montague, a 23 year-old man that once worked as a jeweller. His only desire was to work with jewels, stones, and metal. Yet now because of his weakness to silver, his dream was shattered. He was trapped forever in the river of time without purpose. Forever would he remain of this age, to relive his year for all eternity. I took him under my wing and consoled him the dangers and advantages of being immortal. From my studies, I also obtained knowledge on vampiric habits, and tried to tame Vincent's urges for human blood by substituting rat's blood. It was a rough struggle of inner conflict - for decades I stayed by his side and helped him through his battles. Sometimes he would disappear, then return the next night. Sometimes he would try to attack me. Yet I did not abandon him.
Eventually his demonic aura weakened from my efforts and we shared joys, triumphs, sadness and loss for 479 years. We traveled far from our original home in Draago, heading eastward until we reached the kingdom of Sa'la. We resided in a small town just outside the captial city of Salvador, planning to rest for a few decades before drifting onward into the valleys in search of a new purpose.
Eighteen years ago, Vincent and I were travelling the streets aimlessly, trying to find interest in our limitless life. We noticed a young gypsy woman lifelessly sprawled on the cobblestone, her eyes blank and void of life. Her five-year old son wept for her, screaming at her to wake up. Vincent was only 502 years old at the time, and acted with his old emotions. I knew Vincent loved this woman, despite the fact that she was already dead. He begged me to save her, but I couldn't break the law. Magic was, and still is, forbidden to be used to revive the dead. Vincent grew incredibly angry with my decision, but I told him it was dangerous to fall in love with a mortal. His love would perish before he, and he would drift on without her.
After a moment of silence, we asked the young boy his name..."
The First, completely intrigued at Hoenel's ancient tale, waited patiently to hear him continue. Hoenel sighed as he glanced out the door into the new dawn, the sun hidden behind the jungle.
"His name was Jet."
The First's eye widened, his iris glowing slightly in astonishment.
"Vincent and I took Jet to Salvador, and entrusted him to the maid of the castle. We felt like it was the best chance the child had of surviving. Vincent and I drifted apart then; he wanted to stay behind and silently watch over Jet. I tried to urge him to withdraw from such a useless task, but he disregarded my warning and vanished into the day. I continued onward to this very camp, where I applied for the Exam."
"Is it possible that Vincent is nearby?" The First asked a question he already knew the answer to, but his conscious felt insecure and hopeful.
"Inevitably," Hoenel affirmed sadly, "Vincent loved the gypsy, and had a fatherly affiliation with her son. I suppose he feels it's the closest way to be next to the woman he loved." The First gazed to the grains in the table, tracing the patterns with his eyes. He wasn't entirely sure why the dragon guarded a prophecy of a man he did not know. He was positive the dragon held Saith and Jet's prophecy, or at least one of them. And how did the genetically-altered lion tie in with Vincent? It was Elek's experiment, not his. Hoenel sensed his friend's complex inner conflict.
"Prophecies are a complex phenomenon," he lectured wisely, "they usually lead you into seemingly irrelevant knowledge and you think you've been mislead. Trust me," he added confidently, "Saith and Jet ARE involved in Vincent's prophecy. Elek is as well. We just haven't obtained enough information to say for certain why or how it affects the future."
"Speaking of Jet, he mentioned to me that he has short visions periodically," the First stroked his chin thoughtfully, "did he inherit this trait from his mother?"
"That's my best assumption," Hoenel replied, "I sensed a magical aura within her, as weak as it was. Jet must possess psychic abilities to an extent." The First tapped the table's surface gingerly, reading over Hoenel's notes briefly.
"Are you going to test Jet and Saith tomorrow for the Magical Quality Test?" Hoenel smiled tiredly, rearranging his notes as he straightened the crooked pages.
"Naturally."
-
The newborn sun shone onto the barren training field, streams of light cascading over the barricaded weapons shed. Saith slunk from the back window, hunting knife in hand. Quietly slipping over the barbed wire fence, he dashed across the field until he arrive at the jungle's edge, Venus flytraps glaring at him with reddish mouths. Saith brushed a large fern leaf with his hand, hesitating in his decision. Tian treated him like his brother, ordering him to stay inside the grounds so he would remain safe. 'You might get lost or kidnapped,' he says, or 'the jungle is too dangerous for you to venture alone.' He hardened his gaze.
'She has a right to know.' Not another thought was spared as he escaped into the abyss of the jungle towards the ruins of Libet. In the distance, a Tigran stealthily observed the young man's escape, narrowing his emerald eyes as he traveled quickly after his target.
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Author's Notes: This is where I abandoned the storyline. I simply lost motivation, mainly due to conflicting interests and other life riffraff. I will not be continuing this story, unfortunately. I might, however I rarely return to old outlines. I hope you enjoyed reading it!
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