The Apprentices (The Crimson Guard Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

18

Spying eyes watched as the mage and his massive body guard questioned the little traitor.  Her eminence must know about the dangers, thought the man.

He made his way down the alley that the loose mouthed traitor had escaped.  A feeling of danger suddenly swept over the man.  A quick glance at the stranger’s location gave him a new sense of security. 
Nothing out here will challenge me,
thought the man, and the mage does not seem too interested in following the snitch.  Anger swelled throughout the spy, “no one betrays the queen.”  He turned and continued his pursuit of the escaping man.  As he turned, he found himself staring at the hilt of a crudely crafted cutlass.

“Your queen is no longer welcome here.”  The spy and his critical message never left the alley.  The one thing that the loyalist had not factored in was that as he was watching the traitor, there had been silver eyes following him.

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The castle loomed overhead.  Despite the grand extravagance it held, a shudder still swept down my spine.   Movement in an upper window caught my eye; the figure was pacing back and forth. 

A question of paths
came to my mind, but I already knew what the answer had to be.  I gently placed my hand on the large, sturdy doors, half expecting them to be locked.  To my surprise they parted with ease. 

All light had been forbidden from the great hall, utter darkness consumed all. “Let me fix this.”  I said as we stepped through the gateway.  The light suddenly burst forth in my presence, casting a yellowish glow on everything in the room.  In an instant a figure swept forth from its concealment, and I saw a flash of silver off to my side.

The figures’ soft movements and delicate action intrigued me.  I felt a thud and excruciating pain come from my side.  As I looked back towards the medic I saw the hilt of a fancy dagger embedded in my side. 

Unable to think I grabbed the hilt and ripped it from my flesh, following it came a stream of blood.  As quickly as the blood flowed it stopped.  The medic looked down at me and said “How bad?” 
Hmm,
I thought “Not that bad it stopped bleeding.  Figuring it was not life threatening, I nodded and continued on into the room not noticing my friend bleeding on the floor.  Forgetting the wound I watched for the being.  It was fast, but not quite quick enough for my wanting eyes to follow.  I watched as the figure danced from pillar to shadow and back never stopping at the light.  The entity finally stopped hiding behind a thin wood wall; like a child playing a game. 

Neither fear nor death crossed my mind as I approached the brown wall.

One more step and I will see what my eyes are eager to see again, I thought.  Before I could make that step a tremendous thud vibrated throughout the room, which shattered an unknown hold on my consciousness.  Somewhere a dripping of liquid pattered on the floor. 

“Oh no, I must have gotten wounded again.” I thought out loud frantically scanning my body. 

“No, not you,” a flat voice rose from behind.

“Then what is that?”  I asked no one in particular.  Just at that instant I glanced behind the thin wall to find myself face to face with a very pale woman with long black hair and red robes.  Fear swelled within me.  A little scream escaped my lips.  What now? Before I could act I realized she was not standing, but actually hung by an axe.  I turned and saw a wounded giant leaning against a stone pillar.

“Are you all right,” I frantically ran to his side.  Not remembering him being injured.  “What happened?” I asked. 

“Quite good mage, now leave me be. Finish off that queen so we can get out of here.”  With little complaint, I left his side; the path ahead was my only choice.

I guess he can fend for himself; he seems to do better than me, I
thought, as I continued down a lavishly decorated hall.

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The castle had been built soon after the arrival of the witch queen and her followers. It was shaped like a giant cone.  There appeared that there was only one known entrance and exit.  The walls of the castle were made from a brilliant ore unknown to the forest.  Hundreds of lives had been lost transporting the great stone from the deserts to the south.  The tower comprising the top half of the cone was constructed of gold magically mixed with the white ore, creating a shimmering effect, so beautiful it counteracted the hideous city which surrounded it.   Not surprisingly, she didn’t allow any non-magic user to participate in the construction so she mixed all the magic ore herself.  Many people thought it was because of the materials, others thought that she was paranoid; or she liked watching the horror as common men and women tried to hoist great stones.

