Magic and Swords

Night, somewhere around two o’clock. A fire was burning, silhouetting the tree that stood between Sakota and Traverse. A cool breeze blew through the valley, ruffling the tall grass consuming a small ledge, probably about four feet tall, behind which they were hiding. To their backs was a calmly flowing river, about six or seven yards wide. It went on for a few miles north and south.

On the north end of it stood the small town of Chrichton, a major trade city, where many had been robbed, murdered, or some other means of torture or misfortune. On the southern end, stood the rival trade town, Avi. A brighter village, where there was not so much despair.

On the opposite side of the tree, they could hear the demonic chants of the Bluelives. The Bluelives were a form of cult, or race, that was taught in the dark magics, how to envelop entire towns at a time. In these days, there were three main types of magic: Light, black, and dark. Light magics were healing, black was attacking, and dark was not truly even considered a magic. Dark magic was shunned, for with each spell cast, it

"So... what next?" Sakota asked.

Traverse turned to look at the beautiful mage. She was tall, probably around five foot ten, just barely taller than himself, with long, dark brown hair that hung about halfway down her back. Her face was perfect, with fine features. She wore a long, flowing purple dress, which was cut into long strips that ran from below her waist to her ankles, revealing her long, beautiful legs. Trav had to stop and stare at her beautiful eyes. Deep, beautiful pools that one could be lost in for ages.

"Okay. We’ll attack. You first."

Before he had finished his sentence, Sakota had already stood up and climbed the small drop-off. She slinked silently along the grass to the shadowed side of the tree and leaned against it, pressing her hands against it. She reached up and hoisted herself into the tree, where she could get a better view. She balanced herself between two branches and pressed her hands together. Sakota could feel her palms grow colder, colder, colder still. As she separated them, a string of water stretched itself from palm to palm. Quickly it grew, until she pulled her left hand back, and thrust the palm of her right hand forward. The thick pillar of water shot onto the Bluelive’s ritual fire, dousing it. Screams of disgust and curses arose from the aggravated Satanists. She slid down the backside of the completely shadowed tree, and landed, only to find herself surrounded by the Bluelive’s, each with a sword or staff drawn at her.

Sakota clenched her hands into fists and could feel her palms heat up extremely quickly.

"Drop to your knees," one of the Bluelives called as he prodded her with his sword.

She did, but only onto one knee. She flipped her wrists and pushed her palms outward. Two beams of fire shot out of her palms, igniting two of the Bluelives. They ran aimlessly, screaming and cursing at her. The other two drew their swords. A faint smirk appeared slowly on her face. She looked up, but as she did, the remaining Bluelives turned and ran away from her.

Sakota gave chase. While she was running, she clenched her hands together. They began to glow a light blue. Eventually, the light blue glow turned to light blue flames, engulfing her hands. With the Bluelives in sight, she stopped and thrust her hands at them. The blue flames shot from her hands to the fleeing cultivists, knocking them dead.

Trav approached behind her, sword in hand. "You never save any for me, do you?" She turned to look at the man. Tall, just about an inch shorter than herself, with dark blonde hair swept down sideways, away from the center of his head. He was dressed like an average swordsman, white shirt, baggy brown pants. His face was nothing notable, no outstanding features, nothing like that. A flat nose, flat cheeks, pointed chin.

"Sorry, I couldn’t help myself."

"It’s getting late... I think those lights are Crichton..." He pointed north, where the mountains rose above the rest. Near the base was what appeared to be a city, or a large village.

"So... make it there by morning?"

"Or sooner."

"I can do that." She reached over and grabbed his hand and held it. Trav had always pictured her as having a tight grip, and was amazed at how light and soft her hands were. She clenched her left hand and held it at her chest and closed her eyes.

The winds grew stronger.

Slowly she tilted her head back and raised her clenched hand. Three green rings rose from the ground and enveloped the two, but as the final ring elevated, every part of the two travellers below it disappeared.

The two young travelers arrived in Crichton only seconds later. The town was darker than the night itself. Run-down shacks crammed the muddy streets. Some had walls collapsing, others roofs were collapsing. A few feet ahead of them was the only building that looked stable: a brick inn. A few yards past that was an intersection.

Gaiman brushed back a lock of snow-white hair from his face as he watched on from the shadows. The beautiful young traveler and her friend began to walk towards the inn. He silently darted across the mucky street to the welcoming shadows of a collapsing shack. He was a master of stealth, a natural born thief. He trusted no one, made no allies, only enemies. The object he considered closest to a friend was his sword, Morthoseth, a blade forged by the most talented Bluelive blacksmiths, fused with the awesome powers of the devil himself. He wore all black, perfect to blend in. The only thing that could give him away was his snow-white hair. And, if he ever needed to, he himself could turn into a shadow to pass through any surface.

The two young travelers entered the inn. Luck was on his side for the first time in ages: the door would not close completely. He darted across the murky street once more and stood against the door, listening.

"Two rooms, correct?" The innkeeper asked.

The boy spoke up first. "Yes."

"Okay, we have two open on the second floor. Yours, milady, will be the second door on the right, while yours, my good man, will be two doors down on the opposite side of the hallway."

They gave their thank-yous and departed for their rooms. Gaiman bent over and picked up a rock, then threw it into the lobby, behind the counter. When the innkeeper bent over to see what it was, he darted to the opposite side of the lobby.

Now luck was against him: A massive chandelier hung from the center, with what must’ve been around thirty brightly lit candles. There was a door behind the counter, and a hallway opposite with about six doors on each side. Opposite from where he came in was a winding staircase, leading upstairs to two branching hallways.

Gaiman darted up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he noticed the two young travelers both turn and go into their separate rooms. He ventured cautiously to the door that the young woman had gone into. He peered under the door until he was sure that the lights were out.

He straightened up, closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and sighed. His body became a dark black mist that hovered in one place. The mist floated slowly forward and through the door. Gaiman felt no pain. He felt nothing while he was a shadow, like he was now. He could be stabbed a million times, and be in perfect condition when he transformed back to his natural state.

The room was quite plain. Opposite the door was a window, and underneath that window was a bed, where the young woman lay, still in the same dress she had been wearing. He hovered slowly to the bed, and had to pause to observe how the light shining through the window illuminated her fine features. He almost regretted having to kill her. Gaiman became his natural self again. Slowly, he reached behind him to retrieve Morthoseth from his sheath.

As he raised the blade above his head, the moonlight caught it just right to make it gleam, to make any man realize how demonic Gaiman’s best and only friend was. He lunged the blade down as hard as he could at the young woman. He never felt the blade collide with anything, but quickly became winded and was thrown against a wall.

He had not known that she could use powers like this. From the back sides of her wrists, two glowing blades, each about two and a half feet protruded, one across his neck, the other’s tip barely an inch from his nose.

Rage bled in her beautiful, deep blue eyes. "Who are you?" She demanded.

Gaiman kept his head in place. "Just your humble assassin and part time thief. I’m guessing you must be Sakota, correct?"

He could feel her tighten him to the wall. "Who sent you?"

"Nobody sent me. In fact, I came to... congratulate you. Congratulate you on your recent departure from Thermine to eliminate all Bluelives in the area. Well, I’m afraid that you will not be able to succeed in this mission. For I am Gaiman Nasterkof, the Bluelive’s high elder. Let me warn you now, you will not be able to kill me."

Sakota pulled her arm back, then jabbed the magic blade into his skull. To her surprise, she felt it hit the thin, wooden wall and stick. A black cloud of mist surrounded her now. Gaiman floated to the door, sifted between it and the frame, and was gone.

Early morning rays of sunlight shown through the window, slightly illuminating Sakota. She was sitting on her bed.

Trav turned and leaned on the wall in shadow. "He snuck in your room somehow?"

She nodded.

"And then just disappeared how he’d entered?"

"I don’t know. I was asleep when he entered."

"But you say that when you checked, the door was locked after he left?"

She nodded again.

"That’s really odd."

She sat in a daze, staring out the window. "Bluelive high elder..." she mumbled.

"I’m sorry?"

"He said his name was Gaiman Nasterkof, Bluelive high elder. The high elders are in-"

"Pefick City," he interrupted. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Give me time. I’ll think of something."

"I think it’s perfectly obvious that we can’t stay here overnight."

A loud noise outside of their door, followed by footsteps that sounded like they ended right outside of their door, interrupted Sakota’s thought. Trav reached onto his back and pulled out his sword. It was once his great grandfathers, who had named it ‘Anathros,’ after one of the many legendary earth gods. It had a silver double handed handle with a golden hilt that extended about an inch from the blade on both sides, then bent directly up at a curve for a few more inches. On the blade were the words ‘Seize the day,’ engraved in an ancient hand.

Sakota clenched her fists as she slowly stood up and turned to the door. The two blue flames engulfed her hands, much as they had done the previous night. Trav readied his blade and inched at the door. He took a slow glance back at Sakota, then back at the door as he extended his left hand out and turned the knob. He pushed the door out just enough for the deadbolt to be unable to engage, glanced at Sakota one more time, then kicked the door open and jumped into the hall. With his left hand still free, he reached to his left.

Sakota saw a look of strain and surprise on his face as he lunged a scrawny young man into their room.

A look of terror and confusion played across the mans face. His hat flew off of his head, revealing his short blonde hair. He landed on his stomach, and turned onto his back just in time to see Trav shove his sword in his face. He turned around and looked at Sakota, whose hands were still glowing a dark blue.

"Who are you?" Trav demanded.

The man searched for words as the look of terror on his face grew stronger. "I be but a simple delivery boy, my good sir." He spoke fast. "I was but delivering a very heavy package and dropped it outside of your room. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way and we will have no troubles here."

Trav reached a hand down to help the delivery boy up. The boy hesitated, reached for his hat, then grabbed Trav’s hand and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He put his hat on and adjusted it.

Trav grasped the mans shoulders. "What did you hear?"

The look of horror returned to his face. "I heard nothing. Except for your plans to travel to Pefick City. That’s all, I swear."

Trav removed his hands. The boy nodded to Trav. "Sir," looked to Sakota and tipped his hat, and was on his way.

Sakota closed the door behind him. "Want me to go pay?"

"I’ll wait here."

By now her hands had returned to their rightful color. She opened the door, exited the room, walked down the hall to the barren lobby, paid, and went back for Trav.