At the front of the castle great wooden stood enchanted doors covered in symbols, barring non-magic users from entering the palace.  Inside, the castle opened into a hall where beautiful yet hideous creatures find their home.  These beings are much like vampires, but swifter and lacking the need for blood.

Many rooms angled off of the following hall in a random manner; the rooms were built to house treasure, not people.  Stairs rise from the end of the hall leading up, the next two floors resembled the first, yet a little smaller. 

As the stairs continued up they ended in the tower.  Those who were part of the queen’s privileged group saw the castle tower.  In this room all could finally understand what true wealth and luxury was, all except the slaves.

19

A dark figure watched as the one with endless power climbed the grand staircase. He could sense the power trapped in the little man, and he knew the mortals intentions.  Many thoughts of past conflicts raced through its head, battles he had fought; battles with only victims.  The immortal had the body of a man, blank white spheres replaced the hazel eyes, and a pale blue hue emanated from his flesh.  The deep green cloak draped over the man’s leather like scaled armor covering much of the beast’s pale skin.  No other would ever wear the same caliber of craftsmanship, after the transformation many lives had been taken.  Hate swelled within the creature’s chest, hate that never seemed to lessen. 

It watched as the man continued up the stairs remembering that at one time, he was not much different. 

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A Century had passed from the time when pirates owned the green ocean, and the elves still slept in the forests.  Magic was still untrained among most Humans, only a few were born with the gift, and even fewer were able to better understand their gifts.  The push to join the Red Army was great.  One of these few was named Malidor.   He attended the great human school of magic.  Many gifted youths came here to learn about their abilities and eventually choose to fight in the War. 

Small skirmishes broke out over the land at this time, but peace was all that most knew.  Before long an army of beasts, led by a most evil soul slipped by the Red Army and attacked the calm nations.  These beasts were Shlocks.  Few Humans had ever seen these creatures; they were spoken about only in stories and myths.  The Shlocks’ path of destruction brought about the Burning City, and eventually the end of the school. 

Tremendous battles broke out and the gifted were all called upon to save the land.  Years passed and graveyards grew.  Finally Malidor and two other battle hardened mages, Taxem and Desmon, tracked down the dark soul. What they found was beyond anything they could have imagined.  The battle was epic and should have been told around fires and in songs.  Taxem, more cowardly and weaker than the other two, fled before the monster.  Malidor’s companion Desmon was killed easily when confronting the shade.  In doing so it gave the noblest mage the chance for victory.  Nearing the end of its reign of evil, the source of darkness pleaded with the gifted one for mercy, telling him of his evil brothers. In front of Malidor the greatness of the creature faded and he looked down upon a curled up Shlock.  He pondered on how so much destruction came from such a pitiful thing.  The thought crossed Malidor to spare it until he remembered all the suffering.  Suffering, which was caused by the Shlocks’ influences.  His hate for the creature grew and led to the eventual downfall of his brave soul.  In all of the teachings and knowledge he had acquired, Malidor had learned nothing of the side effects of taking the life of a magical being, by means of magic.  Years later another will pay the same price, but to a different degree.

Without another thought and a flash of power and fire the void was opened.  Instead of destroying the evil he consumed its spirit.  Unlike many, Malidor retained his mortal form. The two spirits conflicted as night and day, continuing the tremendous battle within the man’s soul.  An unforeseen consequence of an open void is that Malidor’s victims were consumed.  During the consumption, Malidor also claimed their life force, making their thoughts, experiences, memories, and strengths his own. 

Many years have passed and slowly the good within Malidor had been losing the battle.  Now watching the Berserker mage is a creature created by hate made by circumstance to consume life.  While many knew that he exists, few knew what he looked like, and even fewer knew his story.  Many that came near were killed for their power, as a persistent need for Malidor.  For those that know of its existence call him, her favorite.  No one knows why it works for and lives with the Queen, Malidor at times does not even know.  It is comfortable, and it gets its choice of victims.   

Slowly and without sound it followed in the mage’s wake studying its foe